Friday, September 11, 2009

Me of the Friday

Current mood: Angsty

Political Angst: I hate Stephen Harper. I Hate Stephen Harper. My god, I really hate Stephen Harper. His name may be spelled with a 'v', but I don't know, and I don't care, and I won't google his name to find out, such is the extent of my loathing. He is responsible for a government which I feel in no way represents my values or needs. He is responsible for a shocking array of budget cuts to essential services throughout the nation. He is responsible for my America-envy. That's right...Americenvy, a word which has never existed before, because there was no need, because as a Canadian I had never once experienced the possibility of being jealous of our neighbours to the South. Until they got Obama, and I got...Steve. Uft.

Renewed reason for this angst: the two minute commercial I just watched extolling the virtues of the latest tax break, which apparently has reversed everyone's economic woes and made Canadians everywhere smiley and proud, or at least that's the case for the twelve actors employed on this project. Brought to me (and you!) by the government of Canada. When I am queen of the world, such burning of money to fan the flames of my rage will be illegal. Soon.

Also disturbing: At least three of my coworkers have taken to complimenting me on my work ethic and ability, repeatedly, and (to my humble opinion) excessively. This makes me quite uncomfortable. I can only think of three possible reasons:

1. I'm doing a terrible job and am about to be fired, and coworkers are doing all that they can to soften the inevitable crushing blow.

2. They just like to give compliments, which means my coworkers are far better human beings than I will ever hope to be, and I will never, ever fit in. =(

3. God is about so send a really spectacular shit-storm, and the bleakness will be all the more dramatic is I'm sent a few compliments beforehand.

...My intuition tells me it's answer three.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Me of the Day

Current feeling: hungry, somewhat intoxicated by the not unpleasant, but likely brain-damaging aroma of nail polish remover (used liberally on fingernails almost an hour ago). Opening window is likely a good idea.

Life goal discovered in the last 24 hours: my desire to swim in bioluminescent waters (likely a lake or an ocean). I suspect it would be very pretty and fairy-tale-esque in a life affirming sort of way. Unless bioluminescent algae have flesh-eating tendencies, which I should probably look into. Hmmm. Life goal currently on hold.

Activities on this non-laborious Labour Day: Harvesting corn from garden (I grew corn! Real corn! In tiny, little cobs from tiny, little stalks!!), shovelling dog poo from back yard, in bare feet, even though I know that this is a very bad idea, and then marvelling that two small dogs (collective weight: 20 lbs) can produce enough poo that a shovel is required, repeatedly, ad nauseam (literally). Trying to read a book, trying to write, lamenting my inability to write since getting a full-time job, being distracted by editing large and glaring typos from old blog posts, reading old blog posts, enjoying old blog posts, and realizing that I can write, or at least could, back in the day when I wrote. Then I wondered if it’s self-centered and vain to admit enjoying my own writing, and decided that it is, but that most people would enjoy reading anything all about themselves and their puppies, and it just happens that the only thing written about me is my own blog. So, there…self. And…yes.

Plans for the immediate future: Eating aforementioned corn. Possibly baking cupcakes, though this will require going to the grocery store, which will require putting on shoes.

Amazing idea for others to act on, immediately: A cupcake delivery service operating in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia. Preferably one offering discount prices to those willing to extol virtues of said cupcakes delivery service in their personal blog, and specializing in gourmet chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting and shiny pink sprinkles. It could be big. Think about it.


Unnecessarily Angsty

I am a ravid hater of angsty poetry. (And yes, ravid is a word. I don't know if my brain was trying to say avid, or rabid, and really, the combination of the two seems perfectly appropriate.) And so it is not helpful to my self loathing when I myself am the author of much reviled angsty poetry, but such is life.

Thus I present the short poetry/prose created during a particularly angsty moment this very morning, when I clearly should have been sleeping. May it henceforth sit alongside Eliot and Ezra Pound as a (lesser) inexplicable blight on the world.


Sometime, a long time ago, something happened. A cloth that should have been thick was worn thin. And all that should have been warmed was left exposed and withered and cold.

And today, I can’t help it. I keep trying to cover in layers. And I bathe in trauma. I bask in trauma. I let people’s tears dry on my skin, and the deep mud of misery fills all the cracks. Layer after layer, until one day I'll barely feel.

And I think, this last layer will be enough. It will make me feel warm. Or it will make me feel cold. And perhaps those two things are the same.

So I wait.