I haven't blogged in awhile. First I was too busy and then I was too hurt.
Last weekend I went to Nanaimo. Hung out with the girls. Friday night they held an open house. Friends, friends, friends. I got made fun of massively because I had put amaretto and coke in my nalgene bottle and drank on the bus ride up. Some questions about whether I had taken the "short bus" up? I don't really know what that is supposed to mean, but seriously, the reason I drank was I had a record day for wires at work (104 opposed to my normal 25-40) and if I didn't drink, I was going to cry. I needed to get drunk. And drunk I got.
The next day my hangover and I went to help move Bonnie's friends. I have never seen people more in need of a purge. They had so much CRAP! And they were moving into a huge duplex, one side for each, that was three bedrooms on each side. Ridiculous. But we helped and all was fine.
The next day was SPA DAY! We went to the Kingfisher Resort and partook of the hydro spa. Heaven in cascading water. Tamara, Bonnie and I were in the first group and we had such a good time. First was a Swiss shower, that was followed by the Mineral Massage Pool, Waterfall Massage, Steam Cave, Glacial Waterfall (COLD COLD COLD) River Walk, Sea Mineral Soak and Tidal Baths. Amazing. If you can, I highly suggest this. We giggled and indulged in our inner girlieness.
After the spa, we headed over to the restaurant for lunch. Sat down, got informed that there was a buffet and to help ourselves. Oh My God. So much food, and to be more specific. so much smoked salmon! Amazing. After sitting down, we had to inquire about the price of the buffet. $22? Wow. We stuffed ourselves stupid. I mean stupid. I hurt.
The next morning I woke up and found my back hurt. Alot. Was it the spa? Isn't a spa supposed to make you feel better? It was really hard to get out of my chair at work. I found I was like mom, hobbling around. Day two was worse. I went home and laid on my bed. Mostly, because once I was down there, I couldn't get off. Back spasm are terrible. They make you feel so helpless, and really I am, as I don't live with anyone. Day three and it hurt to sit. I finally went up to the pharmacy and got muscle relaxants. I don't do medicine because I have a mental block about them. You would too, if one tried to kill you. (Penicillin, I was 1, I'm still not over it). The relaxants helped. I finally got to talk to my mom and she said that it took 2 days to throw out her back and most likely it was helping move that did it. Last time I'm helpful. Also, she told me it was at 27 that her back started going out. Oh goodie, another hereditary gem for me to look forward to.
Thursday saw me see Laura, who was home from Japan for the holidays. It was good and weird. Haven't seen her since July but what to say? Mostly spent the time NOT telling her things because I know secrets about people in Japan that I am not supposed to tell, especially to those that like to gossip. Why is that when you have a secret, its the one thing that wants to come spitting out of you?
I made it through to Friday and found myself on a bus back up island. I wasn't going to go to Rina's birthday party but I had spent 30 agonizing minutes in a jewelry store picking out her gift (in heels with a bad back, idiotic!) and I wanted to give it to her in person. Cathleena and Rob were there so got to have good times with them. They live in Australia now and I haven't seen Cathleena in an eon. I like to be the person away, it sucks when other people are.
At 6 am I was awoken by Alina. She had a 9 am flight from Victoria and she was dropping me off on the way there. But when we ventured outside... BLIZZARD! Seriously, when did the island decide that it liked snow? We don't do snow! Snow is for the rest of Canada. Alina drove, slowly but worriedly. Luckily, the snow hadn't hit the Malahat highway yet, so all was okay once we got that far. I came home and slept.
I'm doing a volunteer thing for work tonight and then tomorrow seeing a friend from Japan who is home for the holidays. Good times.
Happy Holidays.
S.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Unexpected
I don't do Christmas.
It was a decision my sister and I reached a few years ago. And really, it makes perfect sense seeing as a) we aren't Christian and b) we have issues with mass consumerism. So we threw it all away. We don't buy presents and for the most part, we don't accept presents. We don't decorate. No tree is murdered for our sakes.
Most people seem shocked that we don't celebrate. But once we explain how un-stressful the season is, how we don't have to fight the crowds at the mall, how little money we spend in the month of December, we invariably get the response of "oh I wish my family could do that."
Nadine is a big advocate for the unexpected present. She likes to buy things just because, rather than massive corporation saying we have to buy things.
A few weeks ago, I got a text asking what I was doing this Sunday. Of course, my normal response of nothing sparked my sister into action mode. Suddenly I was ordered to head up island for the weekend.
I arrived on Friday evening to have drinks with a friend, mostly so I didn't have to take the 7:30 bus Saturday morning. My friends were surprised that I was in town, seeing as I'm scheduled to head up island for our spa day next weekend. But news of my sister having a surprise for me got them. Questions arose. What is it? Where are you going? Is it outdoors or indoors? Dude. It's a surprise. I don't know.
So, Nadine picked me up, and we were off to the first surprise. And it turned out to be a stage version of The Princess Bride by high school students. It was so cute, them trying to remember their lines. But seeing it was the Princess Bride, my favourite movie EVER, I really enjoyed it.
The second surprise was a concert. An African Drum and dancing jam session. It was awesome. Okay. Most of it was awesome. Some of it was weird and pretentious. Hippies seem to have this strange notion that because they don't shave their armpits or wash their hair that they have this validity, this we're better than the rest of you. It's fucking annoying. Seriously, poor hygiene does not give you moral superiority. And this is coming from a girl with hippie tendencies. It definitely does not mean that spinning dish clothes around on sticks shows that you are deep and arty.
However, the drumming and the African dancing was rad. Really earthy. There was a dude there that kept feeling the beat so much, that he just couldn't sit. He had to get up and groove. He clearly was a raver, because that's how he was dancing but it was amusing. He almost knocked over this baby who was wandering in the dancing mob. At one point he disappeared and when he reappeared he was wearing a different shirt. I guess the beat had sweat through the first shirt.
So that was my unexpected surprise. And much more satisfying than opening a meaningless nothing on Christmas morning.
S.
It was a decision my sister and I reached a few years ago. And really, it makes perfect sense seeing as a) we aren't Christian and b) we have issues with mass consumerism. So we threw it all away. We don't buy presents and for the most part, we don't accept presents. We don't decorate. No tree is murdered for our sakes.
Most people seem shocked that we don't celebrate. But once we explain how un-stressful the season is, how we don't have to fight the crowds at the mall, how little money we spend in the month of December, we invariably get the response of "oh I wish my family could do that."
Nadine is a big advocate for the unexpected present. She likes to buy things just because, rather than massive corporation saying we have to buy things.
A few weeks ago, I got a text asking what I was doing this Sunday. Of course, my normal response of nothing sparked my sister into action mode. Suddenly I was ordered to head up island for the weekend.
I arrived on Friday evening to have drinks with a friend, mostly so I didn't have to take the 7:30 bus Saturday morning. My friends were surprised that I was in town, seeing as I'm scheduled to head up island for our spa day next weekend. But news of my sister having a surprise for me got them. Questions arose. What is it? Where are you going? Is it outdoors or indoors? Dude. It's a surprise. I don't know.
So, Nadine picked me up, and we were off to the first surprise. And it turned out to be a stage version of The Princess Bride by high school students. It was so cute, them trying to remember their lines. But seeing it was the Princess Bride, my favourite movie EVER, I really enjoyed it.
The second surprise was a concert. An African Drum and dancing jam session. It was awesome. Okay. Most of it was awesome. Some of it was weird and pretentious. Hippies seem to have this strange notion that because they don't shave their armpits or wash their hair that they have this validity, this we're better than the rest of you. It's fucking annoying. Seriously, poor hygiene does not give you moral superiority. And this is coming from a girl with hippie tendencies. It definitely does not mean that spinning dish clothes around on sticks shows that you are deep and arty.
However, the drumming and the African dancing was rad. Really earthy. There was a dude there that kept feeling the beat so much, that he just couldn't sit. He had to get up and groove. He clearly was a raver, because that's how he was dancing but it was amusing. He almost knocked over this baby who was wandering in the dancing mob. At one point he disappeared and when he reappeared he was wearing a different shirt. I guess the beat had sweat through the first shirt.
So that was my unexpected surprise. And much more satisfying than opening a meaningless nothing on Christmas morning.
S.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
On work and such
When I grow up, I want to be a processor!
I seriously doubt anyone ever has thought that in the history of the world, but this is where I find myself. Four and half years out of university and a world away from the girl I was when I left Canada for Japan, this is my current life. Money comes in and I send it all around the world. I'd like to say it goes against everything I believe in, but that's a bit melodramatic. It definitely goes against what I want to be, but seeing as I don't know what that is yet... well, you get the picture.
I had my 3 month review the other day. Basically, they told me I was doing a good job. Yeah, course. I have way too much pride to do a crappy job. Then they asked the dreaded question. "Have you given thought to what you would like to do when you contract comes up?" Dude. I hadn't given thought to what I wanted to eat, let alone do next year. I panicked and told them that I would love to find another position at the company. Because let's face it, continuing to work for one company is cushy. It doesn't have the panic of looking for a new job. So I suppose we'll see.
I went to the work Christmas party on Friday night. I even wore a skirt. I haven't worn a skirt in 8 years. Japan did make a girl out of me. I came home indulging in my feminine side. I highly suspect that it will lose it's appeal soon. The work party was kind of lame. I didn't know hardly anyways as my department were all no shows. People dressed up, playing blackjack and such. Who the hell does a Bond gambling theme for a Christmas party? Oh yeah, people who deal with money! I ate and went home. Whatever.
The people I work with are cool though. Most are in the 20's and we talk about random stuff at work. We even went to a gig on a Wednesday night (Dragonette, they rocked). I got smoking drunk, yet seemed to be the only one who was peachy keen the next day. Again, my ability to hold my liquor comes in handy.
So basically, that's it. I work. I don't like the work, but I do it. I try to have a few laughs whilst doing it. So forgive me if I don't blog that often because... there aren't much things to say about wire payments.
S.
I seriously doubt anyone ever has thought that in the history of the world, but this is where I find myself. Four and half years out of university and a world away from the girl I was when I left Canada for Japan, this is my current life. Money comes in and I send it all around the world. I'd like to say it goes against everything I believe in, but that's a bit melodramatic. It definitely goes against what I want to be, but seeing as I don't know what that is yet... well, you get the picture.
I had my 3 month review the other day. Basically, they told me I was doing a good job. Yeah, course. I have way too much pride to do a crappy job. Then they asked the dreaded question. "Have you given thought to what you would like to do when you contract comes up?" Dude. I hadn't given thought to what I wanted to eat, let alone do next year. I panicked and told them that I would love to find another position at the company. Because let's face it, continuing to work for one company is cushy. It doesn't have the panic of looking for a new job. So I suppose we'll see.
I went to the work Christmas party on Friday night. I even wore a skirt. I haven't worn a skirt in 8 years. Japan did make a girl out of me. I came home indulging in my feminine side. I highly suspect that it will lose it's appeal soon. The work party was kind of lame. I didn't know hardly anyways as my department were all no shows. People dressed up, playing blackjack and such. Who the hell does a Bond gambling theme for a Christmas party? Oh yeah, people who deal with money! I ate and went home. Whatever.
The people I work with are cool though. Most are in the 20's and we talk about random stuff at work. We even went to a gig on a Wednesday night (Dragonette, they rocked). I got smoking drunk, yet seemed to be the only one who was peachy keen the next day. Again, my ability to hold my liquor comes in handy.
So basically, that's it. I work. I don't like the work, but I do it. I try to have a few laughs whilst doing it. So forgive me if I don't blog that often because... there aren't much things to say about wire payments.
S.
Monday, November 26, 2007
On distance
Living abroad has nothing to do with the place. Sure, the architecture is neat, but at the end of the day... only the biggest nerds can live off that alone. It is the people that you meet that make the memories that make you snicker to yourself whilst you stand in a checkout line.
What? You don't do that? Okay, the memories that make me snicker like a crazy person in the checkout line.
So, when I went to Japan, I expected to meet people. Transient people, who would teach me something and then flit off into the unknown. Fun people who would drink me under the table and then whisk me off for ramen. And in truth, I did find these people. People who taught me about confidence and facing the unknown. People who taught me the beauty of gin. And yes, transient people whom I will most likely never see again.
What I didn't expect, was to make good friends. My good friends are from high school. I don't go out of my way to meet new people. But going abroad has changed that. I met people so different from me, and yet, people I can't imagine living without having met.
And then I left.
Facebook and Skype have kept me in touch with most of them. They enable me to have 3 hour long conversations with my friend in Japan about nothing. It's like there is no distance. Except there is.
"He broke me Shari, I never cry. The muthaf*cker made me cry."
If I was in Japan, this statement would have caused me to make a face of empathy, give a big hug and take her out for a drink. But those are things without words. Silence over Skype is awkward and misinterpreted. Either you weren't listening or you have nothing constructive to say. And thus, you can't be there for the good friends you have made half way around the world.
And it seriously sucks.
S.
What? You don't do that? Okay, the memories that make me snicker like a crazy person in the checkout line.
So, when I went to Japan, I expected to meet people. Transient people, who would teach me something and then flit off into the unknown. Fun people who would drink me under the table and then whisk me off for ramen. And in truth, I did find these people. People who taught me about confidence and facing the unknown. People who taught me the beauty of gin. And yes, transient people whom I will most likely never see again.
What I didn't expect, was to make good friends. My good friends are from high school. I don't go out of my way to meet new people. But going abroad has changed that. I met people so different from me, and yet, people I can't imagine living without having met.
And then I left.
Facebook and Skype have kept me in touch with most of them. They enable me to have 3 hour long conversations with my friend in Japan about nothing. It's like there is no distance. Except there is.
"He broke me Shari, I never cry. The muthaf*cker made me cry."
If I was in Japan, this statement would have caused me to make a face of empathy, give a big hug and take her out for a drink. But those are things without words. Silence over Skype is awkward and misinterpreted. Either you weren't listening or you have nothing constructive to say. And thus, you can't be there for the good friends you have made half way around the world.
And it seriously sucks.
S.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
On my love of hockey and my inability to read schedules.
Canucks versus Flames. Sunday evening. One of hockey’s great rivalries and at an earlier start time, so that those of us on the island can partake in the religious fever that is our national pastime. Bonnie got two tickets and I couldn’t say no, when the first person she thought to ask was me. Not that I would of anyways. Come on, it’s hockey. Canucks hockey. It would have been going against my upbringing to say no.
Only, there is no one in the bus station.
So off to Vancouver I was on Sunday. Met Bonnie downtown and had some food. We then proceeded to bitch about everything and everyone. Say what you will about astrology but Bonnie and I, being two days apart in our birthdays, have pretty much the same views on people. Namely, they piss us off.
The BC Lions were playing in the Western Conference Final, so between the football and hockey games, there were a lot of drunk people downtown. The smell of stale beer on people is always attractive.
Finally, its time for hockey. Bonnie and I head to GM Place and up, up, up into the stands. Luckily, there aren’t any bad seats in GM Place because if there were, we would have been in them. Basically, if we had moved back one row, we would have hit the outer walls. That’s okay. From that angle you can see the whole play rather than just the little bit in front of you.
Yeah, I don’t believe that argument either.
Unfortunately, Ohlund was out because of a slashing incident and subsequent suspension. But that didn’t stop the Canucks from having a good game. You have to love when you teams romps 4-1 over the visitors. The poor girls sitting next to us. Wearing their pretty red Flames jerseys. They were very quiet.
I wasn’t.Hockey is the excuse to be loud, to yell at the players to skate and pass the goddamn puck, to generally make an ass of yourself.
It was fun.
Finally the game let out and I had missed the 7:30 bus home. No worries, there is one at 10. So, I walked Bonnie to her bus. Got on the skytrain. Got off the skytrain and onto the train going the right direction. Headed for the bus station.Only, there is no one in the bus station.
So, I frantically searched for a schedule. And there in black and white… the clear absence of the bus I was supposed to take. The one that was clearly marked on the website.
At moments like this, it is perfectly permissible to swear loudly.
It is strange the thoughts that go through your head when you are stranded. The first one was that I could spend the night on the benches at the station, which is okay if you are traveling. I have done that. But seriously, I live here. I don’t have the excuse that I don’t understand the transit system or that I don’t know where the hotels would be. The second thought was to get a hotel. Only then did the third thought come into my head, of calling Bonnie and trying to get to her ferry and crash at her place. But, by that time, there was no way I could make that ferry.
So, I waste time in a crisis. I like to make the situation as bad as humanely possible. It makes a better story.
Bonnie suggests going to Tswassen, taking a ferry to Duke Point at which she could drive out to pick me up. At this point, it was clear that I wasn’t going to make work in the morning. I’m in downtown Vancouver. How do I get to the ferry terminal? Suddenly, I remember that I went to visit Laura at Simon Fraser University about 6 years ago and that I had gone through Scott Road Station. Those words didn’t mean much to me at that point but they registered with the guy wearing the lovely skytrain uniform and thus, I was off into the unknown.I arrived at Scott Road Station 30 minutes later. Let me say one thing – D-O-D-G-Y! I walked around all the bays trying vainly to find one that said Tswassen. Nadda.
So, I suck up my pride and call Laura. The message of that call was basically HELP! After trying to help me with the bus schedule, we concluded that I couldn’t make it to the ferry in time. Laura wouldn’t hear of me staying outside by myself in Surrey. And if you know anything about the lower mainland, you would agree with her.
“Go to the King George Station, I’ll pick you up there. And stand in a well lit area”.
Honestly, I think my friends think I’m 5 years old sometimes. I did live by myself in a foreign country. I am perfectly capable of standing in a well lit area without someone telling me to. I may be from the island but I ain’t no backwater hick. I think.
Laura picked me up, let me crash at her place and drove me to the ferry at 6 am the next day. By the time I got back to Victoria I could have done a half day but my adventure had killed me. So instead I laid around my apartment.
What a fun day. Shari lost in the big city. Par for the course.
S.Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Weekend
I'm not good at making friends. I admit it. It is a skill and one that I seriously need work on. But really, when one has had the same friends mostly, since high school... you don't work on it.
So I have my girls and we fondue. Yes, fondue. A big old pot of oil to fry food in. Yes, it makes your hair reek for days but you will suffer for greasy goodness.
Back in the day (aka 1999 ish) it was easy. There would be an event and we would fondue. Birthday? Fondue. A boring Saturday night? Fondue. Someone going or coming back from a trip? Fondue. (We tend to be the traveling type). It marks important occasions.
So, I came back from Japan. Kind of an important occasion. Six months before I even boarded the plane Tamara asked me if I was coming home. When the answer was yes, she immediately started on the fondue train. There isn't anything that girl wouldn't do for a little batter and cheese sauce.
It was decided. We would fondue. However, unlike when we were teenagers... we have lives. Work. Trips. Commitments. Significant others. Yee gawds, it's like we are adults.
Yes. I am shuddering.
Basically, it took three months to come up with a weekend, when once we used to plan it the day of. I hauled myself up island and thus we feasted. Then we had chocolate fountain. Yes, it is heaven in a fountain.
Friends and food. Is there any two words that go nicer together? If so, I have yet to find them. Except maybe travel and free.
S.
So I have my girls and we fondue. Yes, fondue. A big old pot of oil to fry food in. Yes, it makes your hair reek for days but you will suffer for greasy goodness.
Back in the day (aka 1999 ish) it was easy. There would be an event and we would fondue. Birthday? Fondue. A boring Saturday night? Fondue. Someone going or coming back from a trip? Fondue. (We tend to be the traveling type). It marks important occasions.
So, I came back from Japan. Kind of an important occasion. Six months before I even boarded the plane Tamara asked me if I was coming home. When the answer was yes, she immediately started on the fondue train. There isn't anything that girl wouldn't do for a little batter and cheese sauce.
It was decided. We would fondue. However, unlike when we were teenagers... we have lives. Work. Trips. Commitments. Significant others. Yee gawds, it's like we are adults.
Yes. I am shuddering.
Basically, it took three months to come up with a weekend, when once we used to plan it the day of. I hauled myself up island and thus we feasted. Then we had chocolate fountain. Yes, it is heaven in a fountain.
Friends and food. Is there any two words that go nicer together? If so, I have yet to find them. Except maybe travel and free.
S.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Happenings
I’m feeling very weird lately. Not sick exactly, but really out of it. I wonder what the hell is wrong with me.
Anyways, I’m a red head now. Kind of. After talking about it for around two months, I finally got off my ass and booked an appointment to get my hair done. On Monday I went to the stylist and got red highlights in my hair and a cut. I really like it, as I feel it suits me. Except aren’t red heads supposed to have fiery tempers? Because I sure don’t. My temper is like ice.
Also, the fumes from my head were making me feel light headed. Maybe that’s why I’m so out of it. The stylist told me not to wash my hair for a couple of days and in general not to wash my hair everyday. I suppose that’s all fine, but am I the only one who feels nasty if her hair isn’t washed. I made it two days and totally had to wash. I love the colour my hair currently is, but not enough to be greasy in an attempt to maintain it.
I’m a big ol’ liar. I lie to stylists.
They tell me to blow dry. I tell them I will. I won’t. It’s a waste of time. They tell me to not wash very often. I agree. Such a lie. I wash everyday. They tell me to use a light wax. I tell them I have some at home. I don’t. I hate product. I tell hair stylists whatever they want to hear. I just can’t tell them that product is gross and that blow drying makes me too sleepy to stand.
I also have a big mouth.
Oh, if you tell me a secret and tell me not to tell a soul, I will take it to my grave. But about myself? That’s a bit harder.
Let’s be honest. I’ve been freaking out about being home. I’m bored as all hell and I can’t motivate myself to do anything about it. Sure, I’m going to be volunteering at the museum in January and I have vague ideas of volunteering at the Y, taking dance class, blah, blah, blah. I think about leaving all the time. I just don’t know where to go or what to do. I also think about taking classes or finding a career path.
But here’s the thing. Jason and Stephen are getting married next year. It’s sweet really. They asked me to be in their wedding party. I’m not into weddings in the slightest but make it about two guys and I’m in. Something about a gay wedding tugs at my heartstrings that the run of the mill straight wedding just can’t do.
So, my contract ends in February and so does my lease. I was thinking that if I was to leave then would be a good time. Makes sense, right? But, I’m supposed to be in my oldest friend’s wedding that is set for next summer. It doesn’t make sense in my mind to leave and then come back. Because, I won’t. Rina got married and I didn’t come back from Japan. I probably could have, but pretended in my mind that I couldn’t. Great friend I am. So, I decided that I was going to stay in Canada at least until their wedding. I may stay longer but that is the minimum.
That’s all fine. I make decisions like that in my life all the time. I can live with it.
But then I opened my big mouth and told Jason. He loved the idea.
Now I’m locked in. If I change my mind (which may happen) he’ll totally guilt trip me. What is friendship if not one big guilt trip?
So I’m in Canada at least until August ish. They haven’t set a date. I wish they would. I realize there are problems with a sister that took their date and is stealing their thunder. Problems, problems.
I also wish my friends in general would stop assuming that I’m sitting at home waiting for them to call. I may not have much of a life, but I’m trying damn it. I don’t think that they actually think that I’m sitting at home waiting for them, but situations make me feel like that is what is in the back of their subconscious.
And it makes me want to leave.
S.
Anyways, I’m a red head now. Kind of. After talking about it for around two months, I finally got off my ass and booked an appointment to get my hair done. On Monday I went to the stylist and got red highlights in my hair and a cut. I really like it, as I feel it suits me. Except aren’t red heads supposed to have fiery tempers? Because I sure don’t. My temper is like ice.
Also, the fumes from my head were making me feel light headed. Maybe that’s why I’m so out of it. The stylist told me not to wash my hair for a couple of days and in general not to wash my hair everyday. I suppose that’s all fine, but am I the only one who feels nasty if her hair isn’t washed. I made it two days and totally had to wash. I love the colour my hair currently is, but not enough to be greasy in an attempt to maintain it.
I’m a big ol’ liar. I lie to stylists.
They tell me to blow dry. I tell them I will. I won’t. It’s a waste of time. They tell me to not wash very often. I agree. Such a lie. I wash everyday. They tell me to use a light wax. I tell them I have some at home. I don’t. I hate product. I tell hair stylists whatever they want to hear. I just can’t tell them that product is gross and that blow drying makes me too sleepy to stand.
I also have a big mouth.
Oh, if you tell me a secret and tell me not to tell a soul, I will take it to my grave. But about myself? That’s a bit harder.
Let’s be honest. I’ve been freaking out about being home. I’m bored as all hell and I can’t motivate myself to do anything about it. Sure, I’m going to be volunteering at the museum in January and I have vague ideas of volunteering at the Y, taking dance class, blah, blah, blah. I think about leaving all the time. I just don’t know where to go or what to do. I also think about taking classes or finding a career path.
But here’s the thing. Jason and Stephen are getting married next year. It’s sweet really. They asked me to be in their wedding party. I’m not into weddings in the slightest but make it about two guys and I’m in. Something about a gay wedding tugs at my heartstrings that the run of the mill straight wedding just can’t do.
So, my contract ends in February and so does my lease. I was thinking that if I was to leave then would be a good time. Makes sense, right? But, I’m supposed to be in my oldest friend’s wedding that is set for next summer. It doesn’t make sense in my mind to leave and then come back. Because, I won’t. Rina got married and I didn’t come back from Japan. I probably could have, but pretended in my mind that I couldn’t. Great friend I am. So, I decided that I was going to stay in Canada at least until their wedding. I may stay longer but that is the minimum.
That’s all fine. I make decisions like that in my life all the time. I can live with it.
But then I opened my big mouth and told Jason. He loved the idea.
Now I’m locked in. If I change my mind (which may happen) he’ll totally guilt trip me. What is friendship if not one big guilt trip?
So I’m in Canada at least until August ish. They haven’t set a date. I wish they would. I realize there are problems with a sister that took their date and is stealing their thunder. Problems, problems.
I also wish my friends in general would stop assuming that I’m sitting at home waiting for them to call. I may not have much of a life, but I’m trying damn it. I don’t think that they actually think that I’m sitting at home waiting for them, but situations make me feel like that is what is in the back of their subconscious.
And it makes me want to leave.
S.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Conference
I had mentioned to my friend, IngMarie, that I didn't really know anyone in the city. She suggested attending the Young Women Leadership Conference. I figured, hey, if I'm going to spend 100 bucks I might as well spend it on something that does my soul good and not on a new pair of boots (which I did a few days later. Oops).
A bunch of women in a room together? Sounds scary. But no, it was FAB-U-LOUS!
So, here's the thing. Put me at a dinner table with people I don't know or at a bar, and I'm silent. I hate small talk. If I don't have something to contribute, I don't. I hate when people talk for no reason at all, other than to hear the sound of their own voices (this does not include people who are funny, they can talk all they want). But, put me at a table of people I don't know and have a directed discussion about the qualities of a great leader? Oh, I'm all over that shit.
There was talk of peer mentoring groups and I decided to join one. That will be next week. There were breakout sessions. I went to Entrepreneurship, Women's Relation with money and Volunteering Abroad. Basically, I'll sum up what I learned. Owning your own business? SCARY! My relation with money? I don't have lots of the hang ups that the other girls in my group do (I do not think it's unfeminine to talk about money) but I do have some "blueprints" lurking in my old noggin that need some adjusting. Volunteering abroad? Like I needed more incentive to get on a plane.
For a hundred bucks, I got 4 meals, a door prize of a free haircut, and tons of inspiring thoughts. Not bad for a weekend.
I made the point of sitting next to someone new each and every time we ate and tried to interact with them. I don't think I made any friends but I made a point to myself. I can interact with strangers. I just have to fake that I'm confident and eventually, I'll forget that I'm faking. Hell, a comment about the undergrad who was pumping George Michael's Christmas song with a back beat of house from his res window landed me a ride home. And rides the next day. Thanks George, for helping me become more outgoing!
Good times. Good times.
A bunch of women in a room together? Sounds scary. But no, it was FAB-U-LOUS!
So, here's the thing. Put me at a dinner table with people I don't know or at a bar, and I'm silent. I hate small talk. If I don't have something to contribute, I don't. I hate when people talk for no reason at all, other than to hear the sound of their own voices (this does not include people who are funny, they can talk all they want). But, put me at a table of people I don't know and have a directed discussion about the qualities of a great leader? Oh, I'm all over that shit.
There was talk of peer mentoring groups and I decided to join one. That will be next week. There were breakout sessions. I went to Entrepreneurship, Women's Relation with money and Volunteering Abroad. Basically, I'll sum up what I learned. Owning your own business? SCARY! My relation with money? I don't have lots of the hang ups that the other girls in my group do (I do not think it's unfeminine to talk about money) but I do have some "blueprints" lurking in my old noggin that need some adjusting. Volunteering abroad? Like I needed more incentive to get on a plane.
For a hundred bucks, I got 4 meals, a door prize of a free haircut, and tons of inspiring thoughts. Not bad for a weekend.
I made the point of sitting next to someone new each and every time we ate and tried to interact with them. I don't think I made any friends but I made a point to myself. I can interact with strangers. I just have to fake that I'm confident and eventually, I'll forget that I'm faking. Hell, a comment about the undergrad who was pumping George Michael's Christmas song with a back beat of house from his res window landed me a ride home. And rides the next day. Thanks George, for helping me become more outgoing!
Good times. Good times.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Six
“I’m going for coffee, do you want me to grab you anything? I’m going to Starbucks.”
That’s how Tawny started the day yesterday. I hate when people mention certain companies combined the idea of joining. Then I am obligated to say I don’t shop at that store, or use those products. I am always faced with the “why not” question.
The reason is that they are one of my six.Yeah, I boycott six companies. I would like to boycott every company that I think is terrible, but let’s face it, that would be the vast majority of companies. I don’t expect my lack of money spent will influence these companies in any such way, but hey, I like to feel superior. Yup, big old superiority complex and I don’t feel bad about it in the slightest.
- It all started in 2000. I don’t remember the exact details but I remember going to McDonalds and coming out with a conviction. I used to love McDonalds, in the adolescent way of loving everything “cool”. But somewhere along the way I realized that every time I ate at McDonalds, I came out feeling shitty. Greasy. Disgusting. So I stopped. It’s been 7 years and the smell of McDonalds fries wafting on the breeze (how does McDonalds do it? You can smell those fries for miles!) can make me feel nauseous. I have since become a vegetarian and with the exception of Subway (which hasn’t made me feel very good the last few times I went), I no longer spend money at any of the major fast food venues. I won’t even buy a drink. And I feel damn good about that.
- If you want to see the ugliest face I can make, just mention the word – WALMART! It’s making me shudder even to type it. I hate everything about Walmart. I hate that they make more money than most countries in the world, but they still bully companies. By that I mean, if a company wants to charge higher prices so they don’t employ children or sweat shop labour, Walmart will stop buying from them, effectively forcing them to use terrible labour practices. Heaven forbid that some American pays 2 cents more, who cares about Chinese children. I hate that they place their huge ugly stores on the outskirts of town, leading to urban sprawl, and increased traffic. I hate that Walmart is the scene of consumerism at its worst, low paid employees and frenzied shoppers. I hate that Walmart doesn’t feel the need to pay female employees the same as male, or have females as managers. I could go on, but really, I just HATE everything to do with Walmart. I won’t even go in their stores, because the lights, I swear, inspire a fog of the mind that puts you in the perfect mode to buy, buy, buy without thinking. Of all things in the world, I hate Walmart the most. End of statement.
- Coming from a former b-baller, it may be strange that I don’t buy from Nike. I used to. I used to have new basketball runners every year and I insisted on Nike. Jordan knows best, can’t argue with him. All my workout gear was Nike. But really, everyone knows that despite huge profits the people who make the shoes only make pennies. I can’t have that on my conscience. Now, nothing I own has Nike and I try to steer clear of all major athletic brands that choose to pay huge endorsements to whiny basketball stars rather than their own workers.
- Shell is a terrible company and they don’t even try to hide it. In a day and age when alternative fuels have become a catch phrase, Shell doesn’t even pretend to care. It reeks havoc in South America all for the all mighty dollar. A geologist who was investigating Shell in the Amazon went mysteriously missing. Coincidence? I don’t know. I’d rather get an empty tank and have to push my car for kilometers than fill up at a Shell station. But, I don’t own a car, so I really don’t have to worry much about this one.
- Starbucks. Why is it suddenly the thing, to walk around in Lululemon gear and have a Starbucks coffee cup in your hand? When did Starbucks become the status symbol for young urbans? Why are there 5 Starbucks in downtown Victoria alone? Starbucks in theory should be good. They support fair-trade. But from what I understand, it’s one hardly bought coffee a month. Why support fair-trade and then put three stores that run at a loss around a local funky shop? I don’t drink Starbucks but I hear it isn’t even good coffee. Why is it everywhere then? I swear, it’s a conspiracy. Just wish I could figure out what kind of conspiracy.
- This is my newest one, and it makes me so sad to say it but here goes – Cadbury. Cadbury, the makers of so many delicious chocolate creations. Cadbury, the company that employs child labour in the Ivory Coast. I can not in good conscious buy from a company that dose that. Even if they do make those tiny eggs at Easter. And so many of the chocolates at Halloween. I’m proud to say, that there were tons of Cadbury around the office the other day and I didn’t partake. I did eat other candy which is bad, because Cadbury isn’t the only company that uses children to harvest cocoa. It’s just the first one I heard about.
Hey, I don’t expect you to join in my boycotts. Just don’t expect me to join in your merry displays of consumerism gone bad. Don’t even expect me to join in the using of the air of some of these places. I’m stubborn. And damn proud of it.
So needless to say, I didn’t get anything when Tawny offered. What’s the point of having convictions if you cave when someone else offers to get something for you? Fortunately, being lazy goes nicely with convictions, or at least mine, because to fulfill them, I don't do anything.
S.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The best place in the world
OK. I admit it. I'm extremely biased. But really, there isn't a person I know who hasn't been to Vancouver Island and not thought it was amazingly beautiful.
The first thing I can think of, when I think of home, is the green. As far as the eye can see. We live in a mid latitude rain forest. Yes, that is why it rains so much. But the rain can be gotten used to, and unfortunately, so can the beauty this island has. You really have to leave to appreciate it.
I have been to some exquisite places. The Caldera of Santorini Island in Greece takes your breath away with its shocking starkness featured against the blue of the ocean. The quaintness of Otaru on Hokkaido Island in Japan, lit up against hundreds of snow sculptures with candles, makes you feel like you are in a wonderland. The underwater miracle that is Koi Phi Phi in Thailand, makes you wish you were born a fish. The Cloud Forest in Peru, high in the Andes is a feeling that can not be properly described.
But as amazing as these places are, Vancouver Island can compete. Take a float plane from Vancouver airport. You leave the mainland and for minutes are complete surrounded by the Georgia Straight. Then, on the horizon, you catch your first glimpse of the island. It is an arc of green. Slowly, the city of Nanaimo can been seen, framed by Mount Benson in the background and the wilderness on either side. Down island, the city of Gardens is world famous. As it should be. As restless as I am, and as much as I have the need to leave, Victoria will be the place I always come back to.
However, my favourite place is one that not many know about. Out on the west coast is the village of Ucluelet, the place I spent the first 5 years of my life. It is tiny and is the rainiest place in Canada. It is here that the west coast rain forest can be seen in full effect. In nearby Tofino people come to watch storms. Yes, watch storms. The beach is so wind blown that the trees grow at strange angles, like they are trying to run away from the beach.
Just down from my Grandmother's house is Hetinkis Park. It's tiny and hardly anyone uses it. In fact, Roots lodge kind of ruined the best parts of it grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Not bitter, not at all. It's a boardwalk through the rain forest and down to a pebble beach surrounded with huge rocks that the waves crash against.
It's beautiful.
When I die, this is where I want my ashes to be spread. Because no place in the world can compete with this tiny peace of paradise.
So, you can see I'm biased about this island. But I'm not the only one. People all over North America think so too.
http://www.cbc.ca/consumer/story/2007/10/26/travel-survey.html
Vancouver Island has been named North America's best island for the sixth year in a row in a Condé Nast Traveler readers' choice survey that also awarded sixth-place honours to P.E.I.
So forgive me if I gloat a little. Tony Blair recently said to look out for Canada as it is set to become a powerful nation. Maybe Ontario and Alberta will. Us here in BC are far too occupied enjoying our Eden.
S.
The first thing I can think of, when I think of home, is the green. As far as the eye can see. We live in a mid latitude rain forest. Yes, that is why it rains so much. But the rain can be gotten used to, and unfortunately, so can the beauty this island has. You really have to leave to appreciate it.
I have been to some exquisite places. The Caldera of Santorini Island in Greece takes your breath away with its shocking starkness featured against the blue of the ocean. The quaintness of Otaru on Hokkaido Island in Japan, lit up against hundreds of snow sculptures with candles, makes you feel like you are in a wonderland. The underwater miracle that is Koi Phi Phi in Thailand, makes you wish you were born a fish. The Cloud Forest in Peru, high in the Andes is a feeling that can not be properly described.
But as amazing as these places are, Vancouver Island can compete. Take a float plane from Vancouver airport. You leave the mainland and for minutes are complete surrounded by the Georgia Straight. Then, on the horizon, you catch your first glimpse of the island. It is an arc of green. Slowly, the city of Nanaimo can been seen, framed by Mount Benson in the background and the wilderness on either side. Down island, the city of Gardens is world famous. As it should be. As restless as I am, and as much as I have the need to leave, Victoria will be the place I always come back to.
However, my favourite place is one that not many know about. Out on the west coast is the village of Ucluelet, the place I spent the first 5 years of my life. It is tiny and is the rainiest place in Canada. It is here that the west coast rain forest can be seen in full effect. In nearby Tofino people come to watch storms. Yes, watch storms. The beach is so wind blown that the trees grow at strange angles, like they are trying to run away from the beach.
Just down from my Grandmother's house is Hetinkis Park. It's tiny and hardly anyone uses it. In fact, Roots lodge kind of ruined the best parts of it grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Not bitter, not at all. It's a boardwalk through the rain forest and down to a pebble beach surrounded with huge rocks that the waves crash against.It's beautiful.
When I die, this is where I want my ashes to be spread. Because no place in the world can compete with this tiny peace of paradise.
So, you can see I'm biased about this island. But I'm not the only one. People all over North America think so too.
http://www.cbc.ca/consumer/story/2007/10/26/travel-survey.html
Vancouver Island has been named North America's best island for the sixth year in a row in a Condé Nast Traveler readers' choice survey that also awarded sixth-place honours to P.E.I.
So forgive me if I gloat a little. Tony Blair recently said to look out for Canada as it is set to become a powerful nation. Maybe Ontario and Alberta will. Us here in BC are far too occupied enjoying our Eden.
S.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Weekends are for...
I love to sleep. It's a fact. Apparently even as a child I loved to sleep. If I don't want to, I don't get out of bed. What's the point?
In Japan the earliest I had to be at work was 10:30 and that suited me just fine. The other thing that suited me fine was doing karaoke until 6:00 am and then sleeping the next day away. I got back to Canada, got a job and shock upon shock... I had to be there at 8:00. AM! Oh the horror. I make it there in time but I'm not exactly happy.
This morning I woke. But I didn't open my eyes. I laid in bed and thought pleasant thoughts for as long as I could. Finally, I couldn't stand the tedium anymore. I cracked one eye. I shot a look at the clock. 9:00 am? That's my sleep in? Crap. I think I may actually be an adult now. You know, one who goes to bed at decent hour and wakes up before the sun has reached its zenith.
I'm 27 and I absolutely refuse to be an adult. I just wish my body would listen.
So, up I got and went down to Beacon Hill Park. I'm not exactly sure if I was going for a walk or a run. I kind of did both. Then I gave up on both those ideas and scrambled around on the rocks down at the ocean. Got some vitamin D into my bones.
So as I was making my way in Beacon Hill Park I stopped to smile at the squirrels. I love squirrels. They are mad. Flitting here and there. Love everything about them. Was looking at one climbing a tree when I glanced down and noticed one coming toward me. I figured, that since so many people use the park (British Columbians are outdoorsy!) that the squirrel was used to us and not afraid to get close.
Um. Yeah. Not afraid at all.
The squirrel came up to me. I sensed that he wanted a nut or something, the way he was eyeing my empty hand. Maybe to him it wasn't empty. Maybe it held all kinds of squirrel like possibilities. So he jumped.
Oh yeah, the squirrel tried to jump on me.
I let out a screech that was far, far too girlie. Luckily, I have cat like reflexes when I need them and that squirrel landed on the ground rather than my thigh which is what he was aiming for. He looked me. I looked at him. And I hightailed it out of there. Which really isn't fair, seeing as he's the one with the tail.
Attacked by a squirrel on a day when I couldn't sleep in. What is the world coming to?
S.
In Japan the earliest I had to be at work was 10:30 and that suited me just fine. The other thing that suited me fine was doing karaoke until 6:00 am and then sleeping the next day away. I got back to Canada, got a job and shock upon shock... I had to be there at 8:00. AM! Oh the horror. I make it there in time but I'm not exactly happy.
This morning I woke. But I didn't open my eyes. I laid in bed and thought pleasant thoughts for as long as I could. Finally, I couldn't stand the tedium anymore. I cracked one eye. I shot a look at the clock. 9:00 am? That's my sleep in? Crap. I think I may actually be an adult now. You know, one who goes to bed at decent hour and wakes up before the sun has reached its zenith.
I'm 27 and I absolutely refuse to be an adult. I just wish my body would listen.
So, up I got and went down to Beacon Hill Park. I'm not exactly sure if I was going for a walk or a run. I kind of did both. Then I gave up on both those ideas and scrambled around on the rocks down at the ocean. Got some vitamin D into my bones.
So as I was making my way in Beacon Hill Park I stopped to smile at the squirrels. I love squirrels. They are mad. Flitting here and there. Love everything about them. Was looking at one climbing a tree when I glanced down and noticed one coming toward me. I figured, that since so many people use the park (British Columbians are outdoorsy!) that the squirrel was used to us and not afraid to get close.
Um. Yeah. Not afraid at all.
The squirrel came up to me. I sensed that he wanted a nut or something, the way he was eyeing my empty hand. Maybe to him it wasn't empty. Maybe it held all kinds of squirrel like possibilities. So he jumped.
Oh yeah, the squirrel tried to jump on me.
I let out a screech that was far, far too girlie. Luckily, I have cat like reflexes when I need them and that squirrel landed on the ground rather than my thigh which is what he was aiming for. He looked me. I looked at him. And I hightailed it out of there. Which really isn't fair, seeing as he's the one with the tail.
Attacked by a squirrel on a day when I couldn't sleep in. What is the world coming to?
S.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
No freakin' wonder
My name is Shari but I pronounce it like Sheri, not like shaa-ri. It's my name and I can pronounce it anyway I like. Besides, it's a derivative of Sharon which most people pronounce as Sherin anways.
I digress. It's a bit of a sore subject with me.
In Japan the kids that I taught called me Shari-sensei. Pronounced nice and proper like. When I went and taught with other teachers, they introduced me the way I like. Except Aaron. Aaron figured because there was no "she" sound in the Japanese language, he would use the "sha" sound. It's hard to explain this if you don't know the Japanese vowels, because they don't sound like they look in English. S-h-e would be pronounced like sh plus the e in egg. Sha would be pronounced like shampoo.
So I would be Shaari sensei with an a like shampoo in his class. The kids would giggle. Never really understood why. However, they giggled about most things that I did so I never had another thought about it.
Monday was Heroes night. The boys and I watch it every Monday. So Stephen and I used the opportunity to make sushi. I knew there was a recipe to make the rice, so I looked it up on wikipedia. And I come across this lovely sentence...
I digress. It's a bit of a sore subject with me.
In Japan the kids that I taught called me Shari-sensei. Pronounced nice and proper like. When I went and taught with other teachers, they introduced me the way I like. Except Aaron. Aaron figured because there was no "she" sound in the Japanese language, he would use the "sha" sound. It's hard to explain this if you don't know the Japanese vowels, because they don't sound like they look in English. S-h-e would be pronounced like sh plus the e in egg. Sha would be pronounced like shampoo.
So I would be Shaari sensei with an a like shampoo in his class. The kids would giggle. Never really understood why. However, they giggled about most things that I did so I never had another thought about it.
Monday was Heroes night. The boys and I watch it every Monday. So Stephen and I used the opportunity to make sushi. I knew there was a recipe to make the rice, so I looked it up on wikipedia. And I come across this lovely sentence...
The common ingredient across all the different kinds of sushi is sushi rice (known as shari in Japanese).
Note the "known as shari in Japanese". No freakin' wonder they were laughing at me. He was calling me sushi rice sensei.
Hmph.
S.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Brother o Brother
My whole life I felt like I was supposed to have a brother. I can't really explain it. Just a feeling I had. I even went so far as to concoct this whole story in my head that perhaps I had been a twin in the womb and that my twin had somehow mysteriously died without anyone even noticing that he existed.
Hey, I was 12 and have always had an overactive imagination.
But I only had a sister. My lil sis who is forever besting me at everything I do. It's not good for the ego I tell ya. Perhaps it is for the best. Big brothers (which is what I wanted) do gross things to little sisters growing up and taunted them endlessly. Well, my friend's brothers did. Horribly nicknames and endless farting incidents and always the excuse that the testosterone made them do it.
So, home I came from Japan and home I came to a big announcement. Dad's girlfriend is pregnant and due in February.
Once I had gotten over my shock, immediately it popped into my mind that it was going to be a boy. I like to think I'm psychic. The odds are actually on the female side because most of the Nakagawa boys have had girls. Dad had two girls. Girl births are more prevalent in society as it is. But let's face it... my feeling when I was 12ish clearly has more weight. Right?
Came home from Vancouver last weekend to an email from Dad. It's a boy.
Vindication.
A boy and only 27 years later than I had expected.
Tammy wants a Japanese middle name to match Dad, Nadine and me. She says I can pick it out. I'm currently leaning to Taiki but we'll see.
S.
Hey, I was 12 and have always had an overactive imagination.
But I only had a sister. My lil sis who is forever besting me at everything I do. It's not good for the ego I tell ya. Perhaps it is for the best. Big brothers (which is what I wanted) do gross things to little sisters growing up and taunted them endlessly. Well, my friend's brothers did. Horribly nicknames and endless farting incidents and always the excuse that the testosterone made them do it.
So, home I came from Japan and home I came to a big announcement. Dad's girlfriend is pregnant and due in February.
Once I had gotten over my shock, immediately it popped into my mind that it was going to be a boy. I like to think I'm psychic. The odds are actually on the female side because most of the Nakagawa boys have had girls. Dad had two girls. Girl births are more prevalent in society as it is. But let's face it... my feeling when I was 12ish clearly has more weight. Right?
Came home from Vancouver last weekend to an email from Dad. It's a boy.
Vindication.
A boy and only 27 years later than I had expected.
Tammy wants a Japanese middle name to match Dad, Nadine and me. She says I can pick it out. I'm currently leaning to Taiki but we'll see.
S.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Old Friends
It's funny how your memory can change them.
Sure, you don't see them for awhile and all you can remember, really, is their name. You add adjectives, fun, sweet, awesome... but really, what does it all mean?
In some cases, you forget their annoying traits. You forget that you, for the sake of your friendship, should only be in their company for a few hours. You forget that you like quiet time and they can't stop talking.
It's good that you are older. Where once you would have said something nasty, or rolled your eyes, you hold it in until bed when you can let out the huge sigh of annoyance. That's a sign of maturity, right? You remind yourself over and over that this person is your friend, just maybe... a tad on the noisy and self absorbed side.
Then there are some friends that in your head you know better than you actually do. There must be something to talk about.
Then there are some friends who you forget about. You forget about the long night chats via msn you used to have. You forget about the crazy ass pictures you took at DisneySea in Tokyo. You think as the commitments for the weekend add up, maybe I should postpone seeing this person. But you don't. When you see her round the corner at the mall, you feel the giddy rush of excitement. And you find as you chat, that nothing has changed. And that makes you so freakin' happy that you almost want to miss your ferry home.
Old friends. Our actions may speak louder than words, but our friends show the true depths of our characters - to ourselves.
Good weekend. But it's good to be back on my island.
S.
Sure, you don't see them for awhile and all you can remember, really, is their name. You add adjectives, fun, sweet, awesome... but really, what does it all mean?
In some cases, you forget their annoying traits. You forget that you, for the sake of your friendship, should only be in their company for a few hours. You forget that you like quiet time and they can't stop talking.
It's good that you are older. Where once you would have said something nasty, or rolled your eyes, you hold it in until bed when you can let out the huge sigh of annoyance. That's a sign of maturity, right? You remind yourself over and over that this person is your friend, just maybe... a tad on the noisy and self absorbed side.
Then there are some friends that in your head you know better than you actually do. There must be something to talk about.
Then there are some friends who you forget about. You forget about the long night chats via msn you used to have. You forget about the crazy ass pictures you took at DisneySea in Tokyo. You think as the commitments for the weekend add up, maybe I should postpone seeing this person. But you don't. When you see her round the corner at the mall, you feel the giddy rush of excitement. And you find as you chat, that nothing has changed. And that makes you so freakin' happy that you almost want to miss your ferry home.
Old friends. Our actions may speak louder than words, but our friends show the true depths of our characters - to ourselves.
Good weekend. But it's good to be back on my island.
S.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Help! My nickname was attacked.
I was never a girl that liked nicknames. I found them endlessly embarrassing as a girl. Then again, my family had strange ones for each other. Lit? Snub? Blueberry? Seriously, our names are Nadine and Shari. Nadine likes to call me "lub" for reasons I will never understand.
Anyways, I grudgingly gave in sometime in high school and accepted although never loved, the nickname Share-bear. It all seemed a little to cutesy to me and I was never a cutesy girl in high school. Actually, I think I was more of a misery in high school. Maybe that's why I can remember very little of it.
Just before I left for Japan, Bonnie presented me with a share-bear. Not like the one here. Mine has a sundae on it, which apparently was changed to lollipops in 2002 because sharing sundaes spreads germs (or in Shari-land, we don't share sundaes because, well... get you own!). Share-bear sat on my bookshelf and reminded me in my darkest moments abroad, that I had friends back home, who loved me enough to call me a silly name after a cutesy doll.
I know. That last sentence makes me want to gag too.
The day before I was scheduled to leave Japan, I found myself at the local shopping mecca. I rounded a corner in one of the overly cute sections and found myself face to face with a share-bear bonanza. Before I knew it, I had a face cloth and a small stuff doll on a chain that is meant to be attached to your cell phone (why I don't know, seeing as it is bigger than today's cells). Sense finally came to me just before I reached the smiling Japanese girl at the counter and I talked myself out of the facecloth. After all, I'm not a child. I can make due with only the small plush right? Right?
So, big Share-bear lives on my shelf and small Share-bear lives on my purse. My travel buddy.
On Monday I went over to Jason and Stephen's for our weekly dinner and Heroes night (I love that show). Chillin' in the kitchen and talking. Good times. Until Jason went into the living room and I suddenly hear "Bishop... NO!"
Chills.
Bishop is their Pomeranian. A Pomeranian living with 2 gay guys, who has a thing for purses.
By the time Jason found him, Bishop had discovered Share-bear Jr. and chewed.. the... ass.... off.
My nickname has had it's ass chewed off. What does that mean? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??
I guess Share-bear Jr and it's no bum will have to remain at home from this point forward. I mean, a girl can only take so many assaults on her nickname.
S.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Guilty Conscience
I was minding my own business. A girl has a right to head for the grocery store listening to music very loudly and ignoring everyone around me. Normally when a person tried to talk to me, I just pretend like I can't hear them. It's very efficient. I hate stopping and talking to people I don't know. It's just.... so .... friendly. Ick.
The problem was he was just so cute.
So, I took out my earphones. He was saying something about Greenpeace. I was looking at his pretty teeth.
The next thing I knew "I already donate to Greenpeace" was coming out of my mouth. He smiled, gave me a high five and told me I rocked. I accepted said compliment and then went into the grocery store.
The thing is... I don't donate to Greenpeace. Or Amnesty International, to whom I lied to yesterday (he wasn't near as cute, dreadlocks don't do it for me). If I was going to donate, it would be these two organizations. I would love to donate. But I have no spare money. Sure, I'm making decent money but I'm not actually sure where it goes.
But why the lie?
I think I just wanted the pretty boy to think I was a girl with a conscience rather than a girl with an addiction to jewelry.
S.
The problem was he was just so cute.
So, I took out my earphones. He was saying something about Greenpeace. I was looking at his pretty teeth.
The next thing I knew "I already donate to Greenpeace" was coming out of my mouth. He smiled, gave me a high five and told me I rocked. I accepted said compliment and then went into the grocery store.
The thing is... I don't donate to Greenpeace. Or Amnesty International, to whom I lied to yesterday (he wasn't near as cute, dreadlocks don't do it for me). If I was going to donate, it would be these two organizations. I would love to donate. But I have no spare money. Sure, I'm making decent money but I'm not actually sure where it goes.
But why the lie?
I think I just wanted the pretty boy to think I was a girl with a conscience rather than a girl with an addiction to jewelry.
S.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
With Furniture...
Here's the thing. When you are a purging maniac like I am (not the bulimic type, rather the type that likes to throw away personal possessions) and you move to another country, your furniture goes AWOL. But, you are gone for two and half years and you forget that you hauled it to the dump or gave it away for a pittance. In your head, you have a whole shitload of furniture waiting patiently for your eventual arrival home.
Yeah, I do have a selective memory. I choose not to deal with it.
So, home I came two months ago, and quickly discovered... I don't own a bed, among other deficits in my furniture-less state. No biggie, right? I had hardly any furniture in Japan. I can deal.
So, I moved into a tiny apartment in the non-downtown downtown section of Victoria. It's not the size of the hamster cage I lived in in Japan but it is tiny. 250 square feet to be precise and has a shared bathroom. But seriously, when you are only paying 385 a month, you deal, even if the girl upstairs always likes to take looooonnnnggg baths when you really have to pee.
The previous tenant had left me a loft bed. It sounded fun in theory. Everything that has loft in the title sounds fun. But in reality, it was a bunk bed minus the bottom bunk. So, that first night, I braved the loft. Climbed up the ladder, tried to lay down, quickly freaked out, climbed down, pulled the mattress off the loft and set it up on the floor. Classy. Apparently, I'm not 8 years old, the only right age to be sleeping in a bunk bed.
Got rid of that thing as soon as it was possible to make Robin come and get the bed. Alina sold me her futon which is nothing like my poor futon in Japan. It really should be called a bed/couch. It's comfy though. So, for a month that's what I had. Computer on the floor and the rest of my life on a bed. Unfortunately, the rest of my life is pretty boring at the moment.
So, you can realize my excitement this weekend. I was getting... furniture. Mom brought me a computer desk and Dad brought me a sofa and one of the pink high backed chairs that I absolutely loved in my house growing up. The minute I move somewhere bigger I'm getting the other one. Even if I have to steal it.
I'm all for reducing our personal possessions. But life without furniture... well you might as well be a dog, roaming the floor for scraps.
On the other hand, there sure isn't much room now to have one person dance parties. Maybe I'll actually have to go out to get my dancing in. Alas.
S.
Yeah, I do have a selective memory. I choose not to deal with it.
So, home I came two months ago, and quickly discovered... I don't own a bed, among other deficits in my furniture-less state. No biggie, right? I had hardly any furniture in Japan. I can deal.
So, I moved into a tiny apartment in the non-downtown downtown section of Victoria. It's not the size of the hamster cage I lived in in Japan but it is tiny. 250 square feet to be precise and has a shared bathroom. But seriously, when you are only paying 385 a month, you deal, even if the girl upstairs always likes to take looooonnnnggg baths when you really have to pee.
The previous tenant had left me a loft bed. It sounded fun in theory. Everything that has loft in the title sounds fun. But in reality, it was a bunk bed minus the bottom bunk. So, that first night, I braved the loft. Climbed up the ladder, tried to lay down, quickly freaked out, climbed down, pulled the mattress off the loft and set it up on the floor. Classy. Apparently, I'm not 8 years old, the only right age to be sleeping in a bunk bed.
Got rid of that thing as soon as it was possible to make Robin come and get the bed. Alina sold me her futon which is nothing like my poor futon in Japan. It really should be called a bed/couch. It's comfy though. So, for a month that's what I had. Computer on the floor and the rest of my life on a bed. Unfortunately, the rest of my life is pretty boring at the moment.
So, you can realize my excitement this weekend. I was getting... furniture. Mom brought me a computer desk and Dad brought me a sofa and one of the pink high backed chairs that I absolutely loved in my house growing up. The minute I move somewhere bigger I'm getting the other one. Even if I have to steal it.
I'm all for reducing our personal possessions. But life without furniture... well you might as well be a dog, roaming the floor for scraps.
On the other hand, there sure isn't much room now to have one person dance parties. Maybe I'll actually have to go out to get my dancing in. Alas.
S.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Something Fun
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html
This is weird, Stephen told me as he sent me the forward. With Stephen you never know what is going to be at the other end of the link. Fortunately we were at work thus nothing too crazy could be there.
Well, there was the dancing woman. Spinning and spinning in a counter clockwise direction. I stared at her a good while. Try as I might, I couldn't change her direction. I exclaimed my frustration loudly.
I know, said Stephen, I can only make her go clockwise.
She's going counterclockwise.
No clockwise.
We stared at each other in frustration. Back to the computer I went. Staring at her feet, all of a sudden, poof she changed direction. Now clockwise. Poof, now counter clockwise. Apparently it's just a matter of mind of matter. As it were. I like to think it means I'm smart.
As you can see, we are all very busy at work. Doing work related things.
S.
This is weird, Stephen told me as he sent me the forward. With Stephen you never know what is going to be at the other end of the link. Fortunately we were at work thus nothing too crazy could be there.
Well, there was the dancing woman. Spinning and spinning in a counter clockwise direction. I stared at her a good while. Try as I might, I couldn't change her direction. I exclaimed my frustration loudly.
I know, said Stephen, I can only make her go clockwise.
She's going counterclockwise.
No clockwise.
We stared at each other in frustration. Back to the computer I went. Staring at her feet, all of a sudden, poof she changed direction. Now clockwise. Poof, now counter clockwise. Apparently it's just a matter of mind of matter. As it were. I like to think it means I'm smart.
As you can see, we are all very busy at work. Doing work related things.
S.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
You know you LOVE it!
You can deny it all you want, but secretly you totally get down in your house by yourself. And why not? Get down with your bad self.
Gimme gimme gimme more... shoes!
S.
Gimme gimme gimme more... shoes!
S.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Non-Turkey Day
It’s amazing what Thanksgiving does to people.
Suddenly thoughts of family and gushy gushy “quality time” invade the brain. Normally I shudder and push these thought to the far reaches of my brain where they can remain safe from the cold hard realities of the world outside my brain. But when it comes to Thanksgiving my filters just don’t work. Thus, family and the traditional dinner it is.
At least I thought so.
I mean, traditional dinner doesn’t work when there are two vegetarians in the family. We aren’t fair-weather vegetarians either. There are some who have a day off their vegetarianism. Perhaps they are the type that is in it to save the cutesy wootesy animals. Turkeys aren’t going to win any beauty contests after all. However, I’m in it to save the world. I can be pretentious if I want to.
But, my hopes of the traditional dinner were dashed when my mom decided to announce that she was off to Kelowna for the holidays. I tried the emotional blackmail thing but clearly am not a mother and thus, can not pull off that gut twisting guilt thing. Go figure.
My sister was working nights anyways. So Dad, Dad’s girlfriend, Dad’s girlfriend’s friend, my sister, sister’s boyfriend and I went out for Thanksgiving lunch. At our favourite Indian restaurant. Nice and traditional.
That night I did go to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. I had managed to wheedle my way into a friend’s family dinner. The Zutz’s are the loud family who always has the meals with too much food. Alina promised to cook me lobster tail, so as if I was going to pass that one up.
After listening to the pre-dinner show of an Aussie taking the piss out of a Newfoundlander, we settled down to dinner. Toasts were made. Alina’s brother is off to Grande Prairie for reasons that I will never understand because really, who in their right minds wants to live in the prairies? Alina got a little teary at that point which I suppose if you are close to your brother you get. I don’t see how you can get teary eyed over a brother who in high school used to sit on your face and fart, but maybe that’s just me.
The loud brother didn’t take kindly to the tears and told her to stop. Boys are boys, 3 years old or 30. Which is why I was then beamed with a flying carrot. I shot Keith my teacher look but apparently he doesn’t respond to those looks. It makes sense. I don’t think he responded to those looks in school as it were anyways. He just shrugged and said “you shouldn’t have sat next to her.”
Thanksgiving. Always an adventure. Of some sort.
S.
Suddenly thoughts of family and gushy gushy “quality time” invade the brain. Normally I shudder and push these thought to the far reaches of my brain where they can remain safe from the cold hard realities of the world outside my brain. But when it comes to Thanksgiving my filters just don’t work. Thus, family and the traditional dinner it is.
At least I thought so.
I mean, traditional dinner doesn’t work when there are two vegetarians in the family. We aren’t fair-weather vegetarians either. There are some who have a day off their vegetarianism. Perhaps they are the type that is in it to save the cutesy wootesy animals. Turkeys aren’t going to win any beauty contests after all. However, I’m in it to save the world. I can be pretentious if I want to.
But, my hopes of the traditional dinner were dashed when my mom decided to announce that she was off to Kelowna for the holidays. I tried the emotional blackmail thing but clearly am not a mother and thus, can not pull off that gut twisting guilt thing. Go figure.
My sister was working nights anyways. So Dad, Dad’s girlfriend, Dad’s girlfriend’s friend, my sister, sister’s boyfriend and I went out for Thanksgiving lunch. At our favourite Indian restaurant. Nice and traditional.
That night I did go to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. I had managed to wheedle my way into a friend’s family dinner. The Zutz’s are the loud family who always has the meals with too much food. Alina promised to cook me lobster tail, so as if I was going to pass that one up.
After listening to the pre-dinner show of an Aussie taking the piss out of a Newfoundlander, we settled down to dinner. Toasts were made. Alina’s brother is off to Grande Prairie for reasons that I will never understand because really, who in their right minds wants to live in the prairies? Alina got a little teary at that point which I suppose if you are close to your brother you get. I don’t see how you can get teary eyed over a brother who in high school used to sit on your face and fart, but maybe that’s just me.
The loud brother didn’t take kindly to the tears and told her to stop. Boys are boys, 3 years old or 30. Which is why I was then beamed with a flying carrot. I shot Keith my teacher look but apparently he doesn’t respond to those looks. It makes sense. I don’t think he responded to those looks in school as it were anyways. He just shrugged and said “you shouldn’t have sat next to her.”
Thanksgiving. Always an adventure. Of some sort.
S.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Descent
As a child I was the fancy girl. Apparently I loved dresses and abhorred getting them dirty. I say apparently because I have no recollection of this.
But then I got older. One day in grade 6 I came home and announced to my parents that “I had joined the basketball team”. Something sparked in my poor, lone man in the house, father’s eyes and poof, we were out on the local court. That day I ran many laps and learned how to play defense. I was not even allowed to touch a ball for weeks. Fundamentals you know.
That sealed my fate for the next decade. I was the girl that wore a sports bra every day because they were more comfortable. I suppose the term tom-boy applies here but really, I was just lazy. Perhaps boys in this day and age are bombarded with the ideas of metrosexuality and thus have as much grooming/dressing issues as us girls do, but in my teenage years, dressing like guys was the easier route.
About 8 years ago, I got a job at a bag store. The constant bombardment of purses got to me. Sure, I made fun of the ladies whose purses and shoes just “had to match”. You would too if you had heard the words they used. Because the world does hang in the balance if you don’t find an off-white purse to match those off-white pumps that you are lugging around from store to store.
Regardless of what I thought of these ladies, I soon found myself with a healthy collection of purses. I figured that was it. Everyone needs a functional bag right? If it just happens to be the cutest thing imaginable is just a bonus.
Then I got a job at a jewelry store.
I have always worn necklaces but they were a mere after thought. But after 10 months of trying on all the jewelry (especially the ten thousand dollar diamond, whoo baby!) I was converted. Rings and necklaces and bracelets, oh my! I drew the line at earrings. I had to maintain my dignity somehow.
Two and half years in a different country can get to you. I arrived in Japan and immediately started in on my favourite sport – Japanese accessories. Jewelry? Strange. Haircuts? Feathered disasters. Shoes and their ability to walk in them? Can I even describe the pigeon toed shuffle in heels that the Japanese women have perfected?
However, attitudes can change. Somewhere along the line I developed an obsession with earrings. Big ones. I got a Japanese haircut. But the day I knew I HAD to leave was the one when I started to like the shoes there.
So I came home and hoped for normalcy to kick in.
But all I can think about is a pair of red patent mary jane pumps at the Bay.
Japan may have finally done the impossible and made a girl out of me. Working in the corporate world may do the worst and make me a *insert shudder* fancy girl.
But then I got older. One day in grade 6 I came home and announced to my parents that “I had joined the basketball team”. Something sparked in my poor, lone man in the house, father’s eyes and poof, we were out on the local court. That day I ran many laps and learned how to play defense. I was not even allowed to touch a ball for weeks. Fundamentals you know.
That sealed my fate for the next decade. I was the girl that wore a sports bra every day because they were more comfortable. I suppose the term tom-boy applies here but really, I was just lazy. Perhaps boys in this day and age are bombarded with the ideas of metrosexuality and thus have as much grooming/dressing issues as us girls do, but in my teenage years, dressing like guys was the easier route.
About 8 years ago, I got a job at a bag store. The constant bombardment of purses got to me. Sure, I made fun of the ladies whose purses and shoes just “had to match”. You would too if you had heard the words they used. Because the world does hang in the balance if you don’t find an off-white purse to match those off-white pumps that you are lugging around from store to store.
Regardless of what I thought of these ladies, I soon found myself with a healthy collection of purses. I figured that was it. Everyone needs a functional bag right? If it just happens to be the cutest thing imaginable is just a bonus.
Then I got a job at a jewelry store.
I have always worn necklaces but they were a mere after thought. But after 10 months of trying on all the jewelry (especially the ten thousand dollar diamond, whoo baby!) I was converted. Rings and necklaces and bracelets, oh my! I drew the line at earrings. I had to maintain my dignity somehow.
Two and half years in a different country can get to you. I arrived in Japan and immediately started in on my favourite sport – Japanese accessories. Jewelry? Strange. Haircuts? Feathered disasters. Shoes and their ability to walk in them? Can I even describe the pigeon toed shuffle in heels that the Japanese women have perfected?
However, attitudes can change. Somewhere along the line I developed an obsession with earrings. Big ones. I got a Japanese haircut. But the day I knew I HAD to leave was the one when I started to like the shoes there.
So I came home and hoped for normalcy to kick in.
But all I can think about is a pair of red patent mary jane pumps at the Bay.
Japan may have finally done the impossible and made a girl out of me. Working in the corporate world may do the worst and make me a *insert shudder* fancy girl.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Switch
After much thought, I have decided to move my blog. Why? Mostly because I think the msn Live site is too busy. Plus, I'm too lazy to change the formatting and remove things. I prefer clean slates. They are so... clean.
It's fun to dirty them up.
Apparently, blogspot doesn't have a function where I can import my old blog posts. There are suggestions of cutting and pasting. This is where I use my favourite Japanese word - mendokusai. That means I can't be bothered. And I can't be bothered. Thus, old posts can be found at http://sharinakagawa.spaces.live.com.
I still need to think of a purpose for this blog. The old one was about being an expat in Japan. However, seeing as my person has been removed from Japan I can no longer blog about that. Well, I could, but that would be downright LIE! I was going to blog about my repatriating myself but eh, b-o-r-i-n-g. So, I'll think about it some more. I promise to try to be amusing. I think I'm pretty amusing but then again, I am the funniest person in the world - to myself.
I'll stop babbling now. Perhaps I will even go and do some work.
S.
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