I forgot until I posted yesterday that writing stuff is kind of fun. Well, it's fun-like, making it a good substitute for actual fun. Like eating protein powder, berries and soy milk all blended together instead of ice cream, which I also did last night. Currently, my life has plenty of fun, but less fun-like activities, so perhaps I'll try to blog more. Blog, and study random pharmaceuticals.
Also, I need to get a job, which can also be fun-like, which is why they make all those internet games and iPhone apps based on menial labour. Once, I was playing a lot of Diner Dash and decided to try to get a job at the Keg. I figured that my Diner Dash skills would transfer, and also, that it would be super fun, because, how could it not be? Unfortunately, at the time, I was a pretty serious vegan. This posed a problem, because I'm a bad liar, except for the rare times when I'm a really, really good liar. Being the sole herbivore in a room full of steak lovers was not one of those times.
Somehow, I managed to sneak my way through the initial recruiting interview to make it to the group interview. I quickly realized I was out of my league when they told us the mission statement, or maybe it was the vision statement, either way it was something similar to: "create an environment where steak lovers and their families can feel free to be themselves". At this point, my head screamed, "Interloper!" I was afraid my eyes would get too shifty, so I tried to stare at one spot until I realized staring is also a little suspicious and started carefully timing eye movements to avoid shifty or staring eyes. There's nothing like meticulously orchestrated eye movement to tell those around you, "I eat meat and I'm not an interloper at all. Please don't hurt me, it's hard to get sufficient protein so my muscles are quite weak and you will break me easily."
The end of this story is the part where I did not get the job, which is probably best because I couldn't have kept it up for long before I broke down and told them the truth. There probably would have been a lot of tears, and dramatic background music. Then a commercial break prior to me actually revealing my veganness (As well as playing excessive Diner Dash in my time, I've also watched far too much reality tv). This time things will go better, because I eat everything now. As long as I don't apply to anywhere with a "We steal candy from children" mission statement, I'll be fine. Even then, kids really don't need all that candy anyways. We are facing an obesity epidemic.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Alive and unarrested
Wow, once you're not posting everyday it's really hard to keep it up. It's also easy when it's summer and there are many fun things happening that don't involve me writing random stuff on my computer.
On the weekend, Yelsel and I went on an adventure. We weren't quite sure what to do, but we thought we'd head towards downtown, but not into downtown, because that would be stupid. Towards downtown was probably also stupid, in hindsight. But when you can't see the news about burning cop cars, you don't realize exactly how unintelligent it is to travel towards them. However, we were fine. The worst thing we saw were a lot of cops who did not randomly arrest us and some protesters that we thought were screaming for ice cream, but then realized they weren't, which made more sense, since ice cream is rarely a hot topic for anyone but the lactose intolerant. We also got Ethiopian food and realized that the threat of random violence or arrest really leads to fast service. It probably would have been a good time to get the coffee (they have coffee, it's awesome but it takes forever on a normal day because they just have one pot that they use for everyone...now you're up to speed on the coffee comment).
When we started getting full, Yelsel started making shapes with her injera bread. The following picture was explained to me like this:
Yels: "It's a triceratops skull."
Sharon: "It doesn't look like a triceratops."
Yels: "No, that's because it's a triceratops skull. God, seriously."
You be the judge.
Then she ate it, because she got distracted and was sad because she wanted to save it until the end. Then I laughed, because her sadness was funny to me.
Earlier in the day, we stopped in a random coffee place in Yorkville. Apparently it wasn't actually so random, and seems to be well know as the place where all the old white people in Toronto go to be unhappy with each other. Well, at least seemed well known to all the old angry patrons. We, the young, relatively happy customers clearly missed the memo. I had a woman glare at me because my elbows were on the table. Then she sat quietly with her husband, silently shooting arrows at him with her eyes, while he stared back wishing for death. Whose death, I could not tell. I'm not sure it mattered to him, as long as he escaped somehow. It was awkward. I won't be going back there, well, at least not for 30-40 years.
On the weekend, Yelsel and I went on an adventure. We weren't quite sure what to do, but we thought we'd head towards downtown, but not into downtown, because that would be stupid. Towards downtown was probably also stupid, in hindsight. But when you can't see the news about burning cop cars, you don't realize exactly how unintelligent it is to travel towards them. However, we were fine. The worst thing we saw were a lot of cops who did not randomly arrest us and some protesters that we thought were screaming for ice cream, but then realized they weren't, which made more sense, since ice cream is rarely a hot topic for anyone but the lactose intolerant. We also got Ethiopian food and realized that the threat of random violence or arrest really leads to fast service. It probably would have been a good time to get the coffee (they have coffee, it's awesome but it takes forever on a normal day because they just have one pot that they use for everyone...now you're up to speed on the coffee comment).
When we started getting full, Yelsel started making shapes with her injera bread. The following picture was explained to me like this:
Yels: "It's a triceratops skull."
Sharon: "It doesn't look like a triceratops."
Yels: "No, that's because it's a triceratops skull. God, seriously."
You be the judge.
Then she ate it, because she got distracted and was sad because she wanted to save it until the end. Then I laughed, because her sadness was funny to me.
Earlier in the day, we stopped in a random coffee place in Yorkville. Apparently it wasn't actually so random, and seems to be well know as the place where all the old white people in Toronto go to be unhappy with each other. Well, at least seemed well known to all the old angry patrons. We, the young, relatively happy customers clearly missed the memo. I had a woman glare at me because my elbows were on the table. Then she sat quietly with her husband, silently shooting arrows at him with her eyes, while he stared back wishing for death. Whose death, I could not tell. I'm not sure it mattered to him, as long as he escaped somehow. It was awkward. I won't be going back there, well, at least not for 30-40 years.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Earthquake!
It's been a week and I'm back on the Facebook. It wasn't so bad going without it, I tweeted periodically to help ease the transition, because, I believe, Twitter is to Facebook what methadone is to heroin. Today was a good day to get back on, since earlier today I was in the washroom and the door started making a racket. At first I assumed it was my roommate Oysters being a jerk, even though there is no past history of it, or reason to suspect it. Then I noticed that the water in the toilet bowel was splashing and thought, "That's odd". I came out to ask Oysters if she'd noticed anything. "Did everything just start shaking, or did I just start getting dizzy spells?" she asked. So I pointed out that the light above her was still shaking and said, "Do you think that might have been an earthquake?"
As most of you are probably already aware, it was an earthquake. But at the time I was quite confused, having grown up in Ontario, the only reason for the ground to shake is because of the constant construction work which I'm sure sustains our economy since it never seems to end. Well, either that or there is actually a project called "Follow Sharon throughout her life with irritating construction." Why would this exist? I do not know, which is why I assume it's a problem throughout the province, and not just in my general vicinity.
Regardless, what I'm trying to say is that "earthquake" is not the first thing I think when the ground starts shaking, even if it should be. However, I was concerned about the potential that construction work could have caused toilet splashing, so I got on the internet to search for earthquake related news. But even the internet is not that fast, and I could find nothing. Until I signed onto Facebook, where every single status included the word "earthquake", usually accompanied by words like "what?!?!?", "apocalypse", or "missed :(". I know that Facebook is probably not equivalent to a seismograph, but it was good enough for me to know it wasn't construction. And that is the story of why I will never leave Facebook again (even though it is mostly evil.)
Happy song: I'm going to go for a long-shot and choose Helpless by Neil Young. Yes, I am aware that the chorus is mainly made up of repetition of the word "helpless" which is rarely misinterpretted as a happy word. But, to be honest, usually my best turnarounds in mood happen when I finally admit that I'm helpless to change things and finally begin to accept where I am. Usually that's followed by an epiphany about what I do have control of in the situation and, voila, helpful, not helpless. And that is why I think Helpless qualifies as a happy song. Don't fight me on this one.
As most of you are probably already aware, it was an earthquake. But at the time I was quite confused, having grown up in Ontario, the only reason for the ground to shake is because of the constant construction work which I'm sure sustains our economy since it never seems to end. Well, either that or there is actually a project called "Follow Sharon throughout her life with irritating construction." Why would this exist? I do not know, which is why I assume it's a problem throughout the province, and not just in my general vicinity.
Regardless, what I'm trying to say is that "earthquake" is not the first thing I think when the ground starts shaking, even if it should be. However, I was concerned about the potential that construction work could have caused toilet splashing, so I got on the internet to search for earthquake related news. But even the internet is not that fast, and I could find nothing. Until I signed onto Facebook, where every single status included the word "earthquake", usually accompanied by words like "what?!?!?", "apocalypse", or "missed :(". I know that Facebook is probably not equivalent to a seismograph, but it was good enough for me to know it wasn't construction. And that is the story of why I will never leave Facebook again (even though it is mostly evil.)
Happy song: I'm going to go for a long-shot and choose Helpless by Neil Young. Yes, I am aware that the chorus is mainly made up of repetition of the word "helpless" which is rarely misinterpretted as a happy word. But, to be honest, usually my best turnarounds in mood happen when I finally admit that I'm helpless to change things and finally begin to accept where I am. Usually that's followed by an epiphany about what I do have control of in the situation and, voila, helpful, not helpless. And that is why I think Helpless qualifies as a happy song. Don't fight me on this one.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
In case you thought I forgot you
Since the last time I posted, I've been enjoying my life free of obligation to write for you. I was in a drunken spelling bee. I don't remember much and we weren't keeping score, but I imagine I probably won. Well, by won, I mean I won the knowledge that spell check has destroyed any ability to spell that I may or may not have possessed in the past. Then we lost at ultimate Frisbee. I'm blaming it on the fact we didn't devote any time to a montage. Also that half the team didn't show up. But it was probably mostly the montage thing.
Anyways, non of those things were exciting enough to blog about at the time, but I figured since it's been a few days, some people might be worried I'd just never blog again and I should probably post something to prove I'm not dead or suddenly stricken illiterate.
Today, I read a bunch of stuff about snakes. It reconfirmed the fact that I don't like snakes, even though once I took an online quiz called, "What animal are you?" and turned out to be a snake. I know those things are carefully validated, but I just can't accept it. First, I don't bite people often. Second, I don't have venom. Third, I'm afraid of bears. Snakes are not afraid of bears; snakes scoff at bears because their terrifying claws are no match for sharp teeth and venom.
I remember learning in undergrad that there are some snakes that can live for over a year without food. So, when walking into a creepy basement where it seems like a snake might be dwelling, never think, "It's okay, there's nothing for it to eat down here, it can't possibly have survived until now," because it can and there is something to eat, and that something is you. Actually, by the time you reached that part of the sentence, it already did. You didn't notice because the glow of the monitor has hidden the fact that you are now just a human silhouette inside a formerly hungry snake. Wait, by "I learned it in undergrad", I might mean in a nightmare I had a couple of days ago, I'm not quite certain.
Snake nightmares are not uncommon to me. Usually I'm armed with a gun, which is just plain frustrating because I have no aim and it's a friggin' snake. Even when I hit the snake, it will usually just make it angry, increasing the speed with which it bites. My brain sure knows how to make dreams that will torture me.
Happy song: A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash, because I like the part where nobody dies even though his father clearly sucks.
Anyways, non of those things were exciting enough to blog about at the time, but I figured since it's been a few days, some people might be worried I'd just never blog again and I should probably post something to prove I'm not dead or suddenly stricken illiterate.
Today, I read a bunch of stuff about snakes. It reconfirmed the fact that I don't like snakes, even though once I took an online quiz called, "What animal are you?" and turned out to be a snake. I know those things are carefully validated, but I just can't accept it. First, I don't bite people often. Second, I don't have venom. Third, I'm afraid of bears. Snakes are not afraid of bears; snakes scoff at bears because their terrifying claws are no match for sharp teeth and venom.
I remember learning in undergrad that there are some snakes that can live for over a year without food. So, when walking into a creepy basement where it seems like a snake might be dwelling, never think, "It's okay, there's nothing for it to eat down here, it can't possibly have survived until now," because it can and there is something to eat, and that something is you. Actually, by the time you reached that part of the sentence, it already did. You didn't notice because the glow of the monitor has hidden the fact that you are now just a human silhouette inside a formerly hungry snake. Wait, by "I learned it in undergrad", I might mean in a nightmare I had a couple of days ago, I'm not quite certain.
Snake nightmares are not uncommon to me. Usually I'm armed with a gun, which is just plain frustrating because I have no aim and it's a friggin' snake. Even when I hit the snake, it will usually just make it angry, increasing the speed with which it bites. My brain sure knows how to make dreams that will torture me.
Happy song: A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash, because I like the part where nobody dies even though his father clearly sucks.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Apple did not endorse this blog
Within 12 hours of my decision to stop blogging everyday, I was given a story so perfect that I had to tell you about it today. Last night I went over to my friend Sparrow's house. On the walk from the bus to her house, I ran into 2 black cats. One was sitting on what I assumed to be its front lawn. As I passed, I thought, "Please don't cross my path, please don't cross my path, Thank you!" The second one was more risky. It was trotting along the edge of the sidewalk in front of me. Then it sort of veered as if it were going to cross my path, then veered back off the sidewalk, leaving me free and clear. I thanked that cat out loud, because I'm fond of not having bad luck for the day.
Then I wondered if having two black cats nearly cross your path but then not cross it is a sign of good luck. It seems reasonable that if you teeter on the edge of danger but don't fall in, you should be rewarded. Like how if a child nearly drowns, people will usually give them lots of candy when they don't. Narrowly avoiding bad luck causing events should result in cosmic candy, or so I theorize.
I would probably have thought more about it, but by this point I had reached Sparrow's. There, I proceeded to drink a number of Pomtinis, because I figured if I'm going to drink a delicious summer cooler, I should choose one that I can almost delude myself into thinking is healthy. It is full of pomegranate, which, I think should offset some of the sugar and alcohol. Actually, I don't think that, but while drinking them I try to imagine it does. Anyways, good times were had, and I considered sleeping over in their hammock, which was very comfortable and fun to cocoon in, but in the end decided to take the long bus ride home to my own wonderful bed.
Once I reached my stop, I didn't realize how tipsy I still was and nearly fell down the stairs as the bus braked. In the midst of that, I dropped my poor little iPod. Actually, it was kind of propelled forward with inertia. "Wow," I thought when I picked it up intact and working, "I'm the luckiest klutz alive." This statement is very true.
I got my tipsy self home and went on Skype, because I realized I was actually up late enough that Shamus might be on. We were still chatting when I decided to step out on the balcony for a minute. I was listening to my iPod at the time, and I'm not sure what happened exactly, but I somehow dropped it. It wasn't off the balcony at the time though, so I thought it must have just fallen at my feet. However, all I could see was my earphone cord attached to nothing.
I found a flashlight and looked, but there was nothing. I did note a small crack between the railing and the ground through which a perfectly vertical iPod could easily fall. Then I freaked out, obviously, because my iPod is my best friend. At first, I just needed an iPod because I like to have music with me all the time to keep me sane. Now, I need it because every random thought I have is written in it until I think it's a stupid thought and delete it. It's like an extension of my brain, which is useful, due to the memory issues. So, in essence, I had just dropped a portion of my brain 13 floors. As you can probably imagine, it hurt.
It was 2am by this point, but I had to go look, because when you're best friend drops off a balcony, you look for them even though you know what you find might not be pretty. I just needed closure. I wandered out, fearful of random 2am serial killers who, I imagine, just sit outside building waiting for just such an event to grab you. I think the serial killers I imagine are much more passive than those in most horror movies. Anyways, no serial killer found me, but I did find my iPod, lying face down in the grass. It looked so small. Then, I picked it up and it didn't even have a scratch.
I think it is important to also note at this point that the protective case I bought for it was only $5, because, despite the knowledge that I might be one of the worst klutzes in history, I just couldn't spend more than that. Pretty much it's just a flimsy piece of plastic that loosely fits around the corners and usually slightly cushions the fall when I drop it a foot or two, not a hundred feet. The funniest part of this is that I nearly didn't buy an iPod touch because I knew that I was a klutz and that as much as I would try not to, I would drop it. Repeatedly. At this point I clearly wasn't aware that they are magic.
Happy song is Hallelujah the kd lang version from Hymns of the 49th Parallel, because that's the song I was listening to when I dropped my poor little iPod, and it's the song I finished listening to after it was back in my embrace.
Then I wondered if having two black cats nearly cross your path but then not cross it is a sign of good luck. It seems reasonable that if you teeter on the edge of danger but don't fall in, you should be rewarded. Like how if a child nearly drowns, people will usually give them lots of candy when they don't. Narrowly avoiding bad luck causing events should result in cosmic candy, or so I theorize.
I would probably have thought more about it, but by this point I had reached Sparrow's. There, I proceeded to drink a number of Pomtinis, because I figured if I'm going to drink a delicious summer cooler, I should choose one that I can almost delude myself into thinking is healthy. It is full of pomegranate, which, I think should offset some of the sugar and alcohol. Actually, I don't think that, but while drinking them I try to imagine it does. Anyways, good times were had, and I considered sleeping over in their hammock, which was very comfortable and fun to cocoon in, but in the end decided to take the long bus ride home to my own wonderful bed.
Once I reached my stop, I didn't realize how tipsy I still was and nearly fell down the stairs as the bus braked. In the midst of that, I dropped my poor little iPod. Actually, it was kind of propelled forward with inertia. "Wow," I thought when I picked it up intact and working, "I'm the luckiest klutz alive." This statement is very true.
I got my tipsy self home and went on Skype, because I realized I was actually up late enough that Shamus might be on. We were still chatting when I decided to step out on the balcony for a minute. I was listening to my iPod at the time, and I'm not sure what happened exactly, but I somehow dropped it. It wasn't off the balcony at the time though, so I thought it must have just fallen at my feet. However, all I could see was my earphone cord attached to nothing.
I found a flashlight and looked, but there was nothing. I did note a small crack between the railing and the ground through which a perfectly vertical iPod could easily fall. Then I freaked out, obviously, because my iPod is my best friend. At first, I just needed an iPod because I like to have music with me all the time to keep me sane. Now, I need it because every random thought I have is written in it until I think it's a stupid thought and delete it. It's like an extension of my brain, which is useful, due to the memory issues. So, in essence, I had just dropped a portion of my brain 13 floors. As you can probably imagine, it hurt.
It was 2am by this point, but I had to go look, because when you're best friend drops off a balcony, you look for them even though you know what you find might not be pretty. I just needed closure. I wandered out, fearful of random 2am serial killers who, I imagine, just sit outside building waiting for just such an event to grab you. I think the serial killers I imagine are much more passive than those in most horror movies. Anyways, no serial killer found me, but I did find my iPod, lying face down in the grass. It looked so small. Then, I picked it up and it didn't even have a scratch.
I think it is important to also note at this point that the protective case I bought for it was only $5, because, despite the knowledge that I might be one of the worst klutzes in history, I just couldn't spend more than that. Pretty much it's just a flimsy piece of plastic that loosely fits around the corners and usually slightly cushions the fall when I drop it a foot or two, not a hundred feet. The funniest part of this is that I nearly didn't buy an iPod touch because I knew that I was a klutz and that as much as I would try not to, I would drop it. Repeatedly. At this point I clearly wasn't aware that they are magic.
Happy song is Hallelujah the kd lang version from Hymns of the 49th Parallel, because that's the song I was listening to when I dropped my poor little iPod, and it's the song I finished listening to after it was back in my embrace.
Friday, June 18, 2010
It's all for the best...
It's official. I can't do the daily blogging anymore. It's become a chore. I know I just said a few posts ago that I'd do it for a year, but it's just going to get worse and worse everyday. Soon I'll be blogging about my dental hygiene routine and no one will be amused, least of all me. What I can promise you is that if I'm writing, it's because I want to write now, so it will probably be much more enjoyable, even if less frequent.
So, I didn't make it a year. But I did make it 2 months, which I think is pretty good. Who knows, maybe now that I'm not forcing myself anymore, I might just naturally want to write something everyday. Probably not though. However, I did have an excellent conversation today, which I will probably blog tomorrow if I'm in the blogging mood again. It could just be coffee deprivation, I'm not sure. I do love coffee.
Goodbye forever (by which I mean, probably until tomorrow, or maybe the day after, it's hard to tell now).
So, I didn't make it a year. But I did make it 2 months, which I think is pretty good. Who knows, maybe now that I'm not forcing myself anymore, I might just naturally want to write something everyday. Probably not though. However, I did have an excellent conversation today, which I will probably blog tomorrow if I'm in the blogging mood again. It could just be coffee deprivation, I'm not sure. I do love coffee.
Goodbye forever (by which I mean, probably until tomorrow, or maybe the day after, it's hard to tell now).
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Ouch.
I love the early summer, but I hate the random migraines. Also, detoxes are hard, mainly because of the cheating and then the guilt associated with the cheating. I managed to make it until 3:30 without a coffee, which is impressive, I think. Then I gave in, obviously, or I wouldn't have chosen the time 3:30, instead I would have said, "I managed to make it until now", or "I managed to make it until 21 days from now." But I didn't, I caved at 3:30. It was around the point where life lost all meaning without coffee in it. Tomorrow, I will try again, although I have a pre-detox planned "coffee" date with Vincenzo, so we'll see if I can opt for the tea.
So, as I may have alluded to, I have a migraine, so I'm going to finish this up quickly. Happy song: A Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz, because I have a migraine, and it's quiet. I like to pretend I can dance contemporary when I listen to it. Then I was watching So You Think You Can Dance, and they totally choreographed a contemporary piece to it. I felt validated. I still can't dance contemporary though, except for that thing where they run randomly then stop sharply. I'm good at running and stopping. It's one of my many skills.
So, as I may have alluded to, I have a migraine, so I'm going to finish this up quickly. Happy song: A Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz, because I have a migraine, and it's quiet. I like to pretend I can dance contemporary when I listen to it. Then I was watching So You Think You Can Dance, and they totally choreographed a contemporary piece to it. I felt validated. I still can't dance contemporary though, except for that thing where they run randomly then stop sharply. I'm good at running and stopping. It's one of my many skills.
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