Ok.

I've been forewarned that when mom and dad are away I'm going to need to blog. So, I better start doing some warm up sessions.

I'm downstairs facing the last weekend with mom and dad before they leave. I'm working on a CD I want to send with them along their journey. It's a little hard to not just fill it with the depressing sap I've been listening to since Dad first starting getting sick. Mostly it's filled with pain and struggle but in the end hope. As I've mentioned here I'm a big fan of depressing music. It makes me happy and warm and understood when I'm feeling sad. Totally backwards. I should be listening to "June Afternoon" to cheer up but really who would we be kidding? It's not a bright June afternoon is it? It's November and it's chilly and dark and rainy and I rear-ended someone this morning. Yup, here comes the depressing song to listen to while I think about the pair of shoes I could have bought instead of buffing out scratches on my car. OK, I may have had to hit her a little harder than my light tap in order to measure up but I just noticed they are on sale. Sigh...pretty.

I must go decide what to wear to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra tomorrow. It's very important to look good at 30 and attract male victims or I might still be haunted by my Uncle's quote when I'm 40 also:

"God love you Ang, because no one else will."

Enjoy the lovely visual show while you listen enraptured by my most favorite Christmas Carol of all time....

Holy Shit Sticks Batman! A New Post

There are only a few things that bring me that special tingly excitement. Sends shivers up my spine. Makes me run around my apartment waving my hands in a mad furry like a conductor. It's this....



So, tonight while I make my stew and write this post I have pulled out from the trenches my Phantom Of the Opera CD. Not just any CD. The whole thing right through, with all the talking all the music. It's brilliant. I'm currently at the part where Christine first sings in front of the crowd. She's in her dressing room and the Phantom appears in her mirror.

"I am your angel, come to me angel of music.

I am your angel of music. Come to me angel of music.

Christine! Angel!"

Baaaa ba ba ba ba baaaaaa badum.....

Ah, then comes the part where he controls her and takes her over. Oh man! I remember my mom bought me tickets when I was 14 for my birthday. She took me out for supper first. It was amazing. I was so caught up with it, that at one point I saw the Phantom lurking around in the rafters, ready to pounce. I stood up and pointed, not being able to stay in my seat.

"Sing, my angel of music"

"Sing"

"Sing for me"

"Sing my angel of music!"

At this part she's just belting it out, and then she hits this note that will make the hairs of your arms stand up. And she's so beautiful with her long hair and her dress and the Phantom standing over her all powerful and crap.

There's few things that I can remember. Ask Becky. But this, everything. I can see it all in my head. I can't wait.

CAN'T WAIT!!!

I have a favorite part. The whole stage looks just like this. They are celebrating New Years Eve and they think they got rid of the Phantom and Christine and Raoul can be together. Anyways, he shows up at the top of the staircase. Everyone freezes and he slowly walks down the steps. Each step the orchestra makes this low, lurking evil footstep sound and it's awesome.








The last clip is from the movie, not as good as real life. I just wanted you to see the part where he walks down the stairs cause it's great.

Also, there's this part when they are on the rooftop....



(Again from the movie but it was hard to find good clips)

I'm so excited.

So, I haven't blogged in a while. I have no reason except I didn't feel like it. Which in my opinion is better than any story I could make up. I don't want to do an update of what I've been doing because honestly who cares? Not me! More importantly...



Tegan and Sarah are so wicked that they make me want to be a lesbian. I love their music. Today on my run I listened to them over and over. I'm addicted to Sweet November. If I were a lesbian I would want to be just like them. We could hang out and do cool things together and wear thick glasses. Then I look at this and I change my mind right smartly.





Ah, one more. Why not?



Curling on TV is so boring it makes me want to slit my wrists. None of them are hot. They all talk in monotone. I don't understand how anyone can watch it.



So instead, I put on this and everything is ok again. I'm no longer suicidal. I just sit back and enjoy. Men's beach volleyball is where its at. One might say, it's the cat's meow. Purrrrrrrrrr.




I have nothing to say.

Here's a list of things that I've been meaning to blog about...
- the hockey tournament (I've got video footage)
- my train trip
- everything I want to be when I'm old
- the red hat society.

Look forward to it. Maybe next year.

"The Whispers In The Morning Of Lovers Sleeping Tight"

This morning I heard a great song. This song was made a million times better when my sister sang it in Hollies on karaoke night. Ah, the dim lights, the smell of alcohol and stale bottles in the air. That was a great night. Could have been greater if say Donna or Joyce were there. I have yet to see Donna's karaoke. I've only heard rumours of it. I wonder if it's even true. I know her friend Staci does a wonderful Madonna.

On Friday night I got picked up from my house. We turned onto Spadina. I looked up to see a teenage boy in his gitch dancing in his room, mic in hand, heart on his sleeve. We turned around the block to go have a second, closer look. He had his shirt on this time and his parents came to the window to stare at us as we watched their son put on a show. He was dancing and waving his arms in expression wildly. I imagined he was singing a classic like Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.

I love watching it. One night my friend Bert and I stopped at the max and filled some brown grab bags full of candy, ran across the street to Whiskey Jacks and watched all night long. People are so totally awesome, and they only get better the worse they sound.

I think it's time for some karaoke. I'm feeling rather jealous of this boys free spirit. I think a party should be planned. I don't want to be the planner. I just want to show up. Fashionably late of course, with some liquor courage in my hand. Perhaps, with a slutty top on and my outrageous stiletto, navy blue, lace covered 80's boots.

Some of my favorite karaoke songs I've attempted....I Got You Babe with Mavis and Uncle Henry at a family reunion, Baby Got Back with MSR at a staff party, I Will Survive with Becky at Mom's birthday and Bust a Move dedicated to Carla for her 19Th birthday.


(Something dangerous happened today. Donna added me to her msn.)

Come on shake your body baby do the conga, I know you can't control yourselves and longer.

If there is a word for beyond boredom (is that a word even?) I am experiencing it right now. I have spent a huge portion of my day have the above song in my head and looking at Brazil and Hawaii web sites wishing I could go do another marathon somewhere far away. I have also spent a good portion of my day closely inspecting my split ends. I need a hair cut so badly. What I like to so is find a split end and try and break it off or separate its ends as far as they will go up my strand of hair until one breaks off. I'm sure this is not the best thing to do and it probably makes my hair even more unhealthy but it really passes the time.



I'm totally starving but I don't feel like eating the bagel I brought.

Tonight I'm going to go stay at mom and dad's for the rest of the week to hang out with Becky during her visit. I just called to make sure they didn't show Ben the car Dad and Mom bought for him till I get there because I'm sure he's going to pee with excitement. And actual car that he can drive. Wow. I wish I had that when I was little.

I have nothing to write. I probably should just get back to inspecting my spilt ends. 32 more minutes to go and I haven't done one thing since 3:30pm. Why is it so slow? I better not complain too much or Tipsy will find some retarded job for me to do and then when it's busy I won't be able to get everything done. Or not.

I just swallowed my gum.

Playlist

Here's a nice running demo I did the night before the marathon so no one would forget how race day:


Here I sit making my playlist for my run. I need much motivation because I might be going alone. Running alone, no one there to cheer or to try and run faster so I don't look like a loser. Great. I'm not doing to well with the playlist. Nice stuff doesn't really work for me. I prefer anger and aggression and rage. I know, I know, patio lanterns isn't fitting in this typical mold. Most of the music is rage and aggression with the odd happy tune for those "moments" I have while running. Sunday was my "mental preparation" run where I imagine every senario and work through how I will mentally deal with it. I didn't work through the senario of having no one to hold my inhaler for me if I need it or hold a jacket for me at the end or come pick me up after the race cause my legs may not take me to my parking spot....Where ever that may be. Thing is I don't know where that will be and how far away that will be. Dang it.

Ok. Ok. Cool it. I will read a bunch of motivational quotes that I have in my running day planner that I was supposed to be reading all along but never did. Crap.

It's no longer a sport, No longer just a game. It has become a way of life. Every breath is a stride, every heartbeat a string of silence. It is a compulsion from deep within It is a passion for glory. To go through the torment. To last through the waiting. To gain that one moment, alone with myself and only the few who chance to strive can know the experience. To hear nothing but breath. To feel nothing but heartbeat. To feel so close to hell running so close to heaven. This is the runner's high. This is the feeling I live for. This is the goal I strive toward. If my chance disappears, part of my life would end. (annon)

Oh yeah, feeling good now. Feeling better. Here comes my all time favorite.
Doesn't this make you want to do it again Jo? Annie?



We can blaze! Become legends in our own time. Strike fear into the heart of mediocre talent everywhere. We can scald dogs, put records out of reach! Make the stands gasp as we blow into an unearthly kick from 300 yards out! We can become God's own messenger delivering the dreaded scrolls! We can race dark Satan himself till he wheezes fiery cinders down the back straightaway! They'll speak our names in hushed tones "those guys are animals" they'll say. We can lay it on the line, bust a gut, show them a clean pair of heels. We can sprint the turn on a spring breeze and feel the winter leave our feet. We can, by God, let our demons loose and just wail on! (Quentin Cassidy Once a Runner by John Parker)

Not sure why he put so many exclamation marks in there but it works for me.




(oooo bonus, I just flipped through my book some more and found a peanut butter cookie recipe I was looking for. Sweet.)

Ok back on track here.

On the roads, I can see truth revealed whole without thought or reason. There I experience the sudden understanding that comes unmasked, unbidden. I simply rest. Rest within the pure rhythm of my running. And I wait. (George Sheehan)

That one makes me want to go for a run right now. Ho man, that's deep.

You're running on guts. On fumes. Your muscles twitch. You throw up. You're delirious. But you keep running because there's no way out of this hell you're in, because there's no way you're not crossing the Finnish line. It's a misery that non-runners don't understand. (Martine Costello)

The reward at the end:





Yup, now I will be up all night thinking about running.

Back to my playlist. Last night I had a dream that I ran real fast on Eye of the Tiger. So I downloaded it tonight and it's going on. Runaway by Pink. Breakaway - Kelly whatever her name is. A bunch of Linkin Park vs Jay-z music. Patio Lanterns. I wonder what motivates The Iceman. I wish I could ask him.

If anyone can think of any songs that might work lemmie know. I would like to hear what motivates the masses.

Pure genius

Why didn't I think of this? I am so jealous. Does anyone wanna get together and try this. What a masterpiece, what a display of athletic abilities and what creativity. I have so much respect for these guys and I don't even know them. Seriously. Seriously.

http://www.fugufish.org/frog/?p=38

Stealth Mission

Well, not really stealth I suppose when you steal something right in front of someone and they know it. The sweater. I stole Kad Millwork's bunny hug. Its grey, it's worn in and it has a small rip in it, its fantastic and he's never getting it back. On the front it says United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners of America Saskatchewan Local 1985 (right under the 1985 there's a stain...kinda brownish). This morning it was cold and I got to wear it. As I pulled it over my head I laughed my evil laugh and thought to myself "sucker". Now I'm at work and it's warm in here and I'm starting to get very hot and sweaty but I'm so pumped I don't want to take it off. So I'm going to sit here and sweat and drink my warm Tim Ho's single single.

My Inspiration:


Meryn Cadell
» The Sweater

(lyrics are spoken)
Girls,
I know you will understand this
and feel the intrinsic incredible emotion
You have just pulled over your head the worn,
warm sweater belonging to a boy
Now, you haven't had a passionate kissing session or anything,
but you got to go on a camping trip with him
and eight other people from school
And you practically slept together,
your sleeping bag right next to his
And you woke in the night to watch him as he slept
but you couldn't see anything 'cause it was dark
so you just laid there and listened to his breathing
and wondered if your heart might burst
The sweater has that faintly goat-like smell
which all teenage boys possess,
and that smell will lovingly transfer
to all your other clothes
If you get to keep it for a few days you can sleep with it
but don't let your mom see, 'cause she'll say,
"what is that filthy thing, and who does it belong to
besides the trash man?"
So you have to keep it under the covers with you
You can kind of lie it beside you,
or wrap it around your waist,
or touch it on your legs, or whatever
That's your business
Now if the sweater has, like, reindeer on it
or is a funny color like yellow... I'm sorry,
you can't get away with a sweater like that
Look for brown, or grey, or blue
Anything other than that, and you know you're dealing with
someone who's different
And different is NOT what you're looking for
You're looking for those Alpine ski-chiseled features
and that sort of blank look which passes for deep thought
or at least the notion that someone's home
You're looking for the boy of your dreams
who is the same boy in the dreams of all your friends
Monday, wear the sweater
to school
Be calm, look cute
Don't tell him about the dream you had
about the place the two of you would share
when you get older
Just be yourself
The best, cutest, quietest version of yourself
Definitely wear lip gloss
He looks at you, and then he looks away
And then he walks away
and the smell of the sweater hits you again suddenly
like ape-scent gloriola
and you get a note passed to you
by a girl in History that says
"He needs that sweater back.
He forgot you put it on in the tent on Saturday
and he's been looking for it."
And you don't have to die of humiliation, you know
You are a strong person
and this is a learning experience
You can still hold your head up high as you run from the classroom
tearing the stinking sweater from your body
You've got a secret now, honey,
and though you'd never sink as low as him,
you could blab it all over the school if you wanted
The label in that sweater
said "100% Acrylic"

“If you love something let it go free. If it doesn't come back, you never had it. If it comes back, love it forever.”

I have returned to blogger world. Many days I have thought about all the things I should be posting to enlighten then human race and bring harmony into the lives of many. But I just haven't been able to get around to it until tonight. And now, while I sit here I can't think of anything to write about. Oh, the irony.

What's been happening:
New job
Newly single
New nephew
New ideas about running a marathon
Still have my stupid cats and I still live in Da Hood


That's it. Three months and that's all I've got to write.

I have developed a love for Van Morrison. If this labels me a loser or some manner of dork I plan to embrace it until I'm smothered by it.

Big Big News:
I have retired "Patio Lantern's" from my pump you up running music. Its still in the repertoire but I have developed a liking for "June Afternoon" and "Lady in Red". I know that most people would not be pumped up by Lady in Red but it gets me. Also, Cool Rider from Grease 2 Soundtrack makes me giver-shit. When she climbs that ladder and pretends its a motorbike it gives me tingles.


Goodnight.