I woke up this morning to Otis playing with my hair. I tell you, sometimes he makes the best boyfriend. It’s a strange habit he picked up maybe two months ago. He’ll be nine this summer and in all our years together he has never exhibited this behaviour.

I know with him though, it comes with a catch, and despite this, I appreciate the gesture. He wants food, and I think in his old age, this is his way of waking me gently but with conviction. Previous to this his tactic was to unleash chaos on my otherwise extremely tranquil bedroom. This would frequently involve knocking over my water glass, walking over my alarm clock hitting the ‘sleep’ button and turning it on prematurely, jumping over my tuckered body in what I like to refer to as “the caged chimpanzee on methamphetamines method.” If all this doesn’t work he would resort to assaulting Marshall because he knows the wail Marshall is capable of brings me to my feet instantly in a fervent attempt to save my dying cat. This often results in a time out for Otis locked behind the sliding doors of my tub. He doesn’t like this, especially when he can hear Marshall crunching.

So, I’m liking this more pleasant approach as annoying as it is. It’s sweet.

My transit ride into work felt like it got me there in record time. I think it is because I caught the 7:34 SkyTrain which brings me to the 99 B-Line stop at precisely the time when it is approaching the stop while at the same time getting the red light, giving me enough time to cross the crosswalk and get on. I swear sometimes it seems like the earth lives and breathes right down to the seconds that tick on my watch. Like synchronised swimming.

I had four hospital apps today which were tolerable, as opposed to the make-my-knees-buckle-walk-back-to-office-crying ones I have sometimes. They took me a while though which brought my lunch time to roughly 2:05PM, and too late for my demanding tummy.

I did satiate it with a bowl of Tim’s chili and three fuzzy peaches for a pre-lunch snack. In addition to this I walked to London Drugs to buy some cheap ear buds to replace the other cheap ear buds I previously bought. While I was inspecting the goods a man came up too close behind me to do the same. When I decided this was distracting and rather uncomfortable I stepped back to walk away. Close man didn’t step back, thereby forcing me to squeeze between him and the end-of-aisle rack, which caused my hip to graze his knuckle. Gah! I gave him a stern and … okay … quite possibly a super bitchy excuse me, which I assume was interpreted as the latter because he did turn around to acknowledge the little 5’4″ person it came out of and I think I saw a head shake. At this point I was prepared to have an “Aaaand in this corner…” with him if he were to have said something. But he didn’t. It was super awkward when I wasn’t paying attention and stepped up to the same cash he was already standing at. I contemplated for a moment an about face but figured that’d be a sign of surrender, so I played it cool.

I got back to work to find a pair of size two, toddler shoes on Steve, the building manager’s, windshield. I’m not sure who donated such things as they are a rather strange adornment for a windshield. When I stepped outside after lunch I saw that Steve had moved them to the concrete ledge which I took to assume he wasn’t really feeling the gift either. I for one am now curious as to what three year old is walking around without any shoes on.

Time to put together my notes now. Lunch is over, just in time for my last break. Funny how things work.

Just a day in the life of Andrea.

I love games like this on a Friday lunch-hour. While Quack is out purchasing pretty shoes, I’m sitting here in front of the glow of an LCD watching the minutes tick by until I must return to career-mindedness. She didn’t really invite me to play this game, but it’s a time-passer and those are splendid sometimes so here goes:

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
No. But there is a story behind my name and it goes like this folks:

My parents were procrastinators and did not have a name ready for me come my entrance into this world. So for roughly a day I was nameless. Visitors came and went at the hospital, some offered their ideas, but nothing really seemed to fancy either of my units. Then one cool, spring day my Nana was looking into my eyes (or, she could have been examining my hairline because apparently it was quite similar to my grandfather’s on my dad’s side) and said “I think she looks like an Andrea.” Then my Dad tried it out: Andreaaa. Then my mom did the same and they agreed right then and there that I would become an Andrea.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
I think I fell asleep crying last night actually.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes. I love it.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Genoa Salami

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Yes, they were born with four legs and go by the names: Marshall and Otis.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yes. But I’d kick my ass quite often.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Only with someone I know can handle it. My sarcasm is quite discretionary.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
No. Apparently mine were the size of ping-pong balls and knocked my surgeon out of the water once they emerged into the light of day.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
No. Any kind of adrenaline-inducing activity that would result in an extremely horrifying death is off limits for yours truly.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
I have always loved Wheetabix.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Nevah.

12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Mint Chocolate Chip, with French Crisp coming in as a close second.

13. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Men: Their forearms
Women: Their chin/neck area

14. RED OR PINK?
Red.

15. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
That I put off getting out of my big, warm bed, and exiting my dark, tranquil room on weekdays so long that I often have to leave my house with my toothbrush in my purse because I don’t have time to brush my teeth.

16. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
I miss my grandpa who passed away in 2008. He was my first grandparent to pass away so the shock of that took a while to deal with. His energy, his passion, and how genuinely kind and loving he was is something I miss very much.

17. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST?
No, not everyone.

18. WHAT COLOUR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Dark, indigo jeans and black shoes I like to call “dolly shoes.”

On another note why is this question so lame? There could have been so many more articles of clothing that would have been much more exciting to answer.

19. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
This bizarre humming sound circulating my office that I believe is coming from outside the window. Mind you I’ve also been trying to figure out if the humming is taking place in my head because I’m so tired.

20. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Cerulean

21. FAVOURITE SMELLS?
I love the smell of a man. I love the smell of wet pavement minutes after the rain comes. I love the smell of a forrest. I love the smell of the top of a mountain. I love the smell of tangerines.

22. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
One of my client’s landlords.

23. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
This is not applicable because I stole the idea.

24. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Hockey. Downhill skiing. Soccer.

25. HAIR COLOR?
Dark Brown

26. EYE COLOR?
Sometimes Brown/Green, other times Green/Brown

27. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No. But I wish I wore glasses.

28. FAVORITE FOOD?
Oh God.

29. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Both. I love the kinds of scary movies that make me feel sick with fear. I also love mushy movies that make me bawl my eyeballs out.

30. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
The Reader

31. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Both. Equally. No question.

32. HUGS OR KISSES?
Both. Especially simultaneously.

33. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Je ne sais pas.

34. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
See above.

35. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Eat Pray Love

36. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
I don’t have one.

37. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
The news

38. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Hmmm. Both.

39. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Czech Republic

40. WHERE WERE YOU BORN
Ottawa, Canada!

First of all, I can’t stand the term Hump Day. I always imagine that Hump Day is used by professionals who love their jobs, all the time. Usually they’ll be overheard saying things like: ”Happy Hump Day!” or “Don’t worry, it’s Hump Day!”

Hump Day

When I was 12 “hump” was the term you’d use when you thought you knew what sex was. For example: “Did you hear that Sally and Johnny humped after school yesterday?” Then, around 15 you learned the term “dry humping” and some time after that humping never transitioned into the opposite of dry, and went straight into describing a day of the week – and usually a happy one at that. I feel a little cheated.

For my mid-morning snack I ate 3 Ferrero Rocher balls and these yummy little snack packs of roasted seaweed strips seasoned with sea salt and sunflower oil. I suppose I should confirm this as lately I’ve been mentioning eating things like cottage cheese with Cheezies, and now Ferrero Rocher with seaweed … I am not with child. I just have the taste buds of an Asian, the appetite of a European, and the fearlessness of a starving caveman in winter – so I hear anyway. I don’t make these things up.

I read an article on the cover of today’s Vancouver Sun titled: “Mountie displays ugly attitude when an apology is in order” and discusses the testimony of RCMP Constable Gerry Rundel regarding the Tasering of Robert Dziekanski that he was involved in. As a trained officer of the law – wearing a Kevlar vest, with a gun strapped close to your hip, beside a high-energy weapon, how can you possibly admit that you were fearful of an agitated man holding a stapler? I mean, even if you are trying to justify the reason for the Tasering, isn’t admitting something like that kind of like The Undertaker admitting to Triple H he’s afraid of Vern Troyer? I personally would find it much more hulky and manly if Mr. Rundel would just say something like “It was stupid, we overreacted, I’m sorry.” But who am I, eh?

What else is there …

Oh ya, my mummy is coming to visit me for the first time since I moved here a year and a half ago. Yes, I call her mummy even though I’m 31 years old. Sometimes it’s mère, sometimes maman, sometimes it’s muzah, every so often it’s her first name if she’s misbehaving. At any rate, I’m happy she’s going to be here because I think I need a hug from her quite badly. We’ll be roomies in my place for 3 weeks during which time we will most likely argue about the following at least once a day: My finances. As per tradition, we will battle it out Italian/French Canadian vs. Italian/Ukrainian/French Canadian-style. I am taking reservations for spots now so don’t delay. It will last for roughly 20 minutes and then I will spontaneously recite a scene from a movie that our argument is reminding me of (last time it was the scene where Atreyu was pleading with Artax to fight against the Swamps of Sadness in the NeverEnding Story. It went something like this: “Artax, please!! You’re sinking!! Stupid horse!!), and she’ll say something like “I’m being serious!” Where serious will come through lips that are starting to smile because she knew it was coming, then she’ll start to laugh, then I will, and harmony will be restored once again throughout the land. It’s really quite effective, you should try it some time. Arguments, especially ones with mothers, and especially ones about money should only ever last 20 minutes max.

I guess that’s about it. Now I will go walk Broadway and will probably end up in Wonderbucks spending money on a votive holder and some funky dinner plates that are 2 for 1 right now, and maybe a plant.

Here’s what I have recently found interesting as of roughly 2 hours ago:

It doesn’t matter how horrible your life is at any particular moment in time – the sun will always feel good on your face. Looking up at a clear, blue sky will always give you a moment of peace, even if only fleeting.

It doesn’t matter who you are. Where you came from. What you’ve seen or done. It doesn’t matter if you’re angry, sad, or content. These two things are sure things, I’m certain of it.

And why? Well, it’s because I can have a discussion with a client at my desk. They can tell me how they slept on the street last night, how they were robbed this morning, maybe someone kicked the shit out of them, maybe they lost a loved one, maybe they’re lost, they might not even know how they got to my office 15 minutes earlier but remarkably, if the sun’s high, and the sky’s clear, they still have the capacity, or the room to push all that pain aside and acknowledge how wonderful a day it is.

Imagine?

© Andrea C.

My lunch will be over at the end of this time…

I feel neglectful of my blog lately again, and really this time there’s no actual reason. Oh no wait, it’s because I’ve started a relationship with someone. So a lot of my thoughts are occupied with happiness, elation, excitement, I’m all abuzz with gaiety.

This person is actually an old friend. Someone I lost touch with over the last half year, or so. But I’m so glad I found them again. I missed them. They were kind of elsewhere for a while. Consumed by some tumultuous things. This person is back now, admitting to feeling like they just crawled out of a vortex of overwhelming circumstance.

This person I’ve met, is me. I’m talking about me.

I realised the other day that I’ve found myself again. For half a year I existed in such intensity where I honestly forgot that I was a living, breathing, human, with its own feelings, thoughts, emotions. All that. I honestly broke up with myself unintentionally and let something… someone else become my focus. I got lost for a while.

I said to Gee during a phone call that it feels like I’ve been suffering from a debilitating illness and have just been given a clean bill of health. My suffering is over and now I can regain my focus and outlook and “feel” things again. Laughter is coming so much easier now. It’s not shrouded by a dark soul-sucking cloud of dashed hopes anymore.

So I sit here, eating Cheetos Crunchy Cheesies and Cottage Cheese for lunch (in separate mouthfuls, of course) and I don’t give a shit. My tummy growls each time I swallow and I say sorry to it, rub it, but I chew on and I chew happy. And, that’s because I AM happy. A real happy.

I’m going to cherish and nurture this rediscovered relationship the way I’ve always known myself to do. It’s what comes naturally to me. But, for some reason I let myself have a time-out from this self-care, although I’m not sure why.

I learned a lot about the complexities of people, and the fragility of my self.

Fini.

I’m only 31. Wait, pretty soon-to-be 32. Am I allowed to profess ignorance in this case any more? Or, come your 30s, are you supposed to know? Or maybe think you know? Or at the very least have pondered the thought. Become perplexed over it. Given up on it – And then after careful resignation and scrutiny, reauthorize your idea of life and love and decide that yes, fuck yes, you’re right.

So where do I fit into all this? Well for a while there I was certain I had a life/love strategy mapped out. However, upon careful consideration, I am realising that this ego-driven hypothesis has slowly buckled me into a booster-seat which is strapped in a car heading straight for the Republic of Spinsterland.

Sometimes I see myself happily frolicking among other spinsters in a meadow, picking daisies, and reflecting on a life lived to its fullest potential. Full of travel, soul food, experience, epoch, and possibly a slight ambiance of ambivalence. I’m sure we live among confirmed bachelors as well. Perhaps we’re all resigned. Perhaps we pretend we are but our guts, like leaves, hold steadfast to the trees of the “what ifs.”

Smiles might clinch the end of the day weary and fading as we lay our bodies down for the night and dream about what it would have been like to create a lineage of new life after us that carves the earth for rivers of generations and we think: a generation has stopped at us.

But the next morning we may rise and greet the birth of a new day with fervor and confirmation of the clean wash of happiness that yes, we really do feel.

The truth is that some days I’m clammy with consternation and I feel that in order for my life to exist happily I must feel the measure of satisfaction that I feel when I’m in a relationship that excites me, stimulates me and provides for me all the things I feel when I’ve discovered a sidekick; someone who I could potentially grow brittle with and rock with in a swing set until the sun fades toward the earth, even if we can’t talk any more because we’re deaf. … Our rickety fingers would touch, just barely, but it would be enough.

At the same time, my possible shortcoming at this point in my life is that I have terrible fears of settling into a relationship where I relinquish things to make room for other things. I have fears of commiting myself to a person who just ‘does the trick’ so it’s caused me to become very picky and to remain too concrete over my expectations in a relationship. Then again, with divorce rates so high, and couples seeking external stimuli on either an emotional or physical … or both, level am I on the right track with my credentials? Is settling worth all the angst? Then, is staying true to my hopes and dreams worth all the angst it will bring? I think I have to arbitrate over which source of angst will be worse at the end of the day.

Do I take the comfort of another body to walk through life with, even if this person ends up being someone that’s just good enough? Or do I abstain from all corners of this potential and allow myself to be happy by myself.

These are the things I think about while I’m working away at the absorption of lives that hurt more than mine ever will. My mouth does a lot of talking, a lot of asking, and my ears hear a lot of sorrow. My fingers, document it all. Then, finally a portion of my brain makes the conscious decision to help the person standing in front of me. All the while I could be mapping out my life and every time, without fail, I reach this precarious fork in the road where I plop down on the torid, moistureless pavement and wait for an answer to come to me.

It’s quite interesting, really.

There is something in the way she moves.
Thick, trunky legs that barely bend.
She shuffles when she walks.
SwishSwishSwishSwish
Skunk-trailed hair, pulled back tight. Shiny.Smooth.Old hair.
A potholed, red nose holds pretty black-framed glasses with jewels at the corners.
Red, microfibre vest – zipped up tight to a viscous neck…
Hugs a smokey-blue, crushed velvet blouse.
It’s peculiar.
To say the least.
She is orb-shaped in a comfortable way.
And captivates me with the way she talks with hands that sibilate and cut the air.
They’re the most graceful thing about her.

Since I don’t know who 3/4 of my readers are, I don’t know if you have blogs … Chels I know you do and I’m very happy … but if anyone else does, and you want me to email you 5 interview questions that I want to know about you to put in your own blog/Facebook then by all means … my email address is in here.

From The Quack to me:

1. What is YOUR favourite thing about Vancouver?

- Vancouver has brought chaos, hope, clarity, enlightenment, and growth to my life that I probably wouldn’t have experienced if I were to have stayed back home. This place has surprised and amazed me in more ways than I would have imagined. It’s one thing to come here as a tourist, it’s easy to fall in love with Vancouver, but since living here, I’ve found it’s taking me longer to fall in love with Vancouver at its core. Superficially though, I’m here for the ocean and the mountains … oh, and the skiing.

2. Do you think you would ever move back to Ottawa?  What would it take to convince you?

- No, I don’t think so. I feel I owe it to myself to give Vancouver at least the next half of my life from this point. If I ever leave Vancouver before that, I’d go somewhere else. By that point I guess I would have submitted to the notion that perhaps I am a true rolling stone, in which case, I’ve gathered moss back in Ottawa. Next destination would be onward, never backward. To get me back there would have to be a pretty convincing argument … like Christian Bale being my neighbour.

3. What do you miss most about Ottawa (as a city – not family & friends)?

- I miss how clean Ottawa is. I miss feeling 100% of each season – rainy, warm springs; stifling hot summers; the incredible smell and colour of fall; and the snowy, cold winters. I miss Ottawa’s friendliness and how much emotionally warmer it seems. It’s also the place where I spent the first thirty years of my life … so we have history together, Ottawa and I; it knows a lot of my secrets.

4. If you could have coffee with one historical figure, dead or alive, who would it be?

- This could be a different answer 5 hours from now … I think I’d like to have a coffee with Puccini. But in this case, I figure we’d be having a cappuccino.

5. Just for fun: Who do you love more? Otis or Marshall? You MUST pick one! (Okay, you don’t REALLY have to )

- I love each of them with 100% of my heart. So, 100% for Otis and 100% for Marshall. They are two separate entities. However, if you were to ask me who’s breath I can tolerate more, I’d say Otis. Marshall’s gives me the shivers.

I’m reflecting more. I’ve been reflecting since my last reflection and realise that life hasn’t really slowed down. It still follows the ebb and flow of chaos vs function vs get-me-the-fuck-out-of-hereism. Sometimes days finish with a calm like the sunset over a quiet lake, other days come to end with an urgency for me to just crawl under my covers, draw my blinds, blacken my room and a prayer for sleep to come quickly and a hope that I find enough energy the next morning that will afford me the capability to get out of bed.

It’s 10ish hours until 2009 and the following is what happened since I left off in August. Some of this will be a surprise to some of my readers, even the ones who know me well.

September 2008
- My most favourite and most painful month all rolled into one. Painful because someone very close to me attempted to end their life and called me while doing so to say goodbye.
- Finally get official job offer for a position with the provincial gov’t that I wanted so badly!
- From an emotional-growth standpoint and a kick-in-the-stomach perspective, I transitioned in this month into someone who never knew what it meant to have to pull strength from reserves out of desperation.

… see? Ebb and Flow … ebb and flow.

October 2008
- Quick visit home for 4 days before new job starts. I fall in love with my cat, Eleanor Rigby – whom I left with my mom when I moved to Vancouver – all over again. Ellie gets hit by a car the day after I arrive back in Vancouver and dies
- Started new job which complements my erratic life. It’s full of daily dealings with the miserable, the hopeful, the lost, the scared, the fanatical, the maniacal, the thankful, the resentful, the wiggidy, and the whack. I fall in love with my job.
- Caesar, my nephew, the dog with an often human soul, suddenly has a heart attack and dies

November 2008
- Work’s going well. Life feels exciting and good.
- Visit with a Trustee in Bankruptcy to weigh my options with my student and relocation debts because the cost of living in this mountainous city is starting to make me resort to brown beans and sardines for dinner
- Settle into my overdraft and remind myself that when it’s all said an done, I’ll have a tasty pension

December 2008
- Full swing of things at work and liaising at Vancouver General Hospital.
- Christmas creeps in and I miss my family a bit
- Christmas Day arrives and I wake up to the sounds of Miss Muffin talking nothings at 6AM. I open presents with Cathy & Kyle (my adoptive parents who are the same age as me), Muffin, Frank, and Gee.
- Christmas afternoon arrives and I get the call that the above person from September’s adventures has attempted suicide #2 and is in the hospital hooked up to an ECG. My world all of the sudden becomes tragically heavy and Christmas suddenly looks very different.
- Lollygag through Christmas .. through Boxing Day ..
- Last night: Late call (Ottawa-time) from my mum … lumpy Billy – Our 12 year old, diabetic, fat-deposit-riddled Italian Greyhound, who snapped his front leg in half when he was a year old, and got stuck with one undescended testicle, had his last seizure and passed away in the living room in his cozy bed.

So … what’s 2009 going to bring me? Big lottery winnings? A date with Christian Bale? Financial security? I don’t really think there’s anything I can think of. I know that my life seems to transpose in and out of moments of total anarchy and moments of such peace and happiness. I lost three, four-legged creatures who I loved with all my heart. I nearly lost one, two-legged creature, twice … however, somehow I’m still standing. Craze-o, eh?

So I take the good, I take the bad, I take them both and there I have …

LL-IW I
LL-IW II
LL-IW III

I’ve been noticing a little more activity on my blog over the last month or so and I really, really want to know who you are, what your story is, how you got here, and anything relevant or irrelevant – including the present weather conditions outside your window. Chances are though, the things that you find irrelevant about yourself are things that I will think are fantastic. It’s just how I roll.

There is a comment box below. You can “Signed, Anonymous” anything you want. Or, maybe even sign it with a celebrity from the 80s. Like, Molly Ringwald or Anthony Michael Hall, for example. Foreign languages are acceptable as well as long as they appear in the list at Babelfish so I can decipher them for swear words, random gift offers, time shares, sexual innuendos, predictions for the future, and/or proposals.