What I've learned during my 8 hour spree of playing Jedi Outcast

-While using the mouse is far superior for playing the game, the big red welt on my wrist makes me long for the simple mouse-free days.
-There's a lot of logic in the saying "Never trust a bartender with bad grammar."
-Mike is eternally paitent with me.
-I feel kind of bad for looking at the walk-through when I became frustrated, but have now rationalized it with the knowledge that I really only have 2 days left to play it before I'm back in the land of laptops and RAM droughts.
-I really enjoy shooting storm troopers in the head.
-I'm totally ashamed that I didn't totally ace the Jedi Trials right away.
-Playing video games is really relaxing.
-Real life would be easier if I had a lightsaber.
-I should really get out of the pyjammas I've been wearing for the last 48 hours.

HRH

Land of the living

Well, my dear Dad actually caught the Norwalk virus, but in true Dad form has managed to crunch a 48 hour virus down to about 30. There's a reason why my sister gave him the Superhero's Handbook for Christmas. I'm also feeling closer to human. The sneezing and coughing are minor, but nothing I seem to take can put a dent in this headache. Still, I think I'm almost healthy enough to shop. Yay! Fluffy Shrimp.

HRH

Cracking up

True to form, I have come down with my annual case of The Christmas Flu. Fever, coughing, sore muscles, and an unhappy belly have all come to possess my usually strong and healthy form. Boo-urns to that. I'll be totally pissed if I've caught that absurd cruise ship flu. While I like to be in fashion, I draw the line at having the latest disease. Like Cordelia said in Buffy Season 1 "Who has chronic fatigue anymore?" Ah well. I've got my huge glass of grapefruit juice and a big old bottle of Tylenol. And at least there's wireless internet. That makes things a little less boring. Sadly my father, who almost never gets sick, has caught it as well.

Being sick is such a waste of time. I could have been skating with my Dad today! I could have been shopping with my mother! I could have been buying big fresh fluffy shrimp to snack on! But no. I'm stuck in bed feeling like poo. What a waste. Illness actually makes me kind of crazy. I wish I'd determined that I was getting sick when I woke up in a paranoid panic last night. I tried to use reason to work my way out of it, but it was like the connection to being rational was severed. I was sitting in bed for a good two hours, heart pounding, absolutely certain that everyone I knew was betraying me in some horrible way. Yes, I have trust issues among others. Regardless, it was a fairly awful way to pass the time between 2 and 4 a.m..

I decided that the only way to overcome this paranoia and prevent a heart attack was to do some reading. So I read about a quarter of The Fellowship Of The Ring and tried to let that dominate my mind. Nothing like a little escapism. It worked for a little while, but as I was drifting in and out of sleep I started thinking about the aliens from Signs. Which for a normal, sane, healthy person wouldn't mean much. But for a reality challenged, feverish me, trying to get to sleep in a pretty shadowy house, it meant more heart pounding paranoia and having to sleep with the light on. Eventually I feel asleep, only to wake up at 7, again with the heart pounding. Of course you can imagine my relief when I stood up and discovered that I was actually sick and feverish and not going totally insane.

I know there will be more crazy to come. I'm restless and missing my man and my Zeus and can't really to much to keep myself busy. So bear with me. This too shall pass.

HRH

Ever changing

Mental note: Must learn how to code different link colours in tables. Must stop being such a dork at HTML.

Until I learn some skills, faithful readers will have to cope with darker than dark links on the right column. Why have I relegated them to the shadows? Because the almost white, but not quite white, links were making it hard for some (not me) to read links in the text. It's all progressing... slowly. Archives should be back in a couple of days.

I realized that I forgot to mention what I've scored so far in my Christmas Haul. I am glad to read that no one has given Mike what I'm going to give him on NYE. Phew! Anywho. First thanks have to go to Kari for hooking me up with my first Pilates video and a belly dancing CD. Yay for stretchy muscles! And thanks to Wendy for the Clinique extravagnza. Christmas day got me a new mini disc/mp3 player and a new Clie personal organizer. I simply adore technology. I also found that Santa got me an assortment of soaps from Lush, the always needed socks and jammas in super soft fabrics, a red sweater or two, Attack Of The Clones on DVD, a James Bond trivia set (which goes perfectly with the 007 days of bond I've been watching on TNN) a candle from Peir One that matches my living room perfectly and a healthy wad of cash (most of which went shopping with me yesterday). The scary part is that Christmas isn't over yet. In fact, this is just the beginning. I have 4 bags full of presents still to give this holiday. Madness.

Some of the coolest presents I've been given this holiday have been from my uber crafty mother and sister. My mother is amazing with all kinds of crafts and my sister is in pursuit of the craft championship belt for sure. Mum carved me a little jewlery box and covered it with carvings of cat paw prints and painted it silver. She also painted a photo frame to match and filled it with an amazing photo (which she took) of my dear Zeus. She also knit me a huge, long, super warm and colourful scarf to keep me warm in Prague. If I weren't one of the primary benificiaries of her skills, I'd be sickened by it. Instead, I'm awed and greatful. My sister has gotten into making mosaics, and presented me with 4 handmade glass mosaic coasters. They're so cool and so beautiful. I may be able to paint and get my eyeliner perfect every time, but these two are just amazing at what they create. Sewing everything from ball gowns to sofa covers, knitting, quilting, carving, gardening... you name it. These two can do it and do it well. And not in that country crafty way, but in a modern and stylish way. It's cool. And I am SO lucky to be related to them.

HRH

Your tax dollars at work

With the help of Mike the archives issue should be solved soon and maybe a link colour that's easier on the laptop gazing eye. Still, I think I'm happy with it.

Today was all in all a pretty decent day for a girl who's far away from her man and her very cute grey kitty. I got up this morning and hit the stores. I won a prize in line at Old Navy for having foreign currency in my purse, and got a great fitting pair of jeans. Kudos to the people who invented stretch denim... the sins you can conceal. I went candle crazy at Pier One, making the rationalization that "you can't get candles like this in Prague." I wonder how I'm going to rationalize it when I'm living in a city with a Pier One? I did manage to refrain from buying placemats and other decor items. It took a lot of work though.

Winners got me in touch with some great tops for very little money. Exactly what I'm into. And I went pretty much crazy with OPI nail polish at a beauty supply store (talk about going to your happy place). Yep, on this jaunt home I have already purchased 5 new laquers. The problem is that OPI has these totally irresistable names like "Red-Red Rhine", "Swedish Nude", "Samoan Sand" and my favourite, which I have to buy before I leave "It's my Prague-ative." Who would have known that some of the best nail polish in the world would come from the Netherlands? Coming through Duty Free from Prague I did a Goth backslide and bought Rouge Noir, which means my toe nails are ready to head to a Sisters of Mercy concert. Ahh youth.

The shopping isn't over yet. It's a little freaky how comforting that is for me. Another thing that's freaky is a present that my friend Julie purchased for me. It's called the Jedi Training and Quiz Book. It's basically a test of how big a Star Wars nerd you are... the answer for me: HUGE. I have already achieved the rank of Jedi Master and am also part of the New Jedi Order. It was mostly fun, but I was actually a little scared of myself that I could answer... without hesitation...the two following questions:

Princess Leia was a prisoner on the Death Star. What level and detention block, according to R2-D2 was she kept in?
a. Level four, detention block AA-thirty-nine
b. Level six, detention block AC-twenty-one
c. Level five, detention block AA-twenty-three
d. Level two, detention block AD-six

Clearly the answer is c. (Without hesitating, sigh)

When Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Chewbacca finally broke into the detention block, Han Solo found out which cell Princess Leia was in. Which was it?
a. 2178
b. 2204
c. 2362
d. 2187

Here, the answer is d. I knew it before I read any of the options. It's beyond scary how nerdy I am.

HRH

Chelsea's Bane

No... it's not a onerous as the ring of power, but it irritates me to no end. Archives. Why won't they ever, ever, ever work? Why does blogger hate me so. Tweak, tweak, tweak...

HRH

Something new

Most of Christmas afternoon was spent giving the site a face lift, some tweaks and a new name. As my sister and I were playing with designs, and started making something I think is damn pretty, I realized that "If I ruled the world" just didn't work anymore. So, there's a new name (was almost "Thought's from the throne", which would have worked, save the toilet reference) and a new look. Hope it's easy on the eyes.

HRH

Holiday Wishes

As I sit here and wait for my family to rise and start the festivities, drinking my pink grapefruit juice, listening to a CD of lounge Christmas carols and reflecting on my second veiwing of The Two Towers last night, I want to pass on happy holiday wishes to everyone. To my friends and loved ones, I hope that all your holiday wishes have been or are being fufilled. Take care and enjoy the holiday!

HRH

Festivus for the rest of us

My Dad watches about 3 episodes of Seinfeld a day. It's really starting to rub off on me. Anywho, tomorrow is Christmas and after the gift giving bonanza, my dearest sister and her Andrew are going to give If I Ruled The World a makeover. You all know how I love a makeover. The two of them are professional web devlopers who run their own company. So like any good relative, I'm going to exploit their talents for my own selfish desires (in exchange for some well deserved PR of course). Weee.

Then I'm sure we're going to watch some Wallace and Gromit.

HRH

The Family comes marching one by one...

Yep, that's right. Save my beloved Zeus (who many not ever love me again for leaving him for so long) and M (who has a family of his own in a different city to contend with), my whole family (cats included) is here for Christmas. Words fail.

HRH

Time

Time stamps have now shifted to EST from CET. Just in case you're confused. They'll swtich back when I go back. Blogger really needs to find a way to accommodate the jet set.

HRH

Well that's good news

Making good use of the cable internet connection, I decided to end the mystery concerning the relative heights of the people on my List. To my relief and to the relief of those who are sick of me talking about it... we have resolution. (Thanks to the folks at IMBD.

Keanu Reeves: 6'1" (185 cm)
Harrison Ford: 6'1" (185 cm)
David Boreanaz: 6'1" (185 cm)
Viggo Mortensen: 5'11" (180 cm)
Robbie Williams: 6'0" (183 cm)

Phew.

HRH

I love the elves

I've had a night to digest it. And I think I love it. It was a litter harder to come to that conclusion than I expected it to be. It's kind of like when you actually fall in love. You come in with an expectation and you are given something different, you hadn't considered, and after some thought you realize that it's better than what you were looking for in the first place. I'm currently trying to apply this formula to my on-going battle with M over the merits of fine China.

Again, there are spoliers below for the uninitiated

Anyway, other highlights. The army of elves. It was just so cool when they fought and so tragic when they fell in battle. That whole moving in unison thing. Wah. And Legolas jumping on to the galloping horse that was carrying Gimli during the battle with the Orc Wolves. Could Legolas BE any cooler? Aragorn, Aragorn, Aragorn and Aragorn. That's all for that point. The breaking of the spell over Theoden (great effects). And the performance of Gollum, esp. when he did the scene reminiscent of W. Defoe in Spiderman. Really, Christmas came early for me this year.

A question or two... There was a least on scene in the trailers that didn't appear in the film. The one where Saruman is commenting on Gandalf's discovery of the last King of Gondor. Has it been moved? Are they going to put it back into the extended version?

Oh and I still totally don't like Eowyn. I know I'll like her in ROTK, but in TTT, Gah! Though she is less contemptuous now that they introduced the plot line of Arwen actually choosing to leave Middle Earth (great scene with Arwen and Elrond). Meaning she's not a jerk for lusting after Aragorn, as he is now "apparently" parted from his beloved forever and therefore, fair game. And Aragorn isn't a jerk for being confused (though it's pretty clear that he's not really temped at all), as he is only having to be faithful to a memory. Tricky bastards.

HRH

This is living

I'm lying in bed, trying to fight off my jetlag (was ready to collapse at about 7:45) typing a blog using a wireless ethernet connection. This is the life. I love my parents house. You can't walk a metre without running into technology. This is what happens when your father studied engineering.

I can't really write more about TTT at present. My mind is still processing (like a 386 because of the time nuttiness) and I want to make sure that if I'm going to comment, that it's worth reading. Right now all I can give you is "I like it."

HRH

You mean I have to wait ANOTHER year...

M, you shouldn't read this until you see TTT...

Contrary to Kari's appraisal of TTT, I actually didn't think it was long enough. Crazy no. My first thought when I was driving home from the theatre was "I can't wait for the extended version."

I want to say that it was the best cinematic experience ever, that it is the Empire for a new age, and maybe with my second viewing it will be. But I left feeling just the slightest bit sour about the ending. I was really hoping the film would end in the devestating way the book did. They decided to put that off, which worries me. How are they going to fit everything into ROK? I've heard about where it's going to end, and I just can't fathom how they're going to do it all.

That said, I loved it. Helms Deep blew my mind and I was so happy that they kept the counting between Gimli and Legolas. Shadowfax. Damn that's a great horse. I was choked up a little with the exploration of the love story of Aragorn and Arwen from the appendicies. When I read it, it was sad, but it never totally registered what she was subjecting herself to by staying. This brought it all home. I wish their plot line didn't become so tragic after all they worked for to be together.

I'm totally not taking back my freakout over Eowyn. Toning it down, yes, but not taking it back. At the end of the movie, we're left with Aragorn thinking that Arwen has left for the Grey Heavens and is getting a whole lot of fawning from the Sheild Maiden. Of course we know how it turns out... but there's still room for some smutting about. I'm more sure that PJ won't mess it up...

More later... Mum is calling me for dinner.

HRH

It's the final countdown...

Two hours from now I will be sitting in a darkened theatre watching the opening moments of The Two Towers. I think that's all I need to say now. That, and shopping totally rocks.

HRH

Welcome to 5 a.m.

Yep. Woke up at 5 a.m. on the dot, and decided that I would just get up and check some email and go back to bed. That was almost 2 hours ago. Will I ever tire of unlimited access?

HRH

Sleepy eyes and LAN

Yep, that's right. I'm back in Canada again. Time doesn't seem to move here. Except beds seem to. My parents moved my bed out of my room. They moved it upstairs, to my sister's old room, and put the sofa bed in my room. Or I guess my former room. I haven't actually lived here in 7 years, and it's not like I could reasonably expect them to leave it as a shrine or anything, but I'm a little weary. And I can't even sneak upstairs to sleep in my bed (the second most comfortable bed in the world, after my bed in Prague) because that room is full of Christmas presents that are not meant for my eyes.

Still, it's home and that's good. There's my family, lots of food, Cable internet, and digital satellite. Did I mention the cats. Two huge Norwegian Forest cats. Very cute and still quite kitten-y. Still not my Zeus, who I'm missing so much right now. Regardless, it's a good place to be. I'm trying to kick my jet lag early (I'm one of those freaks who gets jet lag travelling West-what the hell?) and making myself stay up to at least 11 p.m. It's almost ten. Eyelids...so...heavy. But cable internet is so fast and it's always on. Also, home is awsome because my mother will randomly bring me bowls full of cottage cheese. I can be the most independant woman, take care of many people's needs and need very little back, but my mom bringing me food like she did when I was younger, just melts me.

I'm totally jealous of Kari's Tori experience and wish I could have been there to share it with her. Can you believe I haven't seen Tori since the 5 and 1/2 weeks tour? Maybe M and I will get it together to see her in Munich on the 25th. As if she played Jackie's Strength, Bliss and Hey Jupiter! I would have been a blob of weeping goo by the end of it. So envious I'm a little green. Also, I'm sending large amounts of sympathy for Wendy and her tonsils. Have those bad boys taken out. I gave mine their pink slips when I was 3, as 14 cases of tonsilitis were enough for me.

The next few days are going to include a trip to the dentist (boo-urns), a veiwing of TTT (wow, omigod, wow) and my resisting the urge to buy everyone more Christmas presents. I'm done all my shopping, but I'm having those "I don't have enough" feelings, which I get every year and then spend way too much on everyone, because I'm so afraid that people will be disappointed and not feel special, which is the opposite of the effect I'm trying to get here.

Okay, rambling... must watch more Star Trek... or sleep. Good to be home. Miss my cat and my man so very much, but at least have my stuffed animal bunny with me. (Did I just write that?)

HRH

Music gets the best of me...

Tara did something interesting on her blog recent. She wrote a list of music she was listening to, and asked if that relflected something about her personality. I think that it does. As your personality is reflected in all the choices that you make. What you wear, what you buy (what China you may choose to buy, M!), what you say and what you listen to. It's all a reflection of what you think and what you find interesting. And that says something about you.

So I've decided to write down what I've been listening to in the last few weeks. Realize that there are over 700 CDs in my home (and that's not even the entire collection as M and I still have a pile in storage in Canada), so this isn't a definative list of what I like, it's just what I've been listening to for the last few days. I think it is pretty safe to say that I am a lover of music.

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack
Robbie Williams: Escapology
Tori Amos: Scarlet's Walk
Rachid Taha: Arabic Pop Songs
The Superman Lovers: The Player
Sophie Ellis Bextor: Read My Lips
Ultra Lounge: Christmas Cocktails
Muse: The Origin Of Symmetry
Moulin Rouge: Soundtrack
Ultra Lounge: Bachelor Pad Royale
Various: Arabic Drummers
Tomb Raider: Soundtrack
Jamiroquai: Synkronized
Bombay II: Electric Vindaloo
Ramasutra: The East Infection
Massive AttackMezzanine
and, I shamefully admit...
Jennifer Lopez: J-Lo

HRH

Adventures in vetrinary medicine

So last night I took the might Zeus to the vet for his annual vaccinations. Even getting there was quite an adventure. A very long tram ride with loud Italians and a decent wait in the vets office. The whole time, Zeus was unflappable. Not a meow, not a protest. We got in to see the vet, where we discovered that the great grey one needs to go on a big of a diet. It's been decided that he should be a 5 kg cat. I like him as a 6 kg cat, but I'm not a vet, so diet it is.

Despite a predispoition to gum disease (the cat eats the crunchiest food he can, yet still gets grumpy gums), and a appointment for a dental cleaning (I can't believe I'm taking my cat to the dentist) Zeus is in good form. Or at least he was. After another tram ride home, where he was very good tempered, he tried to settle down at home. It seemed, however, that despite his efforts to be normal Zeus, he was pretty freaked out by the whole experience. Which lead to a lot of odd behavior and itching and vomiting. Basically my cat had a panic attack. And, being the hysterical cat owner that I am, I promptly called a cab and haulled ass back to the vet, thinking he was having some sort of horrible allergic reaction. And of course, he wasn't. But the vet gave him something to prevent a reaction and to calm him down. We made our way back home, and he's been Zeus-y ever since. Granted he's refused to cuddle with me, since the incident, as it was all clearly my fault.

This experience has strengthend my resolve not to have children. I was a so nervous and so upset, debating how I could tell everyone in Canada that I'm not coming home because I have to watch the cat, getting up in the middle of the night to be sure that he was okay. There's just no way I could mentally handle a child. the possibility of my cat being sick is heartbreaking enough. Kids would just kill me.

HRH

What I do when M is away

Oh you're going to go out for dinner with E, while I'm teaching? Well, know what I'm going to do? I'm going to run around the apartment like a little girl in my ball gowns. I feel much better now.

HRH

This is what dying slowly feels like

God I'm bored. I turns out that I am one of those people who's happiness is very much connected to their livelihood. If I wasn't, I'd be a totally happy camper. I live in a city I love, I have a balance of social activities and non-social activities (though I'm still pretty glum without Kari and Wendy), I like where I live and love who I live with and my cat, frankly, rocks. I make good money for the country I live in and I'm healthy. Why the hell am I being such a whiny baby?

First, I'm very much an all or nothing type. Black or white. It's all good or it's all bad. Over time I've learned to accept a little grey or at least create barriers of inlfluence. Like having a bad lunch can't make everything all bad, it just makes lunch bad, whereas a horrible argument with a loved on makes everything bad. Childish, totally. But it's how I work, so deal. Things have difference levels of importance and difference scopes of influence. Right now, I'm not so happy with work. It's a big one for me. It hasn't made me slide into a depression, but it is slowly smothering my drive and will.

Next, I thrive on being productive. Sitting aroud doing nothng freaks me right out. I love making lists and knocking down the items on it. Presently, my list is pretty much empty, save 30 minutes worth of graphics work.

Finally, I love responsibility. It's part of that getting things done. It's a big thrill for me to be able to say "I did this." And sadly, I don't feel like I have much responsibility at my job right now. I should, but because of language barriers I'm at the mercy of someone else's decisions. And I hate it. I can only communicate in English. It's a limitation, it drives me crazy. It makes me livid when someone calls the office, and tells me in perfect English that they don't speak English very well, hence I am of no help to them. I'm a frickin English teacher! I fumble and bumble my way through all kinds of Czech converstations because I need to get things done. Why won't people meet me half way? Is communitcating in broken Czenglish so bad? Apparently yes.

It's left me feeling totally useless and makes me wonder why the hell I'm here at all. I'm so bored, and at present, I have no superior to talk to about it and am left with very few options. I guess if I get the jobs I'm applying for in NA, I won't be as torn about leaving. I'm just so bored with work and I worry about what that says about me.

5 Minutes later...

Okay, Wendy is psychic. As I was in the midst of writing my self pitying blog, her cute boy walked into my office with some presents from her. A magazine about shopping called "Lucky" (how perfect ) and possibly the best gift bag ever. A clinique purse and a bag full of samples and trial sizes of products I don't have. It's so wonderful. THANK YOU WENDY! Like a shot of adrenaline, I feel better. I know there's a lot of future out there for me. I just wish I could get there, without having to leave Prague.

HRH

Gah, Uug, Ow

I hate this. This knawing, grinding pain in my stomach and the headache that just will not go away. Wait, it did go away for the duration of belly dancing class where I danced for nearly two hours straight last night. This may explain some of the stomach pain, as my abs are basically saying "the hell are you trying to do to us?" and I reply "flatten you out, my little darlings."

I should have stayed in bed today, but as long as I have the strength to be productive, I will be. Dumb I know, but it's the way I work. Regardless of my choices, I feel crummy and tired and grouchy and just want to stay in bed for a week. But I can't do that because, true to form, my mind has gone into "everything must be done at this very moment" mode. I'm such a neurotic head-case sometimes. Loveable though...

HRH

Full of grace

After a pleasant evening at the office Christmas party, where my Secret Santa proved that he rocks by giving me a Darth Maul action figure, I found myself feeling a little groggy today. Which is odd, since I was drinking orange juice last night. Maybe I'm having sympathy cloudiness for M, since he wasn't drinking orange juice and is battling the spirits this morning. I'm just a little bit out of it today.

As I was walking to work I had one of my moments of total spasticness. These take over my body from time to time, making any attempt at grace or poise impossible. I was walking to work, headphones on and trying to become one with the bitter (sunny) cold that has enveloped Prague. As I was crossing the street at the Jindrisska tram stop, my body went postal. My chunky refusal-to-embrace-the-pointy-toed-shoes-trend boots managed to get stuck in the tram rails. Rails that I have managed to avoid with skill for well over two years. I felt my momentum start to shift, as the upper part of my body kept moving and my lower body stopped. I tried to regain my balance, growing up as spastic as I am I've become quite skilled at recovering from potential falls. But not this time.

My knee came crashing down into the pavement as the momentum and weight of my upper body and bag threw me forward. And there I was. In the middle of the morning crowds, piles of people waiting for trams on both sides of the street, there I lay, sprawled face down on the tram tracks. Thankfully, there were no trams coming, meaning that my embarrassment wasn't compounded by trams full of people seeing my body splayed across the tracks, while the drivers ring their bells in irritation for the delay.

I got up as quickly as I could, limping off the tracks as nice Czech ladies were asking me if I was okay. I skinned my knee and strained my wrists from breaking my fall, but nothing vital was damaged. I limped behind the waiting vestibules and gathered myself. Turns out, the tram tracks are damn dirty, which means my mittens are going to need a wash.

Sigh, this is the way I start my day.

HRH

1700 Euros for a new nose

I can't believe I'm blogging about this. But meh, here we go. I think I'm blogging about this in an effort to talk myself out of even considering it. Last night, as I was practicing my belly dancing, I raised one of my scarves to see what I would look like if I was in traditional belly dancing garb and the only thing you could see on my face would be my eyes. So I did this and I was like "cool, I have really pretty eyes." The scarf I was using was just a touch or two above sheer, so you could see the shape of my lips through the scarf. Again I had to say "hey, my lips are a really nice shape." I then noticed that my cheeks were starting to do that cool "I'm a woman now" hollowing out thing giving me cheek-bones my adolescent baby cheeks couldn't have seen on a clear day.

It was a nice moment. One of those moments where I realized that I no longer look like a girl, but a woman. It was really neat. Like I'd grown into the image of what I wanted to be when I was a little person. Then I took the scarf down. The pretty eyes, lips and cheeks were still there, slightly flushed from the dancing and then I saw it. Obscured by the scarf and wiped from my mind, was my nose. Not a horrific witch nose or brutally mangled in combat, but odd and somewhat bulbous. Through some freak of nature it can really only be described as squishy. It's like there's no cartilage in it. I can make it go flat or move most of it to one side or the other. It's one of my more freaky party tricks. In highschool my dear friends Laura and Natasha would squish my mushy nose as a sign of affection. It's an odd thing.

When I was growing, I used to beg my mom for a nose-job. I know I'm not disfigured or in a bad way at all, but it was just so odd and I felt like I could be some sort of beauty if I could just fix my unusual nose. The way I saw it, I already had the tall, pale and dark haired thing going on, so I didn't need yet another feature to make me distinct. A normal nose would be just fine. At least this was the rationale I give my mother. She wisely said that if I could save up half of the money needed for rhinoplasty, she would front the other half. Smart woman my mother.

Needless to say I didn't save the money, and I even came to accept my nose. Heck, in some ways I really love it. It's part of who and what I am. When I have these vain freakouts about it, I slow down and pause when I think about what I'd be doing to myself. I'm kind of torn. Do I embrace the wonders of medicine and pay someone 1700 Euros (which I could use to pay a home theatre system or take a vacation to France with) to hack and reshape my nose? Or do I gracefully accept and embrace who I am and what I look like?

There are two sides to this coin. I could say that in the grand scheme of things, my nose really doesn't matter, so why do it? But I could also, using that "logic", say "why not do it?" If it's not important, than I'm not really losing anything if I change it. Of course, then I become the girl who had the nose job, and it will be one of those "she's not really pretty, she's just had work done." kinds of things. Sure most of the beautiful people in the world have had something done but that's part of their job, but it's not like looking a certian way is my job, it's just an on-going obsession.

This is such a banal thing to post, I'm sorry to all the blog readers. But I was just such a shock to me yesterday. To go from a moment of feeling really beautiful and happy with myself to shock at how totally unflattering my nose is. Good thing I don't have a spare 1700 Euros to toss around.

It's totally clear that I am bored these days, isn't it.

HRH

8 days a week

Mike's most recent post about the trouble with dates has made me realize how European my approach to measurment and dates has become. (Was that a sentence?) I don't even think about date formatting anymore. Clearly it's DD/MM/YYYY. When it's a standard across an entire continent and a big part of the world, numbers before 13 are a breeze to sort out for accounting and pretty much everything else.

I'm also starting to think in metric. Living on the US/Canadian boarder for most of my life, I existed in this strange metric/imperial hybrid. Distance is in kilometers, weight and height is in prounds and inches, temperature is in celcius, volume is in litres and tools are in imperial. Living in Europe for 2 and 1/2 years, I've had to give up on the bits of imperial I knew and translate my brain fully into metric. I still know what it means when someone says "I'm 5'8" and I weigh 140 pounds." but if someone were to ask me how tall I am, I think "I'm 180 cm" before I think "I'm 5'11"." (I know it says I'm 183 cm on my driver's license, but when I went to get it I was totally convinced that I was 6 feet tall. I'm not. I've accepted that. And no, I'm not going to write down how much I weigh).

I can generally switch between imperial and metric measurements if I know I'm speaking to Americans, but as sson as someone says "It's like 90 degrees out today." all I can think is that it's about 10 degrees away from water boiling and how on earth are people suriving in that heat.

Measurements are not absolute. They are definitions we give to things in order to communicate about them. If we'd decided that we were going to measure weight in frogs and we all agreed on the measure of weight as frogs, then that could work. It wouldn't be so precise, but the point is that a system of measurement works because we agree that it works. Hundreds of years ago systems of measurement varied from town to town, which meant that trade between towns involved a lot of math.

So it is true that we could use any form of measurement, so long as we all agreed, but my vote is for the metric system. Why? Having learned both major systems of measurement, I think that metric is more straightforward, dealing in units of 10, which I find simpler than dealing in units of 12 and like Mike said, most of the world is already using it. Even the British, who are the founding fathers of the imperial system, are converting to metric as part of their membership in the EU. This doesn't meant that everyone thinks and speaks in metric, but they will in time. My parents, who grew up learning the Imperial system, still talk about temperature in those strange farenheit terms sometimes.

Anyway, go metric. It makes trade easier. Trade is good.

HRH

Touchy Toucherson

It will come a no suprise to anyone that I have a few issues. Always have, and despite my rigorous regime of introspection and analysis I always will. Though, at this point in my life I am happy to say that I have very few. Basically I'm a happy healthy person. I don't feel like the raging werido that was a notch too many off of normal or at least I don't feel like being a raging werido a notch too many off of normal is a bad thing. I get stressed, I get silly, and occasionally I get down (in the dancing sense, and I get in the mood sense as well, but never really at the same time).

So I have an issue and it's beginning to manifest itself in a way where I'm biting my tounge in an effort not to snap at my loved ones or worse, I actually am. And it's all totally silly. It's all because of something I'm sensitive about and am *shock* blowing out of proportion. But how do to get my mind working in a logical, non-irrational-offence-taking kind of way when someone unwittingly presses the silly sensitivity button? And it's such a dumb thing that I'm getting so upset over.

See the subheading of my blog "Who says spelling matters..." That's not there because I'm a lazy proof reader or writer. It's a defence mechanism. The fact of the matter is that I really can't spell and it embarasses and shames me a great deal. People have told me that they think it's cute and that it's one of those quirks that makes me who I am, but I can't help but think that if I was one of those people who find my spelling charming, I'd think less of me.

I've been trying to cure myself of this limitation for years, but not with any great measure of success. I look at those who can spell and those who diligently and kindly point out the more horrendous errors in my spelling with a mix of awe, admiration and stomach churning venomous envy. Envy is such an ugly thing. And it's so strange. People can point out mistakes I've made in other things and I'm generally open to it and glad to learn about it (generally). If someone points out a spelling mistake there's this horrible dialouge that goes through my head.

Person who can spell: Hey Chel, you realize you spelt science wrong, right?

Me trying to cover my embarassment with humour: So this isn't the right time to impliment my modern spelling scheme then? Okay, I'll fix it. Sorry.

Chelsea's critical inner dialouge: Moron. A child in primary school could spell that word. You should have checked that before you wrote it.

Chelsea's other inner dialouge, because an inner monologue would be lonely: I DID check it. A couple of times, but I just couldn't see it. Everything looked right. I must have switched the letters or been thinking/writing too fast. I honestly thought it was right...

Chelsea's critical inner dialouge: That's really no excuse. Now they all think you're an idiot. No one respects you if you can't spell. don't you know that. Smart people make fun of people that can't spell at dinner parties and on television. No one can take you seriously as a person of noteworth intellect if they can't see your ideas for all the spelling mistakes.

Chelsea's other inner dialouge, because an inner monologue would be lonely: So no matter what I do and no matter what I say, it's all moot because I can't spell?

Chelsea's critical inner dialouge:Basically.

Chelsea's other inner dialouge, because an inner monologue would be lonely: And despite my efforts to the contrary, I'm always going to have typos and spelling mistakes in my writing, I'm pretty much screwed.

Chelsea's critical inner dialouge:Basically.

Chelsea's other inner dialouge, because an inner monologue would be lonely:Crap.

As you can see, going through all of that every time I make a spelling mistake (which is way too often) is draining, and dumb, as I'm just blasting myself with negative energy. I wouldn't want people to stop correcting me, because leaving the mistake there would just expand the universe of people who know that I suck at spelling. I just wish I could see it, thank them for their help and not have to go through all the stupid psycho-rigmaroll with myself. If something is wrong, then it should be fixed so it's right. It's that simple, yet I persist in personalizing it.

Perhaps venting all of this is helpful. Perhaps letting the world know that not only am I a horrendous speller, but also a passenger on the starship neurotic is a good thing? Who knows and reallly who cares? In my little self-absorbed bubble this is an issue, in the real world where there's so much, well, everything this is just not worth of the space it's taking up. Insecurity vented... we will now return you to our regular programming.

Note: if anyone thinks they're going to be the funny guy and mail me a list of all the typos I made in this post, I'm going to find you and have my cat "bite you good."

HRH

Winter Wonderland

Yesterday was one of those sweet days. Unlike our usual habit of sleeping in until the cat is smacking us in the head for his breakfast, we got up at a respectable hour and trotted off to do some Christmas shopping. At the new shopping-uber-wonder-mecca-mall Letnany we toured around, had some sushi and some thai food and I got to experience the sinus clearing bliss of a glob wasabi in the middle of a piece of nigiri.

We were finished shopping and restocking our food supplies in time to come home before the sun set, and which was remarkable as we were actually able to see the sun. It being Sunday today, the sun is out in its usual splendor with a bright blue sky behind it.

After a quick dinner and a couple games of Text Twist. we set out to see some of holiday Prague at night. We bundled up pretty well, not Canada well, but well enough. I made the fatal error of wearing jeans, the crappiest insulators in history, and hot wearing thermal underwear. Not that I thought that a temperature of minus 2 actually warranted thermal underwear, but I should have known better. I'm Canadian after all.

Anywho, we decided that it was time for me to confront one of my fears and inner shames. It was time, after many years of avoiding it, to go ice skating. About 10 minutes walk from our place, the mobile operator Oskar has erected a decent sized skating rink in the middle of the Ovocny Trh (Fruit market). It's a pretty impressive set-up. Skating on the rink is free, and skate rentals are free if you're an Oskar customer (which neither of us are) or 20 Kc (One Dollar CAD) if you're not. All the proceeds from the stake rentals go to the Drop of Hope foundation (Kapka nadeje) for kids with cancer.

The rink is surrounded Christmas trees and stands selling coffee, tea, svarane vino (mulled wine), sausages and bramboracky (Potato pancakes). There's a sound system for the rink, which should be playing music from a local radio station, but last night was serenading us with choral versions of 80s semi-goth hits. You really haven't lived until you've been skating to a mens choir singing Blasphemous Rumours or Blue Monday.

Anyway, given the location and price of this rink, it was pretty popular last night. We ended up waiting in line to get on for about an hour (which was when I began to rue my choice of pants) and downing a couple of mulled wines to keep warm. The staff at the rink are incredibly nice and accommodating, which helped quell some of my fears. Sadly, for the last 15 minutes of our wait, I was shaking. Partly form the cold, partly from the fear of painful death via ice skate. I could see and hear the whoosh sounds that the skilled ice skaters made as the turned corners and unwittingly scared the crap out of the timid learners making their way around the rink. M assured me that they weren't the ones that were going to cause me trouble. It was the fellow green skaters who lacked the skill to control themselves as they went careening into a flock of toddlers.

So, I swallowed my fear and went for it. I tried to remember everything my mother and sister (who was a damn good figure skater in her youth) had told me about skating. When I got out there, I was more afraid of the crowds of people, than I was of falling. In fact, I impressed myself. I was going at a moderate speed, but I turning corners, kind of stopping when I wanted to, and, when I went into the middle of the rink, was able to do a couple of turns. Granted these are turns that any 4 year old in a skating class could do, but I still felt proud.

I had a great time. I only skated for about 20-25 minutes as my ankles reminded me that I am NOT a skater and threatened to give out on me. My ankles and I have since had a talk about giving up when I'm having fun and how I really don't accept any part of my body being "weak." Even my crunchy sounding knee knows that it at least has to feign strength when the show has started.

The rink will be open until January 6th, so hopefully M and I can get out there again (with warmer pants and have some more winter fun. M and I are even considering going skating on Nathan Phillips Square in Toronto over the holidays. It's amazing how Christmas-y you can feel without snow. Of course, I'm sure when I arrive in Canada in 11 days, I get more snow than I'll know what to do with.

HRH

Shades of grey

Most days, waking up is a pleasant experience for me. I have a fantastically soft and comfortable bed, sleep in the coziest of pyjammas and usually am cuddled up with my very warm boyfriend and velvety soft cat. I usually wake up with the sunlight coming in through our windows and the first thing I see is a row a beautiful baroque facades, usually with a beautiful blue sky behind them. I even get excited when it's raining. The sound of the rain against the windows and of the cars on the street driving through puddles is an oddly soothing sound for me. I wake up each day and think "I love my life."

Today, waking up was dreadful. It was 8 a.m. and the sky was barely light. Even now at 10:15 it's just a lighter shade of grey. To make matters worse I had an awful nightmare, and woke up from it so upset and petrified that I couldn't bring myself to move and wake up M to tell me it was just a bad dream. I don't know how long I lay there, scared. But thankfully Zeus got tired of waiting for us to get up, give him treats and drip bath water on his head (I don't understand why, but the cat absolutely loves it) and woke M up for me, thus ending my paralyzing silence.

I expect the rest of the day to be fine. I'm not one of those people who lets a bad morning ruin the rest of the day, but I'm a little sour about it. My life is pretty sweet, and one of the ways I enjoy it big and little parts of its sweetness is to enjoy the small stuff. The details. Waking up is one of my details, like my lunchtime salad ritual. I missed it today, but luckily I can always try again tomorrow.

HRH

Could someone tell me if the sun actually exsists

I know there was a glimmer of sun on Sunday (odd no?) and it broke through the clouds for a moment on Monday, but since then and for weeks prior, I have not seen the sun. It's not like I'm a huge fan of the sun. My intentional efforts to look like a china doll are proof that for almost 10 years the sun and I have been mortal enemys. But now I have to confess that now that the sun is nowhere to be seen, on a vacation in Cancun, buring people to a little crisp, I actually miss it.

I'm beginning to see that I actually like the sun. I love sitting in the shade on a sunny day, feeling a summer breeze blowing my hair off my shoulders. I love waking up in the morning and seeing a blue sunny sky welcoming me to the day. I love seeing Zeus basking in the joy of a well placed sun beam or feeling how warm the sun makes me feel on a day late in the fall.

I miss the sun and how happy it makes everyone around me. Only 16 days to the solctice and then thankfully the days will start getting longer. It's 10 to 4 right now and it's pretty much dark now. This is insane. I don't know if I can handle a third Prague winter. At least I'll be in Canada in two weeks, were the winters are brutal, but sunny. Beautifully sunny and frigid.

Maybe I should move to California... but am I a west coast kind of girl?

HRH

Christmas coming early

So last night when I came home from work I found a present from Santa. Well, Santa in the form of me, as I'd ordered it several months ago. I know have, in my cute not little but distinct hands, a copy of the extended version of The Fellowship of the Ring. M and I were only able to get through about 3/4 of it last night, as we started it around 9 p.m. and realized at about 11:30 that we were really liking it, but were really knackered from working all day. Having not read the books (gasp) the extra scenes and information have been really helpful to M, so there was a lot of "oh" going on. It's well worth what I paid for it and a total treat to watch. Being able to see all the extra scenes and details feels like I've been let in on a secret or I'm learning more about the lands of middle earth.

Only 16 days till the Two Towers.

HRH

Misc

One of the freakiest things I've ever seen.
It's either a billiant spoof or brilliant marketing. I'm not sure which but I just can't stop watching it.

Why Wendy Rocks (Sung to the tune of "I have confidence in me" from The Sound of Music
I have confidence in you
I have confidence the boys would all be mine
If I could only see
My own styyyyyylist, Che-el-sea!

Calling Batman
Ian, get in touch with me. I have some mail for you.

HRH

Some feedback

Since I told the world (or at least my small blog world) what my present ambitions are, I've gotten some fairly postive feedback. Not that this is about feedback, but when dealing with life choices like careers, child-rearing and hair cuts, it's good to test the sanity level in your water by asking around a little.

Thus far, I have not had a "my god, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.", but I haven't told my family about it yet, so there's still a chance for some hearty laughing and pointing. Tania has been the most adent supporter thus far, exclaiming "That's so totally perfect for you.", which is really what I'm wanting to hear. Mike was super helpful and supportive as well, siding with M, that I'd feel pretty stifled if I was just Jane beautician working at the local salon with all the "girls." So we've narrowed the feild a little. I think the plan is to go into special effects make-up/make-up for film and television. Like Mike said, a job that might actually incorporate something I learned in undergrad and allow me to work in an industry I'm facinated with.

There have been some questions about my new career path, and it's good that I'm answering them all now before I face the 'rents. Questions like do I really want to have to brush away the cocaine residue from beneath the noses of the actors I'll working on at 4 o'clock in the morning? Do I want to see how things work behind the scenes, without the magic? Do I want to be in a trade instead of something more academic? Do I want to deal with people treating me like I'm an airhead because I'll be working in a profession with a stigma of being full of airheads (something I disagree with)? And do I want to give up the desk and computer lifestyle (hell yeah!)?

It's been said that people go through many careers in their life. I don't really ever plan to have my one ultimate job that I'm going to to for the rest of my life. I plan on doing many different things, so I can have a rich and diverse life. This is what I want to be my next career. Who knows where I'll be after that. I do know that I'm smart and my only limits are those that I put upon myself... Ok, I'm about to break into the "confidence in me" song from the Sound Of Music, so I'll stop that.

I suppose it all comes down to that horrible question of: Do you do what you think you should do, or do you do what you want to do? There are risks and benefits with both options. I guess the most important thing is to know which is which and make a concious choice to do one of them.

HRH