Goodbye 2008

Ah, 2008. Another year gone. Another year gone too fast.

It's always interesting writing a year introspective. It's like opening a present... you never know what you will find underneath the layers.

This has been the first year in a long time where I haven't moved, or traveled. The story of my life for the last few years has been movement. Going here and there. I never knew exactly what the next month would hold. But this year, except for a few trips up the island and to the mainland, has been here in Victoria. Stationary. This was the year of goals.

Ever since I graduated from University I have gone by whim. Applying for jobs, moving cities and countries, trips, parties... it has all been with whatever my mood was at the time. Even when I got stuck as it were, it was because of my attitude at the time.

But this year, I made goals. I credit my mentor group. I highly recommend mentor groups. They are extremely motivating if for no other reason than you do things because you don't want to look like an idiot or lazy in front of other people. I am pretty proud to say that I accomplished most of my goals this year.

1/ School.
After waffling for quite awhile, I finally decided to leave the boring office job (somewhat, for I can't afford to be jobless) and go back to school. And not just school in general. I decided to go back to be a photographer, a long unrealized life ambition. It hasn't been easy and there have certainly moments when I have wanted to give up. School is hard to go back to, especially when you are used to having money and then suddenly, having none. I am now a mature student and hanging out with 18 years sure can make a girl feel old. But overall, it has been a totally rewarding experience. Challenging. It is amazing how much I have learned.

2/ Dance
You think I would have always done this. I certainly have danced around my apartment enough. But it was finally this year that I realized that I would never go to the gym and if I was going to do the workout thing, it was going to have to be doing something I enjoyed. So I signed up for belly dance and flamenco lessons. I'm not a natural dancer but I work hard and I enjoy it like nothing else I have ever done. It is rewarding because you can feel yourself getting better.

3/ Volunteer
I've had to quit for the time being because of school but for 6 months, I volunteered with immigrants learning English as a second language. Simply put, the funniest people I have ever met. And nothing will give you a new perspective on your culture than from immigrants. I can't wait until I have time to do it again.

4/ Health
This is ongoing but I'm trying to eat better and take better care of myself. But some weeks are good and some are bad. But my group makes sure that it is always on my mind.

The only goal I set that I never accomplished is taking French classes. I did try but the class didn't run because of a lack of students. I figure, I've done pretty well with the other goals... one undone isn't too bad.

It's been an interesting year. My years in Japan were so big just because of the personal growth. It's not something that can be measured but being challenged on a daily basis does good things for a person. This year, I don't think I've grown that much. It's been more of a take stock year. But I know one thing for certain. My gypsy tendencies have not gone away. I long to leave again.

It's just a matter of figuring out how to make it happen.

I'm planning a quiet night to celebrate 2008. I don't go out for New Years anymore. It feels too contrived. Fun is only fun when it is spontaneous, not forced. So, I will stay at home and wait for 2009. New start. New goals. New outlook. New motivation. And perhaps, somewhere in the future, new locale. Only time can tell.

Happy New Year.
S.

Kiva

I made a donation to Kiva today and if you have an extra 25 bucks, it would be fabulous if you could too.

S.

WARNING: Don't read if you are a big fan of Christmas

I woke up at 6am this morning. The dream had awoken me. The dream featured me getting into a fight with someone about how wasteful Christmas lights are. Apparently even in my dreams I can't stand Christmas.

5 years. I think it's been 5 years. 5 years ago the decision was made- no more presents. My sister and I decided that. We tend to make these alternate society decision together. We basically decided there was only 2 reasons to celebrate. One - religious. Us- so not religious. Two - mass consumerism. Yeah.... I'm so down with mass consumerism.

And with no more presents came a shift to December. Suddenly, there was no more stress. There was no more haunting the mall. There was no more worrying about the perfect present or if your present is nicer or crappier than the other persons.

I thought it was great. Christmas could just be about a nice dinner with the family. Except, you take away the presents, all of a sudden the whole thing about the season loses its luster. It becomes a caricature. Santa becomes a symbol for the over indulgence of our society and our trying to buy traditions with fancy paper and mounds of chocolate.

People call me a grinch. Fine. But seriously, all I can think is how can someone possibly want a real Christmas tree. With the global warming epidemic, why on earth would you cut down a emission fighting tree just so it can die slowly in your house gaudily covered with tinsel? And OMG the paper. Sure you recycle the paper, but the first R is reduce! And don't get me started on the amount of plastic bags used during this season.

I know people would argue with me and say that Christmas isn't about those things, that it is about family. I don't get that either. There are only two types of families at Christmas. First, there is the fabulous type that you just can't wait to see. So my question is why do you need a certain season to see these fabulous people? Why can't you be a family person all year long? The second is the I can't believe I have to spend another season with my family, they make me crazy. And my question to this is- why even freakin' bother? If you don't like the people, why on earth would you spend days with them when you don't have the excuse of escaping to work?

But don't worry, you can buy love. Just find that special gadget.

I also don't get the dinner but that isn't the environmental, anti consumer me. That is the vegatarian me. I won't get into it.

On this exciting note, I have decided to forgo family this year. No christmas. No family. No gifts. Sounds lovely. Basically, my parents are spending their holidays with their other families. I was invited but one is going to be filled with children spoiled beyond belief and the other family, well, would make me want to stick a knife in my eye.

I'm spending the day at my friend's. They will eat goat (I don't get it, but they are from Saskatchewan, and thus defy definition). I will drink. Sounds like a good way to pass the time.

And I've already decided. I'm spending next year somewhere that Christmas doesn't exist. Or maybe exists in a different fashion. For example, Christmas in Japan involves eating a strawberry topped white cake and then having sex.

Just saying...

S.

Things Happen for a Reason

It is snowing in Victoria. This makes me very sad.

Anyways, this isn't what the post is about. I just thought I'd comment on how much little white stuff from above makes me an unhappy girl.

I am a big believer in things happening for a reason. Not in a religious sort of way. More like, subconsciously you knew that these things needed to be and thus, made it happen that way.

When I was in Japan, I got a promotion. With it came about a 300 dollar raise per month. Except that suddenly, I went from part time to full time. And with full time came paying into health care and the national pension. So basically, I got 20 bucks a month more to do a shit load more work.

Sucky? Yes. But because I was not planning on living in Japan my whole life (yeah, right) I could cash out the pension when I left the country. It was brilliant. Like enforced savings.

For the whole year I was a supervisor, I safe guarded my little blue pension book. It was like holy mecca. The key to the money. The reason for all my suffering. Kept safe in my desk at work and when the time came to leave, safely transported home.

Except when I returned to Canada, there was no blue book. I went through everything! EVERYTHING! It was no where. And thus, all that money that I had slaved for evaporated.

I called the company. They couldn't do anything. I called my old boss. She tried to get me a new book but because she wasn't family, nothing could be done. I needed to do it but they only spoke Japanese.

Alas.

Eight hundred dollars of pension down the tubes. Move on. It's just money.

Fast forward a year. I finally have gotten over the fact that the money is gone. I should just throw out all the forms to claim the money. I pull out the folder and dump the contents. And there. In the middle of all the forms. In clearly, the only place I didn't check. Out slid a tiny blue book with Japanese writing on it. Pension!

Yes, it was an OMG OMG OMG moment.

So, I filled it out and sent it away. And nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Months.

I despair. It got lost in the mail (I don't have the greatest confidence in Canada Post). My friend emails me that she sent hers in July (I sent mine in May) and she had gotten a letter about it already. I figure that this money is not meant to be.

I focus on studying. But school is expensive and I have gotten used to living on much more money. And then the day comes. I have 30 dollars in my savings and 1 in my chequing and a whole hell of a lot on my credit card. Broke my friends. I went home. Opened my mailbox. And there inside was a letter with Japanese writing.

My pension was on its way. Check the date. It was going to appear in my account the next day! And... go to xe.com and work out the conversion... it is over double what I had expected.

So the money came and I have been saved for the rest of the year. Happy day.

If I had gotten the money last year or even last summer, I would have blown it. It came the day I truly needed it. Perhaps the book knew this and that is why I couldn't find it for so long.

S.

Argh

So I finally went for my first physical. Yes, I know I'm 28 and it is long overdue. In my defense, I did go for 2 semi-physicals in Japan but the results were in ... well... Japanese. And personal health is a bit awkward to have someone translate for you.

The physical was fine. The not fine thing. I'm anemic. Yup, I guess not eating meat for 6 years will do that to a girl. I mean I eat seafood and beans but I guess it's not enough. So now I'm on iron pills.

Iron pills that do a number on my stomach.

Health. Why can't it just be easy???

S.

My First Job

Oh yes. That goal that all aspiring photographers yearn for... money for their photos. Say whatever you want, but it truly is what distinguishes the amateur from the pro.

About two months ago I was offered a job photographing Island Saving's Christmas party. It was not offered to me by my mom (who works there) so therefore it is legit. Naturally, the only words out of my mouth were "hell, ya."

I sort of forgot about it and then all of a sudden, the time has passed, and the party is staring me straight in the eye. There first thing I have to note is that photographers have far too much gear. As I was packing it up to head up island, I realized that if my mom hadn't offered to give me a ride to Nanaimo, there was no way in hell I would have gotten it all up there.

So fine, I go to Nanaimo and there I am setting up. The lighting is shitty in the conference center. The guy who came to talk to me showed me the dimmers. He walked away and I immediately cranked all the lights in the vicinity. My assistant Bonnie showed up at 5:30 and by that time, people had already lined up to get their photos taken.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate people?

Especially those girls that think they are super hot, but really are wearing tranny type makeup. I have to give it to them though, they can hit the same pose each and every time. I know, because they kept coming up for more and more pictures.

I was supposed to print on site. Which, had I thought about it, is a stupid thing and puts too much pressure on the photographer. But I didn't and at 9 pm I was attempting to print. Except the printer provided was a free one that someone at Island Savings had gotten with their computer. It printed 3 good prints and then every one after that came out red with lines through the face. Which made me look really professional in front of all the drunk people demanding their photos.

The photos? Some are great. Some are soft. Some have bad backgrounds. Oh well, I sure didn't get paid enough for perfection.

But I sure did learn.

S.

Entry

Photography is a cruel mistress. She giveth and she taketh away.

I've had moments of sheer exhilaration in the last few weeks. Moments where I thought I could do anything.

I've also had moments where I felt worthless and my inclination was to give up and quit. I'm not sure why. I'm not a quitter by nature. I stick. But there was a moment when I was sitting in my room and all I could think about was how easy it would be to give up. To go back to my office job. To be... well... ordinary. Not that I think people who work office jobs are ordinary but me at an office is an ordinary me. But it would be easy to be ordinary. To go back.

I won't. I'm competitive by nature and by family trait. I'm a Nakagawa. We are, above all, competitive with ourselves.

I think I just need to push myself more and critique myself less. My photo session with Tawny was not as good as I would have liked but it was not as bad as I made it out to be. There is a guy in my class who wants to be in the other group because their critiques aren't as harsh as ours. In my opinion, our critiques could never be as harsh as the one that is going on in my own head. I'd say maybe he should live in my head to get a taste of harsh, but I can't stand him, so we won't go there.

No one ever said chasing the dream would be easy.

S.

Tomorrow

Please. Please. Please.

Please let Obama win tomorrow.

I'm not sure who I'm asking, but please.

S.

Happy Halloween

It's tough. It's tough being a mature student in a world of 18 year olds. It's tough being a student and not making enough to pay rent and food on your pay cheques. It's tough trying to find balance between work, school and life.

Of course I'm being a bit melodramatic because I did have 2 double margaritas at dinner. Tequila makes me reflect. Most people it makes heave until their innards threaten to expel out of their bodies but for me tequila just makes me reflective.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm very grateful to be in school. There have been a few moments where I have thought" what the hell am I doing?" but I have those about everything and at this point in my life have to consider them normal. I'm certainly not the best photographer at school but I know I have improved by leaps and bounds from the beginning of September.

I'm also grateful that I do have a wonderful family and wonderful friends.

Yesterday I was supposed to be a Madonna. I always said that I would go to Madonna if she ever came to the west coast of Canada. The boys got tickets months ago and I said I would go. But I had to reconsider. Between school and money how was I going to have the time and money to go. So I told the boys to sell my tickets.

Painful.

So, last night at 10:13 my phone rang. It was Stephen. I picked up and heard a bunch of sounds. Stephen didn't say anything. It took me a while to realize it but it was the concert I was hearing and more specifically, it was La Isle Bonita playing. My favourite Madonna song. Jason and Stephen knew I wanted to go so they did the next best thing. I couldn't really hear what was going on but that didn't matter.

In the end nothing really matters but the people in your life and the direction your life is going.

S.

Learning Curve

It's been a month and a half of school. I knew I would be learning photography until it was coming out my ears. I just had no idea that I would be learning about myself as I went along.

I have a tendency to second guess myself. I have had it all my life. It is the reason I get lost so easily. I go the correct direction, stop, figure I'm wrong and head out in the wrong direction. After wandering, I usually figure out that I was correct in the first place.

And yes, I get lost everywhere. It's a curse.

So, I second guessed myself on a test. I knew the answer, thought about it, changed it and low and behold, when I got the test back the first thing I went with was the correct answer. Again, this happens a lot. That's me at school and I accept it.

But here is something new I learned about my second guessing...

We had an assignment in Composition and Design, to create a self portrait using colour to showcase ourselves. I decided on red because it is my favourite colour. Yes, I am that literal. I also choose it because in our culture it stands for competitiveness, strength and boldness. Some of these things I am, and some I wish to be. And as some say, fake it til you make it, right?

I did three different shoots. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. After a few "nice" pictures, I would get bored and experiment with expressions. I shot loads of stuff, most crap but a few pictures worked out.

I was immediately drawn to one picture. It is angry. Yet, it is also a bit intimate. It was a bit too close to me to show the world. But, I kept going back to it.

In the end I choose another picture to hand in. I went safe. I received my in class critique, learned a few things.

Then I went to the teacher for my one on one critique. She looked at the one I had handed in and then she looked at my images. And she went immediately to that angry image. We talked about it and I realized that that image is more "me" than the one I handed in. Inside I am angry. I'm angry about the world, and people's apathy. I'm usually angry with myself about something or other, although this is lessening with each year. The teacher wanted to know why I went with safe when I had taken an image that had the definite grab factor???

I swore when I went to Japan "safe Shari" would go into the closet as it were. It took almost the full time I was away to get closer to the person I wanted to be, but closer I did get. I got bolder. I put myself out there more. I grew.

So, it's hard to go into school and hear about how I am being too safe and should go with my gut on things. It feels a tad like I regressed. No more. I will not be safe. I will go for it. I will never second guess myself.

Onwards and upwards.


S.

PhotoClub

S.

Human Problems

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I had a pretty shitty weekend to be frank. Yes, it's Thanksgiving and we are supposed to reflect on all the lovely things that have happened to us this weekend. OK. So I'll start with that. Here's my list of thanks:

1. deciding to go back to school.
2. deciding that school is in fact, the shit.
3. realizing that being 28 and being back in school is actually a good thing and thank gawd I'm not 18 anymore.
4. finding a job easily that sort of fits in with school.
5. my awesome friends and family.
6. my sister lending me a cat for awhile.
7. Canada.
8. that friends made abroad don't have to end when you stop being abroad.
9. soy products.
10. my mentor group that keeps me on track.
11. chocolate.

Well, you get the picture.

But let me describe my shitty weekend.

It all started by heading north to my mom's house for Thanksgiving. My sister abandoned me for her "has to work all weekend" boyfriend and leaves me all alone. All alone in a house of 14. Fourteen people I want to smack that is. Honestly, "kiss my butt" is not intelligent dinner conversation for 50 year olds. Neither is sex innuendo's when offspring are around. Granted the offspring are in their 20's and 30's but still.... EW.

So, the mom of this clan is a little rude. You know the type. The ones who start conversations with "I don't mean to be rude but..." and then say the most horrible shit. Or just start with the shit and end it with "I'm just kidding" five minutes later. Old people just figure they can get away with their lack of manners, when in fact they have never had manners and are now just blaming it on their age. This lady told my mom she looks 60 (she's 48 and does not look past her age) and then proceeds with the just kidding. Is it rude to smack an old lady??? Even if she is in her 80's?

Said lady then proceeded to get drunk. Or maybe she was drunk already. All I have to say about the whole thing is... 20 disgracefully drunk, kinda funny, 80 and disgracefully drunk, pretty pathetic. 80 and puking in the bathroom. That just puts a topper on the Thanksgiving.

Did I mention that the power went out?

The next day, after trying to sleep off my memories of the night, my mom brought me home. The cat was whining at the door. At first I thought she was hungry. But maybe she was whining about the huge puddle of water on my kitchen floor. The power had knocked out my fridge and the power bar had failed to kick in when the power resumed. Thus, flood. What a mess.

But I suppose it could all be worse. When I was walking home from a friend's house today I saw two raccoons. One raccoon in one tree just looked at me with its beady eyes. The other raccoon high-tailed it up the tree. Or maybe the term should be highed up the tree because this raccoon had no tail. No tail. Just a stump.

And I thought I had problems. At least all my limbs are in tact.

S.

Fitness

I made a pact with myself that I would get more exercise and eat better. And so far, it has been going well. Seems that when I'm not tied to a desk job I take better care of myself.

Laura told me about a website - www.mapmyfitness.com - which tracks your workouts. Even has Google maps so you can see exactly how far you went. I've been using it and it is motivating.

Going back and forth from school and doing projects, I racked up 132 km in September. And that's only counting walks that take over 30 minutes. So I know I walked much more than that. I bet more on par with about 170 km. I also did 10 hours of dance classes.

On the eating front, I have barely eaten out all month. Most likely I just needed to get away from Stephen and his bad influence. Or that I just happen to be home around lunch time so I just make something.

I guess September is the month of new beginnings. Going back to school. Getting an exercise regime. Eating regime. Feeling much more motivated in general.

Yay.
S.

Custom Heist

Ah, the great Custom Heist. Here's the lowdown.

I went to work on Sunday. I do projects now for the online division. I work on the weekends in the wee hours of the morning. Okay, so 7-3 but that's the wee hours for me.

I went to work. Whipped through the project like no one's business (I'm stupidly productive when I put my mind to it). Left at 10 am. Went home and had a nap.

No big deal. Typical Sunday.

Except that it wasn't.

At 3 pm Jason calls me. Am I still at work? Nope, why? Because a former employee has broken into Custom House, and is currently on top of the building threatening destruction. Apparently he had gotten in at 11:30 am. I missed the drama by an hour and a half. Which is fine. If I had been there I probably would have been involved all day, Police reports, blah blah blah. But, because I had been so productive, I was at home when I got the call and thus, could head back downtown with my camera.

The police had roped off about 4 blocks of downtown Victoria. However, unlike most countries where the thought of a possible bomb would make people scatter, Canadians gather in potential descructive locals. The police had a tape across Fort street and that's where I headed. The crowd was thick as you could actually see John on top of the building from this location.

I pulled out my camera and my big lens (70-200 mm telephoto). Normally when crowds gather I can't get to the front. People guard their positions. But with my big lens, the crowds parted and I was ushered to the police tape. It was almost like.... I ... was.... legit. Ha!

I made friends with some press people. Not much was going on because at this point, he had been up there for 4 hours. The main point of his being up there was for his website where he accused top executives of money laundering. Riiiigggghhhhttt, because who is the public going to believe, executive of a corporation located in 7 countries or a crazy man on top of a building who got fired ABOUT A YEAR AGO.

Eventually he gave up and I went to Beacon Hill park. The peacocks were nice enough to pose for me.


Crazy day.

S.

Sha sha sha...

Hello Blog.

It's been a while. Well, a couple weeks as it were. I was doing well with updating but you know that I went back to school, and I'm sorry to say but school takes preference over you. I know it hurts but it's the truth. I know you have been with me for almost 3 years but this is it. You will have to get used to less contact I suppose.

What can I tell you?

I'd love to tell you that school has been awesome thus far. It has been good, yes. But awesome. No, not quite. See, here's the thing. The first week was okay. It was speeches but only by the owner dude. The owner dude is a business man and seriously needs to take some toast masters speech classes. Put 60 students in a room with no ventilation and a man with no personality in his speeches. ZZzzzzz.

Week 2 was better. We had a our first few computer classes which were just as boring. There is an older lady in my class who is certainly NOT computer literate. I mean, she knows how to turn it on and use the basic functions, which is more than some people know. But, come on, not knowing what a jump drive is? An external hard drive? How to load a program? She better hopes she rocks the photography classes because she is going to be left in the dust once we start Photoshop. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for her, she has decided to sit next to me. If she was sitting next to the techno dudes in the back, they would speak in jargon too high for her. But lucky, she is sitting next to the ex-ESL teacher who has a tiny bit of knowledge about computers. I don't know everything but I know enough to understand everything thus far in class, and I know enough to explain it in simple terms. The other day I explained the difference between uploading and downloading on the internet to her. Yes, I know. I'm a bloody saint Blog. A bloody nice saint.

The first assignment in Composition and Design was to use a photo booth to create gestalt principles. I did a recreation of getting ready for flamenco dance. It went okay. I got okay feedback and in the end received a 7/10. Strangely, the first attempt I did which was abstract and in my own words was "yuck, yuck," got a more positive reaction from the teacher today at my one on one critique. I suppose I need to let my artistic side out more to play. She is kept hidden and only let out when there is jewelry to be made. Otherwise, my analytic side finds her embarrassing.

I think the hardest class for the time being will be fundamentals. Mitch went over aperture and shutter speed on Thursday this week and I thought I had it. Field trip time and it turns out I have them backwards. I really need to wrap my head around these things... just need time.

I have done half the assignment on aperture and shutter speed. Got Jason and Stephen to make their dog run back and forth in the backyard. I think the effect is pretty cool.

This is a slow shutter speed. Dog is too fast to catch.

Fast shutter speed captures it.

So blog, that's it. I think I may kill myself this year. School complete with projects, work, dance classes (even more than last year) and trying to have a social life. Here goes nothing.

Forgive me if I forget about you for a while. I will always come back. Promise :)
S.

This is me

I have been eating far too much cake for breakfast. Yes, birthday cake but still...

I also have a serious addiction to rearranging furniture. I think something is wrong with me. Instead of doing homework I just rearranged my entire apartment. All 200 feet of it!

S.

Another year gone

Today is my 28th birthday.

I'm mighty pleased with myself as I have not sunk into a black state this year. I have no wallowed in my own inevitable doom. There has been no counting the years til I die.

A good birthday.

Sure, the gray hair seems to be a standard thing now, no matter how much I pull it out. Sure, my back is starting to fail on me. Sure, I'm starting to wake up earlier and earlier.

I spent the weekend in Nanaimo. Made pickles with Dad and Tammy. Had drinks and karaoke with the girls. Had dinner with Mom.

I always feel the notion at this point in the year to summarize, to ponder. This year, I don't feel like it.

I feel fulfilled.

I think its directly related to going back to school. I feel motivated. Hell, even though I am a mature student, I feel like things are happening.

Besides, 28 ain't old. Unless you compare me to my 6 month old brother. But that's okay. I wouldn't change my 28 years for all the rides in the jolly jumper there were.

S.

Off to school I go...

I'm off to school today. And I think I feel as giddy as a 6 year old headed for grade 1.

Excited.
S.

Another year. another job

I walked out of Treasury today. I turned my back on a decent job for a dream. I made myself damn happy.

This job was a god sent. Actually, that is incorrect. This job was a best friend sent. Because Jason found me the job. Who walks off a plane after living abroad for 2 1/2 years and 2 weeks later has a job?

I'm a lucky girl.

Because without this job I don't know where I would have been. I recklessly spent most of my savings in Europe. I refused to live with family. It could have gotten bad. But soon the money was coming in and there was enough to save.

The job was boring and made me want to shoot staples into my eyeballs some days. But the people were fun. And that does make all the difference.

I sure don't regret the year I spent at this job. I learned some thing. Mostly I learned, that despite my saying in a loud voice for 3 months in Japan about how I really really really wanted to work a "corporate job", it is soooo not me. I'm not a corporate girl. I'm not a repetitive girl.

Nothing tried, nothing learned.

I walked out of Treasury and into the next step of my life.

Yay.
S.

Pop

All my life I’ve had weird dreams about teeth. Usually it involves my teeth just popping out like nobody’s business. Pop. Out they fly. I’ve read on the meaning of dream sites that losing your teeth means that someone close to you is going to die. But I don’t believe that because if there was a direct correlation between my dream teeth popping out and family members dying, I would be so very alone in this world right now.

Which I’m not.

Anyways, because of these dreams and because of my mother’s horrific dislocating jaw whilst getting her wisdom teeth pulled, I have never wanted to have any teeth pulled. My old dentist told me I didn’t need to have them pulled and I clung to that belief for years. Course, he also put huge ugly veneers on the front of my teeth, so what did he know? I went to my mom’s dentist a few years ago, and he was so gung ho to get my wisdom teeth pulled out he wanted to make an appointment right away.

Me: I can’t. I’m moving to Japan.

Dentist: Well, maybe we can fit you in tomorrow.

Me: I’m moving to Japan tomorrow.

He looked at me skeptically. Probably he had heard every excuse under the sun and figured that this was just that. But it was the truth. I boarded a plane to Japan the very next day. And with all my teeth intact.

In Japan, I had dental. However, if you have ever seen the state of some Japanese people’s teeth, you would understand why I never used my dental. That is a country seriously in need of braces. The whole country. They should just round them up and install mandatory braces on each and every one of them. And teach the children how to brush. I’ve never seen so many black teeth on 5 year olds before. Yick.

So I came home and got myself a job that had dental. I finally hauled myself to the dentist’s office (that first day he removed my ugly and cracked veneers, so basically I love him now). And low and behold, he wanted to take out my wisdom teeth. Sure, there were good reasons, impacting, infection, blah, blah, blah. Then he said the magic words “what if something happens while you are in school and you aren’t covered?” Me, in all my cheap glory, panicked a little at that thought. I told him that I had 3 weeks left on my dental before I quit my good job and if he could do it before then, well, have at her.

Turns out he had time.

Since I didn’t have to miss any days of work, we decided to do one at a time. It’s easier on the body, you can still eat and you heal faster. Good idea. So one Thursday afternoon I made my way to the dentist’s office. He pumped me full of freeze. The feel of the needle going into my gums sent me into a total panic. I had to seriously focus and get my breathing back to normal. Dr. McAnn said I was quite white in the face. Me. Who has 3 tattoos, freaking from a freezing needle.

After I was numb, Dr. McAnn leaned over me. I figured he was putting more freezing in. Then he kind of rocked something a little and then he was asking for the forcept and pulling out my tooth. Shocking how easy it came out. I wasn’t even swollen.

The next week I went back for the other side. Got my freezing done and kept myself much calmer this time.

Dr. McAnn tried to sit down and pop my tooth out, however, the angle wasn’t good.

So he stood up, leaned over me, braced and

POP.

There went my tooth. Flying over my head and across the dental office. FLYING!

The assistant picked it up and offered it to me to take home. Ew.

So after years of dreaming that my teeth just pop out, it turns out, that my teeth do in fact, just… pop…. out.

S.

"For a girl with delusions and a bit of imagination, becoming a fag hag was the only way to go." ~Simon Doonan

My boys got married!

I arrived with Grant and Lola in Ladysmith on Friday, ready to set up for the big day. What we met were boys with a tad bit of nerves. I don't understand how it can be nerve racking to marry someone you've been with for 5 years, but most people don't understand how I think if I ever was to get married, city hall would do. Different strokes you know.

Jason had secretly flown out from London (UK, not Ontario), Stephen's best friend to be at the big day. It was shocking because secrets are impossible to keep for those two, because, well, Stephen is naturally suspicious and Jason naturally has a big mouth. Having Dean there made the event. Mostly because he organized that wedding party. Without him, I suppose, I would have had to do it.

There was only one major freak out. Which in the grand scheme of weddings is pretty decent. That involved the buckets that the white wine was supposed to go in. They had decals on them. They needed to be covered. So at the last possible minute, just moments before we had to jet to dress, the wedding party was covering the buckets in napkins and tulle. Except me. I was re-doing the place setting because one sister had done them like you would do the family dinner table and the chef sister wasn't having any of that.

We headed back to the B&B and set about purtying ourselves up. Grant and I sat and wrote our speeches. He went with sappy. I went with as funny as this girl could muster in the circumstances.

Hair was done by Lola whilst I sat on the toilet. Make up done. Dress on. Let's jet peeps.

We arrived in the house and then it all began. We were supposed to do the ceremony in the neighbour's yard but the weather did not want to cooperate. It started to pour. The guests were ushered into the dinner tent and we did it all on the dance floor. Matt played Across the Universe as we walked in through the rain.

I cried.

Just a little. Mostly because I've never seen my best friend looking so freakin' happy.

The ceremony was over in moments but was exactly as I would have pictured Jason's wedding, moving with just a touch of humour. Lovely.

Just as the ceremony ended the rain let up and a big gay rainbow filled the sky. If there was a god, I'd say that this wedding was blessed. As it was, I'd say it was ready to party!



We sat at the head table for maybe 5 minutes. Then it was on to mingling, drinking, mingling, drinking. I don't think I ever filled up my glass but it was never empty.

Speeches came next. I prephased mine by "I'm Shari, and I'm a tad drunk". Not bad huh? Never did claim to be a classy girl. I talked about how Jason had made each other do things. He got me drunk for the first time. I made him break up with his first girlfriend. (I may have even called her a skank). Then I told them how Stephen had come into Jason's life when he was probably at his lowest and when I returned, Jason was at his best, most productive, most happy. And that makes this girl happy in return.

Then it was onto busting a move. I may or may not have bailed on the dance floor. No one seems to remember it but me, so I'm not sure.

Then it was 2 in the morning and I was outside waiting for a car with Dean. We just looked at each other happily and drunkenly. Our best friends had gotten married.

The next day I was the only member of the wedding party left. I had to suck up my hangover and perform the opening the gift ritual of cleaning away paper and writing down who had given what.

Then the boys dropped me off at the bus stop and they were off on their honeymoon. I went home to drop. Weddings. Exhausting.

Exhausting but wonderful.

S.

Tams got hitched

"Shhhhaaaarrrriiii, my bridesmaid has the flu, my dad tore his Achilles and it looks like it's going to rain on my wedding day."

Every bride freaks out I'm told, even those who are cool, calm and collected. That was a phone call a few days before the big day.

But the day was lovely. Alina, the bridesmaid sucked it up. And Tamara's dad walked her up the aisle with crutches. We make due.

Tamara and James. Ah. So many years ago, Tamara and I were in the same situation. We both had best friends who were guys. Tamara loved to tell me how Jason and I were perfect for each other and we should just get on with it. I would always respond with how she and James would be a perfect couple. She would always scrunch up her nose and say "eww".

James, after bouncing from University to University, was in Toronto doing his undergrad in music. Tamara went to visit him as best friends are bound to do. But something happened on that trip and Tamara came home best friendless in a sense. In the best possible sense.

After about 6 years, living together, living in different countries, living separated in different countries, they finally tied the knot. Which is wonderful, because I've never seen a guy look at a girl the way that James looks at Tamara. You know, the doopey smile and puppy dog eyes.

They got married on the beach at Piper's Lagoon Park. They got married under a driftwood arch that Tamara's dad had made. They got married in a ceremony that was wonderful and a little bit dorky. They got married to music that James had written for Tamara. They got married in a ceremony that was exactly them.

I admit it. I'm a tough girl (or I was in the past), but I cried during the ceremony. I also cried during the speeches at the reception. People are so touching at the big moments in our lives. At the ceremonies that mark our transition from one life to the next.

I drank too much as I do so often (hey, the bartender was very hot) but the night was so fun. We danced far into the night.

Wedding. Who knew. And I'm pleased to say that I was the first one to call the James and Tamara show, all those years ago.

S.

Ahhhh

I’m tired.

What a month it has been. Stag, stagette, wedding, wedding. Ah, what’s a girl to do?

Drink.

Definitely drink.

The girls came down to Victoria for Tamara’s stag on the July 26^th weekend. Oh wait, the girls and one blow up doll came down on the July 26^th weekend. We dressed him up and after playing a round of throw the ring on the penis, we promptly stuffed the penis down the blow up dolls tighties. Well, Rina did. Being pregnant sure makes her eager to caress plastic phallic things.

We started by renting scooters and parading around town on them. Tamara’s sister had glued a veil to one of the helmets which is a good thing otherwise the entire city would have thought we were lunatics. Which is all well and good for them seeing as they all live in Nanaimo or Vancouver but this is my city. I have to live in the aftermath haha. And after Sierra had laid on the horn for about 7/8 of the hour we were on the scooters, I was worried we were going to be run out of town. I had Rina on the back on my bike because she was too scared to ride her own. Sure, she’s too scared to ride by herself. Now I have a pregnant lady on my bike that I’m responsible for, not to mention that she keeps hitting my head with her helmet and squeezing my waste just a little too tight.

After the bike extravaganza we went back to the hotel to pretty ourselves up. That meant pink and red wigs. And wouldn’t you know it, I get the carrot top wig. Oh yes, bright red and curly, curly, curly. So to make up for the travesty that was my wig, I wore my lowest cut shirt. I figured maybe my tits would distract people from the hair. Maybe.

People react strangely to girls on a stagette. Granted, they are usually dressed ridiculously. And are acting drunkenly. We made Tamara conduct a band of Japanese tourists (complete with dollar store instruments), and get behind the bar at Big Bad Johns to make us shots. Then we took her to the bar to dance with a stag party.

To be honest, it could have been a crazier night. Sure, we took over a bus to take us back home because we thought it was a hotel bus. Yes, it turned out to be a chartered stag bus. Whatever. We headed back to the hotel to party more which involved going to bed. We are all far too old.

The next morning they made us go to Smitty’s. I would like to say right now, that I went under protest.

Oh well, anything for my girls.

S.

Ahhhh

One Wedding down, one to go.

I'll have pictures next week. Once I have time to catch my breath.

S.

I am not an immigrant

I didn't know I wasn't white until I was about 10 years of age. I wasn't aware of ethnicity until someone pointed it out to me.

But someone did point it out to me and they continue to point it out to me to this day.

I remember working at Bentley in Nanaimo. Some guy walks in and asks if I can help him. Being a super luggage expert I say sure. He then pulls in a Chinese exchange student and asks me to talk to the exchange student because he sure as hell couldn't understand what he was saying.

Riiiiigggghhhhttt.

When I volunteered this year with immigrants it was the same. Sure, I was in a room full of people from other countries but I had to point out to each and every teacher that walked in that I wasn't a student. You would think the accent would tell them something but no.

I went to the dentist on Tuesday. The hygienist takes one look at my mouth and says "oh yes, they don't take wisdom teeth out in Japan." The dentist seemed shocked that I was born on this island. Asked me if I was related to Yugi who goes there, the one who speaks great English but can't read it.

I'm sick of it. My father is just as Canadian as my mom, yet people assume that my dad is from Japan and my mom is 100% Canadian.
What does it take to be considered Canadian?

Hell if I know.
S.

The Stag!

It's Wedding season!

I don’t plan parties. It’s far too much work. People are far too flaky. I’m far too anal. It’s true.

But after a few hints, Lola and I decided we should probably take our groomsmaid duties a bit more serious (yes, groomsmaid is now a word, I thus decree). We met in early May. The wedding is in August. Plenty of time, right?

Except that May disappeared, quickly followed by June. Time sure does speed up when you get older. Before I knew it, bam, July. And the S-T-A-G!!! Gah.

After some frantic emailing, people were finally invited, theme picked and places decided on. We met at the dollar store to pick up decorations. Oh yes, the dollar store. We bees classy like that.

Theme – Tiki picnic

Place – Beacon Hill park followed by Darcy’s Pub

What – picnic followed by drinks followed by… where ever the night would take us.

Stephen and Jason hate surprises and laid it on thick but people managed to keep the secret and they were surprised when they showed up.

It went well. The picnic was fun. Tons of food, tacky decorations and a beautiful day. All of the different groups of friends mingled nicely. The sangria I made went down well (I may not be able to cook, but I can mix a mean drink. And by mean I mean strong.)

Next we headed to Darcy’s. There was a mix up because our sort of reservation was obviously not communicated to anyone. But eventually we all made it in and then the drinking began in earnest. Stephen had said and I quote “I don’t want to drink too much or party too hard”. Challenge? I think so. We played pool. Drank buckets. And danced! I even smashed my head against a railing in a moment of flail so hard that I thought I may have a concussion. Nothing in moderation.

We then headed to Hush for some D-A-N-C-I-N-G. I had no money left which is good because I did not need anymore. I remember hip bumping Chris across the dance floor because let’s face it, my hips should be labeled dangerous weapons. I remember a gay man telling me he loved me. I remember smacking someone with my purse.

Afterwards, they all went for veggie dogs at Mr. Tubesteak, where Jason and Judd proceeded to get shit on by a flock of seagulls. I didn't see it because I was headed home. I awoke to a major head ache and a very sore head. So sore in fact that 4 days later, my boss made me go to the doctor to make sure I didn't have a concussion. I don't. But it sure would have capped the evening - Shari partied so hard she gave herself a concussion!

Later in the week, Lola managed to plan a complete surprise shower. It was so much a suprise that the boys took their dog that got so excited he pooped the minute he saw everyone.

Yes, I do see the shit theme here.

I'm sitting here currently, waiting for the girls to pick me up for Tamara's stagette. Yes, 2 stags in 2 weekends. I'm going to be partied out soon.

S.

Hello again,

I guess I haven’t posted in awhile.

Basically what happened was Flamenco finished, and volunteering finished and suddenly I was faced with a vastness of uncharted days with nothing planned and quite frankly, no drive to do anything. Volunteering ended with a potluck dinner and it was so lovely, it made me sad to think maybe I wouldn’t see these people again. Because, they work and most have kids, so really, English is the last thing on their minds. Will they come back in September? Unlikely. Will I be back in September? I don’t know. I want to but with school and work, I’m not sure if I can even dance let alone volunteer. And that makes Shari sad.

In the end it was good that everything ended because I was feeling very burnt out. Mostly it was work that was burning me out but everything compiles and I internalize everything and if I don’t do something about it, something bad happens. The last time it happened, I had to be taken home in a cab from a restaurant that was exactly a block away from my house. So, I try to avoid getting to that point now.

I took a week off work and puttered around. I got my hair done. Got my eyes checked (great sight!). Went and talked to the manager of the school where I will be going in September. Went to a Canada Day Wine and Cheese party, which was a little depressing seeing as each and every male there seemed to be in a relationship which was neither here nor there seeing as they were all gay to boot. But, on a more positive note, I’ve developed a licking for wine. I managed to polish off a whole bottle myself. Okay, maybe it doesn’t seem like a positive note to you, but I’m sick of being the person who says no thank you to a glass of wine and then has to explain why I don’t drink it. So I’m on a wine program. It’s going well.

On Thursday I headed to Vancouver. Shannon was back from Japan and I was off to see her. I find it strange to see my friends from Japan in Canada. It’s like the context is wrong. The stories and mutual acquaintances are far away. But we had a lovely visit. It’s weird because she is in the position I was in 1 year ago. And it makes me realize that I have come a ways since I stepped off that plane last August. Plus, I like to hang out with her because I think she may be more of a hippie at heart than I am. And I appreciate that.

Friday I went with Nadine and Arne to a Jewel concert. Which was fabulous. Nadine and I went a few years ago at the Queen E and it was probably one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. This was as well with the notable exception of the concert being at the River Rock Casino and us being 6 rows back. Arne was taken with how “stunning” she is. Nadine and I just dig hearing our favourite songs.

Saturday I headed to Nanaimo. It’s hard to believe but I was facing my 10 year reunion. To be honest, I really didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to hear about people who were married and had kids. But I was talked into it. We went to Tamara’s first with just the girls and had some drinks because to quote Bonnie “there is no way in hell I’m going to this sober.” A few hours later we walked into the pub and boom, time trip. I made instant eye contact with Jeralynn, who was my best friend in elementary school but never talked to in high school (we were in different groups) and lost touch in the intervening years. It was nostalgic. She told me how she remembered playing the dark game with my dad which I had been telling Tammy about a few months early. It’s nice to know that memories that mean a lot to you mean a lot to other people who took part in them.

Judy told me that she enjoyed my blog. I didn’t know that anyone read this thing. I believe I said that I thought only my mom read my blog which was one of my drunken lies (I lie a lot when I drink, go figure), seeing as my mom never reads my blog. But anyways, Hi Judy, if you are reading this.

I talked to people I basically haven’t seen since high school and I’m proud to say, even though I was sloppy, sloppy drunk drunk, I remembered everyone’s name. Except one. I talked to her for awhile and it wasn’t until Alina came over and got her name did I find out what it was. Anna basically had the same life as me for awhile. Got a degree in anthropology. Went to Japan. Worked for Peppy. Hell, she even lived in the same prefecture that my Grandfather was from. I guess that means we should have been best friends with her in high school but I was too busy being a sports jock. Alas.

Seeing the pictures from that night all I have to say is… I’m pretty sure I made an ass of myself. But then again, some of the guys creeped me out, so we’re pretty much even.

The next day, I hauled my very hung over ass to Tamara’s bridal shower. I think it very odd that half of the people there were Tamara’s friends and half of them were Tamara’s mom’s friends some of whom had never met Tamara. Maybe I’m just cheap but I wouldn’t want to buy a present for someone I hadn’t really met. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve never been to a bridal shower before. Maybe it is for the mothers. The stagette definitely promises to be for us girls. But Tamara seemed to have a good time which is all that really matters.

Now, I’m back and recharged for my last 2 months at this job. Only they don’t know that yet. Heheh.

S.

Ole

The moment was perfect.

Standing in the hallway, listening to the music on stage, waiting for my turn. The nerves. The giddy anticipation. The pained smiles from my fellow level one flamenco dancers.

This is the moment in the movies where everything slows down. Where the music cues as the dancers line up back stage. Where every look is nuanced and every stretch of muscle looks like a moment of epic proportions. Where the heroine makes her final stand.

There would be a flash back to the hours of practice. To the dance rehearsal the night before, in the crowded, sauna of a dance studio. To the support shown to all dancers. To the moment where the class danced their dance before their peers. To the shaking legs and nervous smile.

There would be a flashback to tech rehearsal from the morning of, to bumping into Joey trying to hit marks and trying not to think of how full the hall would be when showtime came.

There would be a flashback to backstage, putting on makeup, sticking the flower in the hair and finally feeling a sense of camaraderie with the other dancers, just as it is all about to end.

But this is not a movie.

And as the moment came, I stepped on stage and felt... right. Sure, there were nerves. But no shaky legs. No dread in the depths of my stomach. The music came and my head turned on cue. After that, my body just took over. Sure, I didn't look at the audience that much but I don't think that matters. Sure, I stepped on the trapdoor and nearly turned my ankle, causing me to loose time and bump into someone. Sure both hands went into the air when only one was supposed to.

Whatever.

The moment was perfect. As was the moment when the lights went down and the applause came.

Ole.

S.

I GOT IN

I try to keep it out of my blog but my overwhelming boredness at my job is killing me. So finally after much, much, much deliberation, I finally applied to Photography school.

Months ago, Nadine asked me what my dream job was.

It is and has always been photographer for National Geographic.

She asked me what I was doing about that dream.

Nothing.

She then said "maybe you should do something about it or change your dream."

Ouch.

But very true.

So after hemming and hawing, I looked around my office and had the realization that this was not where I wanted to be. And that going back to school, even going into debt over it, could never be a bad thing as long as I learned something from it.

I filled out my application (at work no less) and sent it in.

A few days later I got an email saying accepted.

In September I will be on my way to a diploma in professional photography, which I can hopefully mix with my anthropology degree in someway to get me experience, so that when I apply to National Geographic in a few years they will say "we gotta get this girl on board."

S.

Bruised Beyond Belief

On Friday work decided to have a volleyball game on top of a local pub. They have sand courts up there and what is funner than drinking and playing volleyball?

This was a practice round because we have been challenged by a local solar panel company to a game.

I went because I like volleyball and really, what else was I gonna do. Bonding with work people is good.

It started out nice. No rallies. Basically those of us on the court at that point weren't any good. I used to play but it has been 10 years since high school. If I used to be good (which I wasn't) then it has since leeched out of me into the abyss of non sport.

Then slowly, as more colleagues came, one by one, the players disappeared from the court and were replaced... by more hard core people. Suddenly I found that I had to actually concentrate and get the ball up for a second hit, not just send it over the net. It actually turned into a game. Gods forbid.

I could see it coming. It was an actual spike. I moved into position and actually returned it. But I did it slightly wrong. I caught it only on my right arm. All I could think afterwards was "ow, ow, ow." Actually, that's all I said afterwards.

When I finally hauled my ass off the court, I could see a bunch of tiny veins had been burst in my arms. Well, that happens when you haven't played in a while.

Some of us went out for drinks afterwards. My arms were aching a tad but not much so I thought nothing of it.

Went home that night, took off my hoodie and there it was. A bruise the size of a fist on my right arm. Purple, pink, green and yellow. It looked like someone had beat me.

So, 5 days later it is slowly fading. But now it is mostly yellow. And I look seriously diseased.

Thanks work. You made me look diseased.

S.

Indy

I admit it. I'm an Indiana Jones nut. I once had a hamster named Indy. He was an escape artist, able to push his whole cage away from the wall in order to escape. I named him well. I once found him, after having escaped his cage, in the cat's food dish, stuffing his face. He lived for danger.

I might have also gone in anthropology with a vague notion of wearing a fedora and crawling through ancient ruins deep in some jungle. This was promptly stomped on by my first anthropology prof who, in Archeology 200, announced the first day that "anyone who thinks they are going to be Indiana Jones might as well park their whip". Another dream crushed.

But I wasn't sure about another movie. The trilogy is perfect. Why mess with such a wonderful thing? But seeing as they were hell bent on it, I was willing to give it a chance.

So last night, my mom and I went. I had read reviews that people said they thought the storyline crazy and such. But come on.... were any of the previous movies plausible? The second one featured a crazy priest who would pull people's still beating hearts out of their chests and eat it while the person looked on.

The movie was campy, cheesy, and pure Indiana Jones. I enjoyed it. I think I will enjoy it even more with subsequent viewings... which if my past viewings of the first three are any indication, there will be many subsequent viewings.

Anyways, enjoy this tribute.




S.

The Shy and the Bus

’m a bad granddaughter. I admit it. I haven’t seen my grandma since before I went to Japan. That was 3 ½ years ago. So I haven’t seen my grandma since…

Well… it’s been awhile.

I have all these images in my mind of my grandma but they have no relation to anything else. There is no convienient date marking on the bottom corner of my memory.

Last weekend I finally went out to Vancouver and saw my grandma and my sister.

But that’s not the story I want to tell.

I’m a pretty shy person. Once you get to know me, I have a tendency to talk excessively but on first meet, it’s unlucky that I will say anything. I don’t like talking when I don’t feel comfortable… I say stupid things and I don’t like it.

Usually, on the bus, I listen to music. It is the perfect buffer. You have a wall that people cannot penetrate and if someone does say something to you, you can pretend not to hear. In Japan, I used my cell phone as well, as everyone places with their cell phones in those awkward situations that public transit is. Unfortunately, people are not as obsessed with their phones here, so playing with my cell for an hour would look strange. Thus, I’m left with my ipod.

The bus from the ferry was crowded and a bunch of exchange students got on right after me. The guy that sat next to me kept fidalling with his bus schedule. He asked the guy in front of us a bunch of questions. Even though I had Roisin Murphy blasting in my ears, I could tell the Canadian was very confused by the Japanese way of asking questions in English (English learners tend to repeat parts of sentences until they find the word they are looking for). Finally, I pulled off my headphones and asked if the exchange student needed help. He was confused about the bus times. Victoria transit had forgotten a page in the schedule. Very confusing indeed.

For the next hour, he and I had a halting start and stop conversation. The thing I find most interesting about Japanese ESL learners, is they all say the same thing. "I need to study English more." Is this the first sentence they teach in English class? The first Japanese sentence I learned was "toire wa doko desu ka?" which means where is the toilet? followed closely by "niku nashi onegashi shimasu" - no meat please. These are very useful phrases even if you don't understand the response given to the first question. But the Japanese always say how bad their English skills are. Trust me when I say, that everyone that I have met that has attempted to speak English far exceeds any Japanese ability I even picked up.

The other thing many ESL learners say is that Canadians are the easiest to understand. I've heard that in many different countries and from many people from different countries. Apparently we speak clearly and enunciate everything. Then they tell me Australians are difficult. I always tell them that I think Australians are difficult to understand too, especially with some beer in them.

We had just entered Victoria when he asked me the final question that all my conversations with English learners comes to. "How can I become better at English?" I told him what I tell everyone who asks... practice with native speakers. He seemed shocked at this proposition. What? Talk to Canadians? But seeing as he had already told me that I looked Japanese (which they all do at some point, it's a favourite topic), I guess he didn't feel he was talking to a Canadian.

It's funny... I have tons of advice about learning a second language and I never follow it myself. Which explains why I'm still monolingual.

S.

The Recital

I started belly dance in January. I took it as a bit of a lark, something to do in my spare time. I really enjoy it though. The movement has helped my back and made me a tad more agile.

I never though much about dancing. It is something I love to do and something I do to exercise. A dancer? Me. Hardly.

Then came the day when Asmira mentioned year end show. Suddenly I found my hand in the air. Did I just volunteer for the dance? Yeah I did. But I didn't think much of it.

We learned the dance. It was easy. Compared to the dance in flamenco class, belly dance was easy because the moves repeat over and over. I guess somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I remember learning choreography because I pick it up faster than everyone in my class.

A month passed and suddenly I realized that the show was soon! And I really didn't want to do it. I mean, really, really, really didn't want to do it. I tried to back out by saying my 10 year reunion was that weekend but everyone in my class made me feel guilty, especially since it wasn't that weekend.

So I decided to do it.

Friday, I found myself in a pose on stage, wearing harem pants, a hip belt a vest and a bikini top. Oh, yeah a bikini top. The last time I wore a bikini top I must have been... 18 months? I'm less than thrilled with my mid section and thus, do not expose it to the world. But there I was, on stage, with my breasts bursting out of a bikini top that was too small for me.

The music started and into the Egyptian basic I went. Walking out was fine. The girl opposite me looked like she was about to die. I was fine. Then I turned toward the audience and boom... wobbly legs. Wobble through the bicycle back steps. Paste a smile on my face. Good thing the theatre was dark, because I sure didn't want to see the full house looking on at me in my bikini top and wobbly legs.

Then suddenly I was headed off stage. Brooke grabbed me from behind and whispered a triumphant "we did it!"

We sure did.
How I'm going to do my flamenco dance next month with wobbly legs is beyond me, but I suppose I'll deal with that when I get to it.

S.

You know you've been at a job too long...

Yesterday I was walking to the store. A car drove by me. The licence plate said 456 BRL.

BRL. The currency code for Brazil.

I laughed.

Clearly I need out. Soon.

S.

Blast from the Gay Past

Two days ago, an email popped into my inbox. The name on the email was Tiane. I stared at it for a few moments. I knew exactly who it was, I was just shocked that an email had come from him.

Two and half years ago, I touched down in Japan. I was scared to be in a foreign country by myself, shocked that I had signed up to stay there a year... worried that I wouldn't meet anyone who I would get along with. The company picked me up and dropped me off at the training apartments where I met the girl who would be my roommate for 2 weeks. Laura was an awesome American, with an Ohio accent and the experience of having lived in Japan for 4 months (amazing in my mind at the time). We clicked immediately and I realized quickly that I was going to be okay.

The next day, there was a knock at our door. We opened the door and there was Tiane. He had just arrived and having no roommate, was lonely.

Tiane is from Toronto (or that area). We got along immediately.

One week into training, he asked me, "Shari, have you gotten with anyone yet?" I was shocked at the question. I was having enough trouble knowing what I was eating, learning how to teach and general culture shock to have even thought about guys.

"Have you?" was my response. I was being sarcastic.

"Yup."

Okay... shocking. He had not only gotten with a guy, but he had done it within ONE HOUR of touching down in Nagoya. In the airport.

Gay men. Sheesh.

The last night I saw Tiane we were at a club in downtown Nagoya. He grabbed my hand, and said "let's dance." He then proceeded to use my hand to grab the ass of every Japanese man on the dance floor. Ah Tiane... the man who's soul purpose for being in Japan was to get some Asian ass.

He quit Peppy soon after starting because he didn't like where they placed him. No gay men in northern Japan apparently.

I haven't heard from him in well over 2 years. But his email is exactly Tiane... and it has taken me back.

Memory is a pleasant and inexpensive way to travel.
S.

The End of a Friendship

I’m not one to let a friendship slide. I usually try to maintain contact even if the person is far away. I may not get back to you right away but I do try to eventually. I hate the phone but I do call people back when they call me. When I haven’t heard from someone in a while I do send an email, just to check in. If they don’t respond to email, mail, missed phone call, I just chalk it up to them being busy. Two no responses makes me think. Three and I call it a day. No use beating a dead horse on the head, right?

So I have this friend. We were never friends in person. We met in college and because we had the same major, had a small bond. However, it was always that we had mutual friends rather than were actual friends ourselves. You know how it is. When she finished college, she moved to another country to do her masters. I promised to write, as did everyone else in our group. However, unlike most people who promise to write, I actually do. I love mail, so I am anal about sending mail back. So for a year, we mailed back and forth, while she did her masters and I finished my bachelors. Then, when she returned to Canada, all was quiet for awhile. I rarely saw her and when I did, it was usually at parties where many people were invited. Back to being acquaintances as it were.

Then I left for Japan. Because I wrote to her when she was abroad, she promised to do the same. And she did. Letters came every few months telling me of her new job and eventually her new boyfriend. She even let me crash at her place for a night when I returned home for a visit. Two years I got letters. Then, the letters stopped. I wrote one, two and finally, the third letter to no response. My last year in Japan, no contact.

Eight months ago I returned to Canada. When I did I sent out a mass email to all my friends giving them my contact details and the fact that I was home and would love to see them. The people I expected to respond, the people I love and whom I think love me in return, did respond. And although I don’t see them as often as I would like, and the fact that I don’t pick up the phone (evil machine) doesn’t matter as I know when I do I will get a response. Or they will call me demanding where the hell I have been. They are cool like that.

From this particular friend… nada. The only emails I have gotten are about her wedding and where to send the invitations, which have never come, as she claims she doesn’t have my current address even though I have sent it to her three times. These emails also mentioned repeatedly where she was registered. Have I mentioned that I have heard reports of this friend being a bridezilla? So much so, that her first two bridesmaids dropped out of her wedding because they couldn’t deal with her. Perhaps you can see how I feel, a friend who has had no contact with me for two years except when she wants me to come to her events and bring her presents.

So I didn’t go to the wedding shower. It was in Vancouver, I didn’t get a proper invitation, and I didn’t like that the email I got from the bridesmaid at the last minute started and ended in the fact that she was registered at Linen and Things. Then came the stagette. First, I have to say that I think weddings are out of control. Didn’t weddings used to involve a couple hour get together at a friend’s house (shower) and the wedding? When did all these pre events come into effect? So the bridesmaids organized a 3 day extravaganza in Tofino, which is ridiculous if you ask me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go, as there was no way I was going to take Friday off work. But emails came about how I didn’t go to the shower, so it would be so disappointing if I didn’t go to the stagette. So I said I would go up on Saturday because that was all I could afford.

I figured one day wouldn’t cost that much. But apparently, it doesn’t matter how many days you go for, you are still paying for 3 meals on Friday, 2 meals on Saturday, 1 on Sunday, two nights accommodation (did I mention that there wasn’t enough beds, so people coming up on Saturday should “bring sleeping bags”) plus booze (of which only wine is provided, blech). When I sent off an email saying that I just couldn’t afford that much and if it was that much I probably couldn’t go, I got an email back dripping in a well thought out guilt trip.

Makes me pissed off.

Basically, to sum up the email, the bridesmaid (who writes in a style awfully reminiscent of the bride) said that seeing as I was one of the bride’s closest friends she didn’t understand how money could even be a factor. She then proceeded to say how no one else had complained and even one girl, who is unemployed, was making the trip. She then offered to lower the price by 15 dollars, which she would have to cover herself, as to not inconvenience anyone else.

Oh, how kind.

If I am one of the bride’s closest friends, then I feel sorry for her for having so few friends. If the bride was one of my closest friends, then I wouldn’t even be thinking about the price. Because friendship is more important than money. And friends don’t feel used.

S.

Lost Generation

I hope so.

S.

The Trek

After work today, my boss suggested we go out for drinks. So 6 ladies did drinks at a restaurant, talking smack and boob jobs. You know, normally day at the office.

It was 6 pm when I headed home. I share a bathroom with several other women and today it was in use. The woman in there was either having an epic bath, or cleaning (cleaning... I really, really hope so.) but there was a major water flowing sound.

I've hung out with my sister too long. I used to be a tank. I could hold it for hours if necessary. But Nadine uses the bathroom consistently and now, so do I. I walked into my room (which is next to the bathroom) and realized I had to go so bad. And all I could hear was the water running. What a situation.

Before I even had time to think about how long I could hold it, my body had taken control. My shoes were on, keys in hand and I was out the door. I was halfway down the stairs before I realized where I was going. I live next to Beacon Hill Park. It's gorgeous. There is a bathroom in the middle of it. Beach Hill isn't as big as you are probably thinking, but it isn't as small as my mind pictured it at that moment.

I start walking. It's okay. Walking makes me feel like I don't need to go.Down the block, cross the road and I was in the park. Down the chip trail. Oh wait, walking makes me feel like I need to go so bad. See people feeding the ducks. Ducks making splashing noises. Oh geez.

Maneuvered through the playground, dodging blond children on bikes spouting what sounded like Swedish. At this point I can see the building. Pick up the pace. Oh crap, it's not the bathroom, it's a building that appears to have no doors. The bathroom is the next building. Around the flower bed, by the fountains (not just one stream of water heaving into the air, but three, ack!) and finally the bathroom.

Praise be.

For a split second I thought the bathroom was closed, but it turned out just to have a heavy door.

Perhaps I should think about moving. But less than 400 bucks a month is unheard of in Victoria.
S.