Sigh.
I just finally got to the end of Valmiki's Daughter, by Shani Mootoo, who I adore.
I am sad.
Blame it on forgetting to take my mood meds for 2 days, or blame it on me being an overly-invested reader with high demands for an ending that makes me feel better about the world, but I'm freakin' sad. Yelling "WHY? Why Snoofy, WHYYY?" from my room is not helping the logical conclusion of the book to stop stinging my soul.
After work yesterday I was a bit of an open wound, and I thought I could maybe retreat into the book and hope Viveka (one of the main characters) could be an extension of me in the fictional world and maybe something great would happen to her.
Spoiler alert:
not so much.
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
a WINDOW DAY poem
Sun is shinin'
took my pills
time to decorate some 'sills!
No more winter snowfolk faces
buds and blossoms in their places
sunshine, sparkles, vibes and toys
to celebrate spring's sexy joys
need some fabric, tulle and foil
maybe even potting soil?
A joyous task I'll ne'er renounce!
Time to get crackin', Sequin OUT, let's BOUNCE!
took my pills
time to decorate some 'sills!
No more winter snowfolk faces
buds and blossoms in their places
sunshine, sparkles, vibes and toys
to celebrate spring's sexy joys
need some fabric, tulle and foil
maybe even potting soil?
A joyous task I'll ne'er renounce!
Time to get crackin', Sequin OUT, let's BOUNCE!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
My internal weather, and sparkstensions!
I'm trying to get my body's internal clock to function in a more predictable fashion. This involves a gaggle of alarm clocks, agendas and calendars, which I try to make palatable by making damn sure there are kittens and stickers all over them. (Buying books from the Scholastic book order forms was not in the budget when I was in elementary school, so I skipped the Lisa Frank fantasy-fluorescent-ponies-and-pink-leopard-print-notebooks phase...*menacing*: it has finally come to take its course!)
As my luck would have it, the first alarm clock that I got at Honest Ed's was a $16 piece of junk that I tried to reason/wrestle with for 15 minutes before giving up and deciding that it would have been less frustrating if the fake clock face sticker over top of the actual clock face had not been "remove[d] before use". At least there would have been actual numbers, not just flickery streaks suggesting numbers that did not fit together in a way that represented actual times. However, as I am becoming more and more wise to the ways of Honest Ed's, I had bought a second alarm clock at the same time, this one being only $0.99 and having no accompanying instructions, and cryptic buttons on the top reading "Here" and "There". I though it was a puzzle alarm clock, but wouldn't you know it, the thing woke me up pleasantly and on time this morning. It looks like binoculars, and the here and there buttons can digitally "shut" one "eye" or the other with black pixels for no apparent reason, but I don't have to totally get it to be very pleased with it, so finally, one point for Team Sequin Brown.
After Honest Ed's yesterday, I spent several hours cleaning my oven and making cupcakes for our annual sale/customer party/time of awesomeness just days before we take inventory. Then I worked for 6 hours at the store, surrounded by giggles of glee over free cupcakes, the DJ spinning, the customers milling and clustering hungrily at the super-duper reduced items table. It felt awesome to be able to take the time to really help and explain things to folks with questions, amid the mayhem and joy of a jam-packed store. The curly and talented Amanda Marshall puts it well when she sings "Everything is clear when you're inside the tornado/ everything is stable in the eye of the storm/". In all, a fabulous experience, especially since I was so intensely hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
Today started out well, because when I was on the streetcar - running ahead of schedule, might I add - I happened to run into a lovely friend of a friend whose name I unfortunately ALWAYS get wrong by accident, and today I really focussed and got it RIGHT. I psyched myself out for a couple seconds, you know, like, oh gosh, she's so sweet, and indeed memorable, I'm a horrible beast, her name is NOT LISA! Lisa it is NOT! Neurons, reform! no! it's..."Hello, LINDA!" Yessssss! Rock. On. I think the curse has been broken, and I will never blatantly call her Lisa again. Not that Lisa isn't a great name, but it just ain't hers.
Work was great, did a massive post-sale restock, during which I kind of felt like a basement troll because our fluorescent light tubes were acting up and it was dark and cold down there and my nose was running and I always do the hunch-n-flinch dance when I am in the basement because I fear hitting my head on the pipes. Tropical Storm UTERUS blew in from the South shortly after restocking, but since I have been so conscious of times and dates recently, I was aware of what was to come. Apocolyptic PMS emotions also tend to alert me, as well as Violet-Beauregard-style bloating and disproportionately angsty reactions to my inability to find any one magazine at Shoppers Drugmart or Book City that speaks to me wholistically. I bought myself chocolate ginger nuggets and took some ibuprofen, and plan to get into my bed with a book by 11:30pm.
Note to self: begin writing next hit single, "Menstrual Lady Slumber Party for One".
In closing, I witnessed a most delightful and beguiling hair phenomenon upon the head of a very nice customer today, which was that her hair shimmered at me. Throughout her shining black tresses were what appeared to be a faint scattering of single metallic hairs, in purple and even verigated red, orange and gold! I tried to concentrate on the topic at hand, but my hindbrain was trying to comprehend the pretty pretty hairs. Suddenly my whirring mind skipped a beat and there it was, the obvious answer:
WOW. Maybe she's just MAGIC.
I felt reverent, and this luckily gave me a millisecond to get back on track and help the lady out. Once all questions had been answered I complemented her hair and she told me that the glitteries were teeny semi-permanent extensions she had had done when she was in Bankok a few weeks ago. Just when I thought technology was out to ruin us all, a heartwarming discovery is made in the field of beauty salon research that does not involve lasers, depillation or pinching!
I also believe in magic, just to be clear on that.
As my luck would have it, the first alarm clock that I got at Honest Ed's was a $16 piece of junk that I tried to reason/wrestle with for 15 minutes before giving up and deciding that it would have been less frustrating if the fake clock face sticker over top of the actual clock face had not been "remove[d] before use". At least there would have been actual numbers, not just flickery streaks suggesting numbers that did not fit together in a way that represented actual times. However, as I am becoming more and more wise to the ways of Honest Ed's, I had bought a second alarm clock at the same time, this one being only $0.99 and having no accompanying instructions, and cryptic buttons on the top reading "Here" and "There". I though it was a puzzle alarm clock, but wouldn't you know it, the thing woke me up pleasantly and on time this morning. It looks like binoculars, and the here and there buttons can digitally "shut" one "eye" or the other with black pixels for no apparent reason, but I don't have to totally get it to be very pleased with it, so finally, one point for Team Sequin Brown.
After Honest Ed's yesterday, I spent several hours cleaning my oven and making cupcakes for our annual sale/customer party/time of awesomeness just days before we take inventory. Then I worked for 6 hours at the store, surrounded by giggles of glee over free cupcakes, the DJ spinning, the customers milling and clustering hungrily at the super-duper reduced items table. It felt awesome to be able to take the time to really help and explain things to folks with questions, amid the mayhem and joy of a jam-packed store. The curly and talented Amanda Marshall puts it well when she sings "Everything is clear when you're inside the tornado/ everything is stable in the eye of the storm/". In all, a fabulous experience, especially since I was so intensely hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
Today started out well, because when I was on the streetcar - running ahead of schedule, might I add - I happened to run into a lovely friend of a friend whose name I unfortunately ALWAYS get wrong by accident, and today I really focussed and got it RIGHT. I psyched myself out for a couple seconds, you know, like, oh gosh, she's so sweet, and indeed memorable, I'm a horrible beast, her name is NOT LISA! Lisa it is NOT! Neurons, reform! no! it's..."Hello, LINDA!" Yessssss! Rock. On. I think the curse has been broken, and I will never blatantly call her Lisa again. Not that Lisa isn't a great name, but it just ain't hers.
Work was great, did a massive post-sale restock, during which I kind of felt like a basement troll because our fluorescent light tubes were acting up and it was dark and cold down there and my nose was running and I always do the hunch-n-flinch dance when I am in the basement because I fear hitting my head on the pipes. Tropical Storm UTERUS blew in from the South shortly after restocking, but since I have been so conscious of times and dates recently, I was aware of what was to come. Apocolyptic PMS emotions also tend to alert me, as well as Violet-Beauregard-style bloating and disproportionately angsty reactions to my inability to find any one magazine at Shoppers Drugmart or Book City that speaks to me wholistically. I bought myself chocolate ginger nuggets and took some ibuprofen, and plan to get into my bed with a book by 11:30pm.
Note to self: begin writing next hit single, "Menstrual Lady Slumber Party for One".
In closing, I witnessed a most delightful and beguiling hair phenomenon upon the head of a very nice customer today, which was that her hair shimmered at me. Throughout her shining black tresses were what appeared to be a faint scattering of single metallic hairs, in purple and even verigated red, orange and gold! I tried to concentrate on the topic at hand, but my hindbrain was trying to comprehend the pretty pretty hairs. Suddenly my whirring mind skipped a beat and there it was, the obvious answer:
WOW. Maybe she's just MAGIC.
I felt reverent, and this luckily gave me a millisecond to get back on track and help the lady out. Once all questions had been answered I complemented her hair and she told me that the glitteries were teeny semi-permanent extensions she had had done when she was in Bankok a few weeks ago. Just when I thought technology was out to ruin us all, a heartwarming discovery is made in the field of beauty salon research that does not involve lasers, depillation or pinching!
I also believe in magic, just to be clear on that.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Keep On Livin'
And I lived to tell the tale!
Here I am, alive and okay and plowing through some very fluffy Black Forest Cake which I have dubbed "breakfast".
I have decided that today will be a faux birthday, due to the nature of my activities: Wake up at quarter to one in the afternoon. Play with cat until she attempts to claw out my eyes with love. Eat too much cake in attempt to obliterate it "because there is no room for it in the frige". Take a moment to fart with glee. Go buy fancy cat food and potentially one of those SIGG bottles that everyone has (I'm tired of using a waxed paper cup or mug that can spill while working) with newly acquired Guilt Money. Go to friend's house for pre-planned debrief snuggles.
See? It's just like a birthday except it doesn't have to remind me that I am about due for a yearly physical, and I am not covered in ribbons and bows.
So yesterday was intensive.
I was filled with glee when my Best Friend of LIFE returned home from her East Coast March Break Extravaganza and we shared some knock-off-brand maccaroni & cheez and esophagus-melting coffee. Of course this meant that I left the house late to go see my therapist, who I have not seen since I broke my foot a year ago. So of course I was late, and she had already started a session with another client, so I waited for an hour, which I deserved because I am always late. I got to hang out with my therapist's lovely elderly mom and extremely friendly lap dog (She runs her practice from her home in far North Scarborough, hence the difficulties of me trying to maneuver my broken self on the TTC over there while I was wearing the "Shortie Walker" cast). We had a decent session, and she quesioned my motives for going to see my dad, to which I had no definitive response. While I thought about it blankly, she went to grab a frozen roast beef from the other room to thaw for her dinner. I am mildly worried about her response to my "new" job (last time I had a session with her, I worked at Sbux)... being that our focus in our sessions is on sexual abuse, she referred to me working at a sex shop as "the OTHER issue", and I kind of took offence because I am really proud of the transformative and educational work that I do, but we know each other well enough that I think we can have some good talks about it. A lot can change in a year. A lot can change in five years, too.
While my therapist thought it was not - to put it mildly - the best idea to go to dinner at my dad's, I freaking did it anyway, because I felt it rude to cancel 2 hours before I had said I would be there. I got dropped off at Fairview Mall, where went in to Sephora and put on some makeup, and then took the bus straight to my dad's. Although he didn't make food and had eaten dinner plus a few beers at his neighbours' place before I came, he had the kindness to pick me up a delicious beef roti and an ENTIRE black forest cake (not my fave, but it's cake), which I ate while he watched. My step-mother is still on Weight Watchers (I have at least a few entries worth of rants on the rediculous idea of "food points" that will come in the near future) and my dad is Diabetic now, so the remainder of the cake came home with me in the end, but I digress. The first 20 minutes were tense and eye-contactless, as it was just me and my dad, him chain smoking and avoiding eye contact while he listed his three or four feelings on "the subject", and me summarizing why I didn't really know why I was there, and that I was happy they were getting married but that I did not feel that it was appropriate for me to attend the event. When my step-mom arrived, the conversation got flowing, mostly catching up on the births, deaths and home rennos of the past 5 years, and the disproportionately important bonding fact that I now drink coffee. I felt lured in to the world of little neices I have never met, missing my step-sisters and hearing all about everyone's lives. I looked at pictures of their trip to Sri Lanka and saw so many beautiful smiling relatives I have never met. I stood strong on my NO vote to the wedding, though.
As often as possible, I took the oportunity to underline my Flamboyant QUEERNESS, which I hoped would open some doors to conversing about that. Not so much. They attempted to give me a stereo system, and invite me to an Easter shindig of some kind. My dad claimed that he is going blind (which he is not) and made a bullseye estimation of the cost of my glasses, and in the end, nervously handed me a hundred dollars and told me to "get some cat food and some new shoes". I thanked them. We left it at the statement that it was nice and that they would love me to come visit more, and that I "might do that". Hugs at the elevator, a long transit ride home. Crocheting to ease my fidgets, and also to someday beget a bangin' mermaid sweater.
Not sure how I feel about it all. Still had nightmares all night, but of a slightly different variety.
Time for scheduled friend snuggles, over and OUT <3
Here I am, alive and okay and plowing through some very fluffy Black Forest Cake which I have dubbed "breakfast".
I have decided that today will be a faux birthday, due to the nature of my activities: Wake up at quarter to one in the afternoon. Play with cat until she attempts to claw out my eyes with love. Eat too much cake in attempt to obliterate it "because there is no room for it in the frige". Take a moment to fart with glee. Go buy fancy cat food and potentially one of those SIGG bottles that everyone has (I'm tired of using a waxed paper cup or mug that can spill while working) with newly acquired Guilt Money. Go to friend's house for pre-planned debrief snuggles.
See? It's just like a birthday except it doesn't have to remind me that I am about due for a yearly physical, and I am not covered in ribbons and bows.
So yesterday was intensive.
I was filled with glee when my Best Friend of LIFE returned home from her East Coast March Break Extravaganza and we shared some knock-off-brand maccaroni & cheez and esophagus-melting coffee. Of course this meant that I left the house late to go see my therapist, who I have not seen since I broke my foot a year ago. So of course I was late, and she had already started a session with another client, so I waited for an hour, which I deserved because I am always late. I got to hang out with my therapist's lovely elderly mom and extremely friendly lap dog (She runs her practice from her home in far North Scarborough, hence the difficulties of me trying to maneuver my broken self on the TTC over there while I was wearing the "Shortie Walker" cast). We had a decent session, and she quesioned my motives for going to see my dad, to which I had no definitive response. While I thought about it blankly, she went to grab a frozen roast beef from the other room to thaw for her dinner. I am mildly worried about her response to my "new" job (last time I had a session with her, I worked at Sbux)... being that our focus in our sessions is on sexual abuse, she referred to me working at a sex shop as "the OTHER issue", and I kind of took offence because I am really proud of the transformative and educational work that I do, but we know each other well enough that I think we can have some good talks about it. A lot can change in a year. A lot can change in five years, too.
While my therapist thought it was not - to put it mildly - the best idea to go to dinner at my dad's, I freaking did it anyway, because I felt it rude to cancel 2 hours before I had said I would be there. I got dropped off at Fairview Mall, where went in to Sephora and put on some makeup, and then took the bus straight to my dad's. Although he didn't make food and had eaten dinner plus a few beers at his neighbours' place before I came, he had the kindness to pick me up a delicious beef roti and an ENTIRE black forest cake (not my fave, but it's cake), which I ate while he watched. My step-mother is still on Weight Watchers (I have at least a few entries worth of rants on the rediculous idea of "food points" that will come in the near future) and my dad is Diabetic now, so the remainder of the cake came home with me in the end, but I digress. The first 20 minutes were tense and eye-contactless, as it was just me and my dad, him chain smoking and avoiding eye contact while he listed his three or four feelings on "the subject", and me summarizing why I didn't really know why I was there, and that I was happy they were getting married but that I did not feel that it was appropriate for me to attend the event. When my step-mom arrived, the conversation got flowing, mostly catching up on the births, deaths and home rennos of the past 5 years, and the disproportionately important bonding fact that I now drink coffee. I felt lured in to the world of little neices I have never met, missing my step-sisters and hearing all about everyone's lives. I looked at pictures of their trip to Sri Lanka and saw so many beautiful smiling relatives I have never met. I stood strong on my NO vote to the wedding, though.
As often as possible, I took the oportunity to underline my Flamboyant QUEERNESS, which I hoped would open some doors to conversing about that. Not so much. They attempted to give me a stereo system, and invite me to an Easter shindig of some kind. My dad claimed that he is going blind (which he is not) and made a bullseye estimation of the cost of my glasses, and in the end, nervously handed me a hundred dollars and told me to "get some cat food and some new shoes". I thanked them. We left it at the statement that it was nice and that they would love me to come visit more, and that I "might do that". Hugs at the elevator, a long transit ride home. Crocheting to ease my fidgets, and also to someday beget a bangin' mermaid sweater.
Not sure how I feel about it all. Still had nightmares all night, but of a slightly different variety.
Time for scheduled friend snuggles, over and OUT <3
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