Hey!! It Smells Like Patchouli In Here!!

Unless you've been living under a rock all your life, you know that today is the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's death. The radio, television and all other media outlets have been jam-packed with nostalgic look-backs on his life and times, reminding us of his music, his writing and his vision of world peace. I must admit, I'm a huge John Lennon fan, and while listening to the tributes to him on community radio station this morning, I did have a few tears in my eyes. But not because I miss him, hell I was only a wee babe when he was killed. I just got to thinking, about what he would say about the state of the world as it is now, if he was still around.

Would he still be a champion of peace and love? Would he be the leader of the Bono/Alicia Keys/Bob Geldof pack of nouveau-hippies? Would he agree with me that Bob Geldof, is deep down, just a fucking wanker who doesn't think before he speaks? Would he have joined forces with Bono,to put his nose in our countries politics? Would we love him as much as we do now, or would he have faded into the background, had he lived a longer life? So many questions. No answers though.

It really makes me think, about how John, and his entire generation, fought so hard against "the man", against war......and how they truly believed that they were making a difference. Which in my heart, I truly believe they did. Unfortunatly, the world is still ripe with pointless violence, warfare, racism, and all the rest....the original hippies and those who came before them, couldn't get rid of that. Humans are human. We will always have political and religious strife. But, these people, who believed what John Lennon believed, and wanted what John Lennon wanted, they raised us to think for ourselves, question authority, feel empathy for those less fortunate, to fight for what we believe in, and be kind to our neighbors. That is the difference they made, and those are great things that we will hopefully keep passing on to all future generations. Rather, we need to pass those beliefs onto future generations.

Although we will most likely never have the peaceful, war-free global village that we all have envisioned at some point in our life, John Lennon will always be a reminder to all of us, that we need to keep fighting for it anyways, because we fucking deserve it.

So, I challenge you all, take a moment today, to go and do something good. Make someone happy. Write a letter to a politician. Stand up for yourself.

And while you're at it, you might as well put on some classic music. For today, I choose to honor all the Beatles, and I'm gonna make some tea, light some sweetgrass incense and groove to The White Album.

Peace.

By complete accident, this entry was posted at 10:50pm...which eerily was the moment that John Lennon was shot.Creepy.

The Recent Adventures of Abigail (part three)

One night, as I was trying to sleep in Toronto's Union Station, being harassed by mice,wishing that I had more than snack food to eat, and wishing that I hadn't read all my books already, I got to thinking. And writing. So here are my realizations from the road.

Realization #1 - Even though I have the ability to sleep anywhere, no matter how loud or uncomfortable, there is no longer a need to take it to extremes. After this trip is over, I vow never to sleep on a metal bench, the floor of a public transit facility, a creaky hostel bunk bed, ever again. From now on it's first class, sleeper cars, and comfy hotels all the way.

Realization #2 - Realization #1 is a total lie. Although I would love to go first class all the way on future travels, I won't, because I can't afford it, and I have always done things the hard way, for no particular reason. Knowing me, I will spend a good chunk of the rest of my days, sleeping on dirty airport floors and on cold metal benches that give me bruises all along my spine.

Realization #3 - Drinking a gallon of orange juice, does not make up for the fact that I ate an egg McMuffin and 2 greasy, salty hashbrowns. I knew the McDonald's would make me sick, but when faced with my other dining options in Union Station, I had to make a rash decision and hope for the best.

Realization #4 - The last time I washed my hair and did the whole sponge-bath thing in a public washroom, was in 1998, on my way home from BC, after 2 days on the bus. I now recall why I never did that again. It's messy and uncomfortable, and the water never runs warm. Also, after you have used your towel to dry your head, you are forced to pack your now wet towel, back into your pack. Yuck.

Realization #5 - If any of my relatives from Winnipeg or Toronto find out that I have been through town, not once, but twice, and didn't call them, I will be in for some grand lectures. But in my defense, both layovers in Winnipeg totalled about 3-4 hours, and I arrived in Toronto quite late into the night both times as well, and just didn't want to be a bother.

Realization #6 - I should have looked harder for a locker to keep my backpack in for the night. It's ridiculously heavy, and my back is killing me. Plus, it's a pain in the arse to carry it around all over town, when really I just want to run for a coffee or outside for a cigarette.

Realization #7 - This is the first time that I have travelled alone, that I wasn't scared, or nervous, or weary of anything. It is also the first time (well second I guess, if I include Churchill), that my travelling didn't coincide with running away from some issue I didn't feel like dealing with at home.

OK, so I didn't figure out all the secrets of the universe or anything, but at least I learned a little something about myself. And hey, what more could a girl who makes rash decisions ask for?

The Recent Adventures of Abigail (part two)

well, here’s the rest of the story ( so far)……

November 20th, 2005

Just left Winnipeg. Said good-bye to the gang I met on the train, that are heading up to Churchill, and re-grouped with the Vancouver-ites that are stuck with me for 7 more hours. Have met a lot of interesting and fun people on the train since boarding in Montreal 2 days ago….this train ride is much more fun than the trip out east!

I am totally broke, but yesterday I bought myself some noodles and bread with the last of my money when we stopped in Capreol, so at least I’m not starving to death! The only thing that kind of sucks, is the fact that the arm on my glasses fell off shortly after leaving Montreal, and I’m looking like a total dork, with the arm being held on by a bandaid I got from the information booth at Union Station in Toronto. I wish everyone could be as cool as me..…

I had an amazingly good week in Montreal with Mr. Henry. I know that everyone is going to be wanting details, but I really don’t know what I’m going to tell them, to satisfy their curiousities. It’s almost as if I have this whole other life that I’m starting to live, and it’s so hard to explain to people what’s going on with us, and what’s going through my head, without sounding like an ass. Mr. Henry, without actually saying or doing anything purposefully, has reminded me what makes me happy, and what I had planned for my life…..adventure, travel, writing, fun. The whole kit and caboodle of untraditional living. I feel like my brain is back on track, after a long hiatus.

Anyways, back to our amazing week. We really didn’t do a lot. We really didn’t want to do a heck of a lot anyways. Since both of us had done most site-seeing, touristy things on previous trips to Montreal, we pretty much just meandered about the streets every day, just taking in the city, laughing, talking and making out on street corners (and also disgusting ourselves with our making out in public….neither of us have ever been the type to do such things!) We visited friends of mine, and friends of his, we took in a movie, had a couple really nice meals out, a night of drunkenness at Andrew’s Pub (which we have adopted as our new favorite place to drink), and the rest of the time was pretty much spent in bed, just being sickeningly sweet and cuddly, watching TV. We were perfectly content to just wander about, or lay in bed, just existing with each other. I also realized that he is quite possibly, a male version of me….just a bit older, with more adventure under his belt. No wonder he can put up with my ridiculous little quirks…..he’s got the same ones.

Friday morning was horrible. We woke up in foul moods, knowing that we only had a couple more hours together, and then the universe decided that it was going to fuck with us, and proceeded to throw one little problem after the other our way, for those few precious moments we had left with one another.

And then, just like when I arrived in SmallTown, on the way back from Churchill, we were forced to have a hurried good-bye. He had to run off to his train to NYC, and I was forced to sit at the train station for 2 hours by myself, feeling like shit, trying my best not to have a complete meltdown in front of the hundreds of people in the station. Needless to say, the meltdown happened anyways.I wonder what everyone thought, I wonder if anyone noticed our horribly hurried good-bye and understood my breakdown, or if they just thought, well whatever people think of a strange girl bawling in a train station???? Oh fucking hell, what the hell does it matter anyways? I really can annoy myself with my constant wondering about stupid things! :)

And now what??? Who knows. Mr. Henry wants to get back to Canada ASAP, and I want the same. I guess he’ll come to The City first, but after that, all our plans are up in the air. There isn’t much we can do, until we’re in the same country, in the way of future planning. But, I truly believe that the universe is on our side this time, and eventually, something will work out. There are so many experiences and adventures waiting for two people like ourselves.

Mr. Henry was the exact person, the breath of fresh air, I needed to meet, to get myself out of the rut I felt I was in, and it will take every sensible bone in me to get myself through the winter here, without hopping a plane to go and be with him. Luckily, with some goals in mind, staying put won’t be too hard…I’ve got to start hoarding my pennies for the road ahead.

Canadian Pseudo-Celebs Turn Me On

For all of you who are waiting for the next installment of my travel diary, you will wait a bit longer.

These are a few of my favorite things (this week).......

My man Jian Gomeshi, who one day will realize that he loves me too, has got a great little radio show Monday to Friday on CBC. They are debating The National Playlist as we speak. Go. Vote. Now.

The Playlist also gets debated on The Hour. Go and see what Jian and George (my other soul mate) have to say about it.

Check out my dearest Rick Mercer , and watch a snippet of his trip to Churchill!!!

Matthew Good blogs for Human Rights .

I was invited to come and enjoy the musical stylings of Elliot Brood tonight, for free, and I have to fucking work. Figures. Ah well, gonna go see Sarah Slean on Friday, so I'll survive.

As you can see, I really have a hard-on for Canadian celebrities.

But, I do have to give a High-5 to the American, the Belligerent Intellectual, who pens The Daily Dump. I started reading and I just can't stop.

Check ya later sk8ters.

The Recent Adventures of Abigail (part one)

As a good chunk of my regular readers know, I haven't been regularily updating the last while, as I've been doing a bit of travelling, went to visit my mom, and did a bit more travelling. Well, I keep a somewhat sporadic journal while on my adventures , so my next few entries are excerpts from said journal.....enjoy.

November 10, 2005

Well, here I am on the train again. And heading to Montreal, again. So far, can't see too many interesting people, but it is the middle of the night. But it's not like I could find a better group to run into as B-Rock, Marla and I met on the way to Churchill last month! Nobody could beat that crew! My god that sounds horrible, there are wonderful travellers all over the place....sheesh.

I don't know what it is about riding the train that makes me feel so at home, at ease. The second I find my seat and get myself settled in for the journey, this amazing calm sweeps over me, and I get this incredibly obnoxious feeling that I own the train, and can do whatever the hell I like on it.

After only a few hours on the train today, I found myself finishing the last of the 2 books I had brought along, and found myself growing bored of the girl across from me talking incessantly about how she photographed Nickleback, and it being the highlight of her career thus far, blah blah blah, so I put on my headphones and sat back to enjoy the scenery as the train putt-putted into Northern Ontario.

In the past, I have bashed the scenery of Northern Ontario, almost in the same way that others bash the scenery of my beloved Saskatchewan. But today, I had to admit that I found myself staring in awe of the autumn leaves, the crystal clear lakes, the trees, the rocks and the trees magically growing out of the rocks. Maybe it was due to the Canadian music blaring out of my headphones, with artists singing the praises of their province of Ontario, but I just couldn't help daydreaming about how nice it would be to one day move up here, to the middle of nowhere, build a small cottage on the lakefront, and just exist in nature for all eternity.

November 11, 2005

Tim Horton's. 1:00am. Downtown Toronto.

Couldn't get ahold of anyone to hang out with, and the train doesn't leave for a few more hours. Refuse to pay for a hostel for only a few hours, so here I am, drinking coffee and eavesdropping on conversations of drunken Torontonians, on their way home from the bar. Thank god I'm used to night shifts, staying up all night drinking coffee is a freaking snap. Another XL Double Double? Bring it on!!

Am starting to get really excited about arriving in Montreal....and this time at least I know my way around, and have friends to visit.....and most wonderfully, Mr. Henry will be arriving on Sunday, and promises to track me down as soon as he's dropped off his things at Aviva's and cleaned himself up.

Oh, Mr. Henry.

Ever since I was a pre-pubescent young girl, even on family trips, I had this little daydream running through the back of my mind. I'd imagine running into a local, or a fellow traveller, whom I'd lock eyes with and feel that amazing, immediate, "Click!"with. Of course, a whirlwind friendship/love affair would ensue for the duration of my vacation, and I would forever have a hopelessly romantic story to tell the grandkids. Until now, that little daydream has never come true....but I always knew in my heart and my head, that if I just kept daydreaming, eventually I would get my way.

We met on the train on the way to Churchill. (Oct '05) I noticed him the second I woke up that morning on the train, looked around, and as my eyes met his, I just knew I had to meet him. The looks back and forth began, along with smiles, and the occasional silly comment. Before we reached Churchill, we had introduced ourselves, and made plans to meet up for drinks once we were all settled in our hotels. The three of us, found Mr. Henry and friend, sat down to visit, and then he smiled and winked at me.

CLICK.

We spent the next few days together, mostly in bed, but also quickly getting to know each other, drinking, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. On the train ride back, all I could think was "This can't be it. I can't leave him.", and was very comforted by the fact that he was thinking the same thing of me. But in the end, we kept with our original plans, I got off the train in SmallTown, and he stayed on to continue his travels out east before he had to head back to England.

It didn't take me long to realize that if I didn't go and track him down in Eastern Canada to say good-bye, (or see you later!) I would kick my own ass for all of eternity--not being able to handle one more "What if ???" in my lifetime. The thought of staying in The City, and not going to see him when I have absolutely no reason not to, all the while thinking how I could have, should have done this, was just a revolting thought to me.

And so, here I am, on my way to meet my English bloke. Empty wallet and all.

But the smile on my face just won't go away.

"We Do Not Torture"

"There's an enemy that lurks and plots and plans and wants to hurt America again. And so you bet we'll aggressively pursue them. But we will do so under the law," Bush said. Without confirming or denying the existence of hidden CIA prisons, Bush said, "Our country is at war, and our government has the obligation to protect the American people."

Under law, Mr. Bush? Then what the hell are you so worried about? If you aren't doing anything wrong, let the EU and the Red Cross do their thing.

I'm telling you people, if concrete evidence is ever presented to me that nothing inhumane ever happened in a CIA prison, I'm buying you all unicorns.

All That I Need Is The Air That I Breathe...

I promise, I'm working on a wonderful, happy little entry for y'all....but for today, I am being lazy and copying SaviaBella and Politiko.But I don't feel all that bad,as they copy-catted first! :)

It's so simple, go to Google, type in "( your name) needs", and see what comes up in the search.

I must admit that, after reviewing all the "needs" I have posted below, I was a bit weirded out about how right on the money some of them are. Who knew Google knew so much about me?????? Creepy.

Abigail needs a new coat, but her mother has no money and the stores are closed.

Abigail needs an ice-cream cone on a hot day.

Abigail needs money for pens and other random things.

Abigail needs a therapist to help her deal with her rages and fears.

Abigail needs to be at the forefront of her industry.

Abigail needs to have morals that are in-line with what is respectable for a human.

Abigail needs to know what sense of humour works best for her.

Abigail needs to grow up a bit.

Abigail needs a fan club!

Abigail needs all the support she can get right now.

Abigail needs a good hard spanking.

Abigail needs to find a toilet.

Abigail needs to learn the value of commitment.

Abigail needs to have a good stiff drink.

Abigail needs some undivided attention right now.

Abigail needs money, or else she'll have to go back to waitressing, or worse yet, Juan.

Abigail needs to learn more about everything!

Abigail needs a touch of whimsical magic.

Abigail needs to be socialized in order to trust humans.

Abigail needs him, adores him, misses him.

The House.

My mom called the other morning to tell me that she sold the house. It's a good thing, really it is. The house and the land are just too much for one woman to manage, and I really want her to be able to start fresh, to begin a new journey in life. With less snow to shovel and leaves to rake.

But holy fuck, I feel like I just found out that someone I love has died. The tears come and go, and I feel as if I was kicked hard in the chest if I think too much about it.

I remember Film Star's first Christmas, and we had a tree set up in the family room, and us kids were able to play freely in there for the first time, without fear of stepping on tools or nails.

I remember all the parties my parents threw, that eventually were able to spill over into rooms other than the kitchen and dining room, but never really did until the end of the night, when it was time to put on records and dance.

I will always fondly recall sitting around the kitchen table watching and listening to the adults tell stories, and play Trivial Pursuit ,not realizing that years later, it would be me sitting around that table with my friends, doing the exact same thing.

I will never forget the day that I came home from the City and realized that I couldn't see the house through the trees as I pulled in the driveway.

I will always smile when I think of the playhouse Dad built us and let us paint and decorate, just the way we wanted. It was so much bigger than the doghouse we had played in before!

I remember when Dad dug a small hole, put a tin can inside, gave me a golf club and let me go on to get one hole-in-one after another until nature closed that little hole up years later.

Sometimes I miss the crazy 70's flooring throughout the house. It's much classier now, but not as colorful.That lino was out of this world.

I think I buried a time capsule or two somewhere in the yard.

We all rejoiced when we finally had our very own bedrooms built, and didn't have to share.

I remember a time when there was no grass, no garage,no carpet and the exterior of the house was green, brown and white.

I will forever miss sitting around the campfire in the backyard, and peeing behind the shed so I didn't have to go inside.

So many memories.

But soon enough, there will be a new house, and the new memories are waiting for us.

I hope the new family appreciates the history of our home, and enjoy it as much as we have.

Oh, and they can keep the ghosts.

The Hot List, Continued

Well, it's been almost an entire year since I first entered the world of blogging and I figured it was about time to finally finish my Hot List that I started all that time ago. So here we go, hold on to your chapeau's......

51. I would be completely lost without my Day Planner. It helps me remember what I did last week.

52. I don't know if you know this, but I'm kind of a big deal around here.

53. Quite often, when I'm walking at night, I stop right in my tracks and just gawk at the stars for a few minutes.

55. I don't remember the last time I saw some smoking hot Aurora Borealis.

55. I'm getting more comfortable with the idea of having kids some day. I just want them to magically be 3 years old, and I'm not sure about the whole 9 months of pregnancy thing.

56. I've learned that rebellious, misfit teenagers think I'm kinda cool.

57. It's a good thing that I don't really like any of the clothes in the mall, because none of them are my size anyway.

58. I love the feeling of a freshly tidied bedroom.

59. I believe that cocaine should only be done if you are dancing at Studio 54 with Liza Minnelli and Rick James. If you do not have a time machine and cannot do this, then smarten up.

60. I really need a couple more bookshelves. Donations welcome.

61. Pearl Jam rocked my world on September 7th, 2005. Get you ToonTown Bootleg here.

62. I have no idea what Grace Slick is saying in the first line of "Somebody to Love".

63. If I had the balls, I'd get dreadlocks tomorrow.

64. I used to subscribe to the John Fluvog shoe catalogue. His shoes are magnificent works of art.

65. My dad and my uncle used to run the Runnymede Hotel. I still wear their T-shirts.

66. "It's fun to ride a bike!!" (I saw that on a matchbook cover, and I believe it to be true)

67. I screamed with horror when I heard that Lenny from Law and Order died. I also cried when he left the show. I miss his sarcastic wit. You can all stop laughing at me now.

68. I try to see the good in everyone, but I've learned that some people really are just assholes, and there isn't anything I can do about it.

69. I hope that Santa brings me the new Harry Potter book for Christmas.

70. If you ever have nothing better to do, read the lyrics for the album "Midnite Vultures". They are fucked up. It's too bad the "Debra" lyrics aren't there. "I wanna get with you, and your sister, I think her name is Debra." Classic.

71. I'm seriously considering not shaving my armpits anymore. I've been spending so much time plucking my face lately, the pits just don't seem all that important.

72. "Welcome Back, Kotter", could very well be the only show that I liked as a child that I still like now.

73. Have you heard? Grease is the word.

74. I only need 4 hours sleep a day to get by, but I would prefer to get 12.

75. My favorite holidays are Halloween and Canada Day.

76. I don't understand video games at all. But I do kickass at Super Mario Bros.

77. The next big trip I take will be to Portugal and Spain. As soon as I win the lottery or find a Sugar Daddy.

78. Travelling would be easier if I knew French and Spanish. I'm gonna get on that.

79. A big bowl of popcorn for supper is never a good idea. However, I've done it more than once. Ok, more than 30 times.

80. I still, and always will, want to lose twenty pounds.

81. I like to think that everyone has a soul mate. I've met two of mine. It didn't work out with either one of them. Apparently, love doesn't keep us together.

82. I am an Aquarius and a Horse.

83. Thanks to a song we sung in grade school, I was deathly afraid of Anne Boelyn coming after me, with her head tucked underneath her arm, for an entire year.

84. In my dreams, I never smoke or drink coffee, but I stumble around alot.

85. I have a very emotional sense of smell.

86. For ten years, I had a recurring dream in which I was a short, chubby French spy. My partner was tall and bald, and we were running away from only god knows what, through a field. I always woke up at the point when I fell to the ground, and as I turned to see where my enemy was, a hand wielding a knife, stabbed me right in the skull. The dream was also in French, and for some reason, I always understood what was being said.

87. I wish I could drink wine in San Sebastion with Ernest Hemingway.

88. I am afraid of one day being forced to go into outer space, and having to look upon the Earth, and seeing just how big it really is.

89. Not a second of my life goes by that I don't have a song in my head.

90. I have always been a tad jealous of people who are double-jointed, can whistle, cross their eyes, or touch their tongue to their nose. I can't do any of those things.

91. Before kindergarten gave me something better to do, I liked to pretend that I was a deaf/ blind mute, and would walk around the house trying to do normal, everyday things.

92. I am deathly afraid of losing my teeth when I age. I used to have the most beautiful teeth. I miss that.

93. If I take off my glasses, I am almost totally blind.

94. I don't care how you were raised, good table manners are important. And for goodness sakes, chew with your mouth closed.

95. I use a Roget's Thesaurus , copyright 1960, as a mousepad.

96. I have been searching for a National Geographic magazine from the 80's that I read on rainy days out at the cottage. It had an amazing article in it about the Coelacanth, that mesmerized me. I love to learn about ancient creatures of the deep.

97. The next cat I get, will be a black tomcat, and he will be christened Rick James." Rick James! Get yo ass back here! It's time for suppa!"

98. The main library branch has been holding for me, a bookmark that I left in a book I returned for over a year. I had no idea I even owned a bookmark.

99. Give me a pack of cigarettes, a couple bottles of wine, and a huge snowstorm that gives me no chance of getting out of the house, and I'll be as happy as a pig in shit. I'm much more entertaining when left alone with myself.

100. I know what I don't want to be.

Wow. I actually finished something. Hope I haven't repeated myself too terribly bad.

I've got Sunshine On a Cloudy Day....

A Solstice brings change. Change in weather, routines and footwear. Change is always good, no matter how you feel right at the moment that 'The Change' makes its presence known.

Throughout this week of Full Moon and Solstice, I have experienced and observed much Change in my life and the lives of friends. I whole-heartedly believe that my change will result in good, and I can only hope that those I love will one day realize that their change is for the better as well.

Life doesn't always turn out the way you'd like it to, but in every experience, there is a lesson to be learned.

Everyone will be A-Ok.

Go forth and be civil to each other, and believe, as I do, that life, in general, is good.

Uh Huh.

I didn't say everything I wanted to say.

I fumbled on my words and it just didn't come out right.

It's hard to put yourself in a vulnerable position, when you do not portray yourself as a vulnerable person.

You can bet I learned a lesson though.

Tag! You're It!

Well, I am going to attempt this because the lovely Politiko said she'd like me to. So here goes!

1. Seven things I plan to do before I die

* Go to Africa.
* Learn how to plant and nurture a kick ass vegetable garden.
* See Morrissey perform, preferably up close and personal.
* Beat my mom at Scrabble.
* Get drunk with the Tragically Hip.
* Sing in public, on a stage
* Learn how to play golf.

2. Seven things I can do

* Say no to drugs.
* Not miss a beat during Roman Catholic mass.
* Sew my own clothes, hats and bags.
* Play the piano.
* Shuffle like Axl Rose.
* Look after myself.
* Make friends.

3. Seven things I can't do

* Laugh without cackling.
* Stop chewing my nails.
* Fix my own computer troubles.
* Kneeboard.
* Speak another language.
* Say what I really want to say.
* Hold a grudge.

4. Seven things that attract me to people

* Political and social awareness.
* An outgoing, but not obnoxious, personality.
* Snazzy personal style.
* Sense of Humor.
* Knowledge of music.
* Their smile.
* Their 'fun factor'.

5. Seven things I say most

* "I need some fucking coffee."
* "I"m fucking tired."
* "Fuck you Mother Nature!"
* "Ya know what I"m sayin'?"
* "Are you for serious?"
* "I'll have one more I guess."
* "Ya, Ok, I guess so...."

6. Seven celebrity crushes

* Don McKellar
* Scarlett Johansson
* Beck
* Hawksley Workman
* Molly Parker
* Morrissey
* Moby

What I Did On My Summer Vacation....

Well, maybe vacation isn't exactly the proper word, as I actually haven't had any vacation days, but I did get away from The City a couple times, and have been shamelessly using a few sick days for just hanging out with the gang down at The Pub and for reading, people watching and drinking coffee on the front stoop all by my lonesome.

Although there were some 'downer' days the past couple months, due to work, deaths, and a stolen kayak, among other things, I have pledged to keep this update a positive one. Just to throw you all off your rockers a little bit.

My camping trip way back at the beginning of July was absolutely wonderful, and I have been wanting to head back out into the bush ever since. We acquired ourselves a beautiful group camping area at the back of the campground, and without the worry of bothering neighboring campers, we were all quite relaxed, and spent our evenings drinking and listening to music and having more than enough belly-laughs. My camp stove only set the picnic table on fire once, GQ and Red only had one loud lover's quarrel, we had a lovely afternoon at the beach, and the footballs and frisbees were ever present. It was heaven. I can hardly wait until next year. :)

The whole month of July zipped by at warp speed. No matter what I did, I just couldn't slow it down. Fortunatly though, the weather was wonderful for the most part, and I enjoyed more than my fair share of lazy afternoons reading in the sunshine, followed by pints with the Pub Gang. Sure, we spent too much time, money and energy drinking beer on that slanted little patio, but I refuse to feel guilty about laughing, crying and story-telling all afternoon with my favorite folk. I was able to achieve a fabulous tan and acquire a few new friends to debate with.

July was also Festival Month here in The City. Although I couldn't get the time off to travel to the Ness Creek festival like I had planned, I took in some of the Flatlands Festival (which was so-so....I'm sorry, but I really miss the old FlatLands Music Fest! ), and had a heck of a good time at our annual Folk Fest, which I must say, was probably the best one in years. (although I have never once been disappointed in all the years that I have been attending it.) I was horribly disappointed about missing Sarah Slean, but Sara Harmer, Ron Sexsmith, The Good Brothers and the Sadies made me feel much better. I'll just have to catch Sarah next time she's in town.

On a gossipy note, John Corbett has been in town all summer filming a movie, and he has been amazing eye-candy and fantasy material for me. I hope he never leaves. Ok, that sounded stalker-ish, but I assure you I have neither the time, nor the energy to properly stalk minor celebrities. But he sure is pretty, even with the porn star mustache.

At the beginning of August, GQ, Shabby and I headed up to Small Town for the Centennial celebrations. It was a rushed, blitzkreig of a trip, and I wish that I had had more time to spend back home. There were relatives and friends galore kicking around, and unfortunatly, there just wasn't enough time to visit all of them, the way I had hoped I would. It was especially nice to see my mothers family, as I only get to see them every few years, and I can only hope that they were not horrified by my incredible state of drunkeness after my night in the beer gardens. I tried to be on my best behaviour, and I had a fantastic time, and lucky for them, I camped in the backyard. There are less objects to stumble into in the out of doors, so it was probably a good plan to keep my drunken ass outside.

The last couple weeks have been full of fun. Thanks to the Canada Games entertainment, there was rockin' music pumping in my window every evening. My favorite couple, Schmutzie and Palinode had a delightful housewarming party, complete with appetizers and a live performance by 54-40. My oldest and dearest friend RockStar came for one final summer visit, which is always a great time...his visits just make my day, whenever they happen! TypicalQuirk celebrated her b-day with a bash at the House of Pain this past weekend. And to top it all off, my dear friend Pete has moved back to The City and surprised me with a quick visit yesterday afternoon.

And finally, my long drawn out run of singlehood has come to a close. A couple of weeks ago I met a lovely man, whom for now I will just call The Boy, and we have been spending quite a bit of time together, and so far, nothing too terribly tragic has happened, so wish me luck.

Well, I guess that is my summer, short and sweet. Life is good. So good, that I won't even harp on the fact that summer is coming to a close whether you like it or not, or that I saw my first orange/brown leaves just this morning while waiting for the bus. Nope, I'm gonna try and be as positive as I can be today.

The Front Porch

Sitting on the front porch of the House of Pain today, I had an intense flashback of all the incidents that have happened on those dirty, ash-covered steps over the years.

Break-ups and arguements.

Re-kindled romances and friendships.

Sing-alongs and story-telling.

New found friends.

Incredibly ridiculous conversations.

Incredibly serious conversations.

Beer drinking and beer spilling.

Tears of joy and tears of sorrow.

Hello's and Goodbye's.

If only those steps could talk............

I'm sure they would be much more interesting than this entry.

It's true, I'm no Rock Star.

Last night, I put on a happy face and ventured out to a birthday celebration of a co-worker, with other co-workers and their significant others. I'm lucky enough to work with some of the coolest, funniest and craziest women I have ever met, so I knew that no matter what, in the end, I would have to admit I had a fantastic time, as per usual. I was a bit weary about where we were headed to though, and as many of my friends know, I have a wee problem with a certain form of entertainment that has spiralled out of control in this fair City.

In my mind, a night of Kareoke should be a total laugh-riot, dancing and guffawing the night away, listening to drunken clowns belt out classic tunes that everybody has a soft spot for and can sing along to. You cheer on the tone-deaf girls with no rhythm, and rock out with the guys who belt out their best renditions of Axl Rose or Mick Jagger just to pretend for one night that they are rockstars, and not a Gen-X drone working for the man. Everyone is happy, scrappy, and insanely untalented.....but it's all good fun.

A few years ago, my clique of friends went through a kareoke phase. They headed out on the town to whichever bar was hosting the sing-a-long that night, sang a few songs, drank too many beers, and didn't leave 'til they had sung all the songs they requested. I went along for the ride quite often, even got up and sang when I had enough liquid courage in me on a few occasions. But after awhile, I began to notice that although we were regular kareoke-goers, there was a whole other clique that gave the air of professionalism in their stage performances, and never missed a high note, and had their rockstar moves down-pat. And once they made their presence known, some of my clique also started to become kareoke snobs, and that was that for me. I never went again. I felt inferior and got a strange pang of guilt every time I found myself enjoying the people whom couldn't carry a tune, but had a whole lot of soul. I will compliment someone on their talent and give credit where credit is due, but as my friend Miss Dreadlock said last night..."These people really take the fun out of singing Kareoke!".

And she's right. That's what I have been thinking for years. A group of friends, like the group I was with last night, who are just out for a good time, to make asses of themselves, and have a laugh-riot while singing out of tune to songs they don't even know the words to, just do not feel totally welcome, amongst the regular Kareoke Clique. You feel them judging you , and you know that they are not impressed by your Axl Rose impression, or your Running Man during the interlude. Not that I care all that much, but after a few hours of snotty, judgmental looks after you make your friends laugh their heads off, you realize that the fun is being sucked out of the art that is Kareoke.

I realize though, that for the members of The City's Kareoke Clique, practicing that same Top 40 song all week, getting everything just right, and heading out to a dingy bar to showcase their talents is a self-esteem boosting part of their lives, and for one night they get to pretend that they are a rockstar, a folk singer or a contestant on Canadian Idol. And good for you, whomever you are.

But I just want to make an ass out of myself and butcher some Carly Simon, so leave me be. Leave your judging eyes at home, and remember that some people really don't care if they are any good, and they don't care how good you are either. They just want to have fun with their friends, and clap and cheer for y'all.

Now go practice your Running Man.

Mourning For My Kitty

A couple hours before I left The City for my camping trip on Thursday, I got a phone call from the Vet Clinic. Someone had brought my cat in, and she had been hit by a car and they had to put her to sleep. Apparently, she was hit just metres away from my house. The driver did not stop, but a neighbor saw her and took her to the clinic. Not a good day for anyone in the House of Pain.

To me, losing a pet has always felt like losing a part of the family. Living on the farm, we went through many cats, a couple dogs, and I buried many a dead bird, mouse or bat. My mothers garden was really just a pet cemetary, with vegetables. This time, I don't get to bury my pet, as there is a law against burying animals in The City. I wasn't going to obey the law, but when I realized that our garden in really just a brick of clay, I had to concede defeat, and just let the Humane Society take care of her. I have until the 12th to go and get her collar and what not, or cremate her, which I personally think is just creepy......I've never quite understood the displaying of a pet's ashes on a mantle(or whatever people do with their pet's ashes), no matter how close to said pet I was.

It's going to take awhile for me to get used to sleeping alone, not having to worry about leaving glasses of water unattended, and having arms that aren't scratched up beyond belief after countless wrestling matches.

I think I am going to take a nice long break from being a pet owner. I am not able to give an animal all the attention it deserves at this point in my life, and I don't want to rush out and replace the one I lost. But, thankfully I have many pictures, and many memories from my first pet that I owned as an adult, and to top it all off, I write in a blog, using her name, Abigail Road.

Meow.

Camping Trip 2005 ( Part One...)

I'm so freaking excited. One more night shift and an afternoon of cleaning and packing to go, and I'm out of The City. Gonna get the motor running, head out on the highway, and go looking for adventure. And if the rain lets up by tomorrow morning, I may not even be in uncontrollable tears of hatred for Mother Nature when I leave. I'm 45% positive she'll let me have a nice and sunny Canada Day weekend. I fucking deserve it, yes I do.

I absolutely adore camping. Staying up all night, drinking, singing, talking and going for drunken walks in the bush is my kind of fun. You know you are only gonna get 2 hours of sleep a night, because by 7am your tent is as hot as the depths of Hell, but it's all good and fine, because leftover hotdogs and breakfast beers await you when you crawl out of that oven on your hands and knees.

The smell of the campfire on my clothes and the bug spray on my skin makes me feel closer to nature somehow, and for just a few days a year, nothing about the way I look bothers me. My hair is messy and knotted under my drinking hat, I wear my bathing suit with confidence all day long, and wear mismatched clothes at night or whatever is necessary to keep the soul sucking mosquitos off of me. I chop wood and light fires and don't care if the boys think I'm doing it wrong. I brush my teeth and wash my face like a pioneer, with the help of a wash basin or a lonely blue water tap on the side of the road. I eat more meat in one weekend of camping than I do all year, and my body hates me by the end of it, but I know my digestive system will recover.

This is the first year, in all my years of going camping, with pretty much the same group of people, that I actually feel prepared. We have food, not just booze. We have a tarp and towels, and I found the rain cover for my tent. We have utensils and plates and bowls, so we won't have to eat like cavemen. We have many different fire accessories, so if the wood is wet, we can still make fire. We will even have more than one axe, instead of just a tiny hatchet, a butter knife and our fingernails to make kindling. for the first time in my life, I have a sleeping bag, so I won't have to ruin my bedding and pillows from home. Just like the Scouts, we are prepared. Finally. Only took about 10 years to get our shit together, but hey, at least we got it all figured out eventually. Trial and error people, trial and error.

It's going to be an amazingly good time.

News of the Day, and New Music

Dear readers,

While the United States is desperatly trying to stop it, Canada legalized it in the House of Commons moments ago. No, I don't mean the smoking of marijuana. Gays and lesbians can now legally get married in this fair country of ours. Divorce lawyers will now be busier than ever before, thanks to equal human rights for all!!!

I have been trying to find new (to me) music to listen to lately, and I think I may have stumbled upon a good one. Although some are getting sick of the "High School" video, I enjoy the song, and am starting to get quite fanatical about Jeremy Fisher.

Sometimes you can find really cool music here in the Independent Music Directory.

I seriously can't listen to the lies and the impecably bad grammar coming from this man's mouth anymore. Please, Mr. Bush. Pull your head out of your ass.
If you missed it, here is Big Bad Bushy's Iraq Speech. It's mostly revolting, recycled bits and pieces of other speeches he's made on the subject, but considering the state of Iraq as of today, it's almost comical. In a sick and twisted kind of way.

People tend to forget about Rwanda.

People are now much more interested in the Zapatista's and their mysterious leader.

Well, guess that's all the news that caught my attention today. Stay tuned for a more personal entry ASAP.

Love as always,

Abigail

Perfection, relaxation and the beginning of summer

Even though a good chunk of the people in my little world have had a craptastic day, for whatever their reasons, myself, I have had the best day off ever. It has been forever and a day since I have had a true day off. One with no obligations, meetings, appointments, favors, errands or personal chaos to contend with.

Yesterday afternoon, after I awoke from my night shift nap, the great almighty Cookeroo came to retreive GQ and I and we all headed to The Pub patio to guzzle some beer and clam and sweat all the toxins and any other liquid out of our bodies as we chit-chatted with other regulars and bitched about work. It was all wonderful, but was made even more fantastic, by the surprising sighting of my good friend Graham, who has been a tad elusive and hard to find the last few years. We hugged, he joined us for a conversation of catch-up and B-Rock came to join us as well. A perfect patio afternoon. Day turned into night,( but the sun was still out; Hallelujah! Summer Solstice!), and I was drunk and hungry and badgered B-Rock into leaving with me to find some food. After a few blocks of me trying to keep up to him on his bike, we decided on a quiet, eerily friendly Chinese restaurant just a few blocks from my house, where we delved into our dishes, drank water with gusto, and admired the cheesy art on the walls. I still cannot belive I had never been there before. I plan on making it my regular hangout. Just me and a book, in a tiny Chinese restaurant, eating out of a bamboo basket. Divine.

Anyways, that brings me to today. I awoke from a 12 hour sleep, bright and early even, and quickly came to the realization that I had NOTHING to do today. I couldn't believe it. "I must be forgetting to do something", I thought to myself. And then said "Fuck it", and proceeded to make some tea, listen to GQ and retire to the sunny side of the house with cigarettes, Spitz and The Da Vinci Code. And that is how I spent my day, with a speckle of Law & Order and Scrabble thrown in. Marvelous.

This evening, I called B-Rock, and we went for a bike ride around the beautifully renovated lake in the middle of the city, which is another activity I'd like to add to my daily life, along with hanging in my Chinese restaurant, as I quite enjoyed it. Except for all the stairs B-Rock took me up and over, I'm just not cut out for stairs, when I'm on my wheels that is. Otherwise, I really have no problem with stairs.

And that's that. The perfect day off. Now I am home, I am going to chill for a while, and head out for a walk to the Pub, to see who's there. Tomorrow is going to be perfectly planned chaos according to my day planner, so I'm milking this day and all it holds for all it's worth.

That's the Way She Goes, Folks.

Well, well. Surprise, surprise. Micheal Jackson was aquitted. From the beginning of this carnival, I stood by my opinion, when it came up in drunken conversations, that I wasn't sure if he ever molested anyone, but I was aware of the freak that is the big MJ. I thought, just maybe, since he was robbed of a childhood, that he actually believes that he is this Peter Pan character that he portrays himself to be, and maybe on a deeper level, even thinks that he is a little boy, and not the boy who wouldn't grow up; which would half-ass explain his fascination with the little ones. But I cannot believe that he was innocent on all counts. Sets a nice precident doesn't it? A 46 year old man, who sleeps in a bed surrounded by young children, and shows them pornography and gives them wine, can be aquitted because one of the kids happens to be unlucky enough to come from a family full of liars and frauds. Who knows, maybe he is innocent, but it will be interesting in years to come, in other molestation cases that go before the courts, to see defense attourneys use the case of Micheal Jackson vs. Young Cancer Patient, to get other 46 year old perverts and man-children aquitted of their crimes. Oh well, even though MJ and Carla Homolka have been allowed to run wild and free, at least the welfare moms who write bad checks and those evil pot-smokers are still locked up, just the way it should be. Fuck our justice systems.

I'll get down on my knees, and do what you please...

O, all powerful Mother Nature.

I believe in your power and the power the weather has on my mood.

I beg of you,

Please,

For the love of pedestrians and those who take public transit,

Let the sunshine pour down upon us,

Instead of this never-ending rain.

A-wo-men.

___________________
Be thankful fellow Bloggers, that you don't have to worry about this.

Procrastinating since 1979!

Instead of writing the article I am supposed to be writing for Hobbsley, I have been endlessly surfing the InterWeb, and piddling about the house. Not that I haven't done anything today, I took my bicycle in to get repaired and went for a fantastic lunch with the B-Rock, before chain-smoking in the sunshine soaked backyard of the House of Pain, and pondering about how to get rid of those feckin' dandilions that have overrun the entire garden. ( I do however, finally understand why my parents hate the pretty little yellow weeds so much! )

I really am the biggest, baddest procrastinator of them all, and I have a feeling I'll be pumping out an article or two in the wee hours of the night, while I'm at work, instead of doing the work I get paid to do there. I have a horrible habit that forces me to do anything but the job/chore/activity that needs to be accomplished on any given day, successfully filling my day with activities that need not have been done right that moment. Maybe there's a pill out there that I can take for that. I'll have to check my Spam folder, I'm sure some focker is out there peddling online drugs that cure procrastination.

_____________________

And I thought I was wasting my time. Or maybe I'm just jealous that I have neither the time, nor the money to do what he's doing.

Dick Cheney. What a man, what a man. Watch the doc about his Ascent to Power online.

I've become addicted to reading Moby's thoughts.

After receiving many, many invitations, I finally have joined Hi5. I really don't understand what the purpose is, if I want to stay connected to friends, I call them, email them, or get a plane to write a note in the sky for me. I guess it's fun to check out just how I'm connected to certain people. It's a good thing for nosy people I guess!

I'm liking HyperDictionary.

I rolled over, and there it was, laying on my nightstand....

I came across my journal today. I hadn't even thought about it in about a year, and the last entry written was dated May 16, 2002. I had apparently been drinking in the Latin Quarter of Montreal that day, and was trying to think of a good reason to go back to The City. Romantic life was not so good at that time, and I felt there was nothing for me back home, but there could be a future for me in a city where I could start fresh, and didn't know anyone except the traveller's and staff at the Auberge de Jeunesse.

B-Rock bought me the journal years ago, to record all my travel stories in, and although it does contain details of that trip to Montreal I took that month in 2002, for the most part, it is a minute by minute account of the last 2-3 months of the timultuous relationship that was B-Rock and Abigail, with some horrificly depressing details of what exactly I thought of myself that spring.

As I sat down on the front stoop with a cup of coffee to read it this morning, I had no idea of the range of emotions that would come flooding back to me. Days, events and arguements that I had completely forgot about, were right there, in big messy grammatically correct writing. The young woman writing in that journal, I realized, was a complete stranger to me, and I wished I could go back in time, find the old me, and give her a big hug, and tell her, that no matter what she was thinking then, it really was going to get better in time. I wished I could go back and warn her not to say that, worry about her, or do such and such.

If only I knew then what it is I know now.........

Oh my god, I am so freaking dull.

I am a total copy-cat this week. Here's a little something that Politiko and Friday did, that they copied from others. Except, it's about me, so I guess it's not totally copied. Duh.

10 years ago...

* I was 16.
* I met a cool red-headed girl named Marie , with a Dead Kennedy's T-shirt, combat boots and a kilt, and finally felt like I could act like myself with the arrival of the new girl in town.
* I wore big baggy clothes, thought I was hot shit, and got into trouble for no reason at all other than to piss off my mother and any other authority figure.
* My boyfriend was a total loser, but I really thought he was funny, until he cheated on me with my best girlfriend at the time. I broke up with a really nice guy to be with him. Oops.
* I started hanging out with J during extra-curricular activities, and fell madly in love, but didn't tell him that until I was in grade 12.

5 years ago....

* I was 21.
* I was madly in love with B-Rock and thought we were going to get married and stay together forever.
* We lived in a small apartment and I liked "playing house" so much, I didn't bother making any new friends.
* I loved my job, but hated the majority of the people I worked with.
* I loved going out dancing and drinking as often as possible, and would go home to bed as soon as the bar closed.

3 years ago...

* I was 23.
* My rocky relationship with B-Rock ended.
* I hated my job, but loved the people I worked with.
* I made a ton of new friends, and we all liked to go out dancing at skanky bars and making out with each other.
* I was afraid I'd be alone forever.

1 year ago...

* I was 25.
* I lost track of some friends, but had made many new ones.
* I was afraid I was going to be alone forever.
* Life was tough, with money and family troubles.
* I was ambulatory with the aid of crutches and a cane.

Today...

* I am 26.
* I am starting to figure out who I am and what I need and want, and I have become a more mature version of my 16 year old self, which I am happy about. I am especially happy about the confidence and the smart mouth returning, although some may disagree.
* I don't give a rat's ass if I'm alone forever.
* I am bored of my job, and like some of the people I work with.
* I prefer to dance in my living room with friends, and almost never go straight to bed after the bar closes.

May Long Wisdom

May Long Weekend. It's maybe even more predictable than New Year's Eve, when it comes down to how much fun you are going to have, how the weather is going to be. Everyone gets so excited about it, but usually it's a big let-down, because you put too much pressure on the fun factor, and one of your friends usually falls in a fire, or gets picked up for drunk driving. This year, I opted out of all the May Long Weekend activities of year's past, because a) I knew the weather was going to be shit on Saturday, but would warm up today or tomorrow, when I had to head back to the city and b) I chose to work all weekend, and then make everyone work for me on July Long Weekend, when Thee Big Ol' Camping Trip of Chaos is going to happen. I thought it was a grand plan.

I can honestly say that the past week has been totally forgettable. There are hardly any details worth mentioning, and I really have zero stories to tell. But hey, you have to have weeks like these, in order to appreciate the fun-filled ones to come. Even fun can be boring when you're having it all the time!
However, since I know that I have friends that can never find me, and like to find out what's going on with me, here are the only things I remember from the past 7 days.

Sunday -- Came in third at Pub Trivia. Got a free beer coupon.

Monday --I do not recall anything happening on Monday at all. There isn't anything in my day planner to help me remember either.

Tuesday -- Day from Hell. Work, taking people to appointments, bitchy hormonal staff meeting, then out for beers. It was raining, and I got many compliments on my umbrella. Met some guy who was with the Queen's Honor Guard, think his name was Duncan.

Wednesday -- Fuck all. Went to work, most likely came home and played Scrabble Online.

Thursday -- Left work and headed straight to the Pub, thinking I was going to have a spanktastic time. There was nobody there to hang out with. Used my beer coupon from Sunday, and headed home.

Friday -- B-Rock picked me up after work, and we headed downtown. A good chunk of people I was hoping to see had just left, but thankfully there were other friends, who graciously let us share their picnic table. Schmutzie was wearing spectacular shoes, and everyone was in good spirits. B-Rock and I headed back to my place. While sitting on the front stoop having a cigarette, we noticed 2 big dogs running down the sidewalk, side by side. They were smiling ( I swear ), and one of them looked right B-Rock right in the eye. They ran past, and then disappeared right before my eyes. I couldn't stop talking about the "ghost dogs", and B-Rock had once again received confirmation that I was crazy.

Saturday -- Walked home from work in the pouring rain. My umbrella was of no use to me. The warranty on my umbrella that we were all laughing about on Tuesday, is missing. Fucking thing flipped inside out in the rain and broke. That's what I get for making fun of the ridiculous warranty.....ah well, as I realized on Tuesday, it would be cheaper and quicker just to go and buy a new one if need be! My evening consisted of waiting for pizza, eating pizza and SNL. Fell asleep instead of heading over to Dynomite and Cookeroo's place.

And well, here we are at today. I was supposed to work at midnight tonight, but due to some last minute schedule shuffling, I have the evening off. B- Rock just called from the campground office, ( I was staring at the phone thinking, "What the hell is my dad calling me from work for?"...hehehe) and our Canada Day plans are set in motion and the site is booked!! As far as I know, everyone I know already has plans, or is out of town, so I'm going to make a couple calls to people I never see, and head downtown, with a book, and let adventure find me. As B-Rock says, I seem to have more adventure when I'm left on my own. Which is true. I do great on my own. Reading a book in a public place peaks people's interest, and you start to talking, and you start to drinking, and the next thing you know, you've got stories to tell.

Have a great May Long everyone, and all you youngsters, please attempt to treat our provincial parks with respect. Leave the picnic tables where they are, drink your booze from plastic, solid colored cups, keep the music turned down, and stay out of trouble.

S-A-T-U-R.....D-A-Y....NIGHT!

It's Saturday evening, and I have nothing to do. Well, I could go to a gallery opening, and I just may have to, since I can't find anyone to drink with. Not that the opening would suck, I'm just feeling a bit redneck today, and want to get stupid and crush a beer can on my forehead. (ok, I don't even know how to crush a beercan on my head, but if I could, I would. It's just the mood I'm in.)

I had fully intended to spend tonight at home, as V-man and the g-friend are out of town, and vegging in an empty house seemed like a fantastic idea...... until I drank the Molson Cold Shot in the fridge. Now, I'm all dressed up, listening to Charlie Parker and Leadbelly, and itching to get out on the town. It's raining, but it smells beautiful outside, and thankfully, I have my umbrella, and fully intend to head out on my own, as soon as I pry my closet door open to get my coat. Should take awhile, since the doorknob is in just as spinny a mood as I.

Maybe by then, I'll have recieved a call from a soul who is feeling just as devilish as I, and I can go out and let trouble find me.

Once again, we made the News!!!

Yet another tragedy has occured in Small Town. This time, the conclusion has been murder-suicide. Relatively new to town, native family with 6 kids under 16. Opened a little diner, that had great food, if you ask me, and that's all I know about them. Husband shoots wife in front of the kids in the wee hours of the morning, then proceeds outside to shoot himself. An elderly woman I've known my entire life (and she's always been elderly to me), witnesses this, and goes to check on the children and call for help.

As I watched the news last night in disbelief, I couldn't help but think, just how not shocking this incident was. If I hear that Small Town will be on the news at 6:00, I tune in, and see murders, attempted murders, suicides, robberies, farm accidents, car accidents that claim the lives of many, undrinkable water, and a mayor being ousted by childish, gossip-addled citizens of the town. It's always been this way. Tragedy after freaking tragedy. One hard knock after the other. And gossip gets the best of ya, sometimes.

I spent a good chunk of my evening, conversing with a co-worker, (who happens to be quite familiar with Small Town and area, due to her family being from 'round d'os parts' ) about what exactly has made Small Town the way it is. I only lived there for 19- 20 years at best, and I know there was always the same old shit going on long before I arrived on the Plains, because adults told me so. Mrs. Bird (my co-worker), said that she thinks the main reason for the "troubles" is racism. She said that it goes both ways, and neither race ever helps each other the way that they should. And that's true. You hear all about the Evil White Man, and the Lazy Indians, day after day, year after year. Really though, Evil White Man, is a farmer who's been in debt since the Depression, and the Lazy Indian is just looking for a break. Both groups have the same troubles when it comes right down to it though.

Alcoholism is a big one. The native people are somehow singled out by the townspeople (white and otherwise), because they are more visible. But there are quiet a few white housewives, farmers, teenagers and so on, who are drunks as well.....they just work harder at concealing it when they go into Town. The lack of employment opportunities, make most young people, regardless of race, leave town, to search for greener pastures. The ones who stay find work here and there, and what work they do find, most likely isn't very high paying, or very stimulating. Waitressing, helping on farms, construction, pumping gas......it doesn't really get any better than that if you are under-educated. (not that there is anything wrong with those jobs, I've been there). When the students come home in the summer, they get the government and the tourism-fuelled seasonal jobs.

So what have we come up with? Racism, alcoholism and a high unemployment rate. That describes every town in Saskatchewan with a declining and aging population, with businesses closing their doors, and real-estate signs on the lawn of every second house.

What makes Small Town different then you ask? I can't say for sure, it just is, and I have always known it, every since I was younger, and my friends,cousins, and natives from other communities, sports teams and tourists showed us just how different we were by being afraid or weary to go downtown when they were there. They felt uncomfortable. I never knew exactly why, other than knowing that something was wrong with all of us. Other towns go unnoticed, never making the news, never having to deal with anything that CSI's need to be brought in for. We have always dealt, as a community, and it gives the coffee crowd, the business owners and the farm wives something to talk about, and yet another thing to fear.

I'm sure someone with a Sociology, or Indian Studies degree, could give me a long winded answer to why Small Town is the way it is, just as one of the regular coffee consumers at the diner could tell a story as to why the owner was shot by her husband. And I'd love to hear it all, but just don't think for a second that you know it all until you've lived in the shoes of the citizens of my hometown and the surrounding area, otherwise, one of them is going to tell you,

"No you don't get it. You just don't understand. There's more to the story. We ARE different. Hear me out."

Ah, to be a child again....

"To imagine is everything, to know is nothing at all." - Anatole France

Ever since I was a child, I have enjoyed, and needed, time to myself. Although for the most part, I am a very social person, and love being around people, young and old, strangers or old friends, I crave time alone, and when I don't feel I am getting enough "me" time....I get grouchy, and I get sad. I think deep down, I am a loner, a drifter, a dreamer. Creativity is somewhat stifled when there are other human beings around me, I can't even make a proper bead necklace at times. I can't write, for fear that someone will see what I am writing before I even know if I want them to read what I have written. I don't sing or play a musical intstrument, if I know that someone is within earshot. I suppose, it's just the shyness in me coming out at those times, the fear that whatever project or hobby I am engaging in will not be good enough, or will be laughed at. As far as I can recall, I have never been subject to this sort of humiliation, but I have been afraid of it since I came into this world.

My alone time has become less exciting and less imaginative, the older I grow. With computers and cable television surrounding me most of my adult life, they are quick, easy escapes from the world. Reading has become a winter activity, and a way to pass time on the bus. I no longer write stories or poetry, I think in part because I no longer have the angst that at one time consumed me. The only thing that hasn't changed, is my incredible imaginary world that I live out in my head. I imagine different "everyday" scenarios, and how they may play out, no matter how far-fetched. I replay arguments, apologies, and even tiny pieces of milestone days and how I should or could have dealt with them, in order to make them more interesting and unforgettable, with the skill of a classic thespian.

The worlds I lived in as a child were not full of fairies, monsters or mythical lands. GQ and I had an imaginary family that we spent quite a bit of time with, if I remember correctly, they lived in a tree in the back yard, the parents were Sue and Bob and they had a few kids. My own imaginary friend, was a little gnome-like character, and she used to try and scare me at night, by hanging out in my closet telling me horrible stories and staring at me while I slept on the top bunk, but by day, she loved to tag along with me, on walks into the fields, and on bike rides down the grid, and we had a whole crapload of fun and trouble, mucking about in creeks, and peeing in the bush, 'cause we wandered too far from home.

I used to love putting on my cross-country ski's and heading out into the field, to spend my time living out my imaginary winter world, where I actually was good at winter sports, and just thinking about life.....which at that time, was much less complicated than life can be now! When at the cabin, I loved getting up at 5am, and walking or cycling on the bike paths, when no one else was around, singing and laughing, and making up scenarios of people or animals I may run into on the lonely tree lined paths. Even though, I also did these things with my friends, cousins and neighbors on any given day, I always felt so unleashed, Bohemian really, when I would venture out on my own.

The past week or so has been hectic as all hell from the get go. There has been alot of stress and anger on many levels, felt by all. We have had many wonderful visitors, some fantastic nights out, and even a couple great afternoons, when the sun would peek out from behind the snow filled clouds. And as of yesterday, I burned out. All I could think of was cooping myself up, doing my thing, having a good cry, and getting some much needed sleep. I did get out for a nice walk in the evening, and after grumbling my way to bed at 1am, I awoke this morning, feeling 100% better. The temperature is perfect, I recieved a wedding invitiation from Maggie May, and I don't have any new zits. Now I just hope that all will forgive me, for being so dull and lifeless yesterday, and not having the energy to entertain my guests!

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For all of you who live in The City, if you are looking for something to do tonight, make your way to Gabbo's. I unfortunatly can't go, so everyone else should. It'll be a time.

Not Just a Regular Hangover, but a Mind Altering One

Finals, moving, break-ups, make-ups, financial troubles, heartache, illness, work stress and sadness are all the more exposed and seem so un-fixable after a Full Moon. I call it the full moon hangover. If you are one who is suffering from this type of hangover, do not worry, the worst is over, and everything will start to fall back into place soon enough. Sit at home, have a cup of green tea, and listen to Stevie Wonder until the universe gets itself in the upright position. It works for me.

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Pete's in town til the weekend, Film Star has left town for the summer.

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Had lunch with mom and the boys, and I actually had money to pay for the whole thing.

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Winter is trying desperately to return, but I won't let it.

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GQ still has no place to live, and I can't help him, unless he starts to help himself. Or win the lottery.

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I still haven't done my taxes. I will have to buy a calculatrice in order to do it I think, unless I can remember my password for NetFile and just copy the math the Internet did for me.

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V-man's girlfriend is almost moved in to the house. Welcome to our humble abode.

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I haven't slept in 24 hours, and I feel fine.

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Pearl Jam is coming to Saskatchewan. After I saw the ticket prices, I thought to myself "What the hell were they fighting Ticketmaster for again?" Ah well, I'll go see the hippocrits anyways.

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My stereo has gone back in time, and is only letting me play grunge rock. Why fight it?

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I always liked that Maggie Gyllenhall, and now I LOVE her.

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Lazy Spring Day

I must say, now that Spring has arrived, I really don't have anything to say. Or rather, I'm much too pre-occupied to actually type. I have a whole list of topics in my head that I want to write about, and just can't get around to it. Spank me, I'm a lazy byotch, and here's a lazy entry.

For the last couple years, I have been thinking alot about how much I'm not doing for humanity. I really want to do some volunteering in third world and war affected countries, and have been half-assed researching opportunitities for quite awhile. I wish I had the guts to just go ahead and do it, and I'm sure I will one day. I don't want to wake up one day, 80 years old, looking at myself in the mirror, and thinking that my biggest regret was not being a better person. But then I saw this, and I'm not sure if it scared me back into my little world, or has given me even more drive to do this crazy thing that I feel so badly that I need to do.

My cousin Binky and her hubby are heading to New Zealand any day now, and of course, I wish I was going. But, I thought, if I can't go, then I'll just live vicariously through them, and I can't wait to hear their stories! I am now hooked on reading The New Zealand Herald. It's funny how the news there is so similar to the news here in Saskabush some days. The Opposition Party's mad about this, the natives are getting screwed over about that. Same ol', Same ol'.

I went to see Cher's Farewell Tour last night. V-man's girlfriend had an extra ticket, and I thought, hey, you can't say no to a free ticket. I wasn't sure what to expect at first, but holy shit, even though we were sitting in our nose bleed seats, I was blown away. Her dancers/gymnasts had me sitting on the edge of my seat with my mouth agape, and plus, she sang 'Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves', while donning her 60's attire, which I assume was just because I was there.

If I didn't have to work today, I'd be drinking coffee and reading in the park until the temperature drops. The crazies are out, and friends who were in hiding for the winter are rubbing their eyes and venturing out into civilization. Laying in the park, is the best way to run into them. It's always makes for an interesting day.

And on that note, I wish you all a fantabulous weekend. Myself, as soon as I'm done work on Saturday, I'll be drinking beer and BBQ-ing. The weather better be good for my 2 days off.....or else Mother Nature and I are gonna have a little chit chat.

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* I have added BlogsCanada and some other blogs reads to the site, so check them out. And yes, "matt g" is Matthew Good's blog. There have also been some changes to the 'cast' and I will be adding even more to the 'links' page ASAP. Enjoy!

How the West was Crazy

I don't know why I have been putting myself through my this hell. I guess I just like to torture myself beyond belief, clenching my fists and holding my tongue until my head is this close to exploding.

Over the past few weeks, when I return home from work in the morning, I sit down with my computer, turn on the radio, and curse and "ARRGGGHHH!!!!" my way through an hour or so of talk radio host John Gormley and his redneck, right-wing, Christian propoganda spewing guests*. I'm starting to think that the rush of raging adrenaline could be what keeps my heart ticking. It's like a freaking drug.

On Tuesday, John wasn't even on his own show, and I was still getting lethal heart palpitations, listening to Doug Christie and friends go on and on about the Western Canadian Separatist movement. I am usually amused by the bullshit that comes out of the mouths of nutjobs. But today, when people started phoning in, and agreeing with these separatists, I just couldn't take it anymore. Since they apparently didn't want me speaking on the radio (I tried), I decided to just listen and research on the InterWeb while they were yapping at me. As I looked into this separation of the western provinces, I started to think of how well I would do living in Ontario or Quebec. I have relatives in Ontario, they would look out for me if I had to immigrate to Upper Canada. Quebec is nice, but I'd have to brush up on my Francais in order to get a job.

Anyways, back to the nut jobs. In a way, I can understand them. They want a Conservative government, and they won't get one, as long as Ontario and Quebec vote for the Liberals. The population down east is bigger than the population of the west. I get it. But what they don't seem to understand is that there are a number of people out in the wild west, who are liberal minded voters too. Not everyone is like them. Look at me, I don't like anyone, but I like right wing nut bars even less than the others. What's a girl to do when it comes to election day? Vote for the lesser of all the evils, whomever they may be that day.

If the West were to separate from the rest of Canada, they already have legislation in place that we could follow, and are working on a name, a flag, and so on. Good for you boys, but I have a few problems with this new country, other than who would be running it.

#1. There would be no way in hell gays would be able to marry. Shit, you'd probably draw and quarter them if they tried.

#2. Forget pro-choice. No choice would be more like it. Women should be making babies and catering to their husbands. I gathered this from the section on mandatory service in their new military....where women wouldn't be servicing.

#3. The official language. Yes, out here in the West the majority of us (90% or something) only speak English. But the way they have it worded on one particular site, French would not be even taught. So I doubt Cree or Saulteux or anything else would be either. We don't want no body talking like those Frogs and Injuns...never mind those Asian folk neither. Thank goodness most of the Ukranian, German and other languages are dying out.....they'd be after them too. Mmmmm...melting pot.

#4. Alberta and BC don't give a shit about Saskatchewan or Manitoba. Take a weekend trip over there. They will ask you stupid questions about the flatness of the land, and automatically assume you are boring. They don't worry about us now, what makes anyone think that would change if we were all one big happy family?

#5. They are not for aiding 3rd World countries. It's every man for himself in New Canada. Helping people is a waste of money. We've got to save our money to build a big army and buy big guns, in case Haiti ever decides to invade us.

Ok, I'm going to stop at #5, as I could go on forever, and I can't as it's GQ's birthday, and pints are calling me.

If you don't like my version of the new legislation, check out The Western Canada Concept site. If you like, they even have links to more right-wing propaganda.

Next in this now to be ongoing series: Tory Registration Legislation. Unlike Gun Control Legislation, it won't cost a cent.

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* I admit, not all of John Gormley's guests are nut jobs. Some of them (as well as some callers) are educated people, with an open mind, who are just trying to get their point heard. I do however assume, that their heads explode after the show as well.

Weekend Update, Minus the Little Details

I had a fantastic weekend. I should take one off more often.

Friday was a hoot and a holler. I had bought a ticket to the "Lowest of the Low" concert for that night, but when I went to check my email that morning, I saw that I had won 2 tickets. After screaming "Fuck Me!" at the top of my lungs, I started calling friends to see who wanted to buy my ticket, and who wanted a free one. Didn't take long to wrangle up Film Star and Frodo to come along for the ride with B-Rock and I, and a few hours later,off we went. The opening band "The Makita's", absolutly blew me away, but unfortunatly, by the time LOTL came on stage, the beers were beginning to kick in, and Frodo and I were more into conversing and flirting than watching the band. But of course, as per usual, what I caught of the LOTL, was Grade A rock and roll, and they did do a good show. The only thing that bothered me, was how eerily similar Ron Hawkins resembled Bryan Adams with his new hair-do.

After drinking all the beer the bar had to offer, we headed off to Frodo's for more booze and some Beatles. At some point, I heard birds chirping, and decided it was time for me to stumble my way home to my own bed. My ride was passed out on the couch, and Film Star had caught a cab home hours before, proving once again how much smarter he is than I. I somehow managed to put my shoes on the proper feet, said my goodbyes, and headed out in to the night/morning. Upon entering the out of doors, I realized I had no idea where I was, or which direction my home was in. I didn't want to admit my drunken stupidity, and go back up to the apartment, so I just started walking. If it wasn't for the mind control device on top of a downtown bar, I would still be wandering the City streets, looking for the House of Pain. I will not embarrass myself further by telling you about how B-Rock told me the next day, exactly where Frodo's apartment was, and how close to my own home it is. To make a long story short, I made it home, passed out on my face, and woke up a few hours later, still half-cut and cursing myself for once again letting myself believe I was 19 years old, and could handle a night like that.

Needless to say, Saturday was mostly spent on the couch, with me moaning and groaning and trying to keep my insides from spilling out. However, I did get out for my walk, and treated myself to my foot spa, before giving in and going to the Pub with Cookeroo, to hang out with the boys. Thank god, Cookeroo had to meet Dynomite, and I ended up getting home fairly early, and falling asleep on the couch. I woke up this morning at 7:00, and decided to move to my bed, and ended up sleeping another 5 hours, before finally waking for good, and feeling absolutly re-energized.

I'm sure I've mentioned before, how much I love Sunday's. Especially hang-over free Sunday's, when I feel like I can do anything and everything under the sun. (or as it was today, under the clouds) I danced around the house until about 3pm, listening to some groovy tunes, cleaning and playing with my attention starved cat, before heading over to B-Rock's to have a spot of tea (really, it was only a spot), tagged along to Staples with him, and then went to the Pub to give Film Star his coat, and enjoy a messy veggie burger. I even got a free beer from Astro-Boy and the Code-ster, for being so wonderful as to give cigarettes to everyone in the bar who asked for one. Apparently no one but me has heard of a convenience store, but ah well, it was worth it to get a free pint from 2 cuties on a lazy Sunday.

And so, here I am, listening to Matt Mays, chain-smoking and drinking coffee, trying to figure out if I should sleep or go to trivia before having to work at midnight, and basking in the glow of a wonderful weekend off.