I'd be there if I was a better man...click that golden button and update. So much to say, try to stay with me here...I'm on the edge of a precipice. Or something.

I did manage to pack the stuff I thought I might need in the short term. I spent some time watching my favourite Sopranos episode and spending time with the dogs. They made me teary. Then I feel asleep, only to wake up every hour to a dark room and impending abandonment of personal surroundings for an unknown length of time.

This morning, we woke up on time but still managed to be late for the airport. Luggage woes in that the plane I was to travel on was so teeny tiny that they had to charge me some incredible rate for two suitcases and a duffle bag. My hot pink carry-on was deemed 'too big for out plane'.

You should have seen my face.

I had to go through security three times before they were satisfied that I was not on a mission to do anything wonky on the plane. Finally cleared and barely had time to say bye to my mother who was looking visibly distressed. Hurried hugs and I was in line with a boarding pass and my sunglasses.

My shoes and the wheels of my carry-on were all I heard on the tarmac, then the buzzing of the teeny tiny planes. Then I saw these little stairs that fold up that I had to use to get in the plane. Then I saw the seats. For tiny people, with tiny little bums! So, I picked the second one from the left, at random. I couldn't even stand up straight in the plane, I was flummoxed, so I just sat down.

Then one of the pilots is instructing me on how to open the door 'in case of emergency'. Me. So I ask him, like 'Lost' in case of emergency, or like, the plane is not going anywhere so we just need to get off the plane emergency? He didn't say. All he said was: First, look out the window and make sure the propellers are off.

You should have seen my face.

Then I realise I picked the seat that if the propellers decided to deviate even two inches either to the left or the right of their ordinary course, they would chop off my legs. I decide to ignore this, and pretend to look calm and cool. I pop in my ear phones, turn on the iPod, adjust my sunglasses and lazily....lean my forehead against the tiny window, of the teeny tiny plane. Inner aloofness achieved. And maintained through-out flight.

I'm in Ottawa now. Our Nation's Capitol city. Woo. I was chagrined that because we're in Ottawa now, there are no smoking rooms to be had. But one bright light was that I went to find a corner store (having some memory of where things are around here) only to stumble upon a fabulous Vietnamese restaurant across the street. So, I had my favourite meal, then headed back here. I saw these teeny tiny cigarettes in the store, but was asked for I.D (which I left in my room), so I didn't get them. I am thinking of heading back over there grab some, just because. I want teeny tiny cigarettes now.

Ok. This is a mammoth entry. I've got a few things to wrap up here before I turn out for the night. I have to be at the airport at some sickly hour of 7 or so, so I will be in bed early. I think.

so..yeah. Make sure those propellers are off, first.

I want to say I don't want to update, or that I don't have time. Twice, today I have thought that I was leaving in the morning and had absolutely nothing packed. I'm going to live in the stupid arctic circle and haven't packed so much as a sock. Or, I'm sure that I will get there and remember every single little thing that I need, that is not available to me.

Or the fact that Buckley, Marble and Beebs are sticking to me like velcro, and it's making me sad that I won't see them or be with them all the time, like I am now. Always with them, unless I leave the house. Something is making me tip off balance but I can't figure out what it really is, if it's just the leaving. But I like leaving. Leaving means *going*. Going somewhere, doing something else. And believe me, there isn't much here I that I enjoy. It's an island, with a bunch of deer. Not as though I'm leaving anything spectacular.

I did manage to pack two BIG suitcases. Then after I've sat on them, and closed the zippers, I wonder if maybe I packed them 'right'. As in, did I maximize the space? Did I get in the big suitcases what I wanted to? Don't forget the carry-on.

My god. The carry-on is full of crap that I don't even know why I'm taking up there!

What's next?!?

Labels: Beebs, Buckley, cat, freaking out, going, Manitoulin Island, Marble, melancholy, moving, packing, pets, sad, travelling

how much do I hate Ottawa? I don't know, really. It's more of an abstract dislike just because it was a city I spent 9 years of my life in, with a man I am no longer attached to. But every once in awhile, memories of our life together (mostly the nice memories) surface and I miss it. And I hate that I miss it.

I just got my itinerary for my flight schedule and such, and I have a 15 hour layover in Ottawa, meaning I have to spend the night. I'm in the process of making plans to spend some time with a friend there, but still...I don't know if that will be enough to take the sting out of the whole deal.

And the stupid airport is right in the same neighbourhood/end of town of where I used to live.

Am I making a big deal out of nothing? Probably. But it's my deal, and I decide how big it is. I think. Besides...the shopping is pretty damn good.

Labels: drama, flying, neurotic, Ottawa, past, travelling

I have that Pete Yorn song stuck in my head. Probably because I'm leaving home. Again. Never feels like a real home either. Except that time I bought a house. That felt like my home. I think. Or maybe I just think that after the fact. Who knows.

Is it Friday yet? Not as though I have a work week to get through (yet) or a place to go on the weekend (rather on Monday) and I haven't packed a thing. I see random personal items around the house and think, oh I'll pack that. Then I just leave the item wherever it is lying and go on about my business.

I stopped by my cousin's house where some of my old things are being stored. Sitting down on the cool and dusty concrete floor, going through boxes of things I once held in such high esteem; candles and holders, framed photographs of various people and things, a few different books, etc.
Instead of grabbing those things, I came way with a drumstick Jeff Burrows had given me after a Tea Party concert, a photograph of the Apostle's hands and the card he had given me years ago for my birthday.

Also, a pair of blue bowling shoes and some scented tea lights.

I have one of the shoes on now. Just seeing if it still fit.

I don't know why I chose those things. Maybe I'll figure it out on the plane ride. Maybe I won't.

Labels: Apostle

Not really working on anything right now. I was actually looking at this photograph and missing the girl I used to be. That must be part of age, or maybe it's just egoism. I should embrace any changes that have been made to my molecular make-up and see them for what they really are: just a part of life.

But I hear the clock in this room ticking, and it feels like it's timing down to something. Like a quiet clicking race, one that I'm going to come last in. Then I feel like listening to The Tea Party, and my over-the-counter heartburn medication isn't working even though I've taken two tablets and it's supposed to be 'extra-strength'. So, I just sit here with the music on, lighting cigarettes from the ends of candles and trying to pick a movie to sleep with, but I can't because everything I've seen has already been seen and we all know what happens when they end.

My dreams are filled with the matching bed sheets of past relationships and the kisses of those that I coveted but never felt. Those pairs of brown eyes both exciting and disappointing me, at the same time. The sleeping pills maybe make these people more real than they actually were, and because it was so long ago, maybe that's true.

Or I feel like a keyboard you can click on, a link that leads you to spam pages and pop-up windows. Free cursors, smileys you don't want and ads for Viagra or penis extensions. Click, click, click. Close.

The dogs sleep at the foot of the bed, they don't know I will not be here on this day at the same time next week, that they will be sleeping alone with each other. And I wonder if they care. But that doesn't matter because that's just the way things are. That's just the way they are.

Labels: Apostle, depression, Gish, late night, melancholy, neurotic, pharmacology, sleep, underwater, we all lose in the end, writing, zopiclone

I want to say that I have bad luck when it comes to electronics, but I think that maybe I'm just a laptop breaker. Someone who just happens to break any laptop they come in contact with. Which is something I should think about since I'm borrowing my mother's laptop to write this entry (and also to watch movies in my room). My second laptop, the HP Pavillion Entertainment laptop that I got in September in place of my old Compaq, has just sputtered it's last little breath and died whilst I tried to reboot it half a dozen times, in any manner. The Compaq died in a similar way although it's death was not as final as this one appears to be.

I've been putting off burning copies of all my music and photos because I'm lazy and it takes time, but for some reason thought it a good idea to do so this afternoon. Luckily (for me, anyway), I was able to do that *just* before the old HP told me to Fuck Off in no uncertain terms. It's sitting right beside me now, probably chuckling it's revenge. I always give animation to inanimate objects. It makes me feel better.

Also, I was supposed to send the HP away for servicing (when it first started acting up awhile ago) but never did. because, again...I'm lazy to pack it up in a box and find the nearest UPS place to drop it off....no small feat when in the North of Ontario. Seriously.

So, here I am, exactly one week away from flying out of here (to an even more remote Northern location) and NO laptop of my own. Do I simply go and buy a replacement and send off the old HP? Of course, that will mean I will have 2 laptops, and who needs that. Or, do I send off the HP and wait an indeterminate amount of time for it to be fixed and sent back to me?

And call me crazy, but an 'entertainment' pc should allow one to watch unlimited movies over and over again without having various hiccups and needing to be rebooted *just* to get the internet back or even allow one to change discs. It's here I should mention I've only had the HP for about 6 months. I mean, why can't the darn thing just work, at least until it's 1 year warranty?

Something that does not outlive it's warranty does not bode well in my mind. I think I'll get a Mac.

In any event, I suppose that's the end of my rant about the laptop issue. It's probably about 3 pages shorter than it would have been had I not been able to borrow this laptop. Somehow, without a movie on, I feel lonely. Or at least the ability to have one on.

Heard from Craig the other day. He left a beautiful message on the answering machine. For some reason, I just want to tell him everything that's happening, but we can't connect. Literally. And I wonder if he will let me go, and if I'm fated to not have any stable relationships, for whatever reason. Just little things that come in at the night, when I'm trying to sleep.

In any event. Glad I was able to post. If nothing shows up for a few days, at least you'll know why.

Labels: broken, Craig, drama, laptop, Manitoulin Island, Northern Ontario, relationships, sleep

Dear Chicago,
There's always something left to say. I type this, my fingers numb from cold. My fingers hitting random keys whilst I try to spell words correctly. If that happens, then maybe this time, you'll get my note.
Do you remember those fiery nights in front of the fireplace, smoke occasionally sputtering from the fire, the light allowing us to see our work. Papers upon paper, scribbles and notes all in the margins. Creased photographs and glowing red bottles of wine. It's ok. I remember enough for the most of us.

words fell like water...

Sometimes, I don't know where these words come from. Are they like that Ryan Adams song you liked so much...just merely words? Could I be reading more importance to them then it's worth?

Right now, I light my cigarettes from burning candles that are meant to be in churches, prayers said for the dead. But I'm here in my cold, little room. With these candles that burn for endless hours, even while I sleep. A cheap glimmering light that is just *there* when I need it to be. So afraid to sleep, and for it to be another day. It just means it's closer to the time I have to go. And we both know how much I love leaving.
Maybe this time will be different.
Love, Gish

Labels: David Usher, Dear Chicago, opinions, pharmacology, relationships, run, running, sleep, travelling, writing

As mentioned before, I'm still in the midst of an all out Lost marathon. Just so we're clear, I'm about 2 discs from finishing the 3rd season which means I will then resort to the episodes they have posted for the 4th season at the show's website. I just wanted you to know that. :)

Lost kind of sucks you in despite how basic the well, basis of the show is. In my mind, it's more of a modern day Gilligan's Island. You have the professor (Jack Sheapard), and the hottie he covets but never makes a move on (Kate whatsername) and don't forget the useful bad guy(Locke, although Sawyer will do in a pinch).

Then you have the principle characters that go along with any story. The sleazy guy (Sawyer), the sweet girl who has a past but not really because she might be giving birth to the next Messiah (Claire). The guy who loves her (Charming Charlie). Throw in a father looking out for his son, a deserted island and a crashed plane and BOOM...instant tv show.

Hey, I'm not complaining. But sometimes it's so easy to see what is going to happen next that it's laughable. Although to be fair, the writers do perform the art of the desert island song and dance a lot differently than previous such television shows and/or movies (excluding Gilligan, the trendsetter). For instance, they don't have to worry about a lot of the stuff you and I would be worrying about like clean water, food, and a place to stay dry. Medical care, etc, etc you get my point.

However....I still don't know what the fuck that black smoke slicing up thing is, in the jungle. That does have me stumped. I have a couple of theories...but am not quite ready to...you know, pretend to know. *grin*

Hiding Place


I took that this afternoon. My flight arrangements are being finalised. I leave my home on March 31 and spend a week in a town I have no idea how to pronounce for training, then I get flown into the community I will be working in, which is called Hall Beach.

Although things are taking shape rather rapidly, I'm not nervous or too excited yet. I'm the kind of person that usually happens to when I get to the airport with the ticket in my hand. That's when I usually say something like....what the hell have I just committed to??

But it sure will be fun writing about it.

find somewhere to go...
In the wake of accepting the job in Nunavut (well, at least accepting in my mind), I've been shopping like a mad person. I've bought a lot of tv dvds that will carry me through some semi-dark nights, as well as the full light ones. If I have insomnia now, I am afraid of what it will look like when I am in a place where the sun doesn't go down for 3 months (June to August). I guess that is to make up for the two months of darkness in the winter months.

More shopping included a gigantic parka, proper winter boots, thermal underwear and a gazillion tshirts to layer up with. The parka. I hate it. It's brown, puffy and reaches to my knees. When I wear it, I feel like a big, brown, puffy Michelin Man. There's nothing for it. I have to wear it. My only consolation is that not a lot of people will see me in it. Yes, my vanity is still alive and strong.

I took this the other day. I'm a passenger.

We can slip into the fog together and get lost for awhile. It will insulate our noises and sounds. We can relax on a broken log and sip hot coffee, our edges blurred even to each other. It was just a thought.

Speaking of Lost. I'm Lost in Lost. I mean, I've become addicted to the show (note: dvd purchased). And it's a darn good thing I've bought all those dvds. I would be very upset if I had to wait for the 2nd season to come out after watching the finale last night of the 1st season. All in one bite. That's my kind of thing.

So, the fact that I'll be living in the Arctic circle has me thinking of things to do to pass the time. So far, tv is taken care of. I've decided to take my guitar, teach myself to play. Books, maybe some knitting stuff to see if I can figure that out on my own. Other than that, I can't think of anything....

I can tell you of the things I will miss. Summer shoes. Fresh fruit. Fresh vegatables. Chinese food. All night convenience stores. Driving. Gin and Tonics on the front porch. My nephews. My sisters. Wearing a tshirt and jeans while out shooting pictures.

But, then I remind myself this is for a better cause then some summer flip flops.

Labels: insomnia, inspiration, Island, job, late night, Manitoulin Island, money, Nunavut, travelling, winter, writing

It's nearly 4 a.m where I am. I slept for a couple of hours and woke up. That happens a lot. I usually am awake by 3 or a little afterwards. More often than not, 3 seems to be the main number. I don't know if that has an significance or not. Probably not.

I've fallen victim to the ways of James Blunt and the song, Same Mistake Twice. Its currently what I have on while I sleep. It used to be Matt Good but Blunt infiltrated the Good camp. Now it's every woman for herself. Interestingly enough, Matt Good just started his tour of the United States. There are many shows and I'm sure if you're even the tiniest bit a fan of his music, you would love to go. So GO, get tickets. You won't regret it.

Ok, enough of that.

Here's a photo I took last year. It's actually a photo of a photo, after I staged myself in pearls and such.

Now, my hair has been cut off and I no longer stage such photographs. Mostly due to the reason I haven't picked my camera up in months. And I lost my battery charger. It takes only a very specific one, which I plan on picking up tomorrow.

I've quite suddenly come into a fairly large amount (for me) of money and an impromtu shopping trip to Sudbury is planned for the morning. Camera accessories are at the top of the list, along with shoes.

Also something interesting to note is that I've been offered a job in Nunavut. Not familiar with the place? Well it used to be called the Northwest Territories, and is located in upper Canada. Northern, very North. I've decided to accept the offer and see how things go for about 6 months. Who am I to say no to a job. Especially one that pays very, very well. I figure I should be able to save enough in six months for a down payment on a new car and still have enough left over to live comfortable while I find another job in Southern Ontario.

So, a few good things that have come my way. I'm still in shock. Nice things like this don't happen to people like me, we usually only get to hear about them.

And now, I feel a little sleepy again....think I will try again for some rest.

Labels: fools gold, James Blunt, job, Matthew Good, money, spending

It looks as thought I may be going to Nunavut for that job mentioned awhile back. I got the offer this morning and have been mulling over the possibilities in my mind since then. I've pretty much decided to take the job on a temporary basis, for a number of reasons. The first reason being I will actually have a job. The second reason being it will give me an opportunity to save enough to build a nest egg with which to live on when I move back to Southern Ontario.

The job sounds interesting and the place (although cold) sounds exciting, what with the walrus and polar bear that hang around on a daily basis. Just the thought is inspiring the possible photographs in my mind.

Finally, I see a meager light at the end of the tunnel I've been stuck in. Something at last, to entertain my starving brain.

Other than the isolation factor, there isn't really any reason why I shouldn't take the job.

Sleep has been good the past few days, something I'm always on the watch for. And I finally decided to clean my bedroom after hibernating in it for so long. It was worth the effort I think. But I have to go, Scarface is on. You know me and Pacino. Two peas in a pod.

When I've got something new to listen to, I dance around and feel happy. It's almost a high. I picked up Hawksley Workman's new album Between the Beautifuls today and even though I've only heard a couple of songs (car has no cd player, just a thing for my iPod...I KNEW cds were better!) I'm convinced it's going to be a good record. I've also been listening to James Blunt a lot, lately. Which is a bit odd for me, I thought. But a couple of non-single songs caught my attention and proved to be a pleasant surprise.

The weather around here is odd. During the day we get a little melt, the rocks on the sides of the highway glisten with barely melted water. The snow frozen to a crispy crust that makes me think of dangerous walks through the woods with no socks or shoes on. Or a deer's legs lifting up and putting down, very gently.

Now I'm home, CSI on in the background, A cold can of Fanta Red Tangerine beside me and some mushroom pizza. It was that or a hamburger which I figured would take too long to cook. I only ever wanted to sit down and watch some t.v. Too impatient to wait for thick red meat to cook.

Somethings will never change...

Labels: hawksley workman, music, music opinion

I've been up since about 5 this morning. As mentioned, my insomnia is a killer both ways. I have a hard time falling asleep and often wake up after an hour or so and am unable to get back to sleep. Then there are the early mornings bullshit. It's seriously enough, all on it's own, to drive one crazy.

The draw back to all this awake time (and not in your best form, either) is no one else is awake. No friends to chat with, I can update the journal until I'm blue in the face and no one is awake to read them. So, I browse the internet, planning on what I need to get me through the next few days and pretend to shop. Right now, I'm looking for a memory card reader, which I will have to pick up at some point this week. My camera hasn't been picked up in months, literally months. I've been abandoned by the muse and no inspiration so I figured, who cares?

Then part of me decided to just try to force it. So I had to order a new battery charger and card reader (I lost mine in the move). Just waiting for those things and hopefully once they get here, I can find it in me to take some pictures again. I also ordered a new polaroid camera and have to pick up some film, that is part of a fledgling collage project that I hope to start soon.

I was in Sudbury again yesterday, helping Chunk get ready for her formal thing. She's in her first year of university (five weeks left) and it never ceases to amaze me how far she's come, and how grown up she has become. For awhile, it felt like she left me behind. But now I'm seeing it's a really great thing how she's coming into her own. Anyhow, I was determined to dress up my bed a bit at home, so I bought ridiculously priced pillows, then wanted to drive home right away to try them.

I gotta say, sometimes it's all in the pile of the pillow.