I hate when I have food in the house and am hungry, but no appetite for whatever I've previously bought. I look in the cupboards and survey the canned goods (why do they call them 'goods'?) and dry pasta, along with the various spices and oils that I've gotten from family members.

Recently, I got a package sent from my dad which includes every spice I can think of (that I know). After the box was open and sitting in my office for awhile...I was hungry for roast chicken. My stomach really has a mind of it's own. I hate that. I want to be the boss of everything.

Here's a photo of a yellow iris that grows in a patch on my mother's property.

I haven't felt like updating lately. Not for lack of time, or want even...just no real drive. I was sad when I got out of bed this morning for no discernable reason. I brushed my teeth, staring at my reflection, running today's duties over in my mind. Even though I've come this far, it is always in the back of my mind that I'm still running. I just haven't ever really figured out what it is.
I've loaded a bunch of photos onto facebook and scoured my old photo-dumping page for ones that I might have missed when I switched over to Flickr.

I still sit here like a sullen child. The notes I write to myself are warnings that I should heed once I've read them, like this message will self-destruct...but I never really do. I just go along with what is happening.

I'm waiting for the movers to get a shake on so that my stuff gets moved here faster. I bought all manner of things, but I am mostly looking forward to the gigantic tv and surround sound so that when I watch documentaries on the History channel...my ears will really feel as though they are in the Rennasaince. I spell checked that word, and it still looks mispelled...Rennasaince.

In any event. I switched bedrooms the other day. I took photos of before and after, trying to maximise the space but I don't know if I got it quite right. When all was said and done, it looked like any other bedroom. Nothing special.

I guess it looked better in my head.

Labels: blah, Gish, home improvement

I've been listening to The Ocean by Matthew Good at work, for the past two days. It's by turns made me meloncholy for I don't know what, and also made me feel at home in this place.
The village I live in has changed from a winter wonderland without trees to a place that is carpeted with gravel and dust gets into everything. I'm constantly washing my hands because they feel coated in dust, and the windshield of my truck is always filmed in dust when I get in every morning. Atv's, trucks and other things whiz by making the dust rise up even more. A fine, fine grey dust that makes me leave ghostly footprints on the stairs when I go up to bed.

Tomorrow the weekend starts and I have all sorts of half-formed plans in mind of how to spend the time, that don't involve sleeping. My room mate has left for the summer and plans on moving in with another teacher at the beginning of the year, so I have to house to myself...to leave my dvds or books on the coffee table as I see fit.

So, I have a plan to paint a small mural in the corner of my new bedroom. I bought a set of black sheets (which seems like folly now that I know how much dust is up around here) and I thought the black tribal art and sheets would look kind of neat together.

Mind you, I have also discovered that my bed could fit in this open cubby hole. So, whether or not I will be sleeping in a cubby hole depends on how much I feel like isolating myself when the time comes for actually moving the bed. Crazy, I know.

I've been sleeping in a lot lately. I'm up at 3 a.m. and when I finally fall back to sleep, I'm almost literally unable to get out of bed when the alarm goes off at 7. I'm thinking it's a mind over matter thing, and eventually I'll trick my mind into telling my body what I freaking want it to do.
I've also given up pop. I still love it, and covet it but at the price of $37.95 for a 12 pack...I just can't in good conscience, buy it. I am chagrined.

But I guess forty dollars saved is forty dollars earned.

Labels: home improvement, money, sleep

I live in the Arctic, and I'm still freaking hot.

You say you wanna play Country but you're in a Punk Rock band...
Did I tell anyone that's my new favourite song? Have I sung along to it enough in the car, as I'm gliding along those endless ribbons of black highway?

I'm a hotel room in Timmins. Back here, getting ready for bed so I can get up early and catch a plane back to the nowhere world I live and work in. Looking forward to going back. Not looking forward to going back.

I already miss my family, despite all of the crisis' that have risen up over the past three weeks, I was still glad to be among blood.

Rose just posted a photo she took of me in the old days.

Sometimes, it's really nice to see the old me. Suddenly, I feel better.

Labels: Gish, myself, travelling

It seems like years ago. And like yesterday. This time last year, I was plotting my own death and it would only be a matter of days before it was carried out.

But I reached out at the last minute. A late night email to let someone know how much they meant to me. what followed wasn't part of the plan.

And now, I'm reading an entry at Matthew Good's blog and it all comes back to me like nothing has changed. A different family is mourning the loss of a daughter, mother, sister. Everything I've ever thought about not being judged for those acts we commit, rings so true in my heart right now. And I know wherever she is, she's welcome.

And maybe she's finally getting some rest.

so.

I've been told before to never start a journal post with the word "So". I don't recall at the moment what the reason for this was, so I will ignore said advice and proceed with the rest of this short entry.

I haven't seen a movie in years that jarred me as much as M Night Shyamalan's 'The Happening', this evening.

It's apparently opened to shit reviews and catcalls from the cheapseats in the back, but I think there are solid performances and very sound, moving moments of experts effects and film making there. And the best part, it leaves you (no pun intended) with a little something to think about. Also, I like the human elements in his film. Such as families coming together in the end, and maybe that is for the *real* cheap seats in the back, but hey...I kind of like things to lead from one to another.

It's a horror movie. Watch it as such, and move on. Get over yourselves.

Labels: critic, movie, movie critic

I want to know where my confidence went, one day it all disappeared...
I'm sitting in Rose's dining room, typing on my laptop and smoking a cigarette. I'm contemplating the very blue martini that she's just poured me. She added two shots of gin, so you can almost light my breath on fire. Her's of course, is not as strong. And that's not counting the 3 or 4 gin and tonics I've already had. Let me tell you, I just want to sit around and have a few cocktails and laughs with a good friend. You know?

The past week and a half has been great with the visiting of old friends and my family, but I just want to relax. I'm actually looking forward to getting back to Hall Beach for some relaxing being of nothingness. With me, it has always been one extreme to another. But I have enjoyed myself here in Southern Ontario. Yes. That I have.

I spent some time in Kingston with Sammygurl and we shopped. Had some laughs. Watched an old Henry Rollins comedy dvd and laughed some more. I'd almost forgetten how awesome he is. I will care about your feelings, I will do your windows... I have to get that dvd 'shock and awe' again. It's like being home.

Saw Mattie last wednesday, the show was amazing. We were in the balcony. I annoyed the girl sitting to my right, with all of my high profile lens photo taking. It was great. My telephoto lens is like sex with a camera. Luckily, my older sister was willing to hold my lenses everytime I switched over.

I got this little piece of heaven...


I've driven over 2000 kilometres of ribbons of highway over the past week. I love the glide of the wheels over the asphalt, the sound of my music in my ears, and feel of wind from the open window on my arms as I'm getting from one place to another. It's truly my idea of heaven. I don't even care where I'm going, just the act of driving is my favourite part.

My eyes have been filled with the greenest green of wet leaves when it's rained. The smell of the rain burning off the concrete of city streets when I'm going by is so like heaven. It's what I imagine heaven to be like. My car and endless road with any song I have ever heard.

How I would love to drive the Pacific highway in my bare feet, with the window open. I will.
Anyhow, this has been a random entry of vaca gaga stuff and some things floating around in my head. Along with a tad of gin.

Till I am Myself Again - Blue Rodeo

I'm having a pretty good time on my vacation. I'm visiting family, friends and getting stuff for my life in the Arctic. It feels as though I am getting shit done. The weather is beautiful (if a little hot) and I love gliding along the streets when I skip from place to place for household items. I so love the driving.

But in the midst of this easy time, I am faced with the fact that I don't know where one of my sisters is. The only news I have comes from the newspaper that informed my *grandmother* that my sister was one of many that were arrested on drug related charges. The news filtered down to my older sister and I by way of other family members. I've been shocked, saddened, disheartened, angry, worried, and embarassed over the past few days. Now we're just worried.
When I heard, my first thought was 'typical'. And I wish she would get her shit together. But it's not my life. And I shouldn't judge, I have no idea what is going on in her head. I've given up, for less.

So, I still have an overnight trip to Kingston and Matt's concert tomorrow. It's been awhile since I've been to a rock show, I hope that shoots my blood through the veins.

Keep a look out for an awesome entry over the next week, this has just been a brief update.

I'm sitting here, eating leftover takeout from Ruby Tuesday, wondering when my feet will stop being swollen, and tired as all heck. Rose and I went to Michigan to border-shop and have a day out on a mini road trip. My feet have been swollen I think since yesterday and now they are starting to bother me. This of course, is mostly because I was trying on a bunch of shoes today and none fit (which is sad because I'm down in Southern Ontario and it's summer weather and all I want to do is wear flip flops or summer shoes).

My feet (and please indulge me here for a second) are so swollen, that I cannot differentiate between my ankle and my foot, that's how wide they are. When I am standing up and leaning forward with my feet flat on the ground, creases appear on the front of my ankles. I don't know why this is happening, although I suspect it's all the time spent in the car, driving but it's annoying. Especially when I want to have nice pretty feet to go with my nice pretty summer outfits. It's a sad, sad thing.

I got in trouble crossing the border again today. Well, I should say that Rose got into trouble on my behalf. I forgot we stopped at a shoe store and bought shoes, so I forgot to tell them that a reciept existed. We had to go over to customs and let the border guards rifle through everything as though we were running drugs or meeting with our secret contacts of the American Indian Movement, although in Rose's case she would be meeting with the Black Panthers. And I know that border guards have to be cautious and be alert, but they don't have to pretend to be the Alpha males (when they are clearly not) and be complete a-holes even when you tell them you are just going to visit some friends.

So in the end, Rose was told very very sternly that she will get a big penalty the next time she doesn't claim something when she crosses the border. And we're talking a difference of 50 bucks here, guys. I'm glad that they are concerned about the second pair of shoes we bought, and not the two sixty ouncers of booze we had stashed back there. Ok, kidding about the booze.

In the end, the most satisfying part of the trip was our dinner at Ruby Tuesday. I am sure there are plenty of people out there that think the place sucks, but we truly had a great meal. The fruit iced teas were sublime. I had cherry, then strawberry while Rose stuck with mango. Little bits of fruit in the tea were amazing. The dinners themselves were amazing, and I mean that not jsut because I haven't seen a decent head of broccoli in a few months, but because they were well plated, served and totally cooked to perfection.

ok, maybe that was a little bit of gushing there. back to feet gazing.

So I'm really enjoying the convenience of southern living. And I mean, hamburgers at night. Or watermelon in a store that is 1.) fresh and 2.) right around the corner in a store that stays upen until 10 p.m. But it's just a fancy. I won't always be away from home. Someday, I'll be back for 'sort of' good.

Got into my London at around 5 and went straight to my sister's place, hoping my nephew was there but he was being dropped off later. When I opened the door, his whole face lit up and he ran into my arms. It was one of those kodak moments. I used an entire package of polaroid film on him. Everytime I took a photo, he'd run over and take it out and start waving it around, trying to make it develop faster. I don't know where he got these moves, he's just turning 3 in two days. Maybe he liked polaroids in another life.

Today, I have to run around to get a couple of things and then head out to Thamesville to hang with Rose. Dinner, then drinks at a bar later. I'm really looking forward to it.

but I have to say; in all the fun and games I'm having here...it's freaking hot. I don't even know how I am managing. At night, I slept with a fan aimed right at me. I know that it was hot here before, but coming from the very far freaking North where the high is 0 degrees, this 35 with humidity is a killer. I'm sweating, typing this out...and my sister has her central air on.

yeah, I'm a peach. And I can't stop listening to this song, or River by Joni Mitchell.

Helpless - Ryan Adams (Neil Young cover)

just time enough for a quick update. My cup of hot coffee has gone cold, and I might be running a little late for an oil change this morning. Need to highway-ready the car for the roadtrip I'll be embarking on starting this morning.

My iPod is ready to go. I've loaded tons of Whiskeytown onto it, and am reveling in the voice of Ryan Adams. It's just too good, sometimes. God, the music sometimes...

It feels like maybe the time is going too fast. I've spent a few days with my parents on Manitoulin and now I'm off to London for about a week before heading to Kingston for a few days, then back here before heading back to Nunavut.

The fireworks fiasco was....interesting. I've decided that I don't like lighting fireworks. The fuses are too short and now that I'm an old lady, my heart just can't hack the fact that I have to light and dash as though my arms depend on it. And while I'm running away, the fireworks are exploding over my head. I'm still running, even as the ash falls down into my hair.

But I have to run now. Even though it's early, I got times to keep.

there's a town in North Ontario...


I love the scent of the blossoms that floats around me when I'm sitting on the front steps of my parents house. It occurs to me that I took everything around for granted. Everything. The sharp blades of green grass, the budding leaves and the falling-open blossoms of the apple trees and lilac bushes. I knew that nature was happening around me, but I didn't pay any attention to it. And how much I liked it. Especially flowers. I just can't get enough of the scent of fresh lilacs in the vase in front of me.

I'm just enjoying it now.

I even cooked dinner for my family this evening. I never cook, anyone who has read this journal knows I'm no genius in the kitchen. It was just burgers and pasta salad with sugar peas but it was good and it was satisfying to sit down to eat. When we were at the grocery store, I had to force myself to not buy too much, reminding myself I could come back to the store and all the fresh produce would still be there. Crazy how much my perspective has been scewed since moving to Very Northern Canada.

In a fit of I-Don't-Know-What, Chunk and I bought a big box of fireworks. Stay tuned for either a very sad accidental dismemberment or fabulous photograhs.

Labels: family, food, homesweet home, music, nature, Northern Ontario, vacation