Sleeep

If there was such a thing as a Sleep Olympics I would be crowned uncontested Gold Medal Champion.  I am a championship sleeper – I can fall asleep anywhere, honestly.  I mean, right now I can close my eyes and fall into a deep slumber.  It’s something.  Sometimes great: power nap!  Sometimes not: I fell asleep when talking to someone on a train once.  This is obviously embarrassing and no real indication of the conversation at hand, the motion of anything is incredibly hypnotic to me so best you know that in case it happens in your presence. This time, really, it’s me not you. 

Combined with my ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice is the deepness of my sleep.  It’s deeeep.  I often wake up in the same position I fell asleep in, which is really handy because I only have to make one side of my bed.  I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams so when I do I get extremely excited and feel like the universe is sending me a message. Unfortunately the dream/universe/message I’ve been getting lately has been rather unsettling. I mean, True Blood – styles.  So, here it is:  I’m outside at a BBQ type function which is taking place on a riverbank of some sort.  There are actual BBQs, and tables with plates and cutlery and napkins on them but no other people, just big mean looking dogs or wolves.  The mean looking dog/wolves are drooling blood and they’ve been eat/killing each other and tipping over the BBQs.  I’m not in any actual danger, but I’m aware that things are not quite right.  Then, I wake up. 

Seriously.  This is the dream I’ve now had about 3 times in the last few months.  I’ve tried to figure out what it means but even a trusty Google Search can’t help with this one – it’s too much for Google! Independently, sure, there’s lots on dogs and wolves and rivers and blood and killing but ALL TOGETHER?  I mean, is this some sort of advanced PhD thesis on the dreams of the deeply troubled or what?  I initially thought it was because I’m openly judgemental of vegans but it can’t be that, can it?  Do you think someone is out to get me?  That’s possible, but honestly, who?  You!?  NO! I’m not totally freaking out about it, but I’m a bit concerned.  Well, only concerned when I let my brain go a little overboard with it.  Like now. 

Can someone help?  Interpret this dream in a way that doesn’t mean I’m crazy and we’ll have our own BBQ – well, actually hang on - I can’t have a BBQ.  I don’t own a BBQ.  Oh my.  Have I figured this out?  Are the dog wolves ME, hungrily lusting for some BBQ?  It seems rather extreme, but not all together impossible.  I do love me some BBQ and I miss me some BBQ living in my little box.  HELP: Can someone please invite me over for some grilled meat, please, pretty please and soon?  I’ll bring brownies and I promise not to fall asleep while you talk to me and we put an end to this madness and I get back to my nights of ignorant snoozing. 

Mmm … BBQ ... Mmm ... Sleep.

Oh, How I Love You, BBM

I've broken a barrier.  I'm in love with technology.  EEK!  Not any technology mind you, no, I'm in love with the most revolutionary communication tool since the invention of the telephone.

Blackberry Messenger

If for nothing else but the definitive one two punch of  confirming message delivery (d) AND message read (r).  I mean, heaven, right ?

There is no wonder, no confusion, nothing is ever lost in the ether. You got it, you've read it, so you reply.  Or, you've been in an accident, which is unfortunate but absolutely absolves you of your tardiness.

Admittedly, maybe not the best for the uber-impatient like me - I mean if you read my message and it's a simple question, what is taking you so long to reply?? - but it certainly stacks things up a bit clearer and leaves no room for error.  As if it couldn't get any better, BBM tells you when there's no signal for you (red box thing) or your recipient (blank) - more heaven, right ?

So, sure, your iPhone may look cooler than my Blackberry and that iPad may kick the Playbook's ass (although are you really using all those apps?) but I'll happily forego a round of Angry Birds (because I suck) and constellation identification (which I'm sure are lies anyway) for my handy d and r, thank you very much. Combined with my little Qwerty keyboard, it's really true love.  All in the palm of my hand.

Quotable - Part 6

“Just so you know, I’m taking a pass on her.”

                        Saturday June 4^th, 2011 – 2 Cats.

What a fellow told his buddy - about me, while I was standing right there - after I asked him if he would mind buying my friend a drink alongside the one he was offering to buy for me.  

On With The Show!

First Improv show* last night – I know, crazy right?!

On stage where anything can happen, thankfully nothing monumentally horrible did last night.  I think it’s mainly because one of our classmates didn’t show – he’s basically in Improv to legitimize his true calling as a world class pervert.  Talk about (cock) blocking.

So there we were, a merry band of amateur improvers using all the lessons we’ve been trying not to forget since January – No Thinking! Everything for the Why! Yes – And!  Don’t Negotiate!  No Questions! Feel Things! Listen! – we did a few skits got a few laughs and then watched as the more experienced crew took over.  

How was it?  FUN!  EXHILARATING! NOT COMPLETLEY EMBARRASSING!  People actually laughed (at intentionally funny things), I had a few zingers (what?me!I know!) and I think our skits were pretty good. Now, relax, I’m not turning into some late  blooming prima donna off to become the next Tina Fey (confession:  have dreamt of same) but I like this; I really, really do and for a world – class quitter like me that’s really saying something.  

More than that, though, this whole improv experiment tells me that even though I’m not life’s greatest risk taker and I get caught up in the little things and the planning and the impatience of needing to know all the time, I’m open to throwing myself into an environment that is polar opposite to all the things that typically define me.  And when I’m there I’m totally okay with it.  

Thank you, Improv.

*By show I mean a 30 minute workshop, so really, not such a big deal.

The Dress Down

I think I’ve found my new top pet peeve, or at least another to add to the list. 

Introducing, The Dress Down.

The dress down is that up / down look people (okay, FINE, girls) give you when you’re talking to them (I’m happy to provide a visual demonstration if you’re not getting it).  I believe it’s the female equivalent of the male “looking at your boobs”.    

So you’re talking to someone – new or known – and they’re not looking at you, they’re checking out what you’re wearing. 

I get dressed down all the time.  By the same two people.  At work.   I mean, WHY?  I may not be able to do many, many things but I think that maybe I can kinda sorta pull an outfit together that looks professional and nice and moderately stylish (if your style is not trendy or bohemian).  But, no, these two head honcho-type ladies give me The Dress Down every time they see me because I am blessed with them working on my floor.  What are you looking for?  A flagrant fashion foul?  A break in dress code?  Guilty!  I am not wearing hose & close-toed shoes in summer, nor is my own staff.  Write me up, lady, but don’t insult me.  I’m no Runway to Realway fashion plate but I match.  Nothing is ripped, stained, overtly ugly or inappropriate.  What are you doing?!  Leave me alone!  Stop dressing me down, bitch. 

Yes, I said it.  It is totally a bitch move and I hate it.  At least when guys stare at your boobs they don’t have any of their own to look at.  I doubt my shift dress is as fascinating to these ladies.  I know they’re looking for something wrong and mock-able.  I wish they’d go find the ammo for these requisite catty conversations elsewhere because every time this happens I’m reminded that regardless of how far women have come in society (we can vote!) and the workplace (we’re in charge!) we’re never, ever far away from the shenanigans of the high school washroom.  Pathetic, right?  Yes, it totally is.

Emotional Rescue

I've written about the emotion work we're doing in Improv, how on a dime we're to turn happy / sad / angry / lustful in a scene to play for laughs or simply feeling.

This is rather hard, but not too bad - they're manufactured emotions after all. The reason behind exploring emotions is without them in a scene, nobody's vested. It's one big "who cares?" from the players right down to the audience - without feelings and emotions there is no caring, nothing matters so why are we watching?

We all suppress emotions, especially those tough, painful ones that may leave us vulnerable or somehow different than we were before. Without them, though, we become apathetic creatures guided by indifference.  No one cares, nothing matters, so why are we living? 

Our emotions drive us to what matters and what is worth caring about viscerally and honestly.  We need to honour them so we can care, matter and live.  What comes out of this internal dialogue may not be what you want but it could be what you (eventually) need.

Listen to yourself.

Quotable - Part 5

"Stop passing yourself off as a rockstar when you're actually a roadie."

                           M. Osborn, FCP Concourse, Tuesday May 31st, 2011.