WWYD if you were in this situation?

No no no! Not in the hand!

I’m a bit of germophobe.  JC can attest to that, as I start each of our encounters with a hand-washing, not metaphorically. I’m concerned about getting sick, and with all this flu season hooplah, it’s surely easier than ever. There are some public awareness campaigns that are plastering their posters everywhere — on campus and at work. For instance, if you were at UBC, you have probably seen the following:

Cute, really. Yeah, you cough in that elbow...crelbow?

And then there are the ones that distributed by the BC Ministry of Health and associated organizations, some of which are more, erhm, “culturally diverse”? I think DRS has a detail of one in his facebook albums. Needless to say, in each washroom in my building at school, there is at least one poster on preventative measures people should take to avoid contracting or spreading the flu.

So tell me this then: What would you do if a person in the washroom, clearly doing washroom duties, neglects to wash her hands, rubs her nose with a tissue, then discards the tissue on the ground before exiting the washroom? Two counts of stupidity!

Well.

Lunch is for chumps.

Allegorically, for fear of exposure — High-heeled edition.

Really, I did just get this shoe! (Yee by Sam Edelman)

Un histoire d’amour avec…mes chaussures? (Non. Regardez, c’est pas mes chaussures dont je vous écris.)

I invested in a pair of black suede pumps recently. Sexy, yet sturdy, simple, classy, so a good all-around, stable shoe, and more or less comfortable. So one would thus assume that it is also dependable.

That, dear reader, therein lies the problem:

I cannot depend on this shoe to support me through a long day walking back and forth to class or to my office from the parking lot. When I’m not at my best, it doesn’t make me feel extra fine, or add confidence. Then again, even when I am in tip top shape, it does not give me the sense of security, despite it wrapping around my feet just perfectly when a part of my day.

In summation, these pair of shoes are not the best fit for me.

Dearest friend, I am suffering from a case of a non-committed committed alliance. Yes, to shoes…this pair of shoes.

Now, I have what I want in my career, or at least am taking the necessary steps in order to eventually get there; but, doesn’t every person need solid…shoes…to get her there?

Must I pretend that I don’t like the shoes? Would the shoes thereon in fit like a glove?

We are talking about shoes here. Just shoes. Sure. Where is that Sarcastica font when you need it, eh Arj?

:::sigh:::

Photo Diary: Acting like a tourist at Granville Island

I love pretending I’m a tourist in my own city. Well, I am technically not “acting” like a tourist, but being a tourist. I’m just not an out-of-town tourist.

But that’s not important. The topic at hand is that I am a foodie. I am definitely into exploring my senses. So bad was it that an ex-boyfriend would take me to the grocery store with him, because he knew I would go to town. That, and I cooked for him a lot. Like, a lot. (Read into it how you will.) Then things started going south, and he vowed not to take me anymore, because clearly I was more into the Buddha’s hand than him.

“But dear, Buddha’s hand is so strong and…wrinkly!“

Oops.

Granville Island. If you out-of-towners (i.e. friends in Europe) ever come to Vancouver, hopefully to visit me — it would be a shame if I were back in Paris and THEN you decide to jaunt down to Vancouver — this is a place that fun for a few hours, for the market alone.

Downtown just across the water

There are other fun things to be had, like watching cheeky English street entertainers

Yes, I am lethargic. All right, let’s get on with it now.

With 10 days before school starts and a mountain of work (personal and career) to do, I have found myself in a rut. I have no desire to work, yet I have the nagging guilt of the incomplete in my main thread of consciousness. I’m not in the greatest state, as even the littlest things bother me, like, when I mistakenly treat my US keyboard like a French one. Right now, for instance, it bugs the shit out of me.

“It’s a <, not a ‘ dammit!” This leads to a subsequent (embellished for literary purposes) scene of me crying into my telephone receiver, “Why isn’t it an apostrophe?!“

More general happenings (or unhappenings, if such a word were to exist):

- Waiting for contact

- Gossip (Read: Gossip I don’t give a shit about. All ladies like some form of gossip, after all)

- Lack of communication

Some (mainly I) say I can have a penchant for speaking, verbose at times really, but not even I cannot continously partake in mainly one-sided conversations, otherwise known in their more conservative form — the interview.

.

.

.

I don’t want to interview my friends, unless of course, it is supposed to be an (mock) interview. Let alone, why should it be feeling like an interview, as KMC so insightfully told me, when the beginning is supposed to be the most eager, exciting time?

Blast. Ugh. That’s another issue too irksome to get into further.

So what have I been doing in the meantime, as forms of distraction?

When I am frustrated, I often resort to cooking or baking. It is a mild form of gaining the sense of control of a situation, no? If the cake turns out to be shit, well, I lost control of that situation, didn’t I? Hmmm…

2/3 eaten banana cake. I'd like to say not by me, but mostly to my dismay

Take for instance yesterday: I was bored, not wanting to work, and searching a little way to find purpose in the present. I saw overripe bananas, and a bag of cinnamon. Solution? Banana cake.

What else have I done to distract myself until I take myself seriously again?

I was rummaging through the storage room of my parent’s house and I found our old BCTel telephone. It’s pink and lovely. With a cleaning of TSP and love, to my delight, once plugging it into the telephone jack, I discovered it works! Also in my search I found my mother’s old Nikon FE SLR, circa 1978. She had it tucked away for years because the shutter was stuck and she couldn’t find the warranty. With a bit of tinkering and a new battery, this baby is now in my repetoire of things to exploit. All I need to do is buy some film and get cracking.

Photos to come!

Will and determination to follow (I hope).

x A

Love or lack thereof, for moments of memory lapse

Inadvertant call waiting

Photo courtesy of Stardust and Sequins

Time is sure rolling by quickly, as I have only been in Vancouver for two weeks, and it feels like at least a month. But yes, day 14 is coming up tomorrow and I have tallied up certain activities I have done since my return. Nothing really worth half-mentioning (for I, in practice, allude to rather that state something), except for one.

The one worth half-mentioning but cannot mention.

Here’s one thing though, which I am sure a lot of other people do with similar results:

My mobile is currently on my nightstand, beside my alarm clock/radio (and a few other items…not important). You know that sound phenomenon when you place a cellular device near speakers? I don’t know what it’s called but it has to do with radio frequencies or whatnot. Anyway, often when that sound emits from your speakers, normally you  subsequently receive an incoming call or message on your phone. However, every other time it is just your two devices interfering with each other.

As was the case 15 minutes ago, when I thought I would have another moment of girly glee and receive some form of communication to render me a moment of the warm and fuzzies.

Alas no, it was just my electronics talking, and not to me.

Somehow coming to mind is Freud’s notion of self wherein the true self is centrally powered by instincts.

If that be the case, my instinct would be that of an obese 14 year old girl — unknowingly sexually frustrated, and secretly convinced that Nick Jonas is going to fall in love with her and therefore whisk her away from her troubled life, rought with misguided sexting and…Krispy Kreme doughouts.

(Cue the collective sigh.)

xo gnight

Oh yes, the Vancouverite is back in situ

Sleepy-eyed, atop Cypress Mountain, acting all Vancouver

It has been a week today since I have returned back to the homeland that is Vancouver, or Metro Vancouver, if we want to get all particularly non-particular about it, as I am currently residing in suburban territory.

I could go on about my experiences in Paris, how I miss my friends and the city, and gush about anticipating my return in the next year but, no. I am tired. I am glad to have this year here and get on with the career building and all that.

And as such, some revamping of this blog is obligatory — oblogatory? (I’m such a turd.) Unfortunately, self-importance is at an all-time high and as such, it ain’t coming any time soon.

But here is a teaser of the ‘epic’ adventures to ensue:

- School! I am officially a student as of September 8th, 2009: Three courses and research work. Luckily, my supervisor so wisely advised (as is her job, come to think of it. Funny) to defer teaching to the spring. Right on, sister.

- 2 new co-authored blogs. I am super excited for both of these actually. The details have not been confirmed, but I have two lovely friends that have proposed two similar ventures. Quite fittingly, one is Paris-centred, and I assume the other will be Vancouver-centred. The first we have an outline going, with quite a few articles already in the works. It’s so nice to have friends who are writers by trade.

- Reassign the objective of this blog to a more general framework. Not sure what — obviously, personal exploits are the focus, but I do need some direction. Hmmm…

Oh well. In the meantime, gros bisous!!

xo A

Maybe it IS time to move out…

Imagine waking up to a bugger like this

Because after a much needed nap from cleaning the flat (READ: weed nap), I wake up with the neighbour’s cat on my face.

Yes, my face.

So funny, but not. That cat was big-ass. I guess that is what you get when you sleep with the window open.

x

Bridge burning: Who dunnit?

I am currently in Copenhagen, lying on a mattress on C’s floor. The short after-work tour continues, having arrived here yesterday morning after a couple days in London visiting C2.

Contemplating a 6h33 texto from a bridge burner. NO advised to not bother. C said WTF. (NB: Friends are super cool.)The 15h+ response?

Along the lines of keeping the bridge burnt, and letting the pyro know he’d done it.

x

Sayonara, suckers!

Maybe the author of Why I Hate Canadians IS on to something…

I am having a crappy day.

It is just before 20h and it looks like it is going to take a few days for my data to be transferred to my external hard drive. Seriously?

But the real issue are two, but more like 1 and two half, supreme douche bags. No Frenchies, I am not talking about showers here.

In any case, I am here for work, and with a week left, I should be concerned with real friends. At least X is being supremely generous and I just need to submit my report before the replacement arrives. And LR and NO have been very supportive of me delivering good riddance to bottom-dwellers.

However, this is not how I envisioned my last day on the clock.

Bastards.

xo

Sleep is for chumps; chumps worldwide agree in satisfaction

You make the connection, grasshopper

Sure thing, I’ve been dancing to Lion’s Roar by Asher Roth at 6h-something in the morning.

So hot. (Not my dancing, the song. My dancing would be better described as “traumatic” or “vomit-inducing.”)

Today is the notorious, fabled pot de départ chez I <3 Computer Music, Inc. Fortunately, being a bottom-feeder (oh, that works in so many ways), I will be sharing this joyous event with two other chaps on my team. And quite conveniently, that is a perfect way for me to clear out my kitchen cupboards. Pancakes and falafel go hand-in-hand in high-rolling societies, I’m sure. And if not, shh, I’ll start that trend.

My brain is so frazzled.

…

Normally I try to chug out a coherent theme with these posts but lately, it has not been up to its normal standards. See, I am a fan of hitting it hardcore. When I give ‘er, I give ‘er full on. For example, I have been boxing it out a lot lately.

So…

I boxed it out full-on. I pwned that sucker almost every day this week (and last week, I think), usually in marathon fashion… so I’m still flying.

Insomnia and hotboxing? Ironic.

Ummm… what report, what? When’s Friday? Tomorrow, homey, for real?

Damn.

x