more paid sick days, please

But really, I'm happy to get any at all. At my workplace I get 7 a year. I usually have used them up by, well, March. I've always very easily caught viruses and worried obsessively about said ability to catch viruses so quickly and easily. I remember the year 2000, the first year I taught ESL full time. Yikes - that was a heck of a year - six bad viruses in 6 months. Two bouts of laryngitis, two stomach flu situations - that sucked. Prior to 2000, I'll have you know wee fan base, I hadn't had the stomach flu - well, the yucky vomiting type - in 16 years. I was going for a world record and bang. I was living with roommates at the time and it hit me in the middle of the night. I hadn't had it in so long I forgot about the rising temperature, the fainting feeling. So I raced into my mothering type roommate Dixie's room and said, "Dixie, I think I'm going to -" I'll never forget that she streaked up from bed - naked as the day she was born some 56 years earlier. i didn't really register that at the time as I felt so lousy. Then I barfed all lover her magazines, which she didn't note for a few months apparently. Thanks, Dixie, you were very helpful.
2007 has been a bad year already. I've, as of today, used up 4 of my 7 days. Aargh. It was only a month ago that I had that awful intestinal thing. Well last night I started feeling - you know, phlegmy and muscle achy and weak so I took today off of work. aargh. I'm coughing a bit, have some stomach things and feel generally crappy. This virus is really going around though so i'm not surprised. of course i was so worried about it that i slept poorly, adding to it. anyway, i drove to north van earlier tonight where my doctor is - not as far as it sounds, only about 15 minutes from my place. I know it's a virus but I want to be well for my trip next week. I'm just on the tip of this flu so she gave me a prescription for Tamiflu. I wouldn't normally take a virus inhibitor - particularly since I'm also taking anti-malarials right now for my trip - but if it shortens the course of things, then great. one pill a day with food for 10 days. this i can do. again, i'm sure my wee fan base has heard that Tamiflu is being implicated in the suicide deaths of some Japanese teenagers (really) and other things. they jumped off their 11th floor balconies. so if i call you looking for an 11th floor balcony, be a bit concerned.
I realize that I often say wee fan base, please don't say this or that. censorship! some may cry. not really - i just know my anxiety level and what i will obsess about and know that some things just get added into the mix.
in the same way, my anxiety level goes wacky when i stay at home all day, as i did today. my doctor said it's cool to go into work tomorrow, unless i'm horribly worse. it really is better for me unless i'm highly fevered. when i get back from my trip ! i'm going to start slowly checking into possibly sharing a house again or something. i like living alone in many ways but sometimes, when i'm sick and at home or lonely or whatever, just knowing someone else is around is very helpful for me. it will be a slow process though, because i've lived in less than great situations before - including an 8-year-stint in a beautiful house in North Vancouver that I only left in 2003, partly at the noting of my friend Michelle that I may just grow old there.
So there you go. off i go to think a few thoughts. wee fan base, please spend a few hours tomorrow thinking of me at work. that will be comforting.
Marty, please ask your wife to send me a picture - even an older family one. well, yes, i do want to see how heavy she's gotten (not!) but mainly I want to see the kids.
and finally, i read that some guy is claiming that he has found the remains of Jesus, his wife and his son, Judah. Funny, I always pictures Jesus naming his kid after himself. Jesus junior. My friend, a staunch Christian, seemed rather offended when I told her this story. I think she thought I was trying to question her faith or something. "I will not be shaken," said she, "and I have no need to read lies." I honestly wasn't trying to shake her faith. I can't imagine how they would prove these remains are of Jesus anyway. Personally, I still try to hold out hope that Jesus really did rise from the dead - that's comforting somehow.

Beverly Hills 90210

Lordy in happy heaven - channel 48 - welcome to TVtropolis! - is re-running Beverly Hills 90210 every afternoon at 5 p.m. I was walking home from my local library just now - I'm practicing for when I give up my car because it failed Aircare, meaning that in 3 months if it fails again I'm going to choose to give it up. The government has a deal - if you have a 1993 or older car and have driven it at least 5,000 kilometres in the past year and it has failed Aircare - you can get up to $750 toward bus passes or a few other options. It's a good deal actually and I'm not sure how long my car was going to last anyway. It's a 1986 Honda Civic Hatchback. It runs okay but I've put lots of money into it. The thing is, once I give it up, I'm not going to get another one. I simply can't afford it and don't choose to have a monthly car loan. I'd rather use my limited discretionary income on other things. Plus, I live in a fairly well-bussed area. Also, you can choose to get $500 toward a car co-op, also a good deal. If you are curious about this program - check out www.scrapit.ca
But I digress. I was walking home and remembered that ooh, 90210 was starting. It put a little spring in my step. I don't need to pay full attention to it - it's on now as I'm typing - but it relaxes me for some reason. I don't know what it is - the absurdity, seeing Brian Austin Green so young, so embarrassing, seeing Jason Priestley before his face bloated up (cheap shot, that), seeing Ian Ziering in the only role he ever really had. Ooh - and the hot Dylan, Luke Perry, who is actually my age. Which means he was 25 playing 18. But oooh - the hair, the 'tude, the deep pain he'd been through (he saw his father get blown up in a car!). Oooh Dylan. And there on the seasons where Dylan is with Kelly, not Brenda. Shannen Doherty was causing all kinds of problems, so Aaron Spelling limited her storyline severely before kicking her off of the show. Years later he gave her another chance in that witch show but she messed that one up too. Oh Shannen. I remember her as a child from Little House: A New Beginning and then Our House with the later-to-be-hot-and-gay Chad Allen. Her acting is actually rather poor in 90210.
Andrea - pronounced Ondrea - was the one character who annoyed me. And Gabrielle Carteris was 32 or so playing 18. She later got involved with Jesse, got pregnant and scooted off of the show. In this episode, Ondrea is afraid to go on a rollercoaster and a woman is stealing Brandon's car.
So good, off I go to give it full attention.

more ranting

I have a few things to rant about. Here I go.
The local news is doing a series of sorts on the Downtown Eastside. For my out of town part of the wee fan base, the Downtown Eastside is Canada's poorest neighbourhood - lots of homeless, drug addicts and people dying of Hepatitis or AIDS. I've written about it before in relation to my friends who have had a community house right in the heart of it and now community houses being turned into low income housing.
The past couple of nights a reporter - a tough guy we are told, who has lived on the mean streets of New York City - has gone into the Downtown Eastside.
"It's ugly. It's awful," he repeatedly tells us. To prove the point, he heads out to watch some crack addicts do their drugs and then talks to him. Oooh, they are swearing and threatening violence so lots gets beeped out. Funny that they would do that right after taking a drug that can cause that type of reaction.
Obviously the Downtown Eastside has innumerable amounts of problems. Huge, the residents themselves would agree with this. My friends who live down there would say so. People who work down there would say so.
I would expect the news to go deeper and farther. They've done a little bit on the Portland Housing Society and how it has improved lives of the formerly homeless down there. They've mentioned how the new provincial budget is upping welfare rates by 20 per cent. Thank god, that; l ong, long overdue.
All that happens when you present the Downtown Eastside as all "bad" or only vaguely redeemed by the selfless who provide charity, is to continue the perception of the people down there as hopeless and without much worth. People who don't ever go down to the Downtown Eastside already have this opinion. They fear it and wonder why no one down there has a job.
I'd like to see the news talk about the roots of the problem. All the reporter did the other night was compare the area now with 50 years ago and ask "what happened" with his arms outstretched. A little digging would provide some clues - the closure of psychiatric wards for example, pouring out the mentally ill onto the streets turning them into dual diagnosis often - mentally ill and drug-addicted; Single Room Occupancies (SROs) that take up all of the rent part of welfare and are often little more than a tiny room with a shared bathroom amongst many guests, many of whom are drug-addicted; years of a welfare rate that after rent, leaves people with less than $100 for food, transportation and everything else. I consider myself pretty able to care for myself - under that kind of financial pressure I would snap in some way. If you are already schizophrenic and drug-addicted, I can't imagine.
There is, for lack of a better way of putting it and for fear of being cliched, a humanity down there that the news has chosen to ignore. Some parts of the media are trying a bit, especially with the brutal torture and murders of dozens of prostitutes. They pick a slain prostitute or two and tell us about her life.
But again, they need to dig deeper. There is a community in Canada's poorest postal code. There are families with children down there who play in the park - my friends have more than a dozen children between them. Many of these children have grown up down there and love it. They also have a compassion and understanding for people and the issues that defies their ages.
People look out for each other there. I've said before and I'll say it again that I am more afraid in my neighbourhood at night then I am down there.
People who live there have as real of lives as anyone else anywhere. The news sadly has chosen to focus simply on the ugliness of it - and there is ugliness of course. I'm hoping that over the next few nights they broaden and deepen their perspective. Otherwise, they leave viewers with the tired cliches - and they are tired, exhausted even - about the Downtown Eastside.
Phew. There you go. I was also going to blather a bit about my growing dislike of the now-in-repeats show Sex and the City and how it perpetuates a whole different set of cliches, but alas, I am tired.
Good to get a comment from Marty's wife. Not sure what you meant though - you don't believe that we had that spiritual experience in 1988 or that I never thought the bible was inerrant? I'm a bit daft and need a wee bit of clarification.

this damn blog entry won't publish

oops. I don't think I closed my waterproof moneybelt properly. oops. As you may recall, wee fan base, I bought a waterproof moneybelt for my coming-up-soon trip to the Dominican Republic. Petty theft being such as it is and because I want to spend most of my time in the water, I thought it was a good idea. Well, to test this thing I brought it swimming tonight. I put in a ziploc bag in the moneybelt an old passport, an old cell phone and a library card.
Oops.
Nothing was soaking but definitely wet and my old passport's pages are wet wet. Have no fear though, I have a newer passport.
So, I've got to wait for the whole moneybelt to dry off and then I'll try it again.
Also, I need to figure out how in the heck to tighten the strap so that it doesn't float above me as I swim.
Live and learn.
I was very industrious tonight. After swimming, I made some vegan pumpking muffins and a brown rice salad for lunches this week. Good on me, I say. And all this while I was tired and in a crankier than usual type of mood. "Karen," asks the wee fanbase, "how can we tell when you are crankier?"
Ha, say I, ha ha.
I met Schnee for brunch yesterday on Commercial Drive. I then took her (when I say I took someone that always sounds to me like I drag someone on a leash) to Wonderbucks, a store I normally love. At 2nd and Commercial, it has cool stuff for the home at good prices. Commercial Drive is funky, so is Wonderbucks. I've gotten most of the pictures for my walls there, as well as a cool little shelf and a few other things. Oddly, on this day, they had piles of rather tacky things. I found one of their pictures of a serene meadow type scene relaxing but tacky. The tacky won out over the relaxing. I should have gotten it though, when I look at it my mouth hangs open in some kind of odd relaxation.
I've been reading and hearing a lot about autism lately. A lot. I read a book about a British woman who has three sons that she is raising on her own, two of whom are autistic. Then I read an article in the New York Times Magazine. Then there was a piece on 60 Minutes last night. And finally, on the front page of the Globe and Mail today, there's mention of possible isolation of the gene that causes autism. Interesting.
I was flipping channels and just saw a bit of a show that brought some woman whose husband died or something to meet Reba Mcintyre, the country singer and star of the almost-cancelled Reba TV show. Oddly, I like the Reba TV show. It's funny and it relaxes me almost in the same way as that picture at Wonderbucks. And the guy who plays Van on the show dates the woman who used to play lesbian hottie Carmen on the L-Word. Why, Karen, asks the wee fan base, do you know these things.
Anyway, Reba met this woman who was from Alberta and whose husband just died. She was very nice Reba was. I like Reba but was saddened to hear that she spoke out against the Dixie Chicks about their comment about Bush. Please. But it makes sense because Reba is a good old gal from Texas, where people are raised to believe that the president, especially one from Texas, is god. god I say.
Reba's accent reminded me of my pal Missy, who is, you got it, from Texas. Mind you, she escaped the Texan mentality, being a good ole lefty. I haven't seen her in well over a year. She's off working around the world and is going to marry a good ole Texan in September. I should e-mail her. I don't think she knows Reba or the Dixie Chicks for that matter.
Oops. Britney's done gone and shaved her head. She's from Texas, isn't she? I'm not sure. Britney, Britney, Britney. It was pointed out by Sleepy who pointed it out to Schnee who pointed it out to me that hair samples are a sure fire way to test for drug use. Hmmm. Although, as I pointed out, she has hair elsewhere. Hmmm though.
Marty, your wife or you has not sent me a family picture yet. I must have this picture. Don't make me send Reba Mcintyre down there for it. Or the actress who played Carmen on the L Word. Thank you.
And Marty, I trust you are continuing to pray hourly for me. I'll need you in that department particularly from March 8-22 when I'm off on my trip. But Karen, says Marty, you don't believe in the whole inerrancy of the bible thing. You are right, Marty, I most certainly do not. I never even believed it back on February 18, 1988 when your lovely wife and I prayed in my what turned out to be an illegal suite (oy vay) with bad wiring and I had that spiritual experience. That is true, true true. My memory for dates is oddly autistic.
Carry on people. Thank you for reading, as always.

and the story continues

I'm having a good time e-mail writing a story with my 10-year-old niece, Cheyenne. Cheyenne lives across the country in Ottawa with my sister and her husband. As I've said before, she is a great, great kid and the only person in my family that hasn't driven me to various types of psychotropic (spelling?) medications. How to say this without sounding, well, catty. Hmmm. Well, hmmm, preface it to say there are two sides to every story. But where my sister is, well, closed to me in almost every conceivable way, Cheyenne is wide, wide open. She's a terrific, terrific kid. Now don't worry, wee fan base, my sister doesn't read my blog (hence one of the closed ways). Eeek, I really need to deal with my sister issues. Eeek.
Anyway, Cheyenne started the story and we've written back and forth a few times. I think I may have blogged about this a bit before. The main character is 11-year-old Bridget who has a whole whack of sisters and a pregnant mother. Aunt Kim has arrived in Winnipeg after failing as a lawyer in another city (maybe Vancouver, I'm not sure. Interesting that the story is set in Winnipeg. Cheyenne lives in Ottawa but my sister and I are from Winnipeg and my parents still live there.
And I quote from Cheyenne's part of the story: "One of my clients was proclaimed guilty. He must stay in prison for 6 years. He sued my company, and my company said that I was at fault and fired me. Then I didn't have enough money to pay my mortgage and taxes, so I lost my house and some of my things. I'm going to stay here, find a job and a house."
A rather brutal company really. Now Aunt Kim is an extra aunt. She is the real aunt of Emily, a child that Bridget's parents are looking after. Seems Lauren (stick with me here), Emily's mother, "had the assumption" that Kim couldn't raise a child. And Lauren is very busy travelling the world for her job so she can't care for Emily. The job hasn't been specified but I'm thinking a Medicines-Sans-Frontieres type of a thing. Although really, I'm thinking Lauren sounds pretty darn selfish and self-involved. But I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. I have just sent off the next part to Cheyenne, and in this part it gets rather exciting. Aunt Kim decides to throw out her law career and become a travel writer. For practice, she is taking Bridget and her sisters (except the one-year-old) to Hawaii with her on a two-week trip.
The next part is Cheyenne's.
I would have made it the Dominican Republic but I think Hawaii is easier. Although DR is closer to Cheyenne's neck of the woods.
But I digress.
Anyway, it's great and a great way to stay in touch.
In other news, I had A DEAD MOUSE plunked near my computer last night. Seems it succumbed to the poison-behind-the-stove before scurrying back into the walls. What happens you see is that these darn little tiny brown mice eat the poison, get crazy thirsty and scurry back into the walls for comfort. They then dehydrate from the inside-out and in theory don't stink up the walls. It's so cruel as to be horribly awful I realize. Awful awful. But my building as I've said is old, old, old and that leads to mice. Unfortunately, I know a few people who have this mice problem in Vancouver.
Anyway, last night I thought I saw a scurrying out of the corner of my eye and just had a sense.
Eeek.
I went and got Harry who brought a long stick thing to pick it up and THREW IT OUT MY OPEN WINDOW.
I got the landlady this morning to put out some fresh poison and to plug up some more holes with steel wool.
"I have zero tolerance for this," I told her.
Co-worker Wendy feels that I should move out right away.
She thinks that there should be compensation for this type of thing.
Alas, no.
I could call a pest control agency but they would do exactly what is being done. In fact, the poison comes from them.
YUCK!!!!!!!
Now lest you think I have carcasses throughout my apartment I can ensure you that that is not the case. Oh and please don't e-mail me and tell me the awful situation that awaits me as mice from the four corners of the earth invade my apartment or how the poison is slowly killing me or blah blah. In case you hadn't realized I already awfulize an awful lot and will have thought (or researched) all of the horribleness that you could mention.
Good thing Harry was at home. I can tell that he feels a bit knight in shining armorish (well, really more like knight-in-undershirt and shorts and an odd smell). I let him feel that so that he will continue to help me.
Harry, the king of the universe of the mice.
And finally, good luck Toaster Melanie on your first day at your new job tomorrow. I believe I failed to mention last time that Toaster Melanie gets her own office with windows and seats and desks and everything. She will be working really close to me and unbeknownst to her, we will go out for lunch sometimes.
As you were, wee fan base.

a round of applause for Toaster Melanie

Wee fan base - Toaster Melanie has just gotten herself an excellent job! She's going to be working for a big accounting firm downtown. She is not an accountant but is doing stuff that she explained to me and that I have mainly understood but just by the tips of my fingers. Suffice it to say that it is intriguing, involves travel to visit clients, uses her computer software skills and food background and other stuff like that there. And even more exciting, she gets her downtown parking paid! I'm so happy for her. She's a good egg and not just because she brought my computer back from the dead and made it better than it has ever been before. She is going to start on Valentine's Day.
Uh yes, Valentine's Day.
A good segue me thinks.
Here is a sample quote from Wendy at work. You know Wendy, former sub boss now lateral, living with the metrosexual 10-year younger Ryan. Wendy feels that she doesn't talk any more about Ryan than I do about my friend Tracy. This is not true but I digress.
Sample quote:
"I wanted to go to the Oyster Bar. But I called and the only times on Valentine's Day were 5:30 p.m. or 9:00. So we're going at 5:30. I'm also going to get those dice from La Senza."
The rest I tuned out rather effectively, so it all sounded like adults' voices on Charlie Brown. "M mwah, mwah . . . . Ryan, mmwah . . ."
I asked if we could not talk too too much about Valentine's Day because it is a difficult day for me in my chronic singleness.
I suspect this plea will go unheeded.
I want to be cool like Ryan.
He is very knowledgeable apparently. We were discussing the tv show Grey's Anatomy and Wendy said that Ryan said that it is not a real hospital! And that it's not even shot in Seattle!
I'm going to ask her to ask him if the actors are not really doctors. I'll get back to you on that one.
I had a lovely time at work Judy's today (not tall Judy but other Judy). We played Scrabble and had some lovely shortbread cookies sent to her from her ex-in-laws who still love her. I ate seven of them (they were quite small). It was very relaxing. Judy hasn't played Scrabble for awhile and was quite rusty and I was quite cocky to be honest. And then she played a seven-letter-word, I've blocked out what it was, and there was a triple-letter y involved and it was 100 points.
My cockiness left the room.
I like other Judy. She is calm like a calm breeze kind of calmness. In my anxiety of late, this was calming.
I wouldn't be opposed to flowers being sent anonymously to my workplace on Valentine's Day with the card talking about an "anonymous admirer." I'm just saying.

this guy takes some patience

Let me tell you he does indeed.
I will preface this by saying that I'm sleeping CRAPPILY again - aaargh x 800,051.65 It was so lovely those few weeks of deep and long sleep. Now I'm back to waking up numerous times and then from about 5 a.m. I don't even try to sleep anymore because like an impotent man, it ain't coming. Oooh, that was bad that was.
So I feel - I wouldn't say exhausted that is the wrong word - but wrung out if you get what I mean. Rather awful.
Now the student I am one-on-one tutoring is a challenge indeedy deed. I'd say he's about my age or a bit older - it's hard to tell since he has these age-increasing glasses with a string. So says co-worker Charleen and come to think of it I agree with her. He's a Brazilian doctor with two specialities: dermatology (lots of botoxing) and anesthesiology. I may have spelled that last specialty wrong, but never mind.
He's obviously not a dumb man. But he's . . . challenging.
Example.
I say (and it is written down in the book in front of him): The man didn't eat the hamburger.
He says: The man ated eated the hamburger. (something like that)
I say: remember the rule - didn't + simple form of the verb
The man didn't eat the hamburger.
He says: The man didn't eating the hamburger.
Let's review a little present continuous say I.
We go over the rules. I ask him what he is doing right now.
He says: I sitting.
I say: you are sitting.
He says: I are sit.
To be fair, some things he gets right away. Adverbs of frequency proved easy for him.
I say: "how often do you study?"
He says "I always study."
I jump up with joy, shouting his name.
"How often," I ask, inspired, "is my life a quiet pit of despair?"
He says, "You often live a life of quiet desperation, bravely going about your daily life. Sure, you use humour to deflect the pain, but we can all see beyond that. Your life is an inspiration to all, particularly people with large foreheads. I mean philosophical, not literal, large foreheads. To be honest with you though, teacher, a little bit of Botox on your forehead would do nicely. If you like, I can give you a discount but we will have to do it here, without any kind of freezing or tranquillizers. In a pinch, a can of Coke and three Tylenol will do."
He's an interesting case study. He simply does not listen. So something I've said three seconds ago doesn't find a spot in his mind.
I often say, "J, listen. That's right. Look at me. In my eyes. Look at me."
That helps mildly.
The difference between come back and go back he wants to know. But I know that this concept will be too far above him and will only prove frustrating to both of us.
"Just use go back all of the time," I say, "people will understand you."
Well, I have 27 more hours with this gentleman.
One of my fan base has correctly noted that I have been slacking off on my blog. Tis true.
This whole Anna Nicole Smith thing is tragic really. The "news" networks are filling us in on the details of her autopsy and apparently a third man is now claiming paternity rights.
Co-worker Melanie strongly suspects a conspiracy.
"Her mother said she was going to be the next one killed," co-worker Melanie informed us. I am starting to suspect that co-worker Melanie knows more than she is saying. She's doing a bit of skulking around lately, looking surreptiously into her filing cabinet drawer. "What are you doing?" I've been asking her.
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Nothing at all to do with Anna Nicole Smith."
Hmmm.

hey ho there people

Well, darn if I'm not tired out of my brain.
I've been doing rather dull and mind boggingly tedious administrative work in the mornings because there has been no substituting to do. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the work. It's a little less than 1/2 the regular pay but it's something. Today we glued paper to file folders. And it had to be done EXACTLY RIGHT or was rejected by the women on the 7th floor. The 7th floor has all of the admin/owner action, I genuflect a bit when I go in. There were to be no bubbles, the paper had to lie flat on the file folder. Also, the corners were not to be left unglued or, you know, people would become, well, unglued.
Incredibly weird story about that NASA astronaut. Go figure.
Well, today I discover that for the next 2.5 weeks, until the end of the session, I will be one-on-one tutoring a student for three hours every morning. A bump back up in pay so that's nice. This student is too low for the most introductory class that we have and needs the one-on-one.
"This will be tiring," said boss to me. yup. But luckily not a whole lot of planning is required. We'll basically review what he has learned so far - specifically the simple past tense. Apparently he needs lots of listening help and I may have to play the listenings over and over. That in itself could kill half of the morning.
So nicely I'm back to full time work for the next 2.5 weeks. That's great say I, since this and next month are the slowest times of the year. This Saturday I have that early morning two hour photo taking gig for the TOEIC test taking students again. Seems all the pictures screwed up last time - not my fault, I was being trained. Phew. 8:15-10:15 are the Saturday once a month hours. Yawn.
What else? Oh yes, I'm off on my Dominican Republic trip in a month and two days, not that I'm counting. It's so interesting to me because some people have been expressing worry, doubt and concern. It's sweet really, who knew how loved I was.
I've asked my well-travelled friend Kristina about this, as it was starting to get to me.
"I tell some people I'm going to the DR and they shake their heads. I think they think I am going to be swarmed by a mass of poverty-stricken Dominican men or something."
Kristina is a good person to talk to because she has done a fair bit of travel herself. I do find that it is entirely those who have never gone off the beaten path that are expressing concern.
Kristina went to Angola several years ago with a development type organization. Before she went people said things like this to her:
"Angola! Do you know that's in Africa?" (she did actually)
"Angola! There is a civil war there!" (hence the helping organizations)
One friend gave her a book about the 10 most dangerous places in the world to visit, with Angola listed as number 1. "Um, thanks," said she. Off she went anyway.
Now people, I am the most obsessive person you could ever meet. I am an extraordinarily careful traveller. I travelled alone through Europe for 8 weeks a few years back and even survived a visit to New York City. and Washington DC. You want dangerous, go to DC.
I have always had lots of respect for people who travel alone, particularly women. Another friend, a transplanted Texan, travelled through Ghana alone (getting quite sick with malaria to boot) and has been to Vietnam, Egypt and a myriad of other places.
While I hem and haw and obsess, I always, always learn a lot from travelling. It is a horrible form of classism (spelling? I'm tired like crazy) that unfortunately I am also guilty of, to think that where there is a poor nation, there is constant murder and pillaging of tourists. There is absolutely, absolutely some obviously and examples abound. Costa Rica, for example, had two women murdered there a few years ago. And Acapulco right now. And the corruption is rampant.
When I was in Prague, a few people warned me about the 60(!) gangs of marauding thieves on the subway. Oh, and watch out for the gypsies! I was warned repeatedly in Prague and in Rome. Well, I did meet a couple of female gypsies who had the most disturbing pleading voices I'd ever heard.
Italy - amazing country, eh. Watch out for the men who wander the streets looking for single women to attack, I was told. The cab from the train terminal took me a hugely roundabout way to my hostel and then let me out in the middle of nowhere. It was late at night and he just took off before I was even certain I was at the right address. Turns out I was.
the one warning I did heed and wish I hadn't now, was that I was certain to be gassed into a deep sleep and robbed on a train from Prague to Poland.
Mind you I had a slight bit of trouble on a train in Italy going from Venice to Milan. You have those private type berths with four seats. I was all alone when a guy comes in, closes the curtain and proceeds to talk to me in French. When it appears to him that I have a vague understanding of what he is saying, he switches to Italian. He touches my leg, asks me why I don't shave and basically scares the heck out of me.
I scream out don't touch me! in French or something and he finally leaves. You'd think a train in Europe would feel safe but this train did not, not at all. Two other men enter my berth and ask me where I am going. For god's sake.
I was basically stranded in Milan because of a last minute train strike. No trains were moving till the next day. It was 5 p.m., getting dark and I had no idea where to go or what to do. I sure as heck couldn't have afforded a hotel room anywhere in the city. The hostel it turns out was three subway rides away - the red line, the blue line - I didn't quite catch it in my hurried telephone conversation. I met a man who was basically making black market type hotel reservations for people.
"No more than 30 euros!" I told him and he laughed, dismissing me.
About an hour later, after I'd screamed "FUCK!!!!" in the train station to no avail or even any attention, he came rushing after me.
"Hey, Canadian!," said he, "okay, 50 euros." Or, he said, I could come to his house for free for some spaghetti and a room for the night.
Exhausted and not wanting to sleep on the ground outside of the train station waiting for my 7 a.m. train, I said okay. He took me by the hand and led me to a hotel about a 1/4 kilometre away. Sure enough, it was a real hotel with a real room.
"There you go, Canadian."
There I was.
I know some people who won't even go near Main and Hastings because they are absolutely convinced they will either be shot or stabbed. I have felt safer walking at night in the Downtown Eastside than anywhere else in the city.
"But, Karen, what if something happens to you?"
Hmmm. Well, you could say, "I told her so."

a Reitmans conundrum

What the heck has happened to the women's clothing store Reitmans? I don't understand at all.
I used to be able to go in there and find many things that I liked, that looked good and weren't too expensive.
Now everytime I've gone in there the last 6 months or so I've only seen ugly stuff. Entirely ugly. Unattractive. I tried one top on and it was designed to fit so that it actually ACCENTUATED the fat bits.
Does anyone know? Someone must know.
In weird psychic phenomena, I had a dream about a woman I haven't seen in about five years. And there she was at the Save-On-Foods in North Vancouver.
That's all.
carry on.

some things i realize

are better privately journalled.
I worry the fan base.
and when people are worried.
I get more worried.
that's a whole lot of worrying.

I thank hairdresser Karren for her comment on that blog entry.
Hairdresser Karren is MOVING TO OLIVER AND LEAVING MY HAIR HERE.
I have no words for the upsettingness of this situation.
AND SHE'S MOVING ON MARCH 1st.

For the fan base who is thinking that I need a shrink
remember that I do have a new and lovely shrink.
an amazing shrink.
the queen of shrinks really.
It has taken me years of plowing through either noone or not so great therapy people to get to her.

and seriously, wee fan base, if you knew what was really going on in my head
well, you get the idea.

I just got back from the Turkish/Canadian wedding.

And most importantly,
I tested my waterproof moneybelt this afternoon.
I put in my old and expired passport, an old cell phone and a few pieces of paper and then soaked the whole thing in the kitchen sink full of water.
It worked pretty darn well.
The next test will be full pool swimming immersion.

and finally, fan base, if you are really worried about me
I always always accept cheques and money orders

HAIRDRESSER KARREN WHO BROUGHT MY HAIR BACK FROM LAYERS SO BAD IT WAS NEARLY A MULLET IS MOVING AWAY.

Meandering all over the place and everywhere

The picture for the month of February
on my Strand's Bookstore Calendar
Strand's the great NYC bookstore
is inside the store
stacks of books
thousands
everywhere

Yowza
A great thing

Listening to the Be Good Tanyas
feeling bored really
a week that was vaguely not easy
was sick for awhile
am better
generally
just really tired

Sorry if you find this post too navel gazey
oh wee wee fan base
i won't mind if you skip it on by
on your way to the store or something

Sometimes my brain feels so insane
how do I explain that one
hey, that vaguely rhymed

i subbed this morning for Mark's class
a great intro level class
they had a field trip booked to the downtown library
a 15-minute walk in the sun
they had to do a scavenger hunt of sorts
and then had a brief tour
with a lovely librarian
who spoke slowly
nice lady
but too quickly for them
They listened politely
and understood i think
maybe 8 of her words

They had about 15 minutes on their own
so I went into the library square
sat on a bench
and ate an apple
Getting the blood sugar back up
after a few days of not eating much
stomach thing

more navel gazing
I'm censoring myself now
because I'm afraid of being judged by the wee fan base
ah screw it

I'm anxious on the bench
no reason to be really
I know what i'm doing with the students so it's not that

I'm tired though
and still maybe a bit weak and sick
so my brain is more vulnerable see

I feel like I can't get a grip
everything is screeching through my head
at more than warp speed

what will i do if i lose control is what i'm ultimately thinking
here in library square
breathe
breathe
breathe

and my negativities spin out
and i'm off
in my head
yikes
surreal
even when i was home sick for two days
i felt the intensity build
not so much the first day
but the second
breathe
i take a step forward
and a few steps back


I don't want this
and sometimes I don't have it

watch my brain go
so fucking fast
through it all

does this make sense?
i've lost my thread of thought now.
censoring.

don't obsess, offered Alayne.
she touches my heart, does Alayne.
but doesn't quite get where my mind does and does not go.

The students come back
and we go back to the school
they had a good time i think
and a few of them even want to get library cards
one student asked me if the books were for sale

but no one got lost
or tripped up the escalator

I didn't lose control there
with them
breathe

Going to a wedding tomorrow evening
Pal Maggie to her Turkish betrothed
and she'll go back to Turkey

We learned about de-cluttering today
in our afternoon Professional Development
my stuff isn't cluttered oddly
just my mind

he was an amusing guy, this de-cluttering guru
whose voice over the phone was on Oprah
and whose book is about to come out in 90 countries

He told us the quote of how "at 60 you get the face you deserve."
I saw the face of a couple of my female colleagues crush briefly at that
Terror flickering so briefly
you couldn't really catch it
One positive about my epic obsessing of late is that I am hyperaware
and catch it
We just want to age gracefully they tell me
fair enough
I don't think
anyone obsessed over aging
and thus prevented it

a cool thing is that my 10-year-old niece and I are writing a novel together through e-mail
she writes a bit
i write a bit
etc. and on
she introduces lots of characters and ideas
I must write them down to keep them straight
the main character is an 11-year-old girl
with four siblings and an "extra" sister
and another one on the way
and now an aunt has come to live with them
because she has lost her lawyer job
due basically to incompetence
those parents, well, really, the mother has an awful lot on her plate
I think the aunt may be based somewhat on me but this is yet to be determined
although my sister wouldn't be able to handle my moving to Ottawa and living with them.
giggling at the thought.
ha!
it's so fun though.
this niece writing together thing.