it's the little things pt. 2

This is my friend Lily. She is wearing my fedora. She is super cool. Sadly she is not my dog. But we've had some good times together. Right now we are driving from Calgary to an unnamed island on the coast. Summer is coming to an end and this makes me sad. And so I look at this picture of Lily and I smile. It really is the little things.

my younger self

On my recent trip to "home" (where my parents live), I found a couple of diaries, hidden in plain sight in my bedside table. Am guessing my mom has probably read them, which is pretty embarrassing because the diaries themselves are somewhat mortifying. Running intermittently from September 1997 to December 1999, they are an account of my inner most thoughts as well as the events and travels that happened when I lived in France in 97-98, back in Halifax for my last year of university in 98-99 and then back to France for a year of teaching in 99-2000. I was a young 21 year old ... I was always thought I was quite mature for my age, but looking back, not so much. Naivete is a good word to describe my mindset. Although it's interesting because the majority of the entries happen as I'm taken far out of my comfort zone, living on a different continent, speaking a different language and meeting people from all over the world, so I probably shouldn't be too hard on myself. A few gems are below, as well as what they mean to me now are below (there is also plenty of introspection, but I think I'll keep those entries to myself for now):

• October 11, 1997: "Last night we had so much fun ... our wine only cost $4. Then we went to Bugsy's and everybody was there. We got a beer and hung out but we decided we wanted to dance - so we went to Honky Tonk's to bust a move." Um, everybody? I have no idea who would be considered everybody. Nor would my 34-year old self drink $4 wine. And what kind of town has bars called Bugsy and Honky Tonk? Although I do still use the term "bust a move."

• November 11, 1997, discussing a boy I had a crush on: "I broke off our relationship, not that we really had one, but after the events of the weekend, my crush has faded, although I still like flirting with him - he is a great friend even though he's a slut." A little harsh perhaps? Also, I love that I broke up with him even though we weren't dating. The funny thing is that we are still friends. I wonder if I should tell him how mean I was.

• November 23, 1997: "Last weekend we hopped on a train and went to Barcelona. Wow - it was so much fun. I couldn't believe how many people were out on just a random Saturday night - 8PM looked like Ottawa on Canada Day or general admission at a U2 concert. Shopping was like the last hour on Christmas Eve - absolute chaos. But I got some new boots and a sweater." I'm guessing we also saw all the Gaudi architecture and went to a few museums, but I obviously wasn't that interested. And I still own those boots.

• December 21, 1997: "We went to Paris and KM peed on the eiffel tower." I laughed out loud reading this entry. In her defence, she has a very weak bladder and I was probably taunting her.

• January 23, 1998: "Wow, it is so beautiful out right now. I am sitting on a park bench - it is 4:30 in the afternoon, in the middle of winter, I am wearing only a sweater (well, pants too), the sun is shining, there are people and dogs frolicking in front of me, I'm listening to that cool Bjork song and wishing I were in a movie." Cool Bjork song could be any of her songs really, I'm gonna go with "It's Oh So Quiet."

It goes on and on, but is really only funny to me. So let's just leave it there and ponder the all important question: what the hell ever happened to Bjork?

dbag central

On Friday night I met the girls for an apres-work drink at what is supposed to be the new cool downtown bar. It was definitely not. For one, the hostesses have to wear horrible pink outfits. And secondly, it's in the mall. I mean really. But it apparently has a huge rooftop patio ... too bad spring has not arrived in Alberta so we couldn't test it out.

On two separate occasions, completely unprompted, two of the ladies labelled it "douche bag central." For no reason really, except that it was filled with well dressed, corporate Calgary types. When seen in packs of 2 or 3, these men really are quite attractive, but for some reason, when seen in bunches of 10-15, you begin to question their motives. And so the dbag comment. It got me thinking that it's so weird that all of the sudden this insult is back in everyday usage ... so of course I googled it and found out that it crossed over from hygienic medical term into a pejorative name in the 60s ... http://www.drbilllong.com/SpellersDiary/Interlude.html. Who knew?

And as a postscript, as we were leaving the bar, who should walk by, but the Gaz (HC's ex) on his way to meet SS's ex-husband. Dbag central indeed.

I'm cool I promise

So with all this talk of bad '80s and '90s music, curling, and online dating, I realize that I sound like a bit of a loser. I’m cool, I promise. To wit, I do have other playlists that are much more reflective of my true musical tastes. For the most part like alternative/indie pop rock and my fave playlist to listen to while walking to work has such indie "darling" artists such as Santigold, Phoenix, Rogue Wave, TV on the Radio, MGMT, Kid Cudi, Knaan, Likke Li, Band of Horses, etc.

Speaking of Band of Horses, this is not the official video, but this guy has some mad bike skillz (although I do realize by using the z instead of s, I have just totally discredited my so-called coolness):