Rec contr' Amor non es guirens lai on sos poclers, s'autra.

Well, whatever attraction I have for randomness continued to exert it's pull.

I, possibly, may very well be in the Metro at some point next week. Either picture, or I might be quoted. Or both.

A.

Scene: Me, sweaty, dirty, dressed in sweats, wearing rollerblades, no make-up, hair pulled back with a headband, and earphones in ears. Standing at a red light, waiting for the green so I can go home and shower, after my 45 minutes roller-blade.

Up walks a nicely-dressed, unassuming, not scary at all, but not very attractive, somewhere in his 40s, man.

Him: Hi! Are you listening to opera?
Me: Umm.....no.
Him: Something a little lighter?
Me: Yeah, just a little....*laugh*
Him: Is it rock?
Me: No, not rock either...
Him: Hip-hop?
Me: No, but close....
Him: Oh, then what is it?
Me: It's electronica, actually.
Him: Oh...that's kind of like...what's it called....techno?
Me: Yeah, it's about that. A little different, but sure.
Him: So....are you a student around here, in Ottawa?
Me: Uh, no...I'm a teacher.
Him: Do you teach high school?
Me: No, adults. I teach ESL -
Him: That's a very commendable job! Very commendable. Helping them integrate into society.
Me: Uh...
Him: So, I guess you're on your way home? Done for the day?
Me: Yeah, yeah....and there's the light, so I'm just going to head home...
Him: My name's Andrew!
Me: *blank*
Him: What's yours?
Me: It's A***...
Him: Well, if I see you around here again, A***, I'll say hello!
Me: Uh, yeah, ok.....

And then I ran away like a little girl who's just been asked to get into a white van to see something "cool".

A.

So last night was the 5th Annual Literary Follies, in Kemptville. If I had known that it wasn't just a few people sitting aroung, that it was an actual, honest-to-gods event, with planning, and music, and skits and what-not, I never would have done it. You know, 'cause of nerves and all. And the prep for it - the practicing, the pacing, the memorization.....yeah, I'm too lazy for all that.

So instead, I show up, I realize what the hell I've gotten myself into, and I get up on stage......and gobsmack the audience. They loved my reading (I read a part of "Archeology" from Yarn Harlot; the Secret Life of a Knitter.) and they even laughed when they were supposed to laugh. Awesome.

I got plenty of compliments at the end, as well as the standard "Oh, when I was your age, I knit...." and "When we cleaned out my aunt's house, we found a 12 X 12 room that was full, absolutely full, of yarn...."

The proceeds from the evening went to the Friends of the Library - a group that is raising money to renovate the library in town (a beautiful historic building. I have so many memories of that place. Of the kids corner in the basement, the smell of books, the crinkle of the plastic wrap around them....) Before the start, during the intermission, and after the show, there was a book sale - 4 for $1. I only got 4 - there weren't too many books that piqued my interest. I did get Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini and One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Other than that, I managed to buy $100 worth of second hand books in the two used book stores in KV. And I ransacked my mom's cookbooks (with her permission) for an obscene amount of books. I have no idea where all these books are going - this is crazy. It's madness! MADNESS! I need another bookshelf.

A.

My sister went to the Snoop Dogg concert last night.

Boggles my mind.

We are *so* different - she's bubbly, skinny, blonde (and all that that entails), pleasant. Me? I'm cynical, curvy, argumentative and stubborn. Which I'm ok with - I've worked hard at all but the curvy (that's all nature baby!). Usually, I'm the one being held up as an example - you know, I don't drink and drive, I don't spend all my money on frivolous things, I have more than half a brain, all of that.

But last night? Someone actually said "Why can't you be more like you sister?"

To which I spit out my sip of beer, and laughed.

"Because then I would be her. Very Single White Female."

A.

My sister and I went out again last night, for dinner, and I was struck, yet again, by our differences.

To be fair, she also pointed them out, “Let me just do my hair, ok?” “I need to re-do my makeup.” “I just bought these boots, do they go with these jeans? Let me try them with my other jeans.” “Should I wear this shirt? Or this one?” “You’re going to wear that?”

My sister is the “dress up in really trendy clothes, with perfect hair and perfect make-up girl. I am the “Well, the jeans don’t have visible dirt, this shirt is clean…..let’s go!” type person.

And that is totally ok with me. That’s how I’m comfortable – a pair of old jeans, a t-shirt (usually with some strange message on it – ‘I put the R in rad’ ‘Love means zero in tennis’ whatever.) and a sweater. I ruffle my hair up, make sure I don’t have mascara pooling down my face, and off I go.

My sister’s “You’re going to wear that?” comment doesn’t bother me – I know it bothers her that I’m more into comfort than trends, but whatever. I wait patiently while she takes forever to do her hair and makeup, then off we go. I’d rather spend my money on something else (like rent) then live at home and wear all the newest fashions. I don’t need the adulation from other girls (You look fantastic!) or the comments from guys (You’re so skinny! You should eat more, here have some of my…..)

But I guess the thing is, is that I’ve accepted that she’s like that, and I’m the way I am. If I wasn’t comfortable with myself, her comments probably would bother me. I might actually try and compete, or feel like a shlub, instead of feeling like I’m being myself.

A.

So last night, I went to deposit my pay cheque (yes, I get an actual cheque! How old school!) and OMG. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG.

Where did all that money come from? The bank fairy must have been mad-happy with me for some reason 'cause there is no way that it adds up. I am, however, not arguing with said bank fairy. Instead, I will get my hair cut and buy myself some adult furniture (by "some" I mean one piece) and do a little happy dance around my apartment.[1]

Today I recommend:
* orange juice.
* kitty cuddles
* conversations where you're an idiot, but people think you're funny.

I don't recommend:
* kitty cuddles with claws.
* dressing for winter when it's not winter out. (d'oh!)


A.

[1] mostly I will be spinning in place then falling back breathlessly onto my bed.

I am not happy that I have to leave for work and the sun isn't out yet.

I should not have to walk to work in darkness! Where is the sun??

WHERE IS THE SUN????

A.

The Shoppers Drug Mart at Laurier/Bank has moved the hair dye to *right* beside the door. As in, you have to walk right by it to get in. NOOOO!

I'm now $8 poorer, but have redder hair. More red hair? I don't know. Whichever one is grammatically correct.

And I call myself an ESL teacher.

A.

My throat hurts, my ears are stuffed. Please be non-existent allergies.

Lost kicked my ass.  Obviously, I should have paid more attention in high school science class.

( Lost spoliers alerts, for those watching tomorrow )

I wore a bindi for several hours today.  A hot pink one.  Worked in it, grocery shopped in it, ordered a cd.  Nothing.  Not one word.  C'mon  people!  Large bright pink sparkly dot on my forhead!  I do these things for the comments, not my own well-being!

Got my tickets to see Flook on Friday at the National Archives Theater.  So very excited. 

A.

This guy came into work today, and bought some gum, which came to $1.35. He handed me a $10 and asked for the money back in "change." We don't normally give out change, especially not that much. So I tell him "I'm sorry, we don't give out change." What I'm really thinking, is "you're getting $3.65 back -- enough for the O Train, enough for bus fare, enough for a phone call. If this is for parking, calling the fuckin' parking people up and yell at them to keep the machine in the parking lot full of change." He badgers and conjoles for a few minutes, which, really, just makes me want to NOT help them even more.

What I started thinking after he left, was that I should have taken the $10 and bought a roll of dimes, two rolls of nickles, and two rolls of pennies from the coin box, cracked them open, spilled them onto the counter, and said "there you go, change."

It's not like they ever specify what they mean by change, at least, not until you hand them what they don't want.

I told my boss this and he called me a Drama Queen. *shurg* So long as I'm royalty!

A.