<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d33206271\x26blogName\x3dThe+Fine+Art+of+Falling+Apart\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d6081200608643811586', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

We both know... Saturday, May 30, 2009 |

red hair

hold my hand...until the morning
It's T minus 3 hours to lift off from Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. I'm sitting in my hotel room, interneting. Reading National papers and listening to music. Just enjoying the alone time that I covet so much (although I have tons of it, I always want more).

I packed very light. I have a small hot pink hardcase piece of luggage and my backpack which I carry on. Much of my stuff is scattered around the hotel room like a timeline, which pieces of clothing I've worn over the past week. Eyedrops, makeup and headphones spilling out of the drawer beside the bed.

I was wide awake at 8 this morning. Now I feel like I could nap peacefully for an hour. But I'll hold off so I can rest on the plane. I think the ride from Edmonton to Toronto is about 4 hours, long enough for a nap and various other activities.

I just have to repack things tightly into my bag and away I go onto the next bit of travelling. I'm looking forward to spending time with part of my family in London for a couple of days before heading to Ireland on Tuesday.

I'll keep updating while I'm away, I think. I'm also trying to figure out a way to get to Scotland on a short trip to see the family 'ruins'. Timing will be tight but I think it can be done.

Pictures of Scottish moors....wooo!!

Stop Joking Around - Hawksley Workman.

Where were you when we were getting high? Monday, May 25, 2009 |

hand on poplar

I'm in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories sitting in the tiniest hotel room I've ever seen. I keep bumping into furniture to get to the bathroom. I'm not used to making little curving motions when moving. As if I'm am driving my body like a car around sharp corners.

I turned 33 the other day. Someone got a cake, sang the song (which I hate) and we all consumed sugary goodness for a few minutes while discussing travel plans and various other topics that came to mind. Thanks for the birthday wishes.

In other news, I've begun the first leg of my 'vacation'. I spend a week in Yellowknife for work related duties, then fly to Toronto from here on Saturday. Not soon enough, in my mind, but we all have to complete these things in order to move to the next level.

I feel terrible for leaving Bailey while I'm away. That's the thing with owning animals...one must remember that when getting another. So he's at the house, sleeping in our bed and probably wondering why some old guy is taking him outside and not me.

The photo above is something I took while on a mini hike near Alexandria Falls. There are poplars here and they smell so good in the spring.

it's Spring!!!

honking dogs and late for work. Again. Thursday, May 21, 2009 |

Beebs and Buckley

I feel like my eyeballs are drenched in code. Swimming little quotation marks, back slashes and the pointy bracket symbols. All swirling around up there above my eyes.

I forgot to set my alarm last night. I awoke at 7:30 and scrambled, running around trying to figure out which activity I had to forego in order to make it to work on time. Coffee? Nope, kind of need that at this point? Makeup? Yup, I can live without black eyeliner for one day. Selecting awesome outfit? Yup, t-shirt and jeans today pulled randomly from closet. Half hour wake up call on the internet? Nope, I need to read the bare bones of online versions of the CBC and newspapers before I get out of bed. It’s just a habit. Makes me feel like I’m still ‘with it’ down South.

So, coffee steeping, taking the dog outside for his morning constitutional and frantically putting all ‘morning’ must haves in a priority list in my head, I was able to get to work.

5 minutes early.

In other news, Bailey has Kennel Cough. This must be the 3rd time he’s gotten it since I adopted him almost a year ago. I find it odd he gets this but is never in contact with any other dogs, so I’m not sure where he picks it up. He’s getting better now, but for the past week or so he’s been honking every hour, waking me up in the middle of the night. Lots of water and a few extra treats seem to make him feel less of a moron. Although really, you’d have to ask him.

Slowly mentally preparing for impending trip overseas. I’ll be spending all of next week in Yellowknife on some work business, then flying straight to Toronto from there to spend a couple of days with my nephews. I leave for Ireland on the 2nd. All that comes to mind is climbing in and out of airplanes. Weird how my mind organizes things.

The photo above is my darling Buckley and fluffy Beebs at my parents house. Taken by Number 4. On one hand, I want to bring those two to live with me here but I’m not sure how long I will stay…so, it’s hard to decide. Traveling would be rough on them both, and even though I’ve dragged Beebs all over Ontario, I feel it would be terrible to drag her to the other side of the country. Decisions, decisions.

My own beach at night Thursday, May 14, 2009 |

foot in the river

365 posts.

I bought limes a week or so ago, thinking they would be good to have on hand for those many, many gin and tonics I scarf back. The joke being that even when I have all the makings around, I don't seem to want it as bad as when I don't (see various entries from months ago bemoaning the fact I did not have access).

I just seem to want things I don't have. Doesn't really seem to matter if I'll have them in the future, I'm very oriented in the mode of present time. Take this trip to Ireland. I wanted it, so I bought it. Actually going through with it is surprising me because the time flew by and here we are, a couple of weeks away from lift-off.

Not afraid to go, just surprised that it's almost time. I guess I'm more used to making plans, not so much in following through. Buying the limes, but not making the drink.

Came home tonight. Jumped in the shower, making it hot as I could handle. Listening to The Tragically Hip tell me about a small northern Ontario town. I'm a little homesick for my family. I often feel the urge to go and hide under my mother's bed when I'm sick. The teeth issue is no different. As though she could save me.

But the hot shower is almost enough to make me feel better. Water and skin. Just. It's cold here. The driving snow started just after 4 this afternoon. I leave little messages for Hawksley to return home all over the place.

Moon Over Marin - Matthew Good (Dead Kennedys' cover)

Labels: ,

Not afraid of most things Wednesday, May 13, 2009 |

I'm not afraid of a lot of things. Things that most people are afraid of, I figure I will weather through like everything else gone wrong in my life. For instance, I'm not afraid of moving to new towns where I know no one. I'm not afraid of heights, water, snakes or bugs. I'm not afraid of being alone, or dying alone. I'm not afraid of death or being left by a lover. Nor flying, or of medical doctors, new people or new experiences.

But I am afraid of the dentist. Horrible childhood experiences left me the gift of fear of the person who roots around in your mouth with sharp instruments and ear-cringing hand drills. I mean, it's bad. I have to take anti-anxiety medication before I go, and have the gas to make me compliant. Although, sedation is ideal.

I went to the dentist today. This is probably my 3rd visit since moving here about a month ago. The first two visits were just to scope out the dentist and get a consult. I haven't heard great things about this dentist but desperately needed work done before I could even think about going overseas in June. I pictured abscessed teeth and falling out teeth while on vacation, and I would have hated for that to happen. Especially when I am supposed to be like...enjoying myself in Ireland.

So, biting the bullet so to speak, I went in this morning prepared for a root canal. With the aid of Ativan (so fucking handy, that drug). Physically shaking in the dentist's chair, and ear phones clamped in my ears listening to soothing favourite music, I had the procedure done.

And this is what I looked like when I got home.

my online dating photo

Like something from The Grudge. I have no makeup on, and haven't really brushed my hair. I basically got out of bed, brushed my teeth and got dressed then went to the dentist. But my smile! So crooked, more than usual. And that droopy lip!

It made me laugh (in part because it's funny, and also because I had survived the dentist visit in one piece, less one nerve), so I decided to post it here for your giggling pleasure.

Stare in my glassy eyes and at my crooked smile and tell me that it's all alright.

Labels: , ,

it's really about the hair and the pants Monday, May 11, 2009 |


Bad things can happen when you cut your own hair. I've learned this, but not really the hard way. Not yet. When I'm wearing my bangs short, I generally cut them myself. I used to be really, really good at it, too.

Then I moved to the North, and let my hair grow out from the short bob cut I decided to indulge in in December, 2007. I still don't really know what I was thinking. I'm obviously a long hair kind of girl. In any event, I decide to cut bangs super short, ala Bettie Paige in December, 2008. So I do. And I guess I like them. But they just don't seem to quite look like the way they used to.

So, I wonder. Is it my hair, all frizzed out from super dry condition in the Arctic? Had my preferred hair cut been outgrown by my ever expanding face? Or did I just fuck it up and cut too much?

These things I ponder while I look around for a good pair of scissors and think about how I need to cut hair again since I've moved into my new place. They are getting too long, and are uneven from my last hasty cut (but I live in the northern wilderness so I figured...who cares??) and I want to look nice. I mean, *now* I want to look nice. (I saw a guy the other day who was wearing the most perfect pair of pants, ala Stuart Chatwood in below video screen shot).

Chatwood's pants

It's about the pants, really. Not Chats (this time). The photo is grainy, but you get the general idea about the pants. Anyway, this guy I saw had on a great pair of pants. Pants, pants, pants. I might be a little fixated.

Soooo...I am contemplating my next pair of scissors, and wondering how to get this right. I *could* go to a salon, but seems so silly to pay kind of a lot of cash for a simple little trim.

Why can't I have my old hair back??

red hair

How on earth did I cut them so perfectly before???
Stupid girl questions, I swear to god.

Labels: , , , ,

Friday, May 08, 2009 |

storm trooper

A little man, hanging.

So much on my mind lately, it's all crammed in there like old newspapers in a cardboard box. Things you don't need but can't throw away. I'm leaving for Ireland in less than a month, something I've planned about 6 months ago. My spur of the moment purchase is coming and I'm looking forward to flying internationally. More airports to park my ass in. Can't wait to complain. A 6 hour flight full of gin and tonics, a couple of books and music.

Also, I've be able to link up a couple of flights from my current location to stop off and see my nephews and sister in London before I head to Ireland. And I have the option of meeting up with Craig in Philadelphia for a quick chat during a layover there (if checking in and out of security won't take too long).

Mostly though, I've been missing my family. I heard a song on the radio this morning that will always remind me of my brother-in-law. My sister and I were visiting in her kitchen and he was down in the basement, working on finishing it. I could hear the radio, and singing. Singing always makes me happy. I ask her: Is that Steve singing? She says no, he wouldn't sing.

Turns out he was. oh what you mean to meeee.... I have no idea who sings that song or what it's called but it's a Top 40 sort of thing and his voice was so clean. So that made me miss them this morning.

I wake up, have some coffee and feel good. It feels right here. Like I did something right. I am almost wondering how long that feeling will last, but a part of me tells me to shut up and just go with it. I haven't had a bad mood since I got here. So weird.

My highschool best friend and I have been emailing back and forth like crazy for the past couple of days. She's who I will stay with in Ireland. I ask her questions about internet access and cigarette prices. You'd think I'd be asking about vacation hot spots and tourist-y things, but nope...just concerned about getting the smoke issue settled. I want purple Silk Cut cigarettes but also want some of my own from Canada. Picky, picky.

I'll pack light. I spend a week in Yellowknife just before heading to Toronto to begin the Ireland trip, so I have to be a bit conscious of what I take with me. I'm worried because most of my pants are falling down despite the belt taken in to it's last notch, I don't really want to spend a lot before I actually leave the country.

Arg, blah blah blah.

The weather is warm today, the wind a tad chilly. I'm going to go home tonight and watch the last few episodes of Dexter season 3 (YAY!) and eat some cold watermelon. My phone, a little clamshell on the table beside me.

morning Friday, May 01, 2009 |


Bear with me if I've posted this photo before. I forget these things, you know. Especially since this journal is so long-running.

And the photo is sort of how I'm feeling today. Not in a bad way. Just in a clear eyed sort of way.
The weather is finally warming up here, and I'm finding my morning coffee ritual soothing and something I look forward to before I open my eyes while I'm lying there in that still unfamiliar bed. I will get used to it eventually, and you ought to know by now that I'm used to unfamiliar beds the way one is used to their own. Sometime it will be my own.

The water boils while I'm grinding coffee beans, smelling that rich scent that floats upwards and out. Bailey is waiting patiently for me to finish so he can go outside and check out the new smells of the melting ground. The coffee steeps while I'm outside with Bailey. I smell the poplar trees running with sap. I love poplar trees. So scenty. Then we come back inside and he eats his breakfast while I'm standing in the kitchen making my first cup and (still) marvelling at the simplicity of the coffee press.

Afterwards, I head back to the bedroom, surf the internet while I put on makeup or decide on an outfit. Start the car, go outside, and slip into it like a foot into a shoe, choose a cd and off I go to work.



Having one of those "I can't believe I slept with that guy" moments.