peg22 | Entries tagged with life

So the icon is in the Atwater Market this past autumn. Colour (I give the Brit/Canadian spelling, although I do believe it is a waste of a good u) was almost obscene in its abundance. We used it up like it was everlasting and neverending. Here is the view from the window today:

And this was taken at 10am - the brightest it's gonna get today. . . but who's complaining? I'd like to, but apparently, in Canada, we do not complain. We just make do and suffer through and spend the long winter nights dreaming about how we're going to move to Costa Del Sol . . . well that's what transplanted Americans dream about . . .

And then there is the window from which I look out when I write:

The curtain is the result of my 12 year old need for glitter and the window is because the girl gave up her office for me. She shares every other space in the house with me, but gives me the precious spare room, because she wants me to have a place that feels like home. So tomorrow marks 5 months here in the hinterland and except for some jagged longing to see my children more often, I am home.
(But don't tell her - I've grown quite fond of my "nook")

Hope you have a swell day, my friend.

Miss you. Miss them. Miss us.

Crack will be forthcoming. If I can find my way to the store and back . . .

I got five very interesting questions from the always lovely

callistosh65 so here goes.

1.Leave a comment saying you would like to be interviewed.
2. I will then respond with 5 questions that quite possibly could be personal—or not, whatever mood I'm in.
3. Then update your LJ with the questions I've asked
4. Put these same rules (or something that resembles these rules) with your questions
5. When people ask you to interview them, you will ask them five questions.

Here are the questions:

1 Since you are to be Homeward Bound soon, what is your favourite driving/road trip music?
2 What are you reading right now - fic-wise? Book-wise?
3 Which episode of Dr Who has impressed you the most so far? Why?
4 Which TV shows would older Starsky and Hutch be into?
5 Which would they hate with a passion?

( Here Be Answers . . . )

So Laura's beautiful pictures of her grandparents, coupled with my Sunday visit with my own grandma (85) and my great aunt (81) who fight like sisters and whose mantle is lined with pictures of my grandpa who died 2 years ago and whose memory still sends my grandma to bed for "weeping spells" and then I think of my other grandma (95) who is dainty and proper and losing her memory which means she's losing my memories because she's the one who remembers my kindergarten jokes and my fear of mice and then I remember her husband, my other grandpa, who died in 2001 while I was in Amsterdam, which will always make it that much . . . more.

It just all reminds me that I am soo lucky to have been raised in a multigenerational world and so I thought I'd share something Wot I Wrote about that:

( The Carpenter . . . )

and apparently my TV only has the Disney channel . . .

1. Bold the shows you've watched every episode of
2. Italic the shows you've seen at least one episode of
3. Post your answers

50. Quantum Leap
49. Prison Break
48. Veronica Mars
47. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
46. Sex & The City
45. Farscape
44. Cracker – saw all the UK ones, worked on the US one.
43. Star Trek
42. Only Fools and Horses
41. Band of Brothers
40. Life on Mars
39. Monty Python's Flying Circus
38. Curb Your Enthusiasm
37. Star Trek: The Next Generation
36. Father Ted
35. Alias
34. Frasier
33. CSI: Las Vegas
32. Babylon 5
31. Deadwood
30. Dexter
29. ER – well not the last two years . . . can’t get past the shark . . .
28. Fawlty Towers
27. Six Feet Under
26. Red Dwarf
25. Futurama
24. Twin Peaks
23. The Office
22. The Shield
21. Angel
20. Blackadder
19. Scrubs
18. Arrested Development
17. South Park
16. Doctor Who
15. Heroes
14. Firefly
13. Battlestar Galactica
12. Family Guy
11. Seinfeld
10. Spaced
09. The X-Files - all the Mulder ones

08. The Wire
07. Friends
06. 24
05. Lost – no matter how much OTHERS like it
04. The West Wing
03. The Sopranos
02. Buffy the Vampire Slayer – I know, it’s odd – but I’ve never seen “It’s a Wonderful Life” either
01. The Simpsons

I wanna play!

I'll take any sentence.

I'm loving all the drabbles being created.

Just the medicine for my bad bad infection of a life right now . . .

Am equal opportunity drabbler, too.

Will write for S/H, H/W, P/D, Jack/Ianto, C/L (just kidding, Susan! - but really, what you got against the femslash I wanna know!)

My nephew is reading Spiderman comic, watching iCarly, and putting together a Bionicle. I am superflous and need my own project.

Today we channel David M. Starsky . . . because he would NEVER turn down a bad cookie . . .

And today we make our loved ones insane.
Because we have pressure between our shoulders like a Road Runner anvil drop.
And we have fears like a kid who accidentally got lost in the world of Nightmare on Elm St Five,
when he's already seen 1-4 and KNOWS what's gonna happen . . .
And we have doubts like Jack Bauer feels when CTU tells him everything's going to be alright.
And we have hopes like . . . well, they're high. That's all I'm sayin . . .

The question is:

How far can Starsky push Hutch before Hutch puts rat poison in his root beer?
Just wonderin . . .

So I have become increasingly disgruntled at my place of livelihood - a misnomer if there ever was one. And the disgruntlement does not stem from the usual job-related sturm und drang - because I love my boss, enjoy my co-workers, believe in the "product" and can write crack and fic most days . . .

It all comes down to personal worth and how many hours of life are left and how many I really have to waste on pushing papers around a desk or tapping out figures or smiling when I want to howl. That's all.

Beverly Rollwagen wrote it better. This is from her poetry collection, "She Just Wants" from Nodin Press.
It's simple. And perfect. Just the way poems should be.

Employed

She just wants to be employed
for eight hours a day. She is not
interested in a career; she wants a job
with a paycheck and free parking. She
does not want to carry a briefcase filled
with important papers to read after
dinner; she does not want to return
phone calls. When she gets home, she
wants to kick off her shoes and waltz
around her kitchen singing, "I am a piece
of work."

sigh . . . and then to prove that I really just need to sit ALL DAY and string words together, she writes this and I have to lie down and contemplate the way a sentence whittled down to its essence is just about the most perfect creation in the world.

Essential

She just wants to keep her essential
sorrow. Everyone wants her to
be happy all the time, but she doesn't
want that for them. There is value in
the thread of sadness in each person.
The sobbing child on an airplane, the
unhappy woman waiting by the phone,
a man staring out the window past his
wife. A violin plays through all of them,
one long note held at the beginning and
the end.

TGIF, y'all

I mean, come ON!
Are you people serious?
Give me a f***ing break.

Did I miss the archangels singing?
Did I misplace the ascension memo?
Gabriel, did you blow your horn?

Okay, passive aggressive convoluted rant over . . . thank you. LJ as steam valve seems to work.

So, in unrelated traumas and tribulations of the post modern woman . . .

( it's all under here . . )

or any bad deity you choose . . .

it's really not fair I have to work. Cuz the building forgot to put on the heat and it's like 15 degrees outside and the post office is
closed and the Silver Spoon - gag o licious lunch place - is closed so I am forced to eat saltines and a year old can of soup . . .

and the Panto is over and I can't finish any of the House stories I've started - I think it's cuz it's not on TV right now - pout.

and there are rumors that the boys are going to show up at the same time at the same place soon . . . and I don't have time to report the crack.

and the AUDITOR is here at work and I know she's gonna discover thousands of errors and I will be compelled to admit it's
all because of my at work crack writing . . .

wow, that was a whinomatic whining whine fest. I feel better. And I should go read Susan's What If entry . . . cuz she has my favorite permed to the gills asshole of a character that I love love love in it . . . so happy . . .

Current Mood: moody
Current Location: chained to the desk
Current Music: Joni Mitchell's Shine

So I was cursed with a holiday birthday. Cursed. For the first few years of my life, I either had measles or chicken pox on my birthday. The year I finally got my Easy Bake Oven, I couldn't play with it cuz my mother the nurse didn't want me baking tiny bacteria cupcakes under that lightbulb. So my uncle used up all the little powder packages to make a huge cookie.

When I got older, I always had to have my birthday party WAY after my birthday since no one was in school and most parents were either hungover or watching football and couldn't be driving their kiddies down to Shakees Pizza . . .

When I got even older, the birthday became the finale of the New Year's Eve party. Midnight, kiss, kiss, bring out cake, sing happy birthday, eat cake, try to sober up, drive home . . . whoooo hooooo

So on my 40th birthday, I took off. To NYC. By myself. Best decision I ever made (except when I decided not to shave one side of my head and color it purple - hey it was the 80s okay?!)

I stood in a line at a real live deli on the Upper West side on the night of my birthday and my best friend called me and then I realized that Anthony Michael Hall was right behind me in line . . . And I saw Hugh Jackman in Boy From Oz and the last weekend of Take Me Out and Patrick Stewart in The Caretaker and I swore to never be home on my birthday again.

So this year (and last year) I've gone international. To Canada. And this year it snowed like it snows in On The Banks of Plum Creek when Pa had to eat all the Christmas candy cuz he got stuck in the snow bank and he was only able to save the oysters cuz they were in a can and I sat by the fire and I drank Bailey's and I turned another year older and I hardly noticed a thing. And it was perfect.

The problem is that I like it better when I'm on control of things. It's the Capricorn in me. Plus I'm a first born born on the first. Of the month. Of the year. Of everything. So I can't really help it.

And now I have to try, in the next few months, to give up, well LOADS OF CONTROL. Throw caution to the wind and throw in with another and leap empty handed into the void and make a left hand turn from the right hand lane. And it's just about as scary as finding my way from Charles De Galle airport to a hostel in the middle of Paris in the middle of the night with no map, no french money and no french words except the chorus of Lady Marmalade. But that turned out okay.

So I'll just make the decision to spend most days alternating between terror and terpsichory and be grateful that the void is there to leap screaming into.

Or something like that. I think I'm gonna have to write a lot of CRACK.

Okay, so the district attorney's office (or city prosecutor - whatever) has been sending letters, with the idea of building a case against the Torino Thief, right?

And we are getting a little more info, a clearer picture of the events surrounding that tragic morning, right?

So last night I got a little info that makes the whole case WAY MORE CLEARER.

For you see, the perp/thief/dumbass might just have a motive in this case. For you see, the perp/thief/dumbass just happens to be . . . a deaf mute. Yes, that's right - a deaf mute. Now Rebel and EH's episode review this week aside, I happen to subscribe to the theory that I just might have stumbled onto whatever happened to:

Cute kitten and a long career as character actor and voice over professional aside, I do believe this crime was not random at all, but a not so well thought out, very poorly executed act of REVENGE.

Here are my facts:

The deaf mute part.
The candy bar wrappers found in the front seat of my parent's car. HELLO!
The missing cane. ( For RC's bad hip - HELLO!)
The obvious signs of an accomplice, which one can only draw the conclusion, must be this guy:

Don't let his police background on Cagney and Lacey plus countless other cop shows during the last 30 years dissuade you. Just remember - this man was on two episodes of UNSUB, which also starred a certain finger pointing blond Torino passenger - okay?!

I believe this man has my TORINO! Maybe he was still sore for all the unnecessary harrassment from our boys. Maybe he was mad he didn't let them drive him home that day and then something happened on the bus that has made him scared of public transportation since. Maybe he's just MEAN.

I don't know. I'm not here to get to the whys. I do the whos. And this is who. Schwooo.

I'll probably get keys to the city. Or at least free parking for life. Whatever.

So my parents, who live in the "safe suburbs", got their car stolen. Out of their garage.
But, they have ONSTAR. So an exciting police chase ensued. Cuz they immediately called ONSTAR and located the car driving through a different safe suburb. Which, of course, ended with the "perp" (yes it does sound odd coming out of my mother's mouth) wrecking the car into a tree.

So while all this is scary and exciting, considering I was spending the night at the parents and had to wake up at 6am with the rest of them when my mother discovered the missing auto, the worst part was:

THEY STOLE MY TORINO.

Right out of the trunk of MY CAR. Which was sitting in the driveway in front of the house. Which no one would want to steal, but they found the need to rifle through the contents and then

TOOK THE TORINO! The famous one - from the summer roadtrip. Bastard burgler stealer thiefs!

So when the guy was caught - NO TORINO.

Where is it? There must have been an ACCOMPLICE. A passenger. A partner in crime.

But, I'm over it. Cuz my sweet peaches won me another on on EBAY. Ahhhhhh, sweet peaches.

So now my parents are fortifying their house like, well, not to wax too cliche but, FORT KNOX.

And my 8 year old niece is having nightmares about people getting in her house.
And my 3 year old niece thinks that Jesus will get them cuz, according to her,
"Jesus puts people in jail for being bad"
And my 9 year old nephew thinks if the burglar had a nice family, and a job,
he might not need our car.

And that is the entire American pysche all neatly tied up in a red, white and blue ribbon:

Fear and misguided religious zeal tempered with a pinch of compassion and universalistic leanings.

But, I am proud to say, they did manage to work up some healthy vengeful
thoughts over the TORINO.

Smart kids.

. . . because they present the MOST unrealistic picture of how theatre works in the real world. You are never, ever going to play Eliza Doolittle, Blanche Dubois, and Lady Macbeth in the same year. EVER. You are never going to get EVERY role you audition for. EVER. We all kinda know that , though - right? We know that those brave souls who head to New York or LA or Chicago or Kansas City or wherever - their back is UP AGAINST IT - HARD.

We've all seen the after school specials and the Lifetime movies and the A&E documentaries. It's part of the allure, that cautionary tale of trying to make it in the theatre or the BIZ, right?

So most of us head to real life and love and friendship and family and despair and hope and everything in between that comes with that life so real and we take jobs at Bass Pro Shop, even though we are anti- shooting big weapons at living things because we need to have a JOB, and we work at less than glamorous desks and cubicles so that we can be off at 4 to be at the kids soccer games, and we work three different jobs so that we can go on vacations to Europe or Hawaii or Colorado . . .

and it's all good, right?!

WRONG. Because just this week I have interviewed scores of people who said the exact thing same when asked why they want this menial little low paying job I have to offer when they have a perfectly good medium paying job already:

"I have always wanted to get back into theatre . . . OR . . . I just love "the theatre" and have missed it . . ."

and the JOB is actually to answer phones and mail tickets and pick up dry cleaning . . .

and I have decided that it's because HIGH SCHOOL THEATRE PROGRAMS are like crystal meth . . . leeching into your pores forever, and just when you think you're good - you don't ever have to have a hit off that pipe again, a crystallized memory of how the lights made the dust look like stars when you flipped on the ghost light, or how the wings smelled when 25 rats marched off during Nutcracker, or how you had your first kiss up in the catwalks, or how you fit 12 people into the booth at Pizza Hut for the cast party . . . it slams you against the wall and you head off in your "interview suit" and your way overqualified resume and you hope against hope that this is going to be your BIG BREAK.

Nothing else in high school does this. You don't go through life with the nagging feeling that if you just joined a choral group or chess team, your life would double it's meaning. No one EVER mentions any other high school activity in their REAL WORLD job interviews, do they? When they're 43 and have had 22 jobs since the first one at Hardees where they shoved ham and cheese out the drive-thru window to their friends and quit one weekend cuz they wanted to go to Pizza Hut for the cast party, do they?

On the other hand . . . those carefully hidden dreams are why you sit in that cubicle with smiley face post-it notes reminding you to purge old authorizations and spell out terrace and avenue and street . . . because I guess unless you are one of the lucky ones who find a vocation or career that doesn't require luck, kismet, and excellent bone structure - like doctor and lawyer and president of the united states - you spend much of your life working somewhere while dreaming of working somewhere else . . .

it's all so complicated, isn't it? In a good way.

Gotta go, I hear Starbucks is hiring - and they offer a free pound of coffee every week to employees, which would really come in handy as I'm up all night writing the next GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL . . .

Got tagged by the fabulous

callisto65 - here be the answers:

1 What's your favourite Welsh word/expression?

Well, I am partial to "bachgen" of course but one of my favorite expression would have to be:

Daw Haul ar Fryn, which translates to "Comes the Sun to the hill" and which means things are bound to improve. My grandpa used to say it alot.

2 What's the smell that takes you instantly back to a happy childhood memory?

Lilacs or pipe smoke. Hiding under big lilac bushes or taking walks with my grandpa.

3 Favourite AU in any fandom you've read in.

Gentlemen Start Your Engines always comes to mind - just hooked me so far in.

4 What's the best performance you've seen in the theatre?

It's a tie between Hugh Jackman in "Boy From Oz" and Patrick Stewart in his one man "Christmas Carol"

5 Name a fandom you can never see yourself reading or writing in.

I can't write Torchwood and don't really read it - although I adore the show. Also Emergency - loved the show - can't read the fic.

on my friend's show where he had people come on and tell a story about a song that
was significant in their lives and then he played the song. It was really great.
Some of the songs were Carole King and Joni Mitchell and Evelyn Champagne King.
And Tchaikovsky . . . and mine of course was David Soul . . .

So my nearest and dearest told me to post it. Cuz the general population probably didn't
get the subtle nuance of a good Torino joke . . .

Who knew when I bought my first Huggy apple hat, that I'd be buying another one 30 years later . . .

( Don't Give Up On Us . . . )

Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Noel Coward - Sail Away

So I've had this little journal for a while and never really used it as a journal. And peeps like moonie write such great blogs about fish and spring and swollen hands and I cannot for the life of me finish my damn "first ever in the whole wide world House/Starsky Hutch Crossover" and I don't have a good emoticon and I am now working in a real grown-up job (which, much to my dismay, does not necessarily come with the big grown-up salary) and my monitor at home broke and so I now have one from 1997 that is so big that me and my keyboard have no room on the desk and my back revolted and decided that it felt much better lying down plus I needed real live Vicodin research to truly channel Dr.McGrumpy and so I had to miss many days of said grown-up job (which, apparently, doesn't go over so well with the other grown-ups) and it WAS spring and now it's not and my tulips are howling from frostbite and my lavendar lies listless on the lip of the ledge (snerk - alliterate much?) and yet love reigns supreme and I'm headed to another country to meet a certain someone in a 4 star hotel for room service and spa treatments and even though I have no idea how the whole thing is going to turn out, and to steal the words of the wordiest wordsmith of the Victorian word . . . "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man."

And I wanna write sappy SH drabbles all about love and romance and finally figuring out that what you want is right beside you and good things come to those who wait, but I abhor cliche and yet I seem to be a big ol walking Hallmark card of late and this will never do if I want to ever write a House fic again cuz Hallmark and House do not EVER go together, unless he's drunk and in bed with Wilson, but that's a whole other story and so I am left with a single question:

What does one get for someone for a less than 6 month anniversary?

Current Mood: working
Current Location: my office
Current Music: and so it goes - Billy Joel

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peg22

March 2014

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Page Summary

Room Widda View
Happy Birthday Lyrical Soul!
Interview Meme . . .
Monday Monday . . .
TV Meme, Cuz it's Saturday night . . .
Wanted: A Drabble Sentence
A Bad Cookie is Still a Cookie . . .
TGIF and the need for poems
Irked, peeved, and slightly miffed . . .
two things and a monday from the devil . . .
Birthdays, Capricorns and Expectations
They Took the Torino - An Update
They Took The Torino . . . and other irritations
An observational rant: High school theatre programs ruin lives . . .
Questions Answered . . .
So I was on the radio the other day . . .
Because it's Here . . .

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Entries tagged with life

Room Widda View

Happy Birthday Lyrical Soul!

Interview Meme . . .

Monday Monday . . .

TV Meme, Cuz it's Saturday night . . .

Wanted: A Drabble Sentence

A Bad Cookie is Still a Cookie . . .

TGIF and the need for poems

Irked, peeved, and slightly miffed . . .

two things and a monday from the devil . . .

Birthdays, Capricorns and Expectations

They Took the Torino - An Update

They Took The Torino . . . and other irritations

An observational rant: High school theatre programs ruin lives . . .

Questions Answered . . .

So I was on the radio the other day . . .

Because it's Here . . .