C is for ...

... C U Next Tuesday.

Yes, it is.  It really, really is.  The best thing about this acronym is that I only found out about it two weeks ago (thanks cooler friends!).  Not that it would have changed my life any beforehand, but some things are just good to know, you know?

I don't have a real problem or issue with C U Next Tuesday as a swear word.  I don't at all have a problem with swearing.  I've long dispatched with the parochial notion that those who swear have a limited vocabulary or lack the skills of expression.  Please.  Do you really think "Please stop that, you are bothering me" bears the same resonance as "Fuck off, bitch."  Exactly.  It's clear and direct and when used properly, swearing really gets your point across and hard.  I'm all for it.

That said, there are words that really and truly rile people up.  C U Next Tuesday is absolutely one of those words for most people but not for me.  That doesn't mean I use it.  I don't think I've really ever uttered it, and the reason is quite simple:  as a word, in and of itself, it doesn't sound pleasing to my ears.  It's harsh and cutting and guttural and just off.  It sounds so German.  Now, don't take offence!  Germans may have cornered the market on automobiles, motorbikes, general organization and ruling Europe but you must admit that the sound of their language just blows.  I have a similar thing with the word 'couch'.  I hate the sound of it so much I try and replace it with 'sofa' or 'chesterfield' or simply point, but then people think I'm a pretentious Brit - wannabe or a mute.  So I cringe - speak couch.  (I shudder even writing it. Blech.)

It would be wonderful if all the words we said could somehow sound good.  I'm certain this wouldn't reduce the harshness of feeling in what is sometimes actually being said, but maybe it would lessen the blow. The framing would be better.  Sort of like when you see a movie that really wasn't very good but the popcorn was top notch and the soundtrack rocking - your time wasn't completely wasted.  It wasn't that bad.

It's a complex little puzzle, isn't it:  fitting proper sounds into sentences so not only is our point well made but what's being said - without meaning - flows and almost sings, so even those who don't understand English simply hear metered poetry in perfect little beats. Which is why it's a bit of a shame that the English languages' other most vilifying word, well, sounds rather good.  Wait.  WAIT.  When taken without context,  meaning or backstory this word (you know what word) does have a little sing-song easy rhyme quality that my ear finds somewhat appealing.  Well, too bad for me.  I'm not so focused on beats and rhythms and sounds that I can or will ignore the realities of respect and sensibility. Obviously.

As if we don't have it hard enough.  Thinking of what to say and how to say it and when is the best time and is it okay?  Is what we're saying okay?  I'm telling you we should also be thinking of how what we're saying actually sounds.  What a little C U Next Tuesday I am.  My soul isn't offended if you think so, but my ears sure will be if you tell me I am.

C is for C U Next Tuesday.

B is for ...

... Brussels, Bruges, Bilbao - BOO YAH!

YES, math people, I know that is way more than one word, but when I think of the letter B right now, my brain just brims with the kind of excitement only little girls with ponies know about.

In a few short weeks I'll be heading to all these wondrous places visiting wondrous people.  Coming along with me is a wondrous new friend.  The genesis of this little trip is pretty typical for me, but amazing just the same.

I'll take you back to my most favourite time of year, TIFF, where one of my oldest & dearest friends and I met two of the most hilarious and lovely people anyone could hope to meet.  Since that night, there have been movies and dinners and lectures and emails and laughs galore.  Laughs, laughs galore.  We all know the world is small, and of course we share mutual friends, one of whom lives in ... San Sebastian, Spain.

Over dinner one night, New Friend suggested we go visit Mutual Friend.  To which I responded, YES!  WE MUST!  Old Friend, well schooled in the ways of Olga simply said to New Friend "You know you have to go now.  That's the way she is."  And so, a few weeks later tickets were booked and off we go ... with a pit stop to visit yet another wondrous soul who you first read about here http://curiousyetdelicious.blogspot.ca/2011/05/zadow-rocks.html.  I mean, come on! 

We're going to Carnavale (I need a costume, help!) and the ciderhouse and the thermal baths and a top - Michelin Guide rated restaurant.  We're going to see the Guggenheim and a Glen Hansard concert and an opera.  We're going to stay in some of the most luxurious hotels I've ever internet searched.  We are going to eat lots of tapas and chocolate and cheese and frites.  I'll be eating all those frites with lots of moules.  Best?  We're going to Bruges!  We are going to be IN Bruges!  And, once it's all done and our suitcases are full of chocolate, we will come home and revel in our photographs (damn, that new camera better get here soon!) and our own ability to just DO, not to think and ponder and wonder but to DO. 

I'm lucky I'm able to DO things.  I'm lucky to find people along my way who want to DO things too. 

Is it time yet? Can we go now?!

B is for Brussels, Bruges, Bilbao - BOO YAH!

A is for ...

... Apple.


A is for Apple,
J is for Jacks,
Cinnamon Toasted Apple Jacks.

You need a good breakfast,
that's a fact.
And you start it off with Apple Jacks.

If you're of a certain age (mine), you're likely singing now.  You're singing just like this:

The infectiousness of a jingle is unreal, isn't it?  How - some 30+ years later - I am and will always be humming this little ditty when I hear the word "apple". 

Is the power that of song?  silliness?  subliminal?

Whatever it is, so be it.  It's pitch perfect nostalgia, taking you back to times and places so crisply, so succinctly, in ways mere words, descriptions and explanations cannot.  Perhaps it's not working quite as the Madison Avenue folks would like as I've never bought a box of Cinnamon Toasted Apple Jacks in my life, nor could I ever get my Mom to (we were a Honeycombs & Corn Flakes household), but somehow I think they'd be happy to know that I'm still singing this tune, and smiling in my memories, oh so many years later.

A is for Apple.

Alphabet City

Happy Anniversary!

Say what?  Happy Anniversary, I say!

We've been together almost two years now - you, me, this blog.  Two years.  Yikes and wow.  As I mentioned in my New Year's post, I'm not one for reflection, so I'm not going to tell you about all the things I learned about myself while writing about 'stuff'.  (Because if you read the blog you'll know I learn nothing.).  What I will say I've discovered is that the challenge for me has never been the actual writing, the challenge has been what to write about.  I write like I talk.  I can talk about anything.  Just about everything gets me going.  In light of that, how do you decide?  It's so hard to decide!  So, in an effort to limit options and possibilities I'm turning my topic conundrum over to the alphabet.

The Alphabet?

Say what?  The Alphabet, I say!

I'm starting with A and ending with Z for the next 26 posts.  The first word that pops into my head that starts with the letter of the day is what I'll write about.  Isn't that fun?  Hmm...this seemed like a better idea when it was actually in my head.  Oh well.  Here goes.  It's only 26 posts.  Who knows what will happen.  We may get literal, existential, silly or just plain weird.  Come on!  We've been together for TWO YEARS are you really going to just leave me now? Over this little thing?  Yeah, I didn't think so.

Stay tuned for Alphabet City.

A is for Awesome, just like all of you.

Day One ...

"We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day." 

-Edith Lovejoy Pierce


2013 will be all you want it to be. 

 Go Get 'Em, Tigers. xxoo.

New

Well, here we are counting down the last hours of 2012 and thoughts undoubtedly turn to reflection of what has past, and dreams of what's to come.

I'm not really one for reflection.  No, really, I'm not.  I don't learn from my mistakes, and this isn't to mean that I make the same ones again and again all the time but I am my way and when you're your way and you know you're your way you're going to act your way regardless of what comes your way.  I am good with this.  Very, very good. 

In light of this, I wonder what I've learned this year?  Well, not much really.  What have I reaffirmed this year?  Plenty.  Oh yes, plenty.  I've reaffirmed that I can be a class A pushover, but only because I am strong and confident in myself.  I've reaffirmed that crying at movies doesn't mean you are sensitive, kind or thoughtful.  I've reaffirmed that my hair will never let me down.  I've reaffirmed that I am happiest when I push myself to places that I didn't think I wanted to go.  I've reaffirmed that while words are powerful, they mean less than zero if they are not backed by deed. I've reaffirmed that every ounce of willpower I know I possess somehow escapes me when I am looking at a piece of cake.  I've reaffirmed that I am not a give - up type of person.  I've reaffirmed that I can be just as foolish with my heart as I am with my money.  I've reaffirmed that the knee length boot is my Holy Grail of footwear - damn you calves!  I've reaffirmed that when you've gone through a tremendous and painful loss, it is ever harder to let go.  I've reaffirmed that the best people in your life are not the "I told you so's" but the "we get it's".  I've reaffirmed that I overanalyse like a MOFO.  I've reaffirmed Ben Wyatt & Leslie Knope forever! I've reaffirmed that life's greatest lessons come where you least expect them, thank you, Improv.

Most of all, I've reaffirmed that despite a year, well, actually, a life, of ups and downs and all arounds I have nothing to really and truly complain or gripe about.  I'm good.  More than good.  I am lucky. 

Was 2012 a bad year?  A  good year?  I'd say it was just like any other year - full of those ups and downs and all arounds.  It brought challenges and tears and heartaches and laughter and dancing and travels and friends and family and goodbyes and hellos just like every other year does.  It's how you look at all those things that make a year good, bad or special.

I want more of the same for 2013 - the good and bad, but mostly the good, of course.  I want to run myself a little less ragged and learn to make perfect pastry.  (I think I will accomplish one of these things).  I want to see lots of movies.  I want to enjoy my year of S travel in San Sebastian & South Africa and I want to continue my Holy Grail pursuit of those blasted boots.  I want to share in people's joy and be there in their sorrow and know that these people will also be there for me.  I want to be a better writer and a better improvisor.  I want to continue challenging myself.  I want to try and stop pushing my narrative so hard.  I want to stay healthy.  So, basically, I want more of the same.  Who needs new when what you have is pretty damn amazing?  Exactly.  And for you, I want all the things you want for yourself because you deserve them. 

Happy New Year, xxoo.

Cheater

I haven't done this before, I'm feeling a bit self-conscious.  Like, have I got nothing left?  Am I all used up?  Have I become prose-silent?

Nah, it's just that sometimes other people can say things better than you can.  They somehow seem to get you, so much so it's like you're reading YOU.  So, here we go kids, I'm re-blogging:

"I miss the Daytimer.

The Daytimer was one of the many casualties of the internet/smartphone era. I’ve never kept a journal or a diary but I was a devout Daytimer user. Recently during a visit to my parents’ storage locker, I found my 1998 Daytimer. The entire year came back to me through appointment entries, notes to self, receipts, photo booth pictures, to-do lists, and phone numbers; I remembered everything: what I wore, what movies I saw, who I saw them with, why my boyfriend sucked, specific days at work, where I sat, what was said at team meetings… all of it. And just from quick entries, a few words here and there with no proper sentences. But they were enough to trigger the memories.

Right now, if you were to ask me what I did last month, I couldn’t tell you. And I carry two smartphones, each, obviously, with a calendar function.

You know why?

Technology moves us forward, only. We don’t flip BACK through electronic calendars. And we certainly don’t populate them with our personalities the way we did in our Daytimers. I used to flip through my Daytimer on the subway, both to get organised but also as a sort of self-indulgence sometimes to relive a fond memory. An electronic calendar simply tells you where you have to be and when. It doesn’t encourage you to preserve how you were then, or why you were going, and what you hoped for at the time.

My Daytimer used to be a source of pride. It was black leather, and heavy; it felt substantial, and when I carried it around or set it down, the act of dragging the zipper along the edge to open up the contents felt important, like nothing that went in or came out was insignificant, a permanent record, a clue for my future self. I haven’t kept a Daytimer in over 10 years. Have I lost 10 years of clues?  

This, then, is my New Year’s Resolution: I’m going back to keeping a Daytimer. I may not have to write down phone numbers anymore but I can certainly remind myself how comfortable the cushions are in the corner booth at the restaurant where I just had lunch, and keep the cocktail napkin because I like the font they used in the logo, and looking at that later, I might remember how we laughed about how annoyed the server was when we kept asking to refill our snack tray so that we could save money on an appetiser and only order an entree.

I’m so excited about this, I’m already making plans for me and my Daytimer like it’s a relationship. Together, my Daytimer and I are going to help me manage my schedule and get into shape. We’ll be documenting everything I eat, and my workout schedule. We’ll also be making work lists and travel itineraries. We will never forget a birthday or a song that needs to be downloaded. We will keep track of the cost per wear of all my shoes. We will look back at show tickets and score cards and celebrate a year full of culture and golf. We are going to be there for each other all the time. We will be so organised. We can’t wait to tell you all about it in 12 months. We have already made a note of this.

Happy New Year!"*

Long live paper! 

Thank you, Lainey.  Thank you for validating my black book.  My black book that rules my social life and in general life.  Where birthdays are written in RED and plans are set in pencil (I'm not non-commital, just busy!).  My black book that I buy new re-fills for and keep all-filled ones forever and ever. 

It's nice to know we are not alone.

*http://vitaminwatercanada.tumblr.com/

Thank you, Lainey.