A Carpe Diem Year

Ok firstly I would like to apologize to the three people that openly admit to reading my blog as well as the hidden hordes I know are out there lapping my words up in secret. To those people I have to tell you, it's nothing to be ashamed of, really. I'm not That bad, nor is my material so peverted that it's something you need to hide from your friends. Anyhow, what I'm apologizing for is my prolonged absence. I seem to write a lot about how moody I am or how insanely happy I am but nothing particularly new and exciting. In consequence I really didn't want to bore you all with the details of my Christmas with the family, the waves of despairing loneliness that washed over me (irrationally) alternating with bouts of euphoric Christmas giddiness (also irrationally). Also, I've been unusually critical with myself. It's rare that I start out with any intent or purpose when I post, so it usually sounds quite rambling. However, lately that hasn't quite been good enough. Yes I'm rambling right now, in fact I can barely think through the fog in my brain caused by prolonged inactivity and weeks of eating too much. But I have decided that you, dear reader, have been ignored for too long.

I want to think about New Years. I love New Years. Ok, I hate New Year's eve with a passion. To me it's the worst holiday in the whole wide world. But I love New Years. I love the feeling of a brand new year. For the first little while anyways it feels different from all the other years. This year has possibilities. This is the year I'm going somewhere. I'll do something big. I'll start on the path that will lead me down the road of my Ideal Future. So for a little while I feel grand. I walk with a bounce in my step, I stand a little straighter, I drink more water, go to the gym more often and try to procrastinate less. I try and smile and flirt and be charming and witty, ah yes, this year has possibilities. But as we all know, our Resolutions are doomed before they actually begin. It's kind of embarrassing to admit that we've fallen of the wagon, but since it was inevitiable anyways we all just kind of grin sheepishly and move on. We set the bar to high we tell ourselves, there's always next year. I wish, I desperately wish, that this year would be different. I want a Carpe Diem year. When I'm old I want to look back and remember what I did, not what I wish I had done. So please, please let this New Year's be different.

Nigella... are you looking to adopt another kid?

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I love reading cookbooks. It sounds like a strange thing to love, especially when you consider how little cooking I actually do. A few years ago, I wouldn't have got it, but then a few years ago a good night would probably have involved McDonalds and the movies. Some things about growing up are wonderful... However, by far the best cook books to read are those that are written by people who aren't neccessarily professional chefs. I don't want to say professional chefs are bad food writers! What slander! No, on the contrary they're great food writers, but often for them a meal is an opportunity to show off with delicious but elaborate feasts for the senses that need a half day to prepare and ninety dollars worth of ingredients. What I like to read is the kind of book written by people who cook with love. I know that that sounds incredibly corny, but if you're the type of person who cooks for themselves a lot or who eats out a lot, think of the basic pleasure given when someone else cooks a meal for you. A truly delicious family dinner is an affirmation of love. Also, nothing brings people together like good food.

So while I love going to a restaurant and ordering something fancy, when I want to feel snuggly and cozy, or when I want to get in to the holiday spirit, I crack open one of my Nigella Lawson's or one of my Peter Mayle's and curl up in my living room with something to munch on (you should never read a food book without something to nibble on along the way) and lose myself in the photography, the descriptions, the menus and the whole feel of it.

single during the holidays...

People tend to blog a lot about being single, in fact I would maintain that it is a far more popular theme then the joys of a solid and comforting relationship ever will be. Why? Well in the book Atonement one of the characters said that she liked writing about ugly people better, there were far more ways to describe ugliness then beauty, everyone beautiful looks the same. That's kind of how relationships are, once you've talked about how much you love each other, how happy you make each other and how you can't imagine never feeling this way, there's not a whole lot left to talk about. Not to mention the fact that, most relationships inevitably settle in to a rut... singles do to of course, they just get to bitch about that rut because they're single. Singleness on the other hand comes in a wonderful array. Firstly, there are the miserable singles, these people are absolutely convinced that their lives would be so much better if only they had a significant other. Their self esteem would be better (since someone finds them attractive), it doesn't matter how crappy their job is because there's someone wonderful to come home to, and having partner is going to fill that aching void of loneliness that is inevitably in their lives.

Then there is the kind of single that is indifferent to their singleness. They've accepted it, they go out with their friends, they have hobbies, they try to go places to meet new people, they go on the occasional date. These people do not bemoan their singleness and they see it as a phase. But on the flip side they don't celebrate their singleness either.

The third kind of single is the kind that celebrates their singleness, they wallow in it. The perfect example in my mind is Samantha from Sex and the City. She is the quintessential bachelorette and has every intention of remaining so for the rest of her life. She revels in the freedom of being without that ball and chain, she gets the stability of a relationship from her friendships and she gets the sex from... well... the masses. She is a total narcissist and likes it that way.

So my friends, what makes singleness truly interesting is that no one is one of these three all the time. People tend to bounce back and forth between the three, and sometimes they find themselves in between two of them.

The reason why I'm giving so much thought to singleness is the holidays, specifically New Years. The holidays are bad enough with the majority of my cousins and my sister in relationships but now add to the mix New Years, the holiday with the most pressure to be with someone... anyone if only at the strike of midnight. (Well Valentines is probably more pressure, or would be if I wasn't looking forward to the discount chocolate on the 15th) So here am I trying to figure out what to do with myself, I talk to one of my bffs, she's going to a club with her bf and some other people, I ask if some of those people will be single. She said no, is that a problem? The answer is a resounding omfg YES!!! See here's the thing, its not that I mind being with couples, I don't but I really really cannot stand being a third wheel. I get strength in numbers. I need people to commiserate with. I need people to talk to when all the couples get all PDA on me. Trust me, there is absolutely nothing more awkward then sitting in a hotel room with 5 other couples that are making out, whispering to each other or drunkenly arguing. Well... the only thing more awkward would be if they started having sex.

So my assessment: I need a date, another single or another party... STAT!

I was going to write about christmas music, scrubbing the floor and the sappy/awesome book I read but...

I tend to assume a lot of men are gay and just not out yet. In fact, my deep interest in outing gay men, my overly sensitive gaydar, my interest in gay rights (it's totally a human rights issue!) and the fact that sometimes i would rather wear my sneakers, a t-shirt and my comfy jeans (with no makeup to boot) led my mother to suspect that I'm gay.

This was something I gave serious thought to... after all no one knows me better then my own Mother! Maybe she was on to something, maybe she knew something I didn't. So I pictured myself with a woman instead of a man. I could immediately see the practicalities of the situation. I want a large family so it was nice to think that the birthing and breast-feeding responsibilities would be immediately halved. Also, I wouldn't be automatically slotted into the typical woman's roles in a marriage. Hopefull I would never have to hear "you're only mad because you're on your period" as well.

I did some research, I compared hot men and women on the subway, who was I more attacted to? I even struck up a flirtatious conversation with an absolutely gorgeous girl who hit on me via facebook. I'm not one of those girls who get drunk and make out with other girls for attention, I'm one of those girls who get drunk and make out with guys... because I'm horny, so I had no real frame of reference to help me determine which gender I had the most chemistry with.

But ultimately folks, I think that the reality is that I'm just far more attracted to tall handsome men with breaod shoulders and muscular stomachs and that undefinable arrogance that must come from having a penis. But perhaps, in spite of the strong case I made for being with women, my attraction to men is for the best... at least with men I know who's the boss (me) with women I'm not so sure where I would stand.

From the Annals of my notebooks

I stockpile notebooks, like a total nerd. I absolutely adore stationary. So sometimes I go through writing periods if you will, when I write quite a frequently. However, as a result, it often winds up being sappy and melodramatic. Writing teachers encourage you to use lots of different words and sometimes that backfires. Anyhow, I feel like including an old piece, one from between 2 and 3 years ago I figure. It's one of the least corny ones, but feedback is always appreciated.

** You are the pink in my day. A brief but glorious minute of sunshine reflecting blazingly in a wet and grey world. You are the tattoo peaking out of an evening gown and you are running away during our lunch break to ride the rollercoasters. You taste like the Baileys I slipped in my coffee before the board meeting. You are the brazen sunflower whose coarse beauty brazenly outshines the dull, prickly roses. Only you could make the smell of lavender soap, stale coffee and garlicky french food my favourite smells in the world. You have become the tamarisk in my life.**

Is it a tad melodramatic? Yes. Is it a little wordy? Yes. Do I remember who this was about? No.

If you're wondering about such a random short paragraph, it has to do with the short descriptive paragraphs a writing teacher had my class do every week. It was kind of a warm up exercise.

I almost forgot

If gentlemen prefer blondes... where is my gentleman?

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

Suprisingly no, this is not going to be me obsessing over Tiffany's again. Instead, I'm going to be obsessing over one of the best movies of all time. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Darlings, it's iconic, it's Marilyn Monroe at her finest, if you have never witnessed this then, you must see it immediately. There are lines in it like "I just love finding a new place to wear diamonds." As well as flashy musical numbers. Monroe plays the charming ditzy blonde who's in it for the money and her friend plays the brunette party girl that is in it for the...well they had to refer to sex far more subtly back then. Suffice it to say that the "Olympic team" (really a bunch of dancers who are far to good looking to be straight) is one of the highlights of the movie.

Anyhow, the movie is the fantastic end to a fantastic day. It has been one of those rare days where I've accomplished everything I wanted to for once.

It's a wonderful feeling.

Hyde... fuck yeah

I have nothing to say except that I just saw an episode of That 70s Show and in a total flash back I have transfered half my affections to Danny Masterson.

Is any fantastic Federal politician hiring right now?

Ok I'm watching Peter Mansbridge right now. I should be reading a newspaper or something, but I can't because I'm getting stupider by the day. Anyhow, as we all know I'm out of school, cooling my heels and waiting for the damn strike to end. There's not a whole lot going on with my life, I'm ashamed to say that my studies aren't just slipping, they've full-on stopped. I would rather clean stuff and go to the gym. Thats actually going really well. But here's the point, Ottawa is the place to be right now. Our politics are getting super exciting with this potentail coalition, maybe even more exciting then in the states. I want to be in Ottawa for the "Coup" if there is one! Can anyone hook me up?

two blogs in one night? WHAT?

Ok, So clearly I'm hyped up on something. If cocaine feels like this then I'll pass. My family says, Laura, go to the gym. I don't know if it'll work but its worth a try. What I really wanted to write about tonight though, was The Daily Show. Anne Hathaway was on it and I have to say, I love her. How did such a sweet girl wind up with a guy who claimed to financially represent the Vatican? But far more important then my love for Anne is my love for John Stewart. I know what you all are saying, "He's too old Laura. He has a family Laura. He's super-smart, rich and famous with millions of groupies." Listen all you nay-sayers, our love is pure! Our love has no bounds. When I'm not swooning over his salt and pepper wavy hair or that sardonic half-smile he's always wearing, I'm grinning with sheer delight, and yes, even chuckling occasionally at his jokes. Of course, I'm also fantasizing about him, me a candy bikini and that studio set of his... once everyone has gone home. TMI? I don't care. Now folks, since I have so much free time on my hands, I'm going to be delving back in to the realm of creative writing. I haven't seriously "been there" since grade 12 in high-school, under the tutelage of Mrs. Diamond. Anyhow, I'm bringin' the creative writing back. Normally political science doesn't allow much in the way of creative leeway, however, it seems that these days, they are just begging me to become an artsy type. I have no intentions of working at a restaurant however. Weak punchline? I know. So I will be sharing little tidbits from the short story I hope to write, maybe even get feedback on the plot ans whether or not its sounding a little to harlequin-ey or like those books with a lot of discriptors designed to confuse the stupid nouveau bourgeois in to believing they're actually reading literature.

whats wrong???

I don't know why, but today I'm feeling jittery. It wasn't so bad yesterday, but last night I could barely sleep. I hovered uncomfortably between consciousness and sleep, my thoughts became dreams, which in turn became nightmares, but I was still conscious enough to say "snap out of it dude". My favourite pillow, which is flatter, was no longer making the cut if you will, my other pillow which is considerably plumper was too plump. At one point I balled up my comforter and all my throw pillows and threw myself across that. No cigar. I wanted to get up and walk around. I wanted to flip through magazines and books. I wanted to go watch the really bizarre late night television. More then anything though, I wanted to sleep. I was awake when everyone else started to get up. More then awake really. Usually I feel pretty groggy first thing in the morning, but not this time. Oh no, what I really wanted to do was get up and take up running. I've failed at it before, but this time I was sure I would get it. I would run to the YMCA, do some laps in the pool, come home and finally get some shut eye. I had a cable guy to wait for though. So instead I drank some coffee, which made things worse, read a book, which made things worse, and tried to trick myself in to eating, which made things worse.

Its like my body is doing a total 180, usually, I'm hungry and tired. Today, food would equal more energy. If I had more energy I would explode!

What the hell is wrong with me?? Anyone know?