a pummelling from the thick fist of irony

So today is the Anti-Bullying Day where everyone is supposed to wear pink. This is a good thing. In theory. I think bullies are a sad lot, and nothing is finer to watch some poor little David triumph gloriously over the schoolyard Goliath. However, I only have one pink shirt and it is covered in skulls. Also, dressing myself in the morning is an underdog feat in and of itself. I’m not a morning person, and distinguishing pants from tops is the best I can manage. Something like remembering to wear a specific colour is of the least importance, the first wave out of the trench. So I wore blue today. (That it is a colour and not black or grey is its own little triumph. I sometimes wonder if I’ve gone colourblind when I look in my closet.)

Arriving at work, I immediately realized my faux pas when seeing a Barbie convention in the lobby. Oops. I was later berated by a fellow (nameless) employee for not wearing pink. Nor did I participate in the group photo. So I was bullied for not showcasing the fact that I am anti-bullying. ‘I forgot’ is not an acceptable excuse. As if someone would intentionally not wear pink on moral ground: ‘Actually, I do support bullying, and I would like my beliefs to be respected.’ What would the Anti-Bully do in such a case?

playing hooky well into adulthood

*GOOOOOOONG* has been the proclamation of my week. It has been equal parts crazy and comforting.

Monday was a write-off. No need to recapture that inane ineptitude.

Tuesday saw me leave work early, which was refreshing. To walk past all the toiling employees, with your coat on and empty lunch pack in hand, knowing that you are now free = win. It’s amazing realizing that there is still something of a day left. Bri picked me up, with Jason (McDonald – not QLP partner-in-crime Jason Manning) in tow – the reason I was skipping the afternoon. He was in town for a night, leaving for Madrid the next day (which was two nights ago now).


Wednesday I called in sick to hang out with Jason for his last day in Canada for awhile, and then drive him to the airport. Knowing that I am free for a whole day = epic win. A would-be quixotic journey, it actually played out like a lame sequel to Back to the Future, the last six years of Ashleigh’s life: Chapters in the morning (for in-flight reading material); SFU midday (meeting with Bri); Metrotown in the afternoon (not sure why, but is there ever a good reason to go there?); home for just long enough to update my facebook status; airport around dinner time (flight delayed until midnight); to the Cineplex at Strawberry Hill to see He’s Just Not That Into You (looong story); back to the airport to wave buh-bye; home, start reading Everything is Illuminated (purchased that morning at Chapters), bed.

Thursday was a numbingly normal workday, but I headed straight downtown after work to meet Hayley at the Vancity Theatre for a screening of the Oscar shorts. I was running not late, but exactly on time. I got there for 5.57 when it started at 6.00. Totally my bad, dude. Of course, it was sold out. Poor Hayley was already inside, and luckily not alone. I wandered Granville/Robson for a bit, staggering into both Chapters and HMV, dreaming of purchases I don’t need. Walked past the art gallery, stopping for a second to learn an alternative take on the US bombings of Pakistan with the protest literature handed to me by a small child (she stared at me with all-encompassing, confused eyes; I had to ask her for it). And came home. At least I’m almost half way through my book with all the public transit.

The highlight of my week so far is playing hooky. I loved it. Still that rush you felt in high school, knowing you were a shameless miscreant.

bitterly rejected by interior design


So, as the previous post so wildly declares (as if it were a doe-eyed innocent swinging madly around a streetlamp), I love London. It seems London does not love me. How is this so? No, it did not dump me via txt msg. I was in Jysk the other day looking for junk baskets (long story), when I saw these wall stickers of different city scapes. Hm, I thought, this would be the perfect thing to replace my Harry Potter banner (another long story). So I bought the London one. $6.99. Not bad. That’s only about £3. Once I got them up on the walls, even my ten year old cousin remarked, “That looks cool.” From the mouths of babes; it must be true. However, my sadsack attempt to embrace London with open yuppie arms was met with stiff upper rejection. Alas, the stickers do not stick for long. After a few minutes, Big Ben was slowly slinking down the wall like an insolent child; Piccadilly Circus was curling inwards; Tower Bridge was on the verge of collapse; and the London Eye was shaped like a post-incident Humpty Dumpty. By the time I woke up in the morning, the entire city had curled into the Thames. London does not *heart* me.

i *heart* london

So, I was bored at work today. Nothing else is new. In my ever-widening net of random (G-rated) website to scroll through while trying to maintain consciousness, I decided to browse Craigslist. No idea why. I ended up scrolling through people searching flatmates in London. Then jobs in London. Then rideshares. Someone even wants someone to come along for the ride from London to Newcastle and back. Huh. What fun. I’ve never thought about this. I never thought that if I can’t find a buddy in my immediate group of friends to do something major like a road trip with from London to Greece and back, I could simply find a stranger on craigslist. What a novel idea/idea for a novel.

job prospects: not exactly working down a coal mine

So I had an interview this morning, for more or less exactly the same job I have now, but with the RCMP. Also, not auxiliary, but permanent. With benefits. If I get this job, it will be my first salaried job ever. At age twenty-five, it’s about time I pop that cherry, eh? I don’t want to think like I already have the job, but the interview went really well. Like really well. Pat, my would-be supervisor, said, and I quote: “I’m very impressed.” Hm, if I am that impressive, perhaps I’ve been shooting too low on the job search here.

The irony of the fact that I will be doing the same job in a slightly different environment (a mere 60 yards from where I am now, same address even) smacks the smugness out of me, not to mention the fact that what most impressed my interviewer was the fact that I once archived a file that was a whole shelf long. Ah, gripping panickedly for a stimulating career one small rung at a time. Some progress is better than none. That’s more than most people in this economic state. The fact that I didn’t lose my job is still impressing me, let alone the possibility that I could be a furita no more!

embrace the crazy (blame this rant on a papercut)

I’ve come to the conclusion that we are all a little nuts and that mental sanity is just something used to sell self-help books (see previous post). Maybe I’m crazy in saying that, but I’ve realized that once you embrace the crazy, life becomes a lot easier.

At this point, I’m about to launch into a rant about technology. Be warned. Stop reading now if you aren’t mentally prepared.

I like technology, I think, generally speaking, it’s made our lives easier. But there are two sides to the coin. I believe the notion of “progress” is entirely subjective. There’s overwhelming anthropological evidence (trust me, I have a degree in this) that hunter-gatherer societies were far healthier than us; had a similar life expectancy; had more leisure time; rewarding, cooperation-based social lives; a generally egalitarian social structure; and fulfilling, complex belief systems. It’s only with the “progress” towards state societies and the development of agriculture that life expectancy shortens to what we think of ‘the past’; that social inequalities emerge; wars happen; people are enslaved; the ‘proles’ spend all their time labouring for the rich; no leisure time; belief systems are used to enforce social control; and so on.

Of course this is a gross generalization which completely ignores the diversity of the human experience, but there is truth in it. Contemporary society has only pushed this farther. No longer is necessity the mother of invention, but marketing is. Honestly, did anyone ever sit around one day thinking, “you know what I really need, a television that makes me able to see the actual pores on someone’s face, because that way I will enjoy this movie more.” Come on. It’s just consumerist capitalism. But let’s remember that not only does technology seem to be redundant and in the business of create false needs, but it has a dark side. The environment would not be in such a shitter otherwise. Look at the “progress” the invention of mass-produced paper has achieved. But, it has also given us the paper cut–the single most cringe-worthy piece of evil ever.

Ah. Sigh. Deep breath. Rant over. Wow, think of the things you could think of too if you welcome the koo-koo with open arms!

your latest amazon shipment has arrived!

I love getting mail. Especially large packages; ones that don’t rattle, but shift slightly when shaken: shunk shunk shunk in the cardboard origami mailer. Yesterday, I received the results of my latest moment of online consumerist weakness:

Some new music:
1 – Dear Science – TV on the Radio
1 – Glasvegas – Glasvegas
1 – For Emma, Forever Ago – Bon Iver
1 – The Seldom Seen Kid – Elbow

Some old music:
1 – Raw Power – Iggy and the Stooges
1 – Horses – Patti Smith

One old graphic novel:
1 – Tank Girl 2

Two britcoms:
1 – Spaced
1 – Black Books

I shall get crackin’ on my pop culture catch up right now.

from magazine vendors to muddy boots: my weekend in an adequately-sized organic vessel

After an intriguing afternoon of gallavanting all over Vancouver, including a far too long walk down East Hastings (FYI, Spartacus Books has moved even further east down Hastings), Taryn and I found a vendor for Hacksaw! *cue rejoicing peasants* You can now get Hacksaw Literary Arts Magazine at People’s Co-op Bookstore on Commercial Drive!

Two celebratory beers and some plantain chips later, I was arriving at a sushi restaurant for my godsister, Natasha’s engagement party. Despite not knowing anyone when I got there, the evening was well spent; several potty breaks making up for the endless pots of green tea. I can’t wait for the actual wedding. Open bar, dude, open bar.

Saturday I recuperated, then walked around the dirt in burlap boots for awhile, before retiring to bed to watch Bones. All and all, a nice little Saturday.

Up at five am the next morning for our first day on location filming “Red Hood.” The day can simply be summarized with a few adjectives and nouns: Freezing weather, muddy fields, vehicular accidents (not me!), dusty barns, leaping frogs; and a few verbs: action, cut, that’s a wrap.