A familiar ring

How strange it is to be reading about flooding in the Czech Republic and not be there for it.

HRH

Still got it

One of the side-effects of living in Canada again or the work that I do has been a generally inability and aversion to reading fiction. Most of the time I am pleased if I can find the will to read a magazine feature. I'm not sure why. For most of my life I've consumed books like breakfast, but in the last 2.5 years I think I've finished, maybe 10 books. It's really strange.

Anyway, this evening I hopefully took a step towards turning that around. I read The Lovely Bones from front to back in one sitting. Proving to me that I can read and leaving me to wonder exactly why I'm not.

HRH

Because everything I say is everything you've ever wanted to hear

Double whammied with the hate this week and it's only Tuesday. Between this article about the austounding and puzzling lack of trust Americans have for athiests and this article about how publicists are one of the least trusted professions I'm feeling awfully good. I could just stand here and bask in the warmth of the love of the world. Oh yeah.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Liar" by Rollins Band

HRH

Damn the man!

Pretty much everything having to do with our wedding has been fun and amazing. If I had smaller feet, it would be the perfect superlative experience. Really. It's been a blast, save this small detail: Finding someone to marry us.

In some countries, anyone can become an ordained whatever through a variety of mediums and perform a wedding or two and it will be legally binding. A friend that we know and love marrying us, well that would be awesome. It would be so personal and so genuine. But because the puritanical province of Ontario demands it, we can only be married by a certified officiant (a distinction that only can come with an affiliation with a religion), a judge (in chambers) or a justice of the peace. But wait, recently in this province the duties of the JPs were altered, no longer requiring them to do wedding ceremonies. So unless you know one personally, you can't find one to marry you. And if you want to be married somewhere other than in a judge's chambers, you're stuck with an officiant. Who I'm positive are some of the darn nicest people around, but leave me in a bit of a situation.

What do you do if you're an atheist? How do I get married by someone religious without being a complete and total hypocrite? And how do I get over the anger I feel at having to PAY hundreds of dollars to have a complete and total stranger come to a very special and private moment to legalize a commitment they have no part of with the sanction of a church and the state, two things I have little fondness for?

I suppose you just take it on then chin like you do when you pay your taxes and salute the bureaucracy with your finger of choice, or do like Zeus did and take a dump on the label for my tax return. Thanks kitty for doing what most of us have wanted to do from the day we got our SIN numbers.

Anyway, I thought I'd found a solution in hiring a Humanist officiant. While Humanists are not religious, they are, in the government's eyes a recognized religion. We met with one and I came away from the whole experience feeling like I was being led into a cult (something I think was a reflection of the individual I met with and not because of the values of Humanism). I don't like "isms". I think that identifying with them makes it really easy for people to make generalizations about you rather than putting in the effort to really learn what you're about. Even having to say that I'm an atheist annoys me because it's an "ism".

So you can only imagine the disdain I felt when this particular officiant stated that he adamantly wanted to include a line about the principles of Humanism into the wedding ceremony, as in "Humanism is...". People are entitled to their opinions and their beliefs, but when I've hired you to perform a service, it is not an opportunity for you to recruit people to your movement. To me, it was tantamount to another officiant stating that we were marrying under the eyes of the lord or something like that. Something completely irrelevant to us. If we were Humanists, it might make sense. But we're not. We're not anything but the people we are and that's kind of the point.

I'm being my usual idealistic self in wanting the person marrying me to believe in and value the same things I do. I guess then I would feel validated by their endorsement of our commitment and not like it's some stranger I've paid.

I know I should just let go and hire a retired minister or something like that. Odds are we'll get someone assigned to us from the city (an officiant and thereby affiliated with a religion, but required to perform a civil ceremony) or use AllSeasons (because they let us do our ceremony any way we want). Most likely it will be just fine and I'll be so wrapped up in the rest of the good stuff of the day that I'll forget. In fact, I'm sure that once I have this person booked, this will all abate into a tiny memory.

HRH

The usual, big square building filled with boredom and despair

My mother forwarded my sister and I a letter from one of our highschool teachers. It seems the long, death-like reach of the highschool reunion has come forth to claim us. Thankfully, rather than bring us back year by year, my highschool has mercifully lumped all fifty years worth of students into one, three-day event. Meaning if I decide not to go back, it's very much unlikely that my absence will be noted.

//puts on the much hated Nickleback's "Photograph" because it sadly works for this situation... Looks at highschool photographs

I've been out of highschool for 11 years now. Yeah. What a strange time in life. I'm still in touch with Laura as getting through those five years created an ever-lasting friendship. But looking back at all these photos and my seriously over-plucked eyebrows... It's just a mix of emotions.

I remember playing a lot of basketball and playing a lot of double bass. There was a lot of drama, a lot of angst and a good lot of time spent driving the roads around Kingston listening to the likes of Nine Inch Nails, Kate Bush, EMF, Stone Temple Pilots, Belly and Jesus Jones.

I got a school letter at graduation for my achievements in sports, music and student's council. I also had a school jacket that said "Falcons Basketball" on the back, with my number and position on the side. I have a class ring too. The stone... Garnet of course as our school colours were garnet and grey. I did stuff and I was involved, black eyeliner use aside.

I remember my car very fondly. We mostly called it "The Beast" for obvious reasons. I mostly loved it. It was a totally no-pressure car. It was on it's last legs, I could fit two double basses in it and my parents and I covered it in surf and snowboard stickers to give me that very important Kingston extreme sports cred. It was actually a really smart plan. The people I fooled.

I have all these photos of people with their arms slung around eachother like we were all going to be best friends forever. I think I even knew then that for the most part it was an act. With the notable exception of company of La, I didn't really ever find that I really connected with anyone in highschool. They were, for the most part, nice and good people working their way as best they could through adolescence. I guess we just weren't really making our way through in the same fashion. Truth be told, I didn't really feel like I fit until I met my friends in University and beyond.

Like everyone else I harbour a few resentments and I know that there are a bunch of things that I owe people apologies for. No one grows up without making a few mistakes. (Like wearing overalls that much! And if you can see it, that is a plaid coat. Oh grunge)

I guess I have some time to decide if I'm going to go back. I feel like I'm a totally different person from who I was then. I wonder really, when I'm back in the company of these people if I'll see if I've changed at all.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Philadelphia Freedom '76" by Elton John (inside joke)

HRH

Why honk?

The walk from my streetcar stop to my front door is about six or seven blocks down a busy street. Normally it's a pleasant walk. In the spring and summer the trees in the park are in bloom and I'm either seeing them bathed in morning sun or through the halo of the end of day light. In the fall, it's all beautiful colours and fresh air. Winter is a bit of a bitch, I won't lie, but I still love my walk.

That is until some jackass ruins it by honking at me. Why do people honk? Honking is something that should be reserved for communicating to other drivers when they need to be made aware of your presence (or in M's case, be made aware of your rage) or to alert a pedestrian that may be crossing in front of your moving car. Why people need to honk at someone walking down the side of the road, completely out of danger and relevance I don't know.

It's not like most of the time I'm dressed in any kind of way elict honking. Like today, wearing a basically shapless white coat, a pink hat, scarf, knee-length skirt and boots... sorry, but that does not warrant honking. Sometimes I think I've seen people shaking their fists at me in anger, which I find really baffling. Since when does walking down the road warrant random anger?

I just don't get it and it's really annoying. I'm walking along, happily listening to music and someone honks and occasionally yells something at me as they speed by. I can rarely understand what's being yelled and really, what the hell do the honking people expect? I understand when it's a group of guys in the car. Understand is the wrong word. I know why, it's that stupid men in groups mentality that causes their collective IQ to decrease exponentially with each additional man added to the mix. Shouting at a passing girl has nothing to do with the girl at all, it's just bravado and sadly, I'm used to that.

The men who honk at me when they're by themselves in their cars, they creep me out. I mean they're honking and speeding by. If I held myself in such low esteem that honking actually caught my attention, how would they know? It's all really strange and it continues to ruin my walks down the street. Sometimes shouting back or flipping them the finger helps me feel better, but not really. My moment is still ruined. Stupid honkers, please stop messing with my walk.

HRH

Even colds bring good memories

I'm sick today. It's something that always happens to me after a prolonged period of stress. Be it exams, getting ready for Christmas or getting ready for a big event, it doesn't matter. As soon as the stress is over my immune system tells me it's payback time. I've had colds in July because of this thing that I do.

The last time I had a cold it wasn't so bad. I was really happy because I'd made it through Christmas without getting sick. I woke up the morning that M and I were flying down to New York City and I knew I had a cold. I brought along some of my much beloved Life Brand cold medication and I was determined to make the best of it. And it was a very good idea that I did. I only had that cold for that day and after M proposed, I don't think I was really aware of my symptoms for the rest of that day. Too bad you really only get proposed to that one time. It makes for a great cold remedy.

HRH

Sugar-laced oxygen

Here we are at the end. The end of the work madness. Doing a giddy little dance on the edge of delerium. Weeeee. I am hours away from sleep and I've been using my good friends sugar and caffine to keep me concious until it's time to fall face-down on my pillow. When I wake up again, perhaps I will be able to process everything that has gone down on 24. Holy cow.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Moving through time" by Angelo Badalamenti

HRH

Wound up

I've been truant. I'm sorry. Work has been chewing me up and spitting me out and not leaving much in the way of personal insight or observation.

Wedding planning continues, and at times, it is exactly the mental reprieve I need. We've got pretty much all the ducks in a row now and it's on to the fun stuff. We're now in the "four to six months" ahead part of planning. Which according to "The Martha" this is when we: Reserve rental equipment (done), arrange wedding day transportation (easily done as it's all happening at one venue), order stationary/invitations (in progress as we're designing it ourselves), reserve accommodations (done), purchase groom's attire, choose attendant's attire (ready for sea-foam green girls? ;-)), register, purchase wedding rings, sign up for dance lessons (weeee!).

So there's a good amount of time to get all that completed. In the mean time, M and I have been trying to figure out the music I'm going to walk in to. We're music people and the music is one of the few details that are really important to me.

I'd had this idea of the song that I was going to use for ages. It was just this thing I knew, but in revisiting it, actually thinking about it in the context of getting married and playing it for M, I've cooled on it. So I'm back at square one, which is both good and bad. It's bad in that a detail I thought I had totally sorted out I now don't (ack!). It's good in that I have an opportunity to scour through all the music that's meaningful to me and it gives M and I a chance to do something we always love to do; talk about music.

Plus, music soothes the savage beast so doing this and continuing to work out is keeping me from going bonkers from work stress. Yay for that.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Music gets the best of me" by Sophie Ellis Bextor

HRH

Behind the looking-glass

We don't talk about work. That's a very stupid thing to do when you're what I am. But it's strange. So much of my day is spent working, so much happens at work that shapes my outlook and it all stays inside the walls of my cubicle. True, it's not mine to share, but it does keep me very busy.

Which I suppose is what irks me about it all. To the outside observer, or blog reader, things look positively pedestrian, but from 9 to 5, my life is a bit of a malestrom of madness. Not my madness to share, but madness I experience none the less.

Speaking of madness... Who knew that Natalie Portman was so gangsta?

HRH

And the sidewalks are bare

I'm up against M's socks again this evening and I'm still not sleeping normally. Every four or five days or so I have the most incredible night's sleep imaginable so that's something. While March just started today, it already feels like the month is too long, full and busy. I've barely given it a chance and I'm hoping for April. A time with more exposure to the sun so that I don't recoil in shock when I see it.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Angels/Losing/Sleep" by Our Lady Peace

HRH