- attended a Cheap Trick/ Heart/ Journey concert with a raw, Connor Green and Aaron Tucker

- watched a very drunk dude play air-guitar and spill his beer on someone while trying to kick his leg over his head, then drop his pants and declare very loudly that he'd always wanted to get a blow-job while listening to Journey's "Faithfully"

- turned down weed offered to me by a very sketchy dude. Sketchy Dude then tried to convince me to take the weed by saying that it was laced with cocaine. When I was still (shockingly!) not interested, he stormed off, angry at these kids nowadays who just didn't know how to party properly

- found my way to Scarberia all by myself

- attended an estate sale and bought a killer coffee table, a gorgeous hand-crocheted table cloth, and a bottle of 1974 Canadian whisky

- ate great fish and chips at Duckworth's

- ate deep fried camembert, parpadelle with duck confit and shitake mushrooms, and tarte au citron at La Palette

- listened to Sigor Ross, recoiled at a picture of a geoduck, and almost stole a canister made of cinnamon bark at a-raw's 30th birthday party

- got up very, very early and very hungover to go to Ikea

- put together a lot of furniture

- ate taco meatloaf

- drank the Chardonnay I bought from the village of Chardonnay while on Honeymoon in Paris this April

- attended my first day of work and overheard the phrase "I can't have any pizza; I have this thing? I lack something? Wait, I remember now. I can't have the cheese because I'm a lactard!"

Labels: Family and Friends, Moving to Toronto

So the move went better than I could have ever hoped. My family were an incredible, amazing, glorious help. There is now way I could have done it without them, no way I could have carried my couches up the 4 flights of stairs or built all my own furniture. My mom, dad and brother were absolute troopers, world moving champions, and my heart has brimmed and overflowed with gratitude.Emily McDowall also almost burst my heart with her awesome by showing up and unpacking every single one of my books.

Miraculously, a few days in I am almost unpacked. The house is really starting to come together and look like a home. Living with Lily the Pirate and my right-hand lady Gennie C is everything I thought it would be and more.

Perhaps most miraculously of all in the settling-in process has been how well our animals have all gotten along. Gennie has a little bichon frise, Merlin, and I of course have my two psycho jungle cats. I bought a baby gate, fully prepared to segregate them as long as necessary, and worried about how they would get along rather obsessively, knowing they'd already been through so many changes and not wanting them to be unhappy. Within an hour of my arrivla, however, the cats had crossed the threshold of the babygate and were hanging out with Merlin like they'd all been best friends for years. George playfully bodyslams Merlin in the hallway and Lydia gives him nose-kisses. It warms my black little heart every time.

Labels: Cats, Moving to Toronto

The internet has taught me many -- nay, innumerable valuable lessons. Just a few of these crucial tidbits of knowledge are as follows:

- Any website devoted to girls and seemingly innocent receptacles -- such as cups or tubs, of any number -- should be avoided at all costs.

- There is always someone who can beat your favourite video game faster, fancier and more completely than you.

- Cory Doctorow wears a cape and rides around in a hot air balloon.

- Yahtzee, the genius behind Zero Punctuation over at the Escapist, is the sexiest man alive.

- It is always unwise to talk about you job on the internet.

It is this last point that brings us to the subject of today's blog post. As part of the Project Natalie Relocates to Toronto Project, I have managed to get myself hooked up with a great new job. Said job has be unreasonably, almost embarassingly excited by its awesomeness. I have a couple of dear friends to thank for hooking me up with the opportunity, going out of their way to prod and encourage and recommend the opportunity along, and really in every possible way gone above and beyond the call of duty. I would love to thank them explicitly here for all to see. I would love to talk about all the prep I am doing for this job, for the specific duties the job entails, and to eventually regale you all with Tales from the Job.

However, I think I have to make the conscious decision here, right now, not to talk about my job on the internet, because I like my job and really don't want to get fired for, say, talking about my job on the internet (see: Dooce). Talking about print and cheese shop jobs was one thing; talking about my job at Pages was also something different, as I could use this blog to advertise for events. This job is something else all together, more of a Job than anything I've probably had before, so it seems as though I'll have to stick to generalizations.

However: thus far, everything is awesome. Everything that was still up in the air has been settled, and I canot express how trhilled I am with what they're offering me. While I will have to be obtuse, I can at least say that things are unfolding as they should, and I am positively beaming in nerdy glee over it all. I've never been so happy to have something to prove.

Labels: Moving to Toronto

While there has been an unofficial countdown going on for a little while now, as of today I have begun formally counting the sleeps until me, my cats, and a big old rented cargo van pull up to our new apartment in Toronto. Gennie C, LTP and Merlin will already be there, unpacking and celebrating and shedding. I will unload all my worldly possessions, wave my parents goodbye, crack open a bottle of wine and make my new roommates promise me that if I ever again speak of staying with my parents for more than 48 hours, they will shoot a blow-dart soaked in tranquilizer into my neck and duct-tape me to the wall until I regain my senses.


Do not mistake me: I am deeply grateful to my parents for taking in their tangerine-haired wastrel of a daughter. They have fed me, clothed me, and bought me necessities for seven weeks now. They helped me get my boxes home when I ran out of money to ship them. Hell, my mom flew to Calgary to help me *pack* those boxes (she also made me the best soup I have ever tasted). I would never, not for an instant, want to imply that I am anything less than speechless with appreciation at how awesome they have been.

But there's always a however. And when one's wastrel daughter is a twenty-five-year-old poet and professional shit-disturber, and when one's parents are the very traditional European sort prone to fits of antiquing and early rising, and when one's father in particular is blessed with a streak of quaint sexism with a healthy side of racism...yeah. Seven weeks can be a long time.

I have not forgotten all of the survival techniques that I learned as a young woman. I listen to my ipod when trapped in the car and flatly refuse to watch any programming on the Fox network. I try to keep from pointing out the underlying messages of violence in the commercials. I bite the insides of my cheeks and dug my nails into my palms.

I am ready now. I am ready to rebuild my fortress, retreat into a universe of my own making where I will not be reprimanded for refusing to wear a skirt and makeup every day or called a "fallen woman" without irony. I am looking forward to being able to discuss anything faintly resembling politics without being told to adjust my tinfoil hat. I am looking forward to life with my friends in my city.

and counting.

Labels: Family and Friends, Le Divorce, Moving to Toronto

I've rarely felt this way. My usual explosions or fits of temper are really me writhing in pain, or lashing out like an injured cat who can't think beyond being hurt and protecting itself form further hurt with all its strength and pointy bits. Rarely do I get genuinely angry.

This morning, however, I happened to have that rare experience. The inside of my chest is filled with a hot, slow, wet feeling, like magma welling to the surface. My mouth is full of sparks. My hands shake. I feel like I must be radiating, shining out an ugly kind of light. Radiant.

The surprising thing is that I am grateful for the experience. It was incredibly illuminating. I can see clearly now the character of those around me. I see more of what has happened in my wake, and a little bit more of what lies ahead. I have seen my way through a couple of conversations that needed to take place, that were very murky only a day ago. I can see through more that I could before.

Above all, however, I am grateful for the challenge. Anyone who knows me, really knows me, knows what happens to me when someone tells me a thing cannot be done, that I am incapable of it.

So. Thank you for saying what you did. Do not apologize. I am glad, deeply glad that I saw it. Don't worry, you have said nothing that has not been said before and worse, and to my face. I have certainly been accused of being crazy before, and I have always looked carefully at those levelling the accusation and taken it with a grain of salt. No harm done.

I must tell you, though: you are mistaken. I do not "fold." I do not give in. I couldn't care less what you think, really, but you told me I could not. You've levelled a challenge.

Thank you.

Watch me. Just watch.

Labels: Anger Management, Moving to Toronto