I have this urge to write. But my story pool is dry. Rather, it's not dry but there aren't any story-fishes swimming around in it. None I want to catch, anyway.

I go outside and smoke furious cigarettes, kicking at the crusted snow gathered at the bottom of my office building's stairs. I've watched so many episodes of The Office that I think I've now forced myself to like it. Or appreciate it, in any case.

I'm eating my way through all of the new books that I've ordered and I can never seem to remember if I had salted my plate when I'm eating lunch or dinner. I have to claw my way out of bed these days, the bed itself feeling like it's some sort of black hole that I fall into every night. The dreams are the shroudy-things that I try to avoid like jelly fish, but they get me anyway. Stinging, wrapped around my neck...and no vinegar in sight. Ah, well.

At work right now, I'm absolutely furious with myself for not having caught a story-fish. A good one. Because I'm getting up there, and before I know it, I'll be an octogenarian who claims she's a writer when really she hasn't written anything more than a grocery list or this online journal in her entire life.

Nutty, man. Just plain nutty.

Labels: story fish, writing

all the words that I've been reading...
The past few days have been...interesting. I've been snuggled away in my bed for the majority of it, reading books that have arrived in the mail like little sweet presents from an unknown realm. The weather here has been far from ambient, with winds that were super crazy for about 2 days. On Thursday night, one of the towns power lines finally gave in and split from another, causing half of the town to lose it's electricity.

I could feel it giving. The lights shuddered and blinked in small brown outs for about a half hour before a quiet and velvety blanket of dark was thrown over most of the village. I groaned and placed the book I was reading over my face, asking "Why NOW?" in a pissy voice. give me that, it's my dust catcher. Then I just lit several of the hundred or so (ok, I'm exaggerating) candles that I had sent up in my move, and continued to read as if nothing had happened.

I grew up in the North, after all. Maybe not this North (Arctic, Canada) but 'North' enough to know to have candles on hand at ALL times and that the power usually goes out whenever it wants to. What I wasn't expecting, was for the power to remain out for approximately 36 hours. Even in Arctic Canada, that length of time is stretching beyond the borders of normality. They had to fly linesmen in to fix the broken line, and the weather being what it was, the guys didn't actually arrive until early this morning.

But by then, I had dug in. I had sandwich making materials, cold pop (courtesy of the windowsill) and enough blankets to cover ten people (no, not bluffing that time). I was fine. Even when the temperature dipped alarmingly below zero, I was toasty under the covers, reading a book and enjoying myself thoroughly. It was the amount of books that made it bearable. I am really patting myself on the back for ordering in so many. The hard part was choosing which one to read, ha.

If I were 'down south', you can bet I'd be pitching a fit. But here, it's just one more thing to survive to make it to the next day. Not wanting to worry the family, I tried to call a couple of people last night but gave up after the 2nd person I called didn't pick up the phone. I figured the power would be on before too long and I'd email everyone with my aliveness at that point. What I hadn't counted on was my mother freaking out and calling every RCMP station she could find in all of Nunavut. I just know they are snickering about the 32 year old social worker whose mother kicked up a storm until locating her daughter (safe in her bed after a hot lunch at the DEW line). Too funny.

But some not funny things happened, as well. I didn't want to write about it, because I figured I'd dwell on the subject and become upset before too long. I saw the by-law officer drive by me as I parked alongside my office building (had to grab the modem), towing behind him a very puffy and fluffy dog that could have passed for a husky if his colours were different. He was tethered to the back of the truck by a long piece of yellow rope, and he jogged happily (I think) enough behind the slow moving vehicle. At first, I thought maybe the guy had found the dog wandering and was returning him to his home. But when I drove to my house afterwards, I saw the truck far ahead of me on the only road that leads to the town dump, and I knew what was in for the dog. I sat in my truck for a long time after turning it off, watching the dog get smaller and smaller as they got further and further away.

I thought about whether or not I could fit another dog into my life, and what that would look like. Or a million other things that I, as a 'southerner' could complain about regarding this poor dog, but in the end, I got out of my truck and grabbed my backpack and walked into my house.

The World I know - Collective Soul
Bag of Bones - Stephen King

I use up all your forgiveness. Only Bailey continually forgives me for calling him the wrong name (usually Buckley). He doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even mind when I change the furniture around and he stumbles from one road block to the next (he is blind, remember).

My desk is overflowing with paper. It's coming in from all sides. A form for everything. But there doesn't seem to be one to tell me when it's time to go home. Work is actually interesting today. But I'm not sure when I'll be finished for....the day, anyway.

I broke one of my only rules in the Gish Likes A Guy book. I actually waited for some guy to give me a call, after I had called and left a message. I don't really know what I was thinking, other than the fact that I have precious little else to do, and that I kinda thought I could really dig him. All this, even though I kept insisting to everyone (including myself) that he was SO not my type (he really isn't). Nuts to that, though.

I shouldn't be down about it (and I guess I'm not really) because men wash up on the beach with startling regularity. Pilots, lawyers, scientists of all sorts. But they don't really hold my interest. I'm the one that likes to be caught off guard. Not the kind to watch someone come out of the water, with a resume in their hands, and all their good attributes that steam from my stereotypical mind of what pilots, lawyers and scientists should bear. yeah, something like that.

I'm really looking forward to quitting time today. I'm hoping a bunch of books I ordered are at the post office, and I am really looking forward to buying a new pack of socks. Cold feet and literature.

What more could a girl want?

Labels: 'North', Arctic, blah, men

never turn your back on it...
It's been awhile since I've cranked the stereo as loud as I can take it, and listen to my favourite songs. If I even knew what my favourite songs were, but that's beside the point. It's nice to hear what I love, while I'm puttering around the house.

Semi-productive day at work today. I came home awhile ago, turned on the music and have been debating on what to have for dinner since then. In a way, updating my journal is my way of avoiding the food issue until I can sit there and fully debate the facts of what will taste better and actually satisfy my hunger monster. I'm on the fence about pork chops and salad, when I can just eat the salad and still feel full. Plus, I wouldn't have to actually cook anything. Yeah...I'm still a non-cooking person. If I were really lazy, I would just make those potato wedge things that I've been eating for the past few days.

Now, My Morning Jacket is playing and it's so nice. I really dig the guy's voice. Once dinner prep is finished, Dexter will be put on again, which I will watch until 7:30 or so. Then it's bed time, where I make a pot of tea and read until 9:30 or so. Then I try to sleep. I'm really digging the pot of tea before bed, though. Makes me feel so civilized.

I ordered this jacket from Sears last week, thinking I would need something heavier than my standard zipped up sweaters over tshirts. It got here yesterday, I was thinking cool...fast mail service for a change. But when I tried it on (and I totally got my size right), I found the sleeves rode up a good 3 inches past my wrists. Ridiculous. I mean, I know I have long arms, but shizo, man. So, I am debating on sending it back or just wearing it anyway. Decisions, decisions.

I've been going through books like crazy. Mostly due to my extended reading time before bed, and it's nice. to catch up with myself in my head, while I'm reading something I haven't read 15 times already. More books are set to arrive soon from Chapters.

I had all these little tidbits I was going to write about, but I kind of...forgot what they were. Little things I was annoyed with probably. I've been trying to think of what they were, running the days activities through my head but I'm coming up blank. I may have to resort to writing them down as they happen. Ha. Fat chance.

Oh, I was annoyed when I tried to find Tea Party songs on iTunes (which I think sucks now) and only one album was available in the US store, which I couldn't access with my 'Canadian' credit card. I was all set to listen to old songs I used to love (and own at one point) but no deal. That made me cranky. Now, I'm going to have to order all the cds...:) see how this love stays divine

Things I want. Things I think of, when the lights are out. So sweetly painful.


Weapon - Matthew Good
Fire in the Head - The Tea Party

Labels: Apostle, Arctic, music, The Tea Party

soldiers fill the hotels on the weekend...
It's snowing here again, today. It's the wispy, unsure kind of snow. It doesn't know whether it's coming or going. It falls in small waves, the wind buffetting the fragile flakes around like New Years confetti. I've been watching it through one of my office windows, while I attend to things at work. The appearance of snow tells my brain that I ought to be putting up christmas lights, and shopping for and wrapping presents. But my logical sense (which has been known to be faulty) kicks in and reminds me that it's only the middle of September.

Still, though. I've been thinking about starting to plan for the holidays. Not the buying and wrapping of presents, but booking airfare and the time off to go home. When I first got here, I said I wouldn't go home for Christmas. But now that I'm here, I think; why the fuck not? So, seat sales, and credit limits have been floating around in my head for the past week or so.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I had driven out past the village limits to take a look at the whale that had been caught in early August (while I was away on vacation). There wasn't much left to see, except for a few rib bones and the jaw bone. The jaw was angled on the ground so that it pointed towards the sky, the knuckle bigger than a basketball, completely picked clean of any flesh.

What was left of the whale, looked like industrial waste. What had once been shiny black skin stretched over a 44 foot Bowhead whale was now in tatters. It shrunk back over the blubber that was a surprising shade of orange, reminding me of insulation one puts in their attics. the bones that were left behind were scattered around, some parts of the vertebrae and others appearing to be rib bones which looked smaller than one would imagine.

I took some photos and noticed several hills of gravel marked with posts, all lined up in a row that went down the beach. I was told that is where the majority of the whale meat has been buried in order to ferment. The locals will dig it up at Christmas time. Fermented meat is apparently a delicacy in these parts.

When someone mentioned the annual whale hunt to me, pictures of the shiny black tail fin flipped up out of the water came to mind. Along with images of the body, beached on it's side. Complete. Whole. I was disappointed that I had missed this annual event, but am confident that I will be here next year for the hunt.

I just can't get the idea of the black tail fin, wet and shiny from the water, out of my mind. Like a hand, waving good bye.


Jacksonville Skyline - Whiskeytown

Labels: 'North', Arctic, Arctic Circle, snow, traditional hunting, weather, whale, whales

ugh. I knew the health news wasn't going to be great, I didn't think it would nearly cripple me with it's weight of bad possibilities. Not only am I too young to be worrying this much about my health, but sheez...always with the hassles. I know I should stop bitching, but I'll do that later.

In other news, my old roommate and I met up with a couple of pilots at the DEW line site and ended up chatting with them for a few hours over drinks at the beach, next to the rotting carcass of the Bowhead Whale the villagers caught while I was on vacation. I had wanted to see it and took a few photos, which I will post another time. It reminded me of industrial waste. And I really couldn't fathom the size of the jaw bones. Just think, people used to use those for rafters in their sod houses a million years ago.

So, we made plans to get together again tomorrow night. But it promises to be a fun night of laughing and music playing like last week. And god knows, I'm prepared now. We had shared a sealift order of wine, ordering for the whole year. I thought I was ordering an 'ok' amount which turned out to be 5 cases of wine. I doubt I will get through it all (but then you never know, winters are long and hard up here) but it was definitely interesting. We took photos of that as well, stay tuned for the next entry.

oooh, almost home time.

A nice little photo to calm things down around in my head. I took that while passing through Sudbury a couple of weeks ago. I like taking photos while driving, you never know how things will turn out.

Ok, so back to the firestorm in my head. I'm Bipolar (type 2, if that matters). We all know it, it's just a fact about me. I'm nuts but in a totally Gish kind of way. And it took me a long time to accept it, and to just move on with things. Like a long time. Like, there are still little things in my head that say that maybe I'm not and the diagnosis is wrong. That's how close I am to flipping over to the other side.

And I don't really care what people are going to say about me. Fine, just say it or whatever but leave me alone. I can hack it. But when it comes to my professional ability, and reputation, I'm fierce. Like a bear protecting her family, that's how I am with my professional reputation. And I don't really know why, because in the end people are going to say what they want and really, what's the importance of a good professional reputation in the grand scheme of things (to me, it's still a lot, like the last thing I have to fall back on, no matter what) but anyway...

Ugh, I hate this. I really wanted to write about how the sealift boat is anchored off the shore now, and the whole town is abuzz with excitement of it. And how the kids are running around with these huge smiles on their faces because something is actually happening in their little town. It's really something to see. I'll post a photo of the boat later, it's really just a boat. Heh.

Anyway, One of my work colleagues has taken it upon herself to comment on the state of my personal medical information as well as my mental illness (fuck, I hate writing those words). And it pisses me off. But I don't see how I can do anything about it until something actually happens (like, I get fired or something) to complain about it. I'm trying to be proactive here. But my negative brain keeps egging me to stay quiet until the storm hits. I really don't know what, if anything there is I can do.

In other news, I had a great time on vacation and am glad to be back in Hall Beach. I picked up Bailey from his sitters and am now (im)patiently waiting for my personal belongings to arrive. They are apparently now in Iqaluit. God knows how long till they get here. But when they do, I'll have a microwave and a television again. And more than two forks. *grin*