The Art of Conversation.
Phone blog. Went to the dental lab so they could do a colour match for my permanent crown. Until looking at the seemingly chewing tobacco-stained samples they held up to my mouth, I had never, ever considered teeth-bleaching a good idea.
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Post-sushi intellectual discourse:
R: Where's he from?
M: I think his name's Italian.
R: Really? Baio? I don't know.
M: I think it is.
R: Nyuh-uh.
M: And why are you calling him 'Scott Bye-o'? I'm sure he says it 'Bay-o.'
R: We're not that close.
Better Living Through Dentistry.
Off to get a temporary crown, something that's been long-delayed because my dentist is very slowly retiring and has too many patients for the hours he works. Should make for a horrible morning. But I'm having pie for breakfast, so it won't be an entirely wasted day.
Here are some people having Gale-Force winds being blown directly at their faces.
Dealing with luteality.
Discussing lady troubles is, well, troubling to some, but can we talk about what a fucking disaster I am when PMS strikes hard?
I missed dragonboat practice because I got into a zen state while gardening and lost track of time.
My jeans are all bit-and-butt crushing because of bloat. (Bloating at a time when one is particularly irrational and invulnerable is just really fucking unfair).
And, to top it off, I have literally been looking at the wrong Wednesday of the calendar since Sunday. I am at work at 7:30am because of a rental. Except there is no rental today. It is on a different Wednesday. I swear, I need a babysitter for at least a couple of days a month.
The bright side is that it means I'm out of here at 3:30pm. But red-faced with shame over my own idiocy.
Befuddlement.
(Actually, I know plenty about it.)
I am already at work, having been to the chiropractor and out for breakfast, so this entry will be short, sweet, and mean. I posted this on Twitter earlier too, so it's repetitive as well. But I saw this flyer in Fifth Avenue Court that some kind/cruel individual saw to correct at length.
Doc Martin.
Very few original thoughts in my head this morning. Example: The weather's so great that it's depressing to think I have to go to work today.
Did have a dream that involved being in a detective agency with Muppets, animatronic creatures, and Martin Clunes, though. I rode around on a wooden thing that looked like a Segway. It was confiscated by a witchy woman who ran the canteen in the grubby stone building where the agency was. To win it back, I had to play a game where I had to throw/roll a red ball (like boules, but, y'know, red), then try to bounce pompoms off that ball to whack my friends (who were lined up against a wall at the back). It was fucking difficult, let me tell you, especially with lead dream arms. I also remember having to throw out some fermented spirulina concoction because the mold on it was the wrong shade of blue.
At one point, Mr Clunes leapt out of a window and onto the sidewalk/pavement in order to avoid talking to everyone. Impressively, he didn't do a wanky three-point landing. Very nicely done.
I then woke up, explained some of this to friends in a secondary dream (they didn't understand the wooden Segway), then woke up for real.
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Anyone have kettle recommendations? Ours is kaput - bent prongs and melted bits mean it either won't turn on (or stay on, depending on its mood?). It had a good run, but will be missed.
Being human.
It's Mothers' Day, per the greeting card industry in North America and Australia, and I don't have any mother figures in my life anymore. I'd rather salute my friends who are mothers on non-invented holidays, like most every other day of the year, but I so frequently forget to. Mums are pretty great, though. So hooray for them! Your kids are very lucky to have you.
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I sometimes complain about living in a bubble. I do quite often. I like going to pubs to read, for example. Or spend my evenings catching up on television by myself. Occasionally, I get frustrated because I don't meet new people that often and that I am never approached by men. I am trying to mute my fuck-off-and-leave-me-alone demeanor (which is not always intentional). It has almost worked.
Twice in the last few weeks, someone has approached me in a bar. In one case, the bartender in a place where I was the only patron and the second on a patio in Centretown where I was alone on the patio. In both cases, the gentleman in question asked what I was reading. In both cases, they ended the conversation fairly abruptly and went about their business.
Yeah, okay, they were at work. One of the books was that history of 'Saturday Night Live' I was harping about recently. The dude asked if it talked about Chris Farley and Will Ferrell (even though I mentioned it was about the earliest days of SNL) and sounded disappointed that it didn't. I really tried to tone down my know-it-all voice and not say 'I SAID, it was about the early history. The 1970s. Capiche?' Succeeded in in the latter, but I guess I intimidated him anyway because he went quiet, then said 'Oh, okay', and buggered off.*
In the second case, I was revisiting, after several weeks off, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. The very handsome server came to sit at my table while we were waiting for the debit machine to be free, and asked me what I was reading. I explained, briefly, that it was about the first human cells that grew in a culture, but that they'd been taken without consent or compensation, that it was about race relations and class, but also science (that I didn't fully understand) and the development of drugs, and treatment plans, and all sorts of other things. His eyes got wide, then he got up and said that he was going to go check on the debit machine situation, even though he could clearly see that it was still in use from where he was sitting. (But came back and was very friendly about it, luckily.)
Now, serving staff need to be friendly and interested if they want big tips, so maybe this wasn't flirting at all, just mining for a bigger gratuity. However, I do wonder if it's because I'm still intimidating, or reading things that sound complicated and intellectual (they aren't particularly - also note how fecking long it took me to read either of these things), or sound too smart.
I didn't exactly want to pick up these men*, but attention is/was nice. I don't get much of it, at least not from non-homeless guys. I'm not even angry or bitter, just slightly perplexed. I wonder if the reactions would have been different if I was reading something a bit more recent or popular. Or if I could figure out how not to sound like a weirdo snob. Or learn to not look annoyed when people I don't know want to talk to me.
I am not the smartest person in the world, or even, possibly, in this room (I think the cat KNOWS things - and yes, he is a person, shuddup). I was always encouraged to show off (non-ostentatiously) my smarts by my very clever mother, but is that to the detriment of my romantic life? I do get argumentative sometimes, but mostly only if I know I'm absolutely right, and only rarely with strangers. But if a man is a blowhard, I think that's less scary to potential partners than when a woman is.
It's not clever or profound to trail things off without a conclusion, but, 700 words in, I literally am not sure where I'm going with this. But I've been noticing more and more that news articles tend to end with a one-line paragraph of pat, frequently treacly, 'conclusion' that is unnecessary. Here's my attempt:
Living in a bubble has exposed me to many wonders, shining iridescently through the soapy film.
* Interestingly(?), I went to this pub with a male friend yesterday for the first time in months, and only then did this dude mention his live-in girlfriend. Coincidence?
Quality time.
Oh, hey, I forgot to write a thing this morning, but don't have time to write the thing I wanted to, so go read this great thing about not being mean to fat people that Lindy West wrote for Jezebel instead.
Also, I've *almost* decided to go to Edinburgh in August. Any recommendations of non-bank-breaking accommodation (but not youth hostels - I like sleeping, and Edinburgh in August in a hostel is not ideal for that) are appreciated.
Fading Away.
Not an archivist and don't play one on TV, but the cuts to Library and Archives Canada are really getting me down.
Chinese proverbs/curses.
So, not long after I wrote that thing the other day about staying in shitty relationships (or, rather, advising people not to), two friends of mine broke up after many years together. The two events are unrelated (I don't think either reads this space regularly). But this is the fourth set of friends to separate after multiple years together (in one case, 11 years and three kids) in the last few months, and the folks I'm closest to of the bunch, so I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I can barely imagine how they're feeling.
And I am incredibly selfish right now, because I am so scared to talk to either party in this last situation because I don't know what to say. It's so much easier when it's a shorter term thing. Or one of the former couple if a total shit. Or if you're younger. All of these things make it easier to move on. Or to commiserate and say "Well, [x] is a total shit, so you're better off without them."
In all of these cases, though, the relationships (the romantic bits) all ended with completely good reason, but the couples were always much better off for having been together. There is resentment, yes, but no real animosity. Grown-up break-ups are the new phase in (some) friends' lives and I'm not adjusting well. Probably because my only significant relationship ended when I was still an undergraduate and I'm part-robot.
Oh, and that selfishness thing.
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Going to a cinema tonight for a This American Life event. I'm not even entirely sure what it entails, but we're going to a strip-mall chain restaurant/bar with stupidly named/blended cocktails (the 'Old School' Bellini has strawberry-guava juice and elderflower soda - just like at the Algonquin!) beforehand. Livin' the dream.