buttons

tonight, the fourth season of LOST began. while the return of one of my favourite series is certainly more than post-worthy, especially given the rather slim TV pickins out there at the moment, that’s not what i feel like discussing tonight...but it does make for an ideal jumping-off point. you see, part of the complex mythology of LOST involves (or, i suppose, involved) characters entering a series of numbers into a computer every 108 minutes, the process serving as a giant “reset” for the island on which they’re all stuck. a reset button for life. interesting.

i started thinking about what it would be like if we could all have a reset button for life. a button we could hit to reboot ourselves and our worlds to a more favourable point before events went awry or we did something really, really stupid. a button to reset the status quo or fix a mistake or prevent a tragedy or relive a magical moment. in those instances, a reset button would be a very cool thing.

at the same time, i know we all have built-in reset buttons already. only, the kind of reset buttons we possess come with more heartache than happiness, and more restlessness than relief. somewhere inside, maybe even buried very deep and encased in steel, everybody has an emotional reset button (ERB). it’s the button that, when pressed – or smacked, or poked, or pushed, or kicked or otherwise activated – resets some facet of our emotional well-being and, unfortunately, returns the counter to zero.

it’s the button that, in a heartbeat, can make you insecure. sad. nervous. afraid. self-conscious. depressed. worried. angry. any number of unpleasant things, actually. it can slice open healed (or healing) wounds, put bad memories on “repeat,” or just leave you feeling like you’ve somehow been thrown right back into whatever crappy situation you thought you’d escaped ages ago. the ERB is a button that can prevent closure, impede progress and stall positive momentum. it’s an infernal thing, this ERB.

and, more often than not...almost always, in fact...it’s someone else who hits it for you. sometimes, repeatedly. many times, this action is cleverly disguised as a gesture as seemingly benign as a friendly remark, an unexpected smile or a reminder of the past. other times, the intention is clear -- "i'm going to screw with your head now..." -- and the actions far more purposeful and pointed. they're infernal beings, these ERB pushers.

i’ve thought about them a lot lately, the folks who seem to delight in keeping others under their thumb with a carefully timed press of that ERB. in fact, their ERB-loving antics have elicited more than a few streams of expletives from me of late. thankfully, it’s not my ERB being toyed with, but still. what kind of hobby is this? what kind of manipulative game do people think they’re playing? it’s cruel and selfish and all about control. or, per the photo above, power. (actually, it’s also all about the transference of insecurity, but i'm digressing.) one little click from them is all it takes and your emotional deck is reshuffled, your house of cards crumbles and, before you know it, you’re right back at square one. again. suddenly, the idiom of someone pushing another’s buttons seems less metaphoric and more literal where the ERB is concerned.

oh sure, you can shore yourself up and learn from past button-pushing and try to prevent infiltrators from gaining access to your ERB, but someone always seems to tiptoe past the security system to press firmly upon it. i have no idea how to stop them – not when it comes to me or other people. any ideas or theories, on why people do it or what can be done to protect against it, are more than welcome. post away.

i just know it’s too bad that, unlike the situation for the castaways of LOST, it takes more than a secret code of six numbers to lock up the ERB and keep its fiendish pokers at bay.

all the laughter, all the tears

this morning, cod and i were chatting about movies – specifically, In the Land of Women and its funny/poignant quality. she said that she likes her humour combined with “Kleenex moments.” i tend to agree.

after we exchanged those emails, i went to a screening of Vince Vaughn’s Wild West Comedy Show, a “tour documentary” chronicling a 30-day, across-america bus trip by vaughn and a quartet of comedians. it played at TIFF in september and was well-received. i really enjoyed it...and imagine my surprise to discover it has humour AND Kleenex moments. it actually made me cry. TWICE.

what??

‘tis true. i fully admit that i am probably the world’s easiest cry, so it doesn’t really take much. but to well up at a movie about stand-up comics on the road? how strange.

on the way home, i started thinking about tear-trigger scenes in movies and TV. scenes that always get me (no matter how many times i’ve seen them or those of their ilk), and there are a few that are always guaranteed to work:

* the scene in Rudy when rudy (sean astin) sits on a bench beside a pond and reads his acceptance letter to notre dame

* actually, most of Rudy makes me cry, now that i think about it...i love that movie so much that even this video condensing the whole film into four minutes and 24 seconds (set to the film’s score, which also makes me cry) kick starts tears

[note to self: you really should write an entire blog post about Rudy]

* any goodbye scene at all, but “goodbye, i’m going to war” and “goodbye, i’ve taught you the lesson you needed to be taught and now i’m leaving you forever” (e.g., Mary Poppins) are the worst

* oh, and any goodbye scene where one of the people involved has died without the other realizing it

* similarly, anytime the ghost of a deceased relative returns to accompany a dying person to the afterlife (this usually involves the dying person saying something like, “mama? is that you?” to an empty space in the room...at which point i immediately start weeping)

* the parents’ day sequence in Meatballs (yes, Meatballs!)

* clark watching home movies alone in the attic in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

* john candy in the train station at the end of Planes, Trains & Automobiles

and so many others. even when i see these scenes coming a mile away and try to brace myself for their arrival, i break.

please tell me i’m not alone, and that you, too, tear up unexpectedly at weird moments in film and TV. what gets you? what makes you sob in a movie? what scenes always get the waterworks started for you?

i've got Kleenex ready, so spill...

as an aside: the image above was the least terrifying of the results when i did a google image search for “comedy tragedy.” the rest were super-creepy!

"...but she has a great personality!"

what's your personality type? take this quiz and find out!

i did, and apparently i'm an IFSJ:

The Nurturer

You have a strong need to belong, and you are very loyal. A good listener, you excel at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for.

In love, you express your emotions through actions. Taking care of someone is how you love them. And you do it well!

At work, you do well in a structured environment. You complete tasks well and on time. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.

How you see yourself: Competent, dependable, and detail oriented

When other people don't get you, they see you as: Boring, dominant, and stuck in a rut.

it was, i think, a surprisingly accurate snapshot of me. what are you?

fattie can't catch a break :-(

kyle during more painless times.
just got off the phone with my mom, who just returned from the vet. kyle's paw pain had not subsided, he was still holding it up all the time, so she took him in to have it looked at again.

and he has to have more surgery on that little, furry, pussy-willow-esque paw.

seems one toe, the pinky toe, has not healed properly, but the vet doesn't know why. so she has to "go back in" to see what the problem might be. this means that, for the FOURTH TIME, poor little fattie will have that paw cut open. he got a shot of antibiotics today as a precaution, and is now feeling rather meh.

poor guy. :-(

confession: a writing exercise in no easy steps

that’s right, the winning suggestion for entry #200 was “confession.”

i know, at the time it was offered up as a potential topic by lou, a few of you were a little excited about the idea...perhaps because you believed i’d be using this space to bare the depths of my soul or reveal some salacious secret from my past or come clean about a shameful misdeed gone by. i’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with what follows, then, because blog entry #200 will contain none of those things.

to be honest, i did consider it, though. sort of cyber-purging whatever i thought needed to be purged from my system. it was tempting to follow through with a string of confessions just because i was already delighting in the potential reactions. but, alas, no. sorry. i confess that it’s not gonna happen. for starters, it would have been too easy. “here’s yet another list of stuff!” and then off i’d go. been there, done that. i’m also too attached to my privacy to use this blog for deeply personal stuff.

and, perhaps more tragically, i realized it would have turned out to be a very short entry. unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), my life doesn’t hold too many secrets that need spilling, and the few that do reside within me certainly aren’t going to be trotted about in a public forum. i’ll share...but i won’t overshare.

the dilemma then became: okay, how do i tackle lou’s suggestion without casting the spotlight on myself? hmmm.

why, turn it into a glorified op-ed piece, that’s how! take the one-word suggestion and treat it like a high-school writing assignment...or, better yet, a saturday-detention-in-the-library exercise. “give me 1000 words on who you are.” i could be like anthony michael hall in The Breakfast Club, only without the flare gun, the useless ceramic-elephant lamp or molly ringwald’s lame lipstick trick. brian didn’t write about himself; he wrote about everybody.

so, rather than being a confession, #200 is about the concept of confession. (take that, principal vernon!)

i’ve spent the better part of two days stewing this topic over low heat. going over the word again and again. looking at it. staring at it. stirring it. breaking it down and dreaming up different bloggy concoctions with “confession” as the key ingredient. and, when i thought i’d let it simmer long enough, i started to pour it out only to realize that the recipe i thought i’d followed was a tad more complicated than i’d originally understood. or simpler. i’m not sure...

depending on your frame of reference, “confession” can mean all sorts of things, and each one comes with its own set of emotions, repercussions and desired results. confessing your sins in a church doesn’t seem quite the same as confessing to a crime in a police interrogation room. confessing you ate the last brownie can’t match the weight of confessing you cheated on your partner. you can confess that you secretly enjoyed the crappy movie, or confess that you can’t remember the name of the acquaintance you ran into at a bar, or simply confess you have no idea what you’re doing, but they’re not the same. and none of those resemble finally confessing your true feelings to someone you love. they’re all vastly different...or are they?

at first, i thought the answer was obvious: of course they are. they are not at all alike! and i was all set to pen a tidy compare-and-contrast entry about exactly how different confessions can be. but, upon closer examination, i discovered that they’re all kind of the same in some weird way, and that there are tiny fibres of connective tissue between them.

at their core, they all somehow involve fear. a sinner fears judgment for his offenses. a criminal fears punishment for his crimes. a smitten admirer fears rejection for her feelings. and the person who confesses to me a deep and abiding appreciation for Christmas With the Kranks fears instantly ending our friendship with that horrifying revelation. (or, at least, they should. seriously, we might be SO OVER if you decide to share that nugget about yourself.) does that mean that confession can be scary? sure.

that element of fear is, i think, a direct result of the element of risk – another unifying trait of confession as i see it (which, admittedly, could be through a pair of very fogged-up specs with the wrong prescription). by confessing something, however grave or trivial, you’re taking a chance. you’re risking your future, your heart, your freedom, your image, your relationship, your comfort, your security. “what will people think? what’s going to happen?” again, it may be buried in the subconscious, but a confessor is usually risking something in some way, whether he or she actually gives it any conscious thought. does that mean that confession is an act of bravery? dunno. possibly. in some instances, definitely.

confession is also almost always about the other person. not the person doing the confessing, but the person (or people) hearing it. *their* reaction is what matters. yes, often times a confession will come as a result of guilt, or clearing one’s conscience, or removing a secretive weight from one’s shoulders, but isn’t it also about what will happen once the guilt is assuaged, the conscience is cleared, the weight is lifted and the other person reacts? will they offer forgiveness? will they still love you? will they reject you or embrace you? will they think less of you, or judge you, or walk away altogether? how will what you’ve said affect them? and how will that, in turn, swing around and affect you? it’s up to them, really. does that mean that confession is selfless? no. but it’s certainly not selfish.

and, when all is said and done, isn’t confession about finding some sort of resolution or closure? be it to a nagging problem, a long-kept secret, an unsolved mystery, an overwhelming pain, a lingering doubt. confession can, in some cases, type the words “the end” across a lengthy drama. it can also paint “to be continued” on a budding romance, scrawl “guilty” over a trial of tribulation, or broadcast “let the games begin!” on a whole new chapter in someone’s life. does that mean confession solves everything or concludes anything? despite all this rambling about “confession,” i really have no clue.

what do you think?

in taking on lou’s assignment and writing all this drivel, i’ve realized that this entry...this whole blog, actually...is, in essence, one big confession. day after day. i come here, type whatever nonsense is happening in my world, and confess it to you for your consumption. i watch as you react – sometimes you like what i write and the comments section lights up, sometimes crickets chirp and tumbleweeds blow through – and there’s always a little trepidation (fear!) on my part over whatever it is i’m choosing (risk!) to post for the world (you!) to see. whether it’s a survey or an opinion or a recap of some hilarious-in-hindsight trauma, the thoughts remain the same: “have i said too much? not enough? will anyone think this is funny? do i come off like a self-important navel-gazer? should i just scrap this whole entry and start over? should i just scrap this whole blog and call it a day???” but i keep on confessing because, really, i’m doing it as much for you as i am for myself.

and you know what? i confess that it’s almost always ridiculous amounts of fun. happy 200th to me.

[entry #200: a placeholder]

okay, so i've decided on a topic.

you'll have to wait to see what it is, but i thought i should post an update in the spot that will eventually hold #200 (i'll delete this entry and replace it with the actual 200th post when it's finished).

carry on.

it's freezing out...do you know where your sense is?

it’s cold in toronto right now.

super-cold. like, extreme-cold-warnings-on-the-news cold. -12C/10F air temperature, with a windchill of -24C/-11F.

it is, in a word: BRISSSSSSSSSSK.

and, in this kind of weather, fashion gives way to function. or, at least, it really should.

sensible people hear these temperatures and dress accordingly. fleece, down and anything thermal become de rigeur. layers rock. it’s all about the layering. hats, scarves, mittens, wool socks, whatever. the key is to dress yourself so that, when you set foot outside, you do not freeze solid within 30 seconds.

and yet it never ceases to amaze me how many people try to fool themselves into believing that: a) it’s summer, or b) they look cool because they opt to eschew winter wear for more fashionable (but not at all sensible) gear. guys in shirtsleeves or, at best, a light jacket. girls in sweats or open coats. nary a glove or a muffler to be seen for miles. “sure i’ve lost all feeling in my extremities, but i look goooooood.”

no, moron, you look like a moron.

today, i bundled up in my deep-winter wear (and was toasty warm and comfy, thanks!) to walk 10 minutes to the subway. in that time, i passed at least a half-dozen folks who clearly thought it was june. not surprisingly, most of them appeared to be under-21, but all of them were hatless, gloveless and scarfless on a day when the city is advising people to limit their exposure to the frigid air.

these stylish folks, several carting shopping bags or gym gear, had hands and faces that were borderline beet red from the cold. one girl i passed had chattering teeth and was grimacing as she braced herself against the gusts of wind...yet her light jacket was open and flapping wildly in the breeze, and her designer clothes were on full display (covering her very likely hypothermic body).

why?

why do people do this?

and why is it always some young dude or some young gal who’s shivering along the sidewalk and who clearly has enough money to afford proper clothes?

no one looks “cool” when it’s -24C out. no one. you know who comes close, though? the ones who are dressed like the michelin man. sure, they might look like a giant marshmallow all decked out in puffy coats and with inch of every skin surface covered, but man...are they nice and warm.

[note: still looking for ideas for post #200. so please quit lurking and drop some suggestions off in the comments box for the previous entry. merci!]

soliciting

okay, this is post #199. that means the next one is the big 2-0-0.

(um...yeah. turns out this is post #198. blogger was counting a draft entry from july that i have now deleted. nonetheless, my dilemma remains the same, so please read on...)

and i’m stumped.

and a little panicky.

i don’t know what to write about. #100 was fun and poetic and just right, so it set the milestone bar somewhat high. but i don’t just want a rhyme-y retread. a pot-pourri entry would just be a cop-out, and so would any kind of quiz or questionnaire or survey. i like #198 and would ideally love to do something similar in tone...reflective and moderately serious, but still light-hearted to some extent and decidedly un-corny. (that’s un-corny, not unicorny, which would be an entirely different type of post.)

so, i thought i’d open the floor to suggestions.

i’ve noticed that i sometimes...okay, often...do my best writing when it’s prompted by someone else – when it’s either an assignment for work, or as a response to script notes, or simply in reply to an email. so, if you wouldn’t mind and are so inclined, please just go ahead and start throwing out topics. as many as your brain can dream up.

what would you like to see me write about for post #200?

think about it before you answer...or, perhaps, don’t think about it at all. either way is fine. your suggestions can be anything, really. something ridiculous. random. reaching. something funny. or fierce. poignant or punchy. even rhyme-y, if that's what your heart desires. they’re all welcome.

who knows, maybe you’ll offer up something irresistible and i’ll start writing immediately. you might even give me enough ideas to fuel several entries after i pass the 200 mark. or, i might not take any of them...but one or more could spin off into a new topic all its own just because something you wrote triggers something else in my brain and off i’d go. we won’t know until you try.

so, put your thinking caps on and get to suggesting. please and thank you.

listen

today, i went to the downtown offices of a large, well-known company to interview one of its customer-service reps for a magazine profile piece. it was, as mentioned yesterday, drilled into my head that i needed to be on time (not an issue, really, since i am always always insanely punctual), and the number of emails exchanged back and forth about this otherwise straightforward operation gave it the air of some kind of high-priority, super-important meeting. i imagined humourless corporate suits would greet me (unenthusiastically) when i arrived at the offices, and that the entire process would be carefully monitored to make sure i didn’t step out of bounds, ask the wrong questions (i had to send them ahead in advance, anyway) or elicit any kind of answers that might reflect badly on the company. i wondered if someone would suddenly shut off my tape recorder if they didn’t like what they heard.

when i actually did arrive at the offices – five minutes before my appointment time, which was 15 minutes before the actual interview time (presumably because the powers that be were not convinced that i could show up at 11am for an 11am meeting, so they moved my requested arrival time to 10:45) – i was met in the super-swanky, super-stylish reception area by very, very friendly staff. everyone was smiling and relaxed and happy; no one was dour or serious or corporate, as far as i could tell. i met with my cool corporate liaison, who was young and kind of goofy and super-nice, and my interview subject, who was in her 50s, totally sweet and completely nervous.

we went to a boardroom and chatted informally for a bit. i wanted to put my subject at ease, so i pulled out the most potent weapon in my arsenal (humour) and made her laugh. i reassured her that this would be a breeze, that she had absolutely nothing to be worried about...and then teased her that she would be the cover subject, that the story would be 4000 words long and that we’d be delving into every nook and cranny of her past, à la barbara walters. (she thought that was funny, and so did the liaison, who said about me in his adorable french-canadian accent, “ah, she’s good! she’s got a good sense of ‘umour! this will be fun!”)

once everyone was nicely at ease, the liaison happily left (of his own accord) and we began. if you recall, i worried yesterday that the rep i’d be interviewing would have nothing to say – thankfully, she had loads to say. and a good portion of it was really fascinating.

this woman’s job is to answer phones at the company’s call centre, assisting customers and coordinating purchases. originally from pakistan, she’s bilingual (english/french), had come to canada a little over six years ago, and began working for this company almost from the time she’d arrived. but before emigrating from lahore, she’d worked (among other high-profile places) at the french consulate. she’d traveled the world and had a rich, fascinating history to share – from studying at the sorbonne to hiking in the himalayas to dining with bedouin chiefs in the deserts of jordan. on deck? plans to journey to eastern europe and the far east next.

as she told me these things, i thought to myself, “what is she doing answering phones as a customer-service rep??? this renaissance woman should be doing amazing things and working in a much more exciting, influential capacity somewhere. she’s capable of so much more than processing address changes and answering customers’ questions.” i wondered if hers was the all-too-common immigrant story -- someone who's a doctor elsewhere in the world is forced to drive a cab here, someone who once practiced law is now cleaning out the deep fryer at a fast-food chain -- and i almost started to feel upset for her.

that, however, is not her situation, and i later felt like an ass for assuming anything. as we began speaking about her work for the company, it became very obvious to me that she really, truly loved her job and had a passion for it. she lit up when talking about her work and her day-to-day functions, and the fact that she was able to “travel” the country by interacting with citizens from coast to coast...nevermind the wealth of perks that came with her position. and it wasn’t at all the kind of rehearsed, pre-fab, line-towing i thought might happen in this kind of situation – where an employee would just tell me what he or she thought i (and the boss) would want to hear.

she had many insightful things to say, but the one that stuck with me was, “in speaking to other people and listening to them, we are taught about ourselves.” the context of her comment was “this is how i remember to stay calm when someone is yelling at me on the phone,” and her point was that sometimes you have to do more than just hear what the person is saying, you have to truly listen...and there's a difference between the two. but, to me as a writer and someone who interviews people quite often, what she said holds a much deeper significance, and one that only hit me once i got home.

when i was in high school, i remember my calculus teacher being very disappointed that i wanted to pursue a career in the arts. i loved math (OMG, i used to ♥ calculus), and i was really good at it, but my heart was in writing and (at the time) visual arts. my teacher, bless her good intentions, thought i should be studying engineering, but i wanted to work in movies and TV. she felt i was capable of so much more than that and was saddened to discover that (in her opinion) i was wasting my potential...especially as a woman.

even now, as an adult, i get the same sorts of comments occasionally...that i’m not making the most of my talents. my mother still tries to sell me on the idea of all sorts of careers, going so far as to suggest law school (WHAT?) or veterinary medicine (no thanks!). she feels i’m capable of so much more than being a freelance writer and would love nothing more than for me to get a full-time salaried job, in an office, with benefits.

these sorts of opinions have always bothered me, because i love what i do and i love the fact that i can do it. and yet, today, here i was doing the exact same thing to someone else. who am i to say what constitutes a rewarding career? who do i think i am measuring someone else’s success (or happiness) by my yardstick? sometimes, i'm a moron.

when that lightbulb went off, i knew that’s what today’s blog entry would be. the irony of the whole situation, my relief that it went so well, and my own gratitude to this woman for speaking and teaching me something about myself because i was smart enough not just to hear what she said, but to listen...even if it took a couple of hours to sink in.

things i could post about at length tonight, but won’t...

* i walked out of Cloverfield after 45 minutes. why? i’ll tell you after the film’s released...because i’m bound to withhold any reviews (even bloggy ones) until jan. 18th.

* my hip joints are sore. that makes sitting at this desk uncomfortable. ergo: short blog entries.

* tomorrow (thursday), i have to conduct an interview that’s being treated like a CIA-level operation when, in fact, it’s just a profile of a customer-service rep at a large company. (if one more person reminds me one more time that i must “be prompt” because these reps are “scheduled down to the minute,” i will throw a tape recorder at them.) i am also afeared that this rep will turn out have little or nothing to say, which is going to make a 400-word profile a challenge. hey, this point is now being discussed at length...so, moving on...

* next time, i’m getting the BBQ C.O.B., not the cajun-style.

* speaking of BBQ, i suddenly have a craving for sonny’s real pit BBQ, a restaurant chain in florida. such good, cheap, hearty (though not necessarily heart-healthy) fare. their corn-on-the-cob, though, was meh.

* i cannot stop listening to missy higgins.

* who watched The Sarah Connor Chronicles this week? anyone? just me? okay.

* young beatrix is looking to buy a house.

* kyle continues to have paw pain. he now holds his left paw off the floor all the time. pre-surgery, he would only do it occasionally. the vet says he’s healed fine, but it remains a concern. we don’t want him in constant pain.

* i feel like it might be time to dust off Suddenly Monday for one more pass.

* i have tried to climb back on the meditation wagon and have successfully meditated every night since dec. 31st. so far, so good. knock on wood.

* this is post #197 to this blog. that means #200 looms on the horizon. i need to top #100 somehow...

that’s all i got for ce soir.

quizzical

okay, i know i promised i wouldn’t go to bed until i posted something new today...but my brain is a bit of a vacuum at the moment. so, rather than stare at this screen for the next two hours...while my bedtime inches later and later into the night...i’m copping out and turning the floor over to you, once again.

jennifer and i have (still) been exchanging quizzes, and here’s one we did recently. yes, it’s completely frivolous and silly, but so what? sometimes filling these out actually kick starts my imagination.

you may post your answers in the comments section if you’d like to play. so there.

1. if you could live in any other place, where & why?

2. what animal best represents you & why?

3. what is the craziest thing you ever did?

4. if you could meet anyone, who would it be & why?

5. if you could go back in time & live in any decade, which would it be & why?

6. if you could have any superpower what would it be?

7. who your ultimate celebrity crush?

8. what color best represents you?

9. what would your life's theme song be?

10. who would you cast to play you in a movie?

11. what celebrity best represents your vision of fashion?

12. what would your life movie be called?

13. what is the greatest music video of all time?

14. if you could star in any TV show, which one would it be?

15. what vehicle best represents you?

16. if you could bring back one famous person from the dead for a day, who & why?

17. if you became president, what would you do first?

18. if you got one tattoo, what would it be?

19. if you were on MTV's Made, what would you ask to be?

20. who do you think is the hottest athlete?

21. who do you think is the hottest actor/actress?

22. who do you think is the hottest musician/singer/rapper?

23. who do you think is the hottest TV reality star?

24. what sport best represents you & why?

25. what is your most missed memory of childhood?

26. what is your greatest accomplishment?

happy friday!

well, maybe not so happy for everyone.
(thanks to cod for this hilarious and adorable photo of her grandkids!)

coincidence is joincidence with a “c”

sometimes, life is strange.

and, sometimes, the world is a tiny place filled with the most absurd coincidences. but let me backtrack a little...

in the summer of 2006, my chiropractor – a wonderful, insightful woman who’s all about the mind/body connection – recommended that i read deepak chopra’s book The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire. it would, she said, change my way of thinking about some of the things that had been happening in my life, and give me some guidance in terms of what might be to come. being somewhat skeptical, given the new age-y nature of deepak’s work and the questionable validity of his studies ever since oprah turned him into a celebrity (i.e., is he serious, or is he only pandering to a legion of fans who’d buy anything oprah shills on air?), i nonetheless picked it up and read.

it was, to say the least, very interesting.

in addition to discussions of meditation (which i’d already been doing) and the universal consciousness, deepak talks a lot about coincidences. namely: that there’s no such thing as a coincidence, and events that we perceive to be coincidental are actually something else. hints from the universe. signs. things we somehow brought about ourselves. and this all goes back to the whole power of suggestion notion.

i finished the book and started following some of his instructions and exercises...and weird stuff started happening. like, weird “coincidences,” ranging from what he calls “tiny” to the “double-whoppers.” my double-whopper coincidence was so insanely random and impossible that i have no explanation for it whatsoever...though, shortly after it happened, i did understand exactly why it manifested itself. score one for the universe!

anyway, months passed, i started to wane where the exercises were concerned, hell house took over my life and the coincidences kind of evaporated. (or, maybe they still happened but i just didn’t notice them...which is something deepak says often occurs.) but yesterday, the coincidence train roared back into my station with mind-boggling freakishness...

after a discussion about who reads our blogs and why, my friend lou was googling random terms that might lead someone to this blog and, in the process, stumbled upon another similar blog. she sent me the link. i went to that blog* and began reading. “huh, this is funny!” i thought. i read the short bio of its author. i saw that she, too, was a writer. i looked at her photo, which seemed vaguely familiar. i looked at her name (first-name only), which was also familiar. i started to get a very familiar vibe all around...like maybe i actually knew this person.

wait.

good grief.

i did know this person!

she was a friend i’d met online years ago, before the era of blogging hit its stride, but with whom i’d lost touch. HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER. what are the odds of THIS kind of freaky-ass coincidence??? that lou, never knowing i ever knew this person, would stumble upon, and then casually send me a link to, her blog????

the odds are astronomical, that’s what they are. it’s weird. really, really weird.

and the world is a truly tiny place sometimes.

so, in the spirit of sharing weirdness, have you ever experienced any kind of inexplicable coincidences? and, looking back, did they actually make some kind of logical sense in the grand scheme of things?

[*you know if you write or say the word “blog” often enough in a row, it ceases to be a word and completely loses all meaning. sorry.]

wednesday pot-pourri...

i’m kind of glad i saved this blog entry for today instead of trying to squeeze it out last night, because today is the perfect day for staying in my pyjamas, watching TV and blogging. it’s blustery and cold and super-windy outside – a welcome relief from the freakishly warm weather (50s instead of 20s...what?!) we’ve been having recently. i actually slept in this morning, for the first time in months and months. granted, it was only until 9:05am, but still. it felt indulgent.

so, without further adieu...a pot-pourri of blog thoughts:

* did anyone watch Law & Order:SVU last night? in addition to borrowing a page right from Se7en, the episode featured a guest turn by erika christensen, who played an FBI agent working with mariska hargitay’s detective benson. now, some of you may recall that erika last appeared on TV in my favourite show of last season, Six Degrees, where i thought she was quite good. well. i’m surprised there are any SVU sets left standing this morning after the rampant scenery chewing she unleashed last night. good lord, it was so over-the-top it was practically camp! i have no idea who directed the episode, but it was the most unintentionally funny performance that show has ever featured.

* the writers strike has shut down the golden globes. alas. for at least a few of us, this awards show was always the best one of the year – namely because it combines TV and film people, and everyone is always a little (or a lot) tipsy by the time they stumble onstage to accept their little golden statuette. instead, the producers are holding a press conference where the winners will be announced. wow. how exciting. not. but at least they’re not going the way of the peoples’ choice awards and its lamer-than-it-already-was ceremony featured a string of pre-taped acceptance speeches. BORING!

* on the upside, the scrapping of the GGs means that perhaps more people will flip over to FOX and tune into The Sarah Connor Chronicles on sunday night. everyone knows i’ve trumpeted lena headey’s talents for more than a decade, so it’s nice to see her getting her shot at the stardom she deserves. (and don’t forget the second episode airs the next night!)

* speaking of women on TV, much to my supreme delight (and the delight of countless canadian viewers), showcase bought the first-run rights to The L Word for its fifth season. this means we’ll actually get to see the show two weeks after it airs in the U.S....instead of waiting eight or nine months, as we’ve had to do for seasons one through four. this is big, big news. not because the show isn’t flawed (because it really is), not because the writers strike means new narrative programming is virtually non-existent (because it really is), but because it means the girls are back and i can watch unspoiled! and, however laughable the show might be from time to time, it remains the only series almost entirely written (however poorly), directed (sometimes expertly) and produced by women, featuring an almost exclusively female cast. c’mon, how can this preview of season five not pique viewers’ interest just a little? that said, unfortunately cybill shepherd returns and will likely leave the aforementioned erika christensen in the dust where ridiculous overacting is concerned.

* this time of year blows where movies are concerned. january, february and march are usually seen as the dumping ground for whatever crappy films weren’t released (because of their crappiness) in the latter part of the year before...or not good enough to merit release in the sweeter release spots during the year to come. to that end, i expect a slew of questionable screenings in the coming weeks...but i’m also slated to see Cloverfield, that much-ballyhooed and steeped-in-mystery sci-fi/thriller/adventure/whatever from producer J.J. abrams. but, have you seen the trailer? is the whole movie going to be that herky-jerky, bouncy, hand-held business? the kind of filmmaking that forces me to actually close my eyes and just listen to it because if i watch i’ll actually get motion sickness? why? why must directors do that??? i’m bringing gravol...

interesting (and very-belated) factoid of the day

remember back when i was in florida, and young beatrix had that freaky flushed face thing that erupted out of nowhere and lasted a couple of hours?

turns out it was a (harmless but alarming) reaction to the niacin in her vitamins. it's apparently very common. her doctor confirmed this ages ago, but i only got the news yesterday.

just in case anyone was still wondering...

new year, new music

missy higgins: "steer"
so, i like to listen to music when i write, and i tend to select the type of music based on what it is i'm writing. since i write lots of stuff, i listen to lots of music...and my tastes vary widely from day to day, and sometimes from hour to hour. i'm also always on the hunt for new artists, and i'm starting 2008 with a few of them added to my rotation. one of them is missy higgins, whose #1 single (in australia) is sitting above for your listening enjoyment.

also new for the new year (or, if i'm being honest, artists i've been listening to for the past month or so):

* emilie-claire barlow

* the puppini sisters

* anna goldsmith (though i've only found her on youtube...and completely by accident!)

and i remain loyal and faithful to my beloved, beloved nerina pallot, whom i've listed here before but whose song geek love (which is one of my faves) i've only just stumbled upon in a good-quality online clip and can now share.

happy listening...

“hey, what’s your sign? i’m a pig...”

as flaky as it might seem, i love a good horoscope. i don’t put too much stock in them, and i certainly don’t make sweeping changes in my life based on a two-line prediction, but they’re fun and sometimes eerily accurate.

i find that a few sites/writers tend to be more right-on-the-money than others – i’m particularly fond of rob brezsny’s free will astrology (which is published in assorted alternative weeklies across north america) and, of course, my Calendar of Lies...a page-a-day horoscope calendar i used to think was BEYOND freaky in its accuracy, until the day i tore off a page and found the exact same horoscope that had been printed a year earlier, word for word. i know it was the same because the previous year, when that particular horoscope popped up, i actually saved it because it was so freakishly appropriate at the time. imagine my dismay to see it resurface the next year. not on the exact same date, but close enough. hence: calendar of lies.

anyway...

even more interesting than the traditional zodiacal offerings, though, is the chinese zodiac and its horoscopes. i’ve known for years that i’m a metal pig, but when i read this description of the typical pig, i nearly did a spit-take. there was more in that blurb that fit me than i thought possible...and i was particularly struck by the bit about taking blows. weird. (i have to say, as a pig, i was rather flattered by the kind words bestowed upon my sign.)

so, what’s your chinese zodiac sign? (if you click on the link in the previous paragraph, you can find out if you don't already know.) and is the description listed one that fits you at all?

the morning after: happy new year

so, last night was actually quite lovely. very serene.

i turned the TV off around 8:30pm, and spent the remainder of the night listening to mellow music while i went through the whole purging-of-2007 and wishing-for-2008 ritual. i lit four votive candles and put them in the centre of my dining table. they would remain lit until midnight.

first, i sat down and wrote – in a stream-of-consciousness, rambling way – everything bad about 2007. all the mistakes, regrets, embarrassments, poor decisions and defeats, and all that went along with them (i.e., how each one made me feel, what i learned from each, etc.). it was a sprawling scrawl of words and thoughts, not necessarily coherent but certainly cathartic. when i was finished, i took another sheet of paper and wrote out all the good things about the past year – the joys, the successes, the misadventures. it was a nice way to remember people, places and events that i’d kind of pushed to the back of my consciousness amid the “woe is me”-ing.

after the good and bad had been purged from my system, it was time to get rid of them. since i’m a little wary of lighting anything on fire inside my apartment, i decided not to burn them but to go another route by snipping and cutting and shredding those two sheets of paper into microscopic fragments. i had quite a tidy little pile when my scissors and i were through.

adios, 2007!

i took a break before launching into my hopes and dreams for 2008. a little cyber-sorbet of emailing and messaging to cleanse the mental palate, and then another sit-down to write.

and write i did. just like last year, i outlined everything i wanted for 2008, and this time i put it into excrutiating detail. as much as i could think of, anyway...i’m sure the universe has a loophole or two up its sleeve and that i’ll be thrown a few curveballs in the next year. but i did my best to cover all my bases. i read it over to myself, and then – yes, once again, like a crazy person – read it aloud. (my building was blissfully quiet last night, and i wondered if anyone passing my front door might hear my recitation, but i didn’t care.) it was just before 11:30pm when i finished, so i tucked the wish-list under the candles and got ready for the clock to strike 12.

when it did, i took the list and read it once more. mindfully. concentrating on each item as i read it. then, at midnight, i took the four votive candles and blew them out one by one – two to say goodbye to the past year, and two to send my good thoughts out for the new one. afterwards, i sat on my couch and meditated for about 10 minutes (a feat, considering how far off the meditation wagon i’ve fallen) before going to bed. i felt...i dunno...cleansed. it sounds cheesy and new age-y and lame, i’m sure, but it really did make my new year’s eve much more peaceful and introspective (in a positive way) than i thought it could.

and, when i woke up this morning, i felt better. certainly more optimistic than i have been in a while. outside, it was snowing. quite heavily. so i bundled up and headed out, camera in hand, to make the most of the clean, fresh, unblemished snow falling on the first day of a clean, fresh, unblemished year.