Try Again in Twenty-Ten

Anne Shirley and I had a helluva difficult 2008. Our motto going into 2009 was "EVERYTHING IS FINE IN '09".

Anne found true love in the latter months of '08 and it blossomed over the course of '09, culminating in her moving in with her betrothed. So overall, I'd mark '09 as fine in her column. (And yes Anne, I know you had other life changing events that were not at all fine, however, I'm looking at it from the perspective of finding love and a mate, and with that came someone you could 100% lean on during those shitty times.)

For me, '09 turned out to be as big of a bitch as '08. She was a different breed of bitch, but ended up biting me just as hard.

It always amazes me how much happens, and how little happens over the course of 365 days. I look back at my blog and it's obvious that a lot of shit goes down in my life. Yet if you asked me to describe what's happened over the last year, I am unable to find the words.

At any rate, in the finding true love and settling down and having babies category, I failed miserably in '09.

I'm really, really hoping that 2010 is going to be the Year of Paprika. The year where she gets everything she deserves. Love, happiness, and maybe a flat screen TV. Is that really too much to ask?

Weepy Christmas

Turkey Dinner #1: My Dad's house on Christmas Eve with Dad, brothers and their respective others. Usual family madness. I cried once because my brother hit me with just the right insult that I couldn't let roll off my back.

Turkey Dinner #2: My sister-in-law's grandmother's house Christmas Day in the early afternoon. One final gathering at the homestead out of respect for her recent passing. Cried once quietly in the bathroom where they had found her.

Turkey Dinner #3: My step-sister's house Christmas Day in the early evening. Watched family videos from 1990 when both my step-mother and step-brother-in-law were alive. Cried openly watching the grainy images of two souls now gone.

It's been raining the last few days. The weather matches my tears.

Let The Freaking Out Begin

LSIL—low-grade squamous intraepithelial lesion. Low-grade means there are early changes in the size and shape of cells. The word lesion refers to an area of abnormal tissue. Intraepithelial refers to the layer of cells that forms the surface of the cervix. LSILs are considered mild abnormalities caused by HPV infection. Low-grade squamous intraepithelial lesion is not cancer. (www.cancer.gov)

I've spent the last two days crying over this. It's likely there's nothing for me to worry about. However, I am a worst-case-scenario-doomsday type of person. So of course in my mind, I've already lept to this being cancer and having to get a hysterectomy and subsequently never having children.

Merry effing Christmas to me.

Rollin' With The Homies

1977 - 2009

Of Course Not

They say timing is everything.

I couldn't find Mr. David after the show last night, which was probably a blessing in disguise.

He was at the studio today. My heart skipped a few beats of course when I saw him doing his regular twirling around.

While I was congratulating my instructor on his performance last night, and Mr. David floated on over to where we were standing.

P: You were really good last night!

D: Thanks! It's Paprika right?

P: Yes!

Then he floated on back over to his corner of the studio and continued twirling around.

My class started so of course, I had to pay a bit of attention to what was going on. I noticed a few minutes into the class he was making his way to the door with his bag. He started changing shoes and putting on his coat.

My friend noticed he was leaving and she came over to me. She whispered, "Pretend you need to use the washroom and go out there and say something to him."

My heart started beating faster. My chance to talk to him was slipping away and I was paralyzed to do anything about it.

And off he went.

Gah.

One of the other women in my class was his partner last night for one of his dances at the show. So I asked my friend to gently probe her to find out what his situation is.

Answer: He just got out of a long term relationship and isn't looking for anything at all right now. Not even something as casual as going out for drinks.

Eeeek.

I'm really glad I didn't march up and ask him out. Because I think I may have actually died if he'd shot me down.

First Step

My horoscope for today: "According to the planets, someone is as attracted to you as you are to them but they are finding it difficult to make the first move. So take the first step."

Maybe it'll be a first dance step with Mr. David. Wish me luck for tonight!

Bod Mod

I've been feeling like I have zero control over anything that's going on in my life right now. Whenever I get like this, inevitably I either cut my hair or get a tattoo.

I remember the first time I felt this way. It was back in Grade 8, when I was working my first job at McDonald's. I was 14 years old at the time and totally in love with a 19 year old, who happened to be the boyfriend of one of my classmates who also worked at McDonald's.

Being so young and so totally naive, I had no clue he was playing both of us. He kept telling me he was going to break up with her, because it was me he truly loved. He'd pick both of us up after our shift (we always signed up for the same shifts), and he'd drop her off at home first. The excuse being that I lived closer to his house. Then he'd take me either for a drive or back to his place to listen to Alice Cooper records and make out.

Long story short, he knocked her up. I was actually there the night it happened. Her parents were away for the weekend so she decided to have a party. Of course I was invited, seeing as I was one of her closest friends and all. She confided in me she had decided that night would be *the* night. I almost threw up in my own mouth, knowing all of the nights he'd spent declaring his love for me, and how unhappy he was with her.

At one point in the evening, they both disappeared upstairs. I went to the bathroom, locked myself in, and cried and cried and cried. About an hour later, she came rushing out of her bedroom, bedsheets in hand asking, "Does anyone know how to get blood out?" It was bad enough I knew they were in there doing it, never mind seeing the evidence. I told her to wash them in cold water.

The next day, I got 8 inches chopped off my hair. My father shrieked when I came home with a lopsided bob. He kept asking me why I had done it, and I just said I felt like it. I went to my room and felt awesome. It was basically a big FU to him, because I knew how much he loved long hair.

About a week later I saw him at McDonald's dropping her off. I could see the shock on his face when he saw my hair. He starting making his way towards me, but I scurried off to the crew room in the back. I never spoke to him again.

Oh, they ended up getting married, having a few more children, and are still together. I found that out through the magic of Facebook.

Since then, I've gone on to get more haircuts and more recently, some pretty awesome tattoos. I'm a little more careful about getting inked on a whim. I actually think it's better for me to get a tattoo because I end up becoming completely engrossed with planning the design, rather than feeling anxious about losing control in my life.

The last tattoo I got during an anxious period was a "G" that ended up just under my right collar bone. I'd known for a while I wanted the "G", I just hadn't gotten around to actually getting it done.

I was at dinner one night with a friend of mine and I was telling her about a particular douche bag I'd been seeing on and off. I got so worked up while telling her the tale, I slammed down my chopsticks (we were having sushi) and declared I was going to get a tattoo RIGHT NOW!

She looked at me a bit perplexed, but she quickly got the waitress' attention and requested our bill.

We were on Queen Street West, where there are lots of tattoo shops, so it wasn't hard to find one that was open at almost 11pm on a Tuesday night.

I spent about 20 minutes picking out the perfect cursive font for my "G". And then it was ink time! I brought my friend in with me as she'd never seen someone get inked. Ten minutes later, I was bandaged up and feeling a lot better about everything. It felt like I could breathe again.

I don't know what it is about making a decision that is so permanent that makes me feel so free. I've really been feeling trapped lately. I was about two seconds from cutting bangs myself yesterday when it occurred to me I can get a tattoo since I just donated blood. That made me put the scissors down and start research on my next tattoo.

I suppose it could be worse. I could be doing this.

Friendster

I was trolling around Facebook today, and one of my friends had posted a link to a hilarious video from The Onion.

The sketch was about an "internet archaeologist" finding relics of a past online civilization called Friendster.

I had totally forgotten I even had a Friendster account until I watched this sketch. So I went and logged in (after having to get my password emailed to me) and found my profile. I had only added two friends, Ethel & Anne Shirley. I never did finish setting up my account. I left my profile at 63% complete. I think that was around the time MySpace started and I quickly moved over there. However, here is what I had filled in.

Interested In:
Dating Men, Relationship with Men, Friends, Activity Partners

Member Since:
Oct 2003

Profile Viewed:
0 times

Hometown:
Fort Erie

Occupation:
Document/Data Controller

What I enjoy doing:
music, theatre, film, karaoke, singing, writing, television

Favorite Movies:
Dirty Dancing, Moulin Rouge, Chicago, All the Kevin Smith films, The Wedding Singer

Favorite Music:
Janis Joplin, Mariah Carey, Aretha Franklin, Madonna, Norah Jones, Alicia Keys

Favorite TV Shows:
All My Children, Smallville, The Joe Schmo Show, Friends, Alias

About Me:
I'm a hopeless romantic but will never admit to it. Even if you try water torture tactics I WILL NOT ADMIT IT. I'm fun, goofy, crazy and I hate filling out these "describe yourself" type questionnaires. I love to sing, and more important, I love the art of karaoke.

Who I Want to Meet:
I want to meet my own personal Johnny Castle. And if you can figure out the reference, then I most definitely want to meet you.

I'd say 99% of this is still pretty right on. The job has changed twice since then. And most of the TV shows I watched have since been cancelled. The most interesting part of this profile is the "Who I Want To Meet" line.

I think it took 6 years, but I'm pretty sure I've met him. Wouldn't that be totally awesome if it actually works out?

Sweet Baby Jesus

Fate stepped in and forced me to talk to David.

I was scurrying off the subway this evening, late for my dance class, after a ridiculous day at work. Normally I take lessons on Saturday afternoons. But because I missed a few lessons while I was in Oz, I had some credits to use, and I chose Monday nights to jump into a tango/jive class.

It was raining tonight, and I failed to bring an umbrella with me this morning. I was clutching my shoe bag and hustling as quickly as possible to the corner of Danforth & Broadview.

Then everything slowed down as I saw him standing there, waiting for the light to change.

He was wearing a camel coloured coat, no umbrella, no hood.

My heart skipped a beat.

It was *him*.

And before I knew it, we locked eyes and my mouth opened.

P: Hi David! (arm outstretched for handshake)

D: Hi... (hand takes mine for good, sturdy handshake)

P: It's Paprika. We haven't officially met.

D: Yes, Paprika. Hi.

P: I've seen you around the studio. (pause) What a lovely rainy December night.

D: (small chuckle) Yes it is.

P: Are you heading to the studio?

D: Yes.

P: Are you in the showcase on Friday?

D: Yes I am. I'm doing a group dance and one with Nicole (his instructor).

P: Oh that's great, I'll be there! I figured you were preparing for something. I actually thought you were an instructor.

D: Oh no, no. (chuckle)

P: Really. You're a really good dancer, that's why I thought you were a teacher.

D: Oh no, but thanks.

P: How long have you been taking lessons? (Wow, this light is freaking long!)

D: Since January. I really love it.

P: A year! Wow! (The light changed, now we're crossing the street. He has really long legs and it's hard to keep up.)

D: What about you?

P: Well, I took ballroom back in university about ten years ago. Wait, that's more than ten years ago. Ah, and I took tap for about two years, but this year I decided I wanted to get back to ballroom. (Now we're climbing the stairs, and I'm getting out of breath.)

D: That's great.

P: I am in Danny's boot camp class on Saturdays, but I missed a few lessons while I was in Australia on vacation. So I picked up a few of Rebecca's classes. So I've only been here since September.

(Now we've hit the entrance to the studio)

D: Have fun tonight.

P: Thanks!

I cannot even describe the number of flips and twists my tummy was doing during that whole exchange!!! I'm just so damn proud that I didn't vomit on his shoes or faint on the stairs.

I totally stared at him during my class while he was twirling around as per usual. There were a few times we made eye contact and I totally smiled my best smile at him. :)

Okay, so step one is complete - he now knows that I exist. Step two will be to somehow figure out whether or not he's gay. I did notice tonight the gay receptionist ask David where he got his awesome sweater. (OMG, it was totally awesome, he looked very hot in it.)

Let the final countdown begin. Oh courage, where for art thou? I need you for Friday, please and thank you.

Mambo Magic

I have a huge crush on a guy who I see at the dance studio where I take weekly lessons. He's looks to be in his early 40's, tall, blue eyes and dark wavy hair. From the moment I saw him, I fell head over heels in love.

He's usually practicing alone in the same studio where my group lesson takes place. It's either the mambo or the waltz that he's working on. I often stop paying attention to my lesson and watch him twirl around in a perfect dance hold. I imagine that it's me he's dancing with.

He's caught me staring a few times. Instead of looking away, he looks right into my eyes and smiles. That's usually when I snap back to reality, completely flustered and trying my best not to totally die from embarrassment.

Over the last few weeks, I've made it my mission to figure out his story. And being the complete chicken shit that I am, I've enlisted one of the girls in my class to help me figure it out. Seeing as she's married, she has nothing to lose and has found very clever, yet very direct ways of asking the important questions.

Question: What's his name? Answer: David.

Question: Is he married? Answer: No.

Question: Does he have kids? Answer: No.

Question: Is he gay? Answer: Still pending.

Next week is my last lesson for the term and with it, will be my last opportunity to talk to him. I've got six days to grow a pair and figure out something to say to him. A few of my friends have suggested that I ask him if he knows of any places that have ballroom dancing, where as a beginner, I wouldn't totally crash and burn. And then somehow ask him to come with me one night.

What I really want to ask him is if he would be willing to a) give me private dance lessons for cheaper than the school, and b) learn the final dance routine from Dirty Dancing and perform it with me at my birthday bash in February.

Every time I think about actually talking to him, I want to vomit. Partly because I know I suck at being a girl and doing/saying girlie things to attract men, and mostly because I don't want to get shot down like the last time I decided to ask a guy out.

If any of you have seen my self-confidence, please tell it to come home before Saturday.

Coffee & Coffins

I had the most fucked up dream last night.

It started out with me being at Perez Hilton's house in Los Angeles. He invited me over to his place to watch him blog. His house was an absolute pig sty. I couldn't believe my eyes. I figured that someone making the kind of dough he does would at least hire a housekeeper.

He invited me to sit on his couch and watch him update his blog. I thought it was cool, seeing as I read his website everyday. He was drinking coffee and eating and smoking. He showed me a picture of Britney Spears that he was going to post, but needed some inspiration for the doodles. He told me I could doodle if I wanted. So I doodled some stuff and he liked it a lot and posted it to his blog.

Then he invited me out to watch him do an interview for a local TV talk show. He had a driver pick him up in a red SUV limo. I was really excited until I went to put my shoes on and realized his dog had peed on them. He told me to just borrow a pair of his. I looked at his shoes and they were all dirty and crusty and just generally gross. I told him thanks, but no thanks, and that I'd just go barefoot.

All of a sudden, I find myself in an open coffin. It resembles a grand piano and I'm trying it out for size. The part where my feet would go was really narrow and I had to cross my legs to get my feet to fit. I told the clerk I didn't want that coffin because I didn't want my legs crossed as that would be uncomfortable. He reminded me that when I'm dead, I probably wouldn't care if I even had any feet. I told him it was my coffin and I would pick what I wanted.

I woke up from that dream screaming.

That'll teach me to eat potato chips and chocolate before bed. :P

RIP

My sister-in-law's grandmother passed away this morning after having several strokes. This comes just a year after her grandfather passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack.

It's a terrible thing to have happen, and it's just that much worse so close to not only Christmas, but to my sis-in-law's 30th birthday which is next week.

My brother is having a rough go of it as he became quite close to her over the last year.

My deepest sympathies to the entire family. May she rest in peace.

Wish List

On my lunch break today, I went to the mall with my coworker Bindi to find her husband an anniversary present. They are celebrating 10 years of marriage today. Of course, the mall was totally decked out for the holidays. I immediately became annoyed with all the Christmas cheer in the first store we entered.

I'm very bah-humbug this holiday season. I believe it is partly due to the fact that for most of my life, holidays weren't a big deal for my family. And partly (probably mostly) due to being a bitter, perpetually single woman.

After my Mom died, we kind of forgot about Christmas. She was the one who organized it all for the family, so I guess all the ballyhoo that came with the holidays died with her. My Dad had other things to focus his energy on instead of worrying about how big of a tree we would want.

In my high school years, we'd get our fill of Christmas at my Dad's girlfriend's place in Buffalo. They did all the usual tree/stockings/presents/food. After my Dad and his GF broke up, we just went back to ordering pizza for Christmas dinner. We did gifts, but didn't have a tree to put them under. So our coffee table became the tree. We'd just pile all the presents on the coffee table and open them Christmas morning.

Christmas only became a big deal for me when I was married, as I had a stepdaughter who was totally a believer in Santa and the miracle of Christmas. I did a lot of organizing to make sure that my new little one had a celebration at her grandparents' place, at my Dad's place with her new grandfather and uncles, and at home with me and her (idiot) father. I went totally crazy and bought her a ton of crap I'm sure she didn't need and that her mother would have a hard time finding a place keep all of it.

I even got us a tree! It was a little 3-footer because that's all that could fit in the apartment, but I got it and decorated it, and placed the presents around it. It was hilarious that the presents piled up higher than the little tree.

And then as quickly as Christmas had become important to me, it became non-existent again. My marriage didn't last long enough to have another Christmas with my stepdaughter.

So as Bindi was oohing and aahing over all the Christmas decorations, I was busy doing my best impersonation of a hissing venomous snake.

Bindi asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told her absolutely nothing. She insisted I must want something. To which I replied, "A bottle of rum and a Kit Kat bar." Booze and chocolate make it all better.

Toxic Love

My new favourite musical is "The Toxic Avenger Musical". It was written by David Bryan, the keyboard player from Bon Jovi.

I saw it for the third time last night. And you know what they say about the third time being the charm...

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!

It's really too bad I look so hideous in this picture. My head looks enormous. He on the other hand, looks fantastic. He's pretty hot for a dude who was born in 1962.

Moments like that remind me why I love living in the Tdot so much. WOOT!

My Own Horn

I rarely give myself credit when I've done good work. I also have a hard time accepting compliments from people on said good work. I was raised to always do my best because it's what's expected, not just for the glory. I also think doing a good job is a reward in itself, with no need for any extra fanfare.

At this moment however, I am totally going to sing my own praises on a job well done. I was especially proud of myself for figuring out an IT problem on a Mac (I use PC), with editing software I know absolutely nothing about. (Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not an editor!)

So . . . TOOT TOOT! Paprika was wicked awesome today! She not only helped out a student to finish his project on time, but saved the college money by not having to call in the 3rd party computer guys whose going rate is $50/hour.

Yay me! Good job! Pat on the back! Party all the time! Ticker tape parade!!!!

Okay, back to my regularly scheduled work day.

No Show

Just as every other man who's made a date with me in the last year, BGK was a no show today to pick up his package.

I was really looking forward to that Kit Kat.

Why do I repulse men so much?

Tunnels

On my way home tonight I saw a man jump the turnstile at the subway entrance. He had long, stringy hair and was wearing dirty jeans and really worn out shoes. He was wet from the rain tonight.

He looked nervous jumping the gate, even though the token taker was sitting on the other side of the booth dealing with other people who were probably pissed off about the current token shortage and being forced into buying tickets that expire in a few weeks.

It made me sad that this man obviously did not have the $2.75 cash fare required to get around on a sub par transit system.

It made me think he probably doesn't have much of anything at all.

As I made my way onto the platform, I noticed the door to the room where the drivers take their break was open. I've always been curious about the set up they have in those secret rooms.

Inside were three of the TTC's finest sitting on plastic chairs. All of them were drinking from Tim Hortons coffee cups and eating granola bars.

On the back wall was a string of white Christmas lights that had been awkwardly taped up. This was the only light coming from the tiny room. A cozy little space for them to take a break from transporting the masses.

And then the man who jumped the turnstile popped into my head again. I bet he would have enjoyed a nice warm cup of coffee and a granola bar while the soft Christmas lights twinkled around him. And I'm sure he would have enjoyed the huge salary that comes with working for the TTC.

Rainy nights like tonight really highlight the divide between societal class.

Respect and Protect

http://www.worldaidsday.org

Tummy Flutter

I'm so deprived of attention from men that even the tiniest gesture sends my tummy into a tizzy.

Here's an email exchange with one of the instructors that teaches at the college where I work.

On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 10:17 AM, Paprika wrote:
Subject: Your Package

Hey man,

Did you get my voicemail about the package that arrived for you at the office? What do you want me to do with it?

P

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 10:57 AM, Black Glove Killer wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

Nice subject line.

You can do whatever you want with my package.

And NO I did not get that message???!!!

I'll grab it today.

BGK

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 11:03 AM, Paprika wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

*clears throat

I wasn't going to go there, but since you did.... ;)

I left you a voicemail on your cell phone the other day when the package arrived.

Hmm....deleting my messages without even listening to them? For shame Mr. Killer. My heart breaks.

I'll see you later today then.

Paprika :)

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 11:04 AM, Black Glove Killer wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

Yowza...

See you later
BGK

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 12:05 PM, Black Glove Killer wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

Eeep....can't come today. Will swing by Thursday.

BGK

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 12:06 PM, Paprika wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

Okie dokie. It'll be here, with me. You may have to bribe me for it. :)

See you Thursday.

P

-----------------------------------
On Mon, Nov 30, 2009 at 12:09 PM, Black Glove Killer wrote:
Subject: RE: Your Package

Whatever the coin of your realm, I'll be pleased to ante up.

It took me a while before I could respond to that last email. What I wanted to say, and what I ended up saying are about as far apart as two statements can possibly be. I replied with "A Kit Kat always works."

That was the most exciting hour I've had in a looooooooong time. Too bad he's married.

Change of Plan

I was all set to go off the pill starting tomorrow. However, after phoning my family doctor about an entirely different matter, I was informed that the last pap I had came back abnormal.

This news, of course, sent me into a panic. This is the second time this has happened. The last time it turned out to be nothing. And it's almost certain this time it will again be nothing.

However, that doesn't stop me from thinking that I'm going to die from cancer.

I made the decision to stay on the pill because according to a few studies, or at least a few websites, the pill protects against ovarian cancer. As far as cancer goes, that's a super bad one to get.

So much for some extra money to eat and/or drink away.

Juxtaposition

I get really unnerved when I have strong opposing feelings about the same thing. It's just like being really thirsty and having to pee at the same time.

I'm feeling that right now. I'm very happy yet very sad about the same thing.

It's keeping me up at night. And I get very cranky when I don't sleep.

Harmony

One of the (only) things I love about the subway system in Toronto is the ever changing line up of musicians that play in the underground.

The stop where I get off for work has a variety of performers who rotate through. One guy plays the steel drums, another guy plays Latin music on the guitar, another act is a duo who wear prison outfits and do stuff from "O Brother, Where Art Thou?", and my favourite guy who plays jazzy stuff on a wicked silver jazz guitar. Oh and there's a guy that plays this. He wears sunglasses and pretends to be blind but I know he isn't. I guess that's just part of the mystique of his act.

So back to my favourite guy on the metal jazz box. I really like this dude for several reasons. The first being he's a wicked awesome guitar player. The second, he's ALWAYS got a smile on his face.

I know from experience how hard it is to play for people who just don't give a shit and are probably doing everything they can to tune you out.

But this guy really gives it. He performs for us. All of us. Including those of us wearing ear buds and blasting music from our MP3 players into our heads.

I'm one of those people. Ever since I received an iPod as a gift a few months ago, I listen to it everywhere I go. I don't ever play it so loud that I can't hear my surroundings. But I do have it at a volume that provides me a shield from the rest of the city's rush hour buzzing.

I have noticed an interesting thing happens whenever I come across him playing at my stop. I'll come up from the subway platform with my music playing in my head and without fail, whatever he happens to be playing, it will be in the same key as the song I'm listening to.

The first time it happened I thought it was a funny one-in-a-million happenstance. But then it happened again. And again. To the point where I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I actually stopped walking to listen to what was playing in my head, and to what he was playing for the crowd.

It matched. Perfectly.

And my smile matched his. Perfectly.

I Scream, I Swear, I Want to Kill People

I was driving back to Toronto today from a quick, yet super fun visit with the family in Niagara.

I was listening to the Jason Mraz album "We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things". I've become very fond of this CD. I listened to it a lot while I was in Australia. It provided me with sense of being grounded and centered during a time when there was a lot of uncertainty.

The drive was pretty uneventful for the most part. But then I hit the stretch of the Gardiner between Kipling and Spadina, and everyone is suddenly driving like they are Mario Andretti. I believe it's partly due to the fact that particular stretch of the highway was featured in a video game called "Cruis'n The World".

I'm minding my own business when all of a sudden, this asshole comes in from the right and cuts me off. After which, he slams on his breaks FOR NO APPARENT REASON.

I start swearing my head off and honking my horn and really considering ramming my car into the back of his stupid ass when the first bars of the song "Details in the Fabric" start playing.

Calm down. Deep breaths.

Thanks Jason. You saved me yet again.

Amnesia

For the third time this month, I've forgotten to take my pill until really late in the day. I'm starting to wonder why I'm suddenly forgetting to take something that I've consistently taken every day for the last decade.

Maybe it's because I haven't had sex in almost a year that my brain doesn't feel like devoting energy to remembering to take something that will prevent pregnancy when I'm not even doing it anymore.

At least at this time last year I was still boinking someone. He was an asshole, but it was sex nonetheless. And because he was an asshole, I had to make extra sure I didn't get knocked up.

Today's (late) pill marked the end of a pack, which will require a refill.

I'm thinking I'm not going to get that refill. I don't have benefits at work anymore, and I could really use the extra $30 a month.

The only thing I'm certainly going to miss is knowing exactly when my period is supposed to arrive. I remember when I was a kid, I HATED the fact that my cycle wasn't exact every month. There was one particular nasty surprise in Grade 9 English class that made me want to carve out my own uterus.

But I'll have an extra $30 a month to buy chocolate to make myself feel better. :)

Playing House

The idea that I'll live out the rest of my life alone makes me profoundly sad.

I feel as though I've reached that moment when you just have to accept the situation for what it actually is. No amount of wishing, hoping, crying, praying, dreaming or anything can change it.

The inevitable finally becomes truth.

I am, and always will be, alone.

And the way I cope with this is to pretend that someone is sharing a life with me.

A little while ago, when I still had teeny bit of hope that things would change, I went out and bought myself a ring. Not just any ring, but the ring I would want to be my engagement ring. The stones aren't real and neither is the metal, but the design is exactly what I'd want.

I thought by having this ring, the vibe will go out across the Universe and land on the man who I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with. And somehow it would speed up the process and he'd get here sooner rather than later.

At home, when I'm feeling alone, I'll slip the ring on my left hand and pretend that Mr. Right had given it to me as the symbol of the love and devotion that he has, and will always have, for me. Only me.

Oh, and I have a matching wedding band too. That was just by chance. I bought a set of 3 eternity rings when shopping the soaps. The "diamond" one matches my engagement ring exactly.

Sometimes I'll be ever so bold as to wear the band in public. And I notice people looking. And what I hope they're thinking is, "She is somebody's wife" or, "Someone must really love her" or even better, "Of course she's already been snapped up. He must be a really lucky guy."

Pretending helps with the crushing weight of the truth.

They say the truth hurts for a reason. Because it does. It hurts wholly and deeply and relentlessly.

Full Circle

Working at a private film college is a lot of fun. Especially when the students ask you to be in their films. I've been cast in a short film, which is one of their final projects, to play the wife of the main character who is a writer.

The students remarked they were having a "hard time" finding someone who was "old enough" to play opposite me.

After I gently reminded them I can change all their grades to zero, I told them I'd go through my mental Rolodex of male friends who can act.

Within two seconds, Brian popped in my mind. I emailed him and asked if he'd come for an audition - he said yes, of course.

When he showed up, I introduced him to the students and told them how we've known each other since grade school, and how he was also my first stage kiss.

Of course, Brian nailed the audition and now he's gonna be my onscreen hubby.

In my mind, it's the conclusion to the story that started 20 years ago with a first kiss. I'm so glad they lived happily ever after.

Good Boots

I've been in my band for 3 years now. I'm the lead singer and the only female. The guys have always put some pressure on me to dress up and look more like a hot, sexy chick rather than my usual t-shirt & jeans self.

When I was out shopping for a Halloween costume at Value Village, I found a really cool retro dress and a pair of awesome green leather boots. All for the low, low price of $24.83. I picked them up thinking I'd dress up as a 60's go-go girl. I didn't end up wearing them for Halloween. My best friend's dad passed away the night before, so I didn't go out this year.

I had mentioned the outfit to the guys at rehearsal. I told them I was going to wear it for our next gig.

I showed up last night in my dress and boots. My bass player said, "Oh, those are nice boots. I was worried when you told us they were green."

Thanks buddy. I know I'm not exactly a fashionista however, I know a good pair of boots when I see them.

Comments like that make me want to crawl into a hole and die. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Glee

My new favourite show is Glee. I can really identify with the character of Rachel Berry, played by Lea Michele. She's a misfit with a passion for singing show tunes.

I now have an hour each week where I am truly happy. I can forget about everything and just be completely sucked into the world of Glee.

If there was a way for me to live my life spontaneously bursting into classic pop songs and show tunes, I'd totally sign up.

There's nothing like the sound of music.

A few friends of mine have mentioned that I remind them of Rachel, and vice versa. I hope it's the insanely talented singer part of her character, and not the snooty diva who is incapable of making friends.

I now have a goal to land a role on that show and belt out some Janis Joplin tunes. I think I could play Rachel's older, totally kick ass cousin. I would want to play her sister but it was established in the pilot episode that she's an only child with two gay dads.

Lest We Forget

I remembered my moment of silence at 11:00am.

I did not remember to take my birth control pill until now.

Onward

I can't not blog. So I'm shifting gears and moving onward.

I'm done chronicling my divorce. And now I'm done chronicling my single life (not because I'm no longer single, I'm just no longer interested in actively trying to find that special guy).

Now I'm just going to write about my life.

Let's see where this ship takes me.