What’s going on, blogosphere? Did you have a relaxing Sunday?
My day started out at noon with Vega waking me up out of a nightmare ridden sleep and welcoming me back to reality after awaking with anxiety and terror and whatever. It’s becoming normal, this aversion to being awake. It’s all very confusing and I very much dislike it, but it seems marginally better than adding insomnia to my laundry list of issues right now.
After a couple buzzfeed articles and some coffee, I managed to be coerced into getting ready for the day. It’s absolutely gorgeous here today, about 15 degrees and sunny. We went for a walk to the grocery store and took the long way there. I’m trying this thing that Spinny asked me to try, this being present in the moment instead of immediately giving into being terrified. So I lost myself in the warmth of the sunshine, the sweet smell of flowers and trees budding and blooming and the sound of the birds in the trees overhead, the deep boom of Vega’s voice, the way the smoke from my cigarette danced through the air.
For a few moments, I was really there, in the moment, and it was the happiest I have felt in weeks.
The past few days have been mostly a haze. Lots of crying and lots of sleeping with some Radiohead interspersed. I am finally going to see my new shrink tomorrow morning, following some blood work and banking. I’m equal parts terrified and hopeful. Terrified that something is way way way more wrong than initially presumed, and hopeful that this will be the first of many small but necessary steps towards healing. Until then, I’m going to enjoy my last pre fasting meal (Vega’s making me yummy pesto pasta) and take my meds and try to stay present so I don’t get sucked into the vacuum that is my fear of the past.
I just want to start feeling better.
I burned some of the things I never said today. I rid myself of all of the drafts of the letter I sent a week ago. I felt less relief than I’d hoped for but I enjoyed it more than I thought I would..so that’s a win I suppose. I need all the symbolic cleansing nonsense I can get my hands on right now.
Thom Yorke’s voice makes my soul happy. “The Bends” will always and forever be the soundtrack to my depression – here’s lookin’ at you, eighth grade! Seriously though, “High and Dry” is just hitting me in all the feels right now. Sigh.
I need to stop thinking about therapy. It’s really making me anxious. So I’m just gonna leave this here and go play angry birds.
Happy hump day to you all! If you are humping today, be safe! haha.
As well as being TWBITW, I’ve been putting off doing this album review for way too long (sorry!!!) because I wanted to have the time to really do it justice. You see, I have some really badass friends (who are also the talented rappers otherwise known as The Brothers Grim) named Pat and Stephen, and a few months back they sent me the sweetestcare package ever. Along with stickers (that I’ve been putting everywhere) and a sick t-shirt (that I’ve been wearing everywhere), they also sent me their albums. Today we’re gonna dissect Kom’s album – Pat, yours will come in due time!
Grim!
Brothers Grim Presents: Komrade – “Fallen Empire”
Track Listing:
Hard As It Gets
Bad Magic (ft. Stripes & Swann)
Metal To Rust
Pod People
Demons On My Back (ft. Merkules & Nobe [of the INF Gang])
Notes: Tracks 1, 2, 5, 7, 9, 12 cuts by Nato. Track 13 cuts by Nato and DJ Recoknsyle. Recorded, mixed and mastered by Nato for Up In Arms Recordings (7Nato.com). All songs written and recorded by Stephen ‘Komrade’ G, except guest features. Booklet design by Sonik at Music Box Studios (sonikhiphop.com). Cover artwork by Raymond Tan.]
a note about these reviews: I’m going to be giving two blurbs per song: 1) being my internal monologue during a listen through (sorry in advance, Stephen!), and then 2) being a more critical review. Finally, I’ll give my favorite line from each track. Sound good? No? too bad. Let’s begin.
1. Hard As It Gets(03:47)
Internal Monologue: Starts off MEAN, and I like it. This track just comes at you and keeps at it – won’t lie, I basically zoned into this song too hard to write anything down. That, my friends, is the hallmark of a great track.
Critical Review: Okay, I have to start off by saying that I absolutely love the momentum this song has. It’s a pretty straightforward 4/4 time signature beat, but Kom shows some great writing skills by utilizing the briefest of pauses at the end of the 4th beat, giving the track a “rolling” forwards energy. The mood is aggressive, and it brings to mind the feeling directly following a round in the boxing ring – out for blood and ready to show off a little bit. This is punctuated by creative phrasing (and seriously, it’s hard to make the English language fit in musical constraints); especially and impressively so, when he shifts pace subtly yet critically in the final verse. This is such a minor shift that it’s taken me way too long to figure it out, but it switches the tone from slightly frantic to relaxed and kinda bravado-y. Bravodic? hmm.
Moving on, the production on this track is sick. Seriously Nato, you KILLED it. My favorite thing (drinking game idea: every time I say something is my favourite, take a shot. You’re welcome.) about Stephen’s voice is how gritty it is. There’s something reminiscent of Slim Shady LP-era Eminem crossed with Asher Roth served with a bit of Aesop Rock about it – basically, he sounds mean, like a good rapper should. Nato kept the right amount of growl (which is all of it), to which I tip my hat.
This track just sets the album off perfectly – even after a few (hundred) listens, it psychs me up for the rap music I’m about to hear. At the end of the day, that’s all why we’re fans, right? It’s all about getting excited about the music in your ears.
Favorite Line: “And I roll with evil brothers/ Like the Catholic Church”
2. Bad Magic (04:03)
Internal Monologue: LOVE THE HOOK. It sounds like an old horror movie. Wicked collaboration, they play off each other well. Even match for each other – whoa that’s a lot of syllables. You three sound like the monsters in my closet. This is what I love about rap, this is raw and passionate and harsh and MEAN. I still pull new lines I missed out of this track and I listen to it all the time – in my books that’s a pretty awesome quality in a rhyme. Such a great cadence here, I really love how the three rhyme schemes are similar but incredibly differently approached. Fun and risky rhymes all around – this is such a fun song to try to pull apart. Really loved the collab between these three. Big success.
Critical Review: I stand by my internal monologue in that the hook to this track is just fanfuckingtastic. We’re keeping a more even tempo here, slower and more menacing – which allows the poetry to shine; and deservedly so, as there are some great lines in this track. There was also a ton of attention paid to the subtleties in production – there’s plenty of sound effects and some cool processing; however, they’re pretty unobtrusive while lending some depth and intrigue to the overall effect. Shout out to Stripes and Swann for a sweet guest appearance.
This song sounds like every fight I’ve ever been in crossed with Halloween. In the best way. It makes me want to dig my gloves out and beatt up the heavy bag (and in fact, I have a couple of times (less boxing gloves because hardcore) at the gym on cardio day)…or, y’know, the bros who hog the squat rack. It’s menacing and punchy and just everything that fight music should be. Somewhat reminiscent of D12’s “Fight Music,” which is, of course, a good thing.
Favorite Line: “I can hear the bitch in your voice/”
3. Metal To Rust (03:08)
Internal Monologue:[lights up] upon exhale, this track is perfect. Kinda mellow, kinda jazzy, and I like the slightly softer lilt Kom’s got going here. Don’t get me wrong – he’s still throaty, but he’s approachable in this track. Contemplative. I like the chorus a LOT, that’s a perfect analogy. I also really enjoy the pacing and cadence we’ve got here, it’s fast enough to feel lighthearted; however, the lyrics are actually pretty heavy – I respect the solid 180 seconds of brutal honesty.
Critical Review: This track is a complete foil to the first two on the album. This one is perfect blazing music – I look forward to summertime smoke ups outside with this exact song playing. Kom’s not angry here; he’s reflective, which allows the few lines that are angry to be even more scathing. In contrast, the back beat is kinda jazzy, I can appreciate the counterpoint; and, of course, the pacing and cadence lend a sense of pensiveness. Listening to the lyrics, the song plays like you’re able to see the internal dialogue Stephen has in his head for 3 minutes. It’s brave – not a lot of rappers out there willing to be transparent about the less than “swag” emotions, people, or things.
I also need to point out that the message here hits home pretty hard – remember, kids, friends aren’t friends if they use you. Family only means you share genetic material. Choose your circle wisely, and remember that quality>quantity.
Favorite Line: “And if you thought your friends were solid/ Even metal turns to rust/”
4. Pod People (00:42)
Internal Monologue: We’re back to the menacing and I like it. …whoa, how many time have I listened to this?
Critical Review: For 42 seconds worth of rhyme, Kom spits some venom.
Favorite Line: “You want beef bitch/ I’ll bring a whole fuckin herd of it/”
5. Demons On My Back (03:39)
Internal Monologue: [author spews Diet Coke while giggling] HAHAHA DID HE JUST START A SONG WITH THAT LINE?! Seriously, though. That takes some guts and it worked. Well played, sir. What a fun back beat! I really like this collab, too – and the howl at Hockey end? Perfect.
Critical Review: I love the back track, love the kinda old school vibe here. This reminds me of Gangstarr “Full Clip” (Sticky Fingaz Verse, natch), it’s smooth, it’s classy, it isn’t in your face aggressive or mean or harsh… but it IS mean, aggressive, and harsh – scathingly so. I stand by my statement about the opening line (hint: it’s my favorite) and applaud it. The cadence is interesting, for such a downtempo backbeat, the guys are rapping pretty quick here. Interesting rhyme schemes, awesome breath control, great production.
Also – in general, this song for me is a standout on the album simply because of how well written each and every verse is. Excellent writing in all regards.
Favorite Line: “Life’s a bitch/ So I fucked her/ And she gave me herpes/”
(no video, buy the album!)
6. Hockey Pucks (04:08)
Internal Monologue: First of all, how Canadian can we be, really? I bet you’re an Oilers fan, Kom…you know what that means, right? That means that part of me will always hate you, and that’s the part of me that loves the Flames. Sorry. Anyways. I like how minimalist this track is. It’s all about the lyrics, and they’re coming rapid fire. This definitely epitomizes angry Albertan high school Mia. To the T. Angry, angsty, mean without needing to be, might give you the stink eye but secretly pay for your double double to apologize…
Critical Review: Definitely more minimal here, which is a welcome turn in my eyes. Kom’s a strong writer, and this is yet another testament to that – no flash, just awesome rhymes. Pacing is misleading, I keep thinking I can count the song, but he’s actually pretty sneaky here – there are a lot of tight tempo changes.
I gotta say, Kom – this one’s a contender for overall best track.
Favorite Line: “The lesson of depression/ Never own a Smith & Wesson/ The Devil answers loudest/ When your mind is filled with questions/”
7. Broken In Half (03:25)
Internal Monologue: For some reason, I don’t like the backing track here. I think it’s the synth strings, just hits a note that aggravates me – I’m weird though, so I’m pretty sure this is just a me thing. It’s nice to see a Brother Grim track on here finally! They have such fun energy together – had the whole crowd singing along when I saw them this past summer. Somewhat predictable. I keep waiting for this track to explode but it doesn’t. Sorry guys. I like the rhymes but this one isn’t on the top of the pile for me.
Critical Review: That back track. It’s the synth strings – they just don’t do it for me, and it frustrates me because I feel like my weird aversion to that particular note is leeching my enjoyment from the tune. Anyways. Some really sick rhymes from both Pat and Kom here, and the trademark energy they each bring to the table that makes me love their music.
I also hate to say it, but sonic blue balls is the only way to describe how I feel at the end of this one – I feel like it builds, and builds, and has the potential to really punch at the end…but it doesn’t. And that makes me sad.
Favorite Line: “Address me as your honorable/ ‘Cause I’m someone unstoppable/”
8. Stranglin Steeze (03:08)
Internal Monologue: YES. We’re moving again – there’s that momentum. Sweet raps off the bat, and I am much preferring this back track. That’s a really cool effect they layered over the backing track – kinda electronica, in the slightest possible way. This reminds me of Royce Da 5’9″…actually, Bad Meets Evil. That’s what this reminds me of.
Critical Review: Well, that’s what I was awaiting in the last track – this song starts with some killer movement (much like the first track) and it carries through the end of the track. That’s more my style – relentless. This track is powerful, it comes at you and keeps getting bigger and faster and more intimidating.
I’ve listened to this track so many times since December that I’ve lost count, but I still find myself pulling out rhymes I hadn’t caught before. Fantastic.
Favorite Line: “Step inside the gates of Heaven/ You’re just cursed in a cage/”
9. Building Dreams Selling Music [BDSM] (04:07)
Internal Monologue: Well, I like the name of this one (I’m a kinky bitch, as you know if you’ve followed for a while; if not, here is a good place to start). Hell YES, starting off with extra gravel-ly vocals. Great narrative, love how balls out (haha oops, unintentional) the rhymes are. Also, that’s a rather extensive list of sex toys. I digress. Oh, no wait, the next verse starts with panties and faces. Can’t help but wonder if this is purely fiction or if there are bits of real crazy bitches you know, Kom. Love the overdub with the old movie feel, kinda “Reefer Madness” in the best way. Really mesmerised by this one, it took me a few listens initially to really hear the whole story; now, I still find myself falling into it and getting lost.
Critical Review: Well, I don’t have much to say here that I didn’t cover in the initial listen through. I really, really love the production on this track, it sounds extra grimey and extra evil, which is exactly what I was hoping for given the title. In addition to the production, I like that this is a relatively minimalist track. Simple time signature, simple beat, complicated rhymes, but overall, just kind of mesmerising. This fucking sounds like subspace. You gave subspace a soundtrack, Kom. How the fuck..?
…Yeah, I love this one. I love that the woman is the aggressor, I love that the rhythm is so subdued, I love that the story is so well written. And yeah, fuck it, I have to admit a soft spot for a song that’s about kinkery.
Favorite Line: “Something in her snapped and I knew I was in danger/ Bitch pulled out a knife/ You can never trust a stranger/”
(BUY THE ALBUM, if for this track alone.)
10. Fiending (03:56)
Internal Monologue: [author says hello to MJ] Wow, this song sounds amazing right now. It’s by far the most chill track so far, and I love love love this chorus. This kind of sounds like wake and bake sessions in uni with old friends, it’s rough and ragged but kinda non committal in the best possible way. That made no sense at all, I’m sure, but neither did those days. Anyways. I like the collaborations here, they’re seamless and they all play off each others strengths. Evil E is one of my faves, so it’s a treat to hear him here. Pat’s verse is clean and he’s showing more personality, which I heartily approve of. So far, my stand out favorite track on the album.
Critical Review: Another somewhat subdued track with ridiculous verses. Seriously, ever single one is completely ridiculous, and a good few months after hearing this the first time, I am STILL hearing things for the first time.
Can we also talk about that hook for a second? It is perfect, and reminds me of old Premiere. It’s totally grimey 90s awesomeness, and it totally deserved its own paragraph of appreciation. Sonik, you absolutely slaughtered the production on this track.
Yeah, 10/10. The only way I could dissect this really would be to go line by line, and ain’t nobody got time fo’dat. But, I do have time to say that this is by far my favorite track on the album. Bravo, gents.
Favorite Line: “Watching Glee/ Fuck your anger and your sorrow/ Remedy your teen angst/ Coat hanger use tomorrow/”
11. Future Is Grim (03:44)
Internal Monologue: Pretty epic opening bit, which I love. This is totally kinda Madchild nerdy in the best way, a little nod to the General, Kom? They’ve upped the tempo here, and I’m digging it. This is kind of battlecry sounding, like I can picture BaxWar on horseback rapping along with it…hmm. Weird visual. Anyways. Super busy track, but I love how it’s got that unrelenting chorus to tie it back together. Fun for sure, and the end bit about the big bang? Fan fucking tastic.
Critical Review: The only thing I have to say about this one that was a serious draw for me was the fact that I felt that the busy back track seriously hindered my ability to hear the rhymes. To be honest, the first few times I heard this one I almost zoned the rapping out. It’s just too hard to follow with the horn and the chant and the overdubbed mad scientist sounding guy…
Other than that; however, I really, really love this – lyrically. As always, challenging rhymes delivered without hesitation, which is la crème de la crème, as far as I’m concerned.
Favorite Line: “I’m the rappin’ cryptkeeper/ Fifth Element rap shit/ I spit ether/”
12. Love Thy Brother (4:06)
Internal Monologue:This is my favorite style of rap – Nas does it sometimes, so does Em, Guru used to – it’s crawling and unrelenting and comes at you evenly and cleanly and it sucks you in and terrifies you and makes you want to listen closer all at the same time. That chorus? Fucking YES. Again with the slight 90s nod with the vocal styling. Pat’s verse here is my favorite so far, it’s his strongest I feel and the delivery is pretty deeply affecting. Pretty neck and neck with Fiending for me.
Critical Review: Again, very little to say here without getting into a line by line dissection. This one is really, really just well executed. I don’t have any critiques here, just praise (and 264 plays on my iPod so far). Thank you for making real, honest backpack rap. This is why I fell in love with the genre.
Favorite Line: “Survived the hood the only way I knew/ And that’s the honor roll/”
13. The Story (03:44)
Internal Monologue: Sticking with the oldschool vibe, and I am NOT complaining. This one is raw – some anger and left over hurt there, which resonates with me. I get the write it out thing (clearly). Pretty much every line I agree with here, and it both breaks my heart and consoles me. There’s a certain emotion that’s hard to capture with those kinds of memories. Pat kills his verse so hard. Man oh man. I love it. I love this song.
Critical Review: Everything I love about Love Thy Brother and Fiending are present here – another gritty, 90s influenced track – another shining example of another facet of backpack rap. I won’t lie, I bawled the first time I listened to this one. It was a bad mama drama day, and the way Kom spits his verse just got to me. This is the backpack rap that got (and still gets) me through stuff – Infinite (Eminem) is similar, as is early Swollen. It’s visceral and powerful, and I’m so thrilled that it still exists in the rap world amidst the cash cars and hoes.
Pat picks his pace up in this track pretty noticeably, and his rhymes (in my opinion) shine here more than they do on earlier tracks on the album. Strip the tracks down, guys, and you make magic – like this one. This is, truly, magical. What a kick ass way to cap off a fantastic album.
Favorite Line: “Life toughens up and I become much stronger/ Betting on my breaking point/ But I last longer/”
In closing, I’m really, really lucky to have such talented friends. If you’re a backpack rap fan? GO BUY THE ALBUM. It’s worth it, and that much, I am not just saying. I’m seriously proud, and can’t wait to see what comes next.
I’ve tried to start this post like four times now. Seriously, it’s been sitting in my drafts folder and enough is enough! Ha. How are your weeks going so far? Can you believe that we’re this close to Christmas already? I’m actually pretty jazzed on the holidays this year for once. Vega and I have amassed quite the pile of presents for each other..I tried to stay in budget, Vega, but you’ve good taste and you’re fun to shop for. There’s something extra magical about the weather we’re having right now, too. Instead of the typical three feet of snow and/or -45 degree cold snap to which I’d become accustomed in the prairies, it’s hovering around the five degree mark here, and we’ve had these gorgeous cloudy drizzly rainy days all week. It’s wonderful here.
This weekend was somewhat uneventful. Friday, Vega and his family took off to Calgary for the day to spend some time with Vega’s grandpa. I got up early to say goodbye, then walked his parents pug (she’s such a cute little monstrosity of a dog), then got my nails done (they’re all long and faaaab now), then cleaned our suite like a madwoman, then ordered some pizza, then passed out cold on our loveseat until Vega got home a few hours later. I was in the midst of a heavily fucked up dream and kinda vaguely remember being very grumpy for a moment and then being asleep again. We slept like champs until Saturday afternoon, then peeled ourselves out of our warm comfy bed and headed downtown for Vega to get some Christmas shopping done and to eat way too much sushi. We got home and I realized that a small but painful knot had taken residence in my neck. Advil advil tea and advil, and then a lot of sleep. Sunday was more sleep and porkchops. Vega makes killer porkchops. Yesterday, I didn’t get much done. I slept in too late and felt kinda poopy all day. Today, I was up before noon, dressed and out the door to get the last of Vega’s Christmas prezzies. Mission accomplished, then got home, made some art, wrote the first few pages of the first “official” draft of my book ( aside: I AM WRITING MY BOOK IN A LISA FRANK NOTEBOOK. LISA FUCKING FRANK OF NINETIES STATIONARY FAME. LISA FRANK, WHOM I LOVE AND ADORE WITH EVERY 90S KID FIBRE OF MY DAMN BEING.), had a brief chat with Spinnaker, then watched a whole bunch of Sopranos with Vega. We started “Amelie,” too, but that’s on hold until tomorrow. Vega’s gone to bed now and I’m sitting here listening to the super catchy Los Campesinos! track that Spinny’s got me hooked on.
The title of this post is the title of that song and I’ve got to say that they hit the nail on the proverbial head with that one. The sea has always been my place of peace and understanding and harmony. I feel grounded when I’m near the ocean, and living on the island has definitely been good for my head, my heart and my soul. I’ve had a lot to think about since we got here (and well before that but you know what I’m trying to say), and I feel like the simple act of waking up in the morning and having the luxury of greeting the day with my first cigarette of the day overlooking the pacific has done my mental state more good than any of the hundreds of counsellors I’ve seen over the years. Vega’s stressing over Christmas and as much as I love that he’s fussing over me so much and so painstakingly is adorable, but I want to pull him aside and stop him and find a way to explain to him what a gift it is to me to be able to sit by the sea and think of our future and think of our present and revel in how it somehow erases bits of my past and how that’s the best gift anybody could ever give me, ever. But I don’t have the words, Vega. So that’s the conundrum I face – you are so good to me, so good for me, that you outdo any gift you could ever give me.
I can’t seem to wind my brain down today. Mind’s going a million miles a minute and it has been since I got out of bed. Tomorrow I am going to try to wake up at a good time and go for a run and sit my ass down and write for a couple of hours and finish my piece of pending art. I know that’s a lot of things for someone who’s been so sloth-y lately but I figure it’s all do-able. I feel like I might have forgotten to mention that I got the dream job I was stressing over last week! I start in January and I really can’t wait. I also feel wickedly antsy and restless. That said, it’s been a nice few days, celebrating the new employment by taking some serious me time. I don’t do enough of that for myself.
Aaaanywhore. I think it’s high time (ha!) that I make myself some chamomile and find some shitty TV show to watch. I need to relax my mind and writing is amping me up right now.
The poet and the painter Casting shadows on the water/ As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea/ The do-er and the thinker/ No allowance for the other/ As the failing light illuminates the mercenary’s creed/ The home fire burning/ The kettle almost boiling/ But the master of the house is far away/ The horses stamping/ Their warm breath clouding/ In the sharp and frosty morning of the day/ And the poet lifts his pen/ While the soldier sheaths his sword And the youngest of the family/ Is moving with authority/ Building castles by the sea/ He dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside/
(From “Thick as a Brick” – Jethro Tull)
Love me some Jethro Tull. ❤
Hello, blogosphere.
So, I managed to get back to sleep somewhere between 7:30 and 8:00 this morning. Vega came down at noon for his lunch break and despite a valiant effort to rouse me from my slumber, I kept right on a-sleepin’ until 2:30 this afternoon. Long story short, I didn’t make it out into society to get any writing done, and the most productive thing I’ve done all day has been making a gigantic cup of jasmine green tea and reading endless BuzzFeed articles. It’s 4:22 now and I could happily crawl back into bed and call it a day. Exhausted and sore as hell are the two best descriptors for me today. How are your hump days going, readers? Hopefully y’all have been more productive than I. I was going to add some self-deprecating humor there about my sloth, but I was allowed by Vega to sleep in on the promise that I wouldn’t feel guilty about it later. So.
Parks and Rec. Are you on Netflix yet? hmm.
…so, here I am now on the couch, dog in lap, tea in hand, Radiohead in background. I feel…out of place today. Kinda weird and very much an unsettling sensation. I’m also freezing and very excited for Mr. Vega to finish up his work day (half an hour now!) so that we can snuggle on the couch and eat dinner and go to sleep. Back to where I was, where everything hurts and takes way too much effort and I’d really rather just stay in bed with the blinds closed all day. That said, I have Christmas shopping to accomplish still and my tea supply is dwindling; so in that regard, perhaps I’ll drop the bar on my “leaving the house this week” goal and settle for hitting downtown and killing both them birdies with one stone on Sunday, when my final paycheque from Hell – ahem – the Bean is ready for me. Or maybe I’ll be even more realistic and put it off until Monday when my bank will be open. Who am I kidding? Sunday is for tea and pyjamas, even when I’m not feeling all mopey. This week’s a write off. I am just not ready to venture into society just yet. It’s me, tea, and my sketchbook for the next few days, and you know what? I’m alright with that.
I just need a few more days of crying and crappy television. I’ll have this shit handled again soon.
I don’t really know what I logged on here to say. You’re all painfully aware by now of where I’m at right now, and I have no brilliant revelations to share with you. I think I’m just trying to keep my brain busy – two days from now is the anniversary of the worst night of my fucking life, and I wouldn’t call it a hasty conclusion to decide that the sleep fuckery, the upset stomach, the general malaise are all psychosomatic symptoms. The brain is a funny little machine that way – despite my knowledge of the opposite, I still maintain to myself that I’ve dealt with all of this. I think what’s hurting me the most right now; what truly is fuelling this depressive episode is the acceptance that at the end of the day, I am still very much a wounded soul. I pride myself on my sunny disposition, my unrelenting optimism…and here I am, struggling to hold on to the frayed ends of the proverbial rope. I want to feel strong again, want to feel powerful and integral and worthwhile. The irony is that Vega makes me feel all of those things; however, being unemployed (again) makes me start in on my faults and shortcomings and I manage to convince myself that he’s wrong for making me feel any of those good things and that he’ll realize it one day and evaporate from my life, too. That’s literally the precise train of thought I grapple with multiple times every day. I suppose it’s time for me to eat some of my own humble pie though, and take my own advice. Every time I’ve ever felt this way in my life, good things have come of it. I’m too blah to remember that feeling right now, but I know that it’s the natural progression of things. Self-care first, though, and for the time being, that means not thinking as much as I’d like to and more TEA.
How were your weeks? Mine was…interesting, but I’ll get into that in a moment. First thing is first – I wanted to say hello, thank you, and welcome to the 22 new followers EIB has gained this month. I appreciate it more than I can say – and thank to all of you, the metrics for this month have been just out of the proverbial blogosphere. I’m floored and excited and humbled and amazed. Thank you, from the bottom of my wee heart. I’m also just loving how much more y’all are conversing with me via comments and emails – that makes my day, every day. In the same vein, I know I’ve been a slacker with my posts, and I promise to lace up my boots and kick myself in the ass a bit in the upcoming weeks. More posts, more writing, more goodness and rambly rantings in traditional Mia style. Y’all have lit a fire under my backside!
More posts. I promise.
Anyways. This past week was just..intense. Hard. Exhausting. Work is draining me quicker than a dollar store battery in a vibrator. It was better, briefly, after I manned up and talked to my boss about my manager, but it seems that was a short lived luxury. She’s back on everyone’s case and driving me batshit insane. I’m seriously weighing my options and looking around for the next big thing in my life. Never thought I’d miss a 9-5 desk job so bad…aaaaand here I am. Ho hum, such is life and growing up sucks. I’m going to do my absolute best to stick it out until Vega and I get back from LA in January, but I tell ya, it’s a conscious effort not to either lobotomize myself or quit every single damned shift. One of my much younger coworkers was telling me to try to see it as a “humbling experience,” and it took a lot of self control to smile and nod instead of go ape and explain to her that following almost an decade of self-sufficiency and much shittier jobs that I have earned the right to be more than a little dissatisfied right now. That said, she’s almost 20 and just moved out for the first time, so as bitchy as this is, she has a whole bunch of hard lessons coming her way which will hopefully explain my frame of mind to her better than I ever could. In summation, I hate my job and I need a new one. Preferably a 9-5 desk job with business cards and the capacity to wear high heels to work. Anybody know of anything in the 250, email this girl. I’m serious. I’m starting to hate coffee and that’s a fate I will not accept.
Yup.
In addition to my work stress, the premature death of my friend last Tuesday is still weighing heavy on my mind. He was driving from Quesnel back to Edmonton to visit some family for the holidays and got blindsided by a semi truck on the highway. I don’t think I’ve fully accepted that he’s gone, and the truth is that I’m still hurting pretty hard over it. I actually ended up taking a couple of days off last week to cry and mourn and hurt in private rather than bawl into people’s lattes and such. His last post on Facebook will forever remind me how lucky I was to have known him, though. “99% of the time, the good you do in the world will be ignored. Do good anyways.” Well, my friend, thank you for the beautiful reminder of how fantastic a person you were, and I promise you, I’ll do my absolute damndest to make sure I hold myself to that modus operandi for the rest of my days. I miss you, B. I really, really do.
So, lots of stress. Lots of it. Lots of tears and lots of frustration on my part, lots of understanding and consoling and being fucking amazing on Vega’s. I’m not proud of myself for cracking under the weight of it all, but I suppose everyone has to fall down sometimes. I’m making a conscious effort to make the best of my days to the best of my abilities. Not only is this year almost over (WHERE THE FUCK HAS THE TIME BEEN GOING?!), but the passing of my friend has reminded me once again that life is finite. I’m trying, I really am, and Vega and I have lots of living left to do. So, live I shall – to the absolute fucking fullest extent.
Damn skippy, Effy. I’m not either.
It hasn’t all be stress and bullshit lately, though. I was just saving the best for last! I got my sleeve started yesterday and I have to say, my arm looks fucking spectacular. My tattoo artist is a spectacularly talented chick and she’s truly outdone herself on my piece. Actually, I think she’s rather excited to finish the sleeve herself – I gave her a lot of artistic license and we collaborated on a truly beautiful piece. I sat for four hours, and it really wasn’t too bad. The spot inside my elbow was less than awesome, but the rest of it was mildly uncomfortable at worst.
Watercolour and dandelions and pretty pretty not naked arm! ❤
The entire process was just a pleasant and necessary one for me. Obviously, I was pretty excited about the appointment (haha I only talked about it here for five and a half weeks…imagine poor Vega’s experience…), but the truth is, I didn’t have a fucking clue how truly wonderful it was going to feel being in that chair. There’s the obvious – I’m a masochist and I did enjoy the pain, quite a lot. There’s the even more obvious, being that I now have an absolutely stunning piece of art (roughly 1/3 of my full sleeve, still need to do the top half of my arm and then the backside of the piece). Then, there’s the deeply personal (and thus, intrinsically difficult to explain but I’ll try my hardest). First, the scars that shithead Sunshine put on my arm? Pretty much fully covered. Soon to be fully covered when I go in for my next sitting. TAKE THAT, ASSHOLE.
Gratuitous alternate angle shot of my ink ❤
The whole thing is pretty much my “fuck you” to the world – to everyone who told me that I, everyone who doubted me, who made me feel ugly or stupid or worthless. It’s a testament to how far I’ve come on my own terms, to the good things and the bad things and the ugly things that have made me who I am. It was truly cathartic sitting there (and I sat like a fucking champion, no bitching from this girl) feeling pain that (for once) led me to a beautiful result rather than more bullshit to slog through. I’m sure my mother is shitting a brick at the whole thing, but hell, she’s part of that list of proverbial fuck yous. I did this for ME and I am thrilled. It’s also the most “Mia” possible interpretation of what a sleeve should be – feminine but not girly, colorful but not obnoxious, packed full of meaning but very personally so. Basically, this girl is ready to make her teenage dreams of being covered in ink come true, and I’m glad that I waited as long as I did. From the artist to the execution to the timing of it all, this was serendipitous. I have a smile that can’t be contained on my face and I feel like a badass, more honest version of myself. Honest, because I love tattoos, and I love my tattoo. Vega called me a “very passionate person” the other day, and when I asked him what he thinks I’m the most passionate about, his reply was simply, “art.” He’s right, and down to the watercolor style brushstrokes of this piece, this fucking nailed everything I wanted on the head with a ten ton hammer.
Last one, for now. Isn’t it GORGEOUS???
Lots of catharsis lately, which is a good thing seeing that it’s leading me to more positive frames of mind and allowing me to ditch my mental dead weight. I’ve been drawing a fuckton, too. I feel like I’m finding myself again after a bit of a dry spell. Finished the writing project I’d been working on with Spinnaker’s help (can’t WAIT to see what you have to say, Spinny. Thanks again for being my editor/confidante/friend with a heart of gold), and I’m finally to a point where I feel ready to start seriously writing my book. Seriously as in make time to write every single day, structured thoughts and plot lines and time frames and all. A year almost since Sunshine enacted his rage upon me. Mine and Vega’s anniversary is coming up in January, Los Angeles a few weeks after that, a year of us being engaged a moth after that! Time has been flying and for once, I’m at the tail end of a year feeling like I really lived this one right. Most years go by and I end up feeling morose at this juncture (y’know, when people start blaring Christmas carols way too early and wishing you politically correct happy holiday seasons); however, this year has been different. Vega and I talk a lot about momentum, and I feel like we’re gaining a lot of it in our lives both as a couple and as individuals. It’s a great feeling to be grappling with – I don’t remember the last time that I was this overwhelmed positively. I don’t believe in God, but I certainly have a lot of blessings to count. I’m grateful – even for the bullshit – because despite and in spite of it all, I am taking a cue from Thoreau and going confidently in the direction of my dreams; living the life that I have imagined. In fact, this is better than my dreams. This life we’re building together, Vega and I, is something magical and beautiful and awe-inspiring.
The soliloquy that Lester gives at the end of “American Beauty” pretty much sums it up. “And then, I remember to relax, and let it flow through me like rain. And I can’t help but feel grateful for every moment of my stupid little life.”
As for today, I woke up around 10:30, took the dressing off my ink, stared at it for like ten minutes, got dressed and ready, went to Superstore with Mama Vega, loaded up on staples (okay, on everything. Vega and I had not done groceries in a long while), came home, had lunch with Vega, did the laundry, did the dishes, and parked on the couch with some good tunes to type this entry. As far as tunes go, I’ve been rocking a bizarre mix of old school hip hop, radiohead, red hot chili peppers, and that “Royals” song by Lorde or whatever her name is. I’m downloading an old favorite movie of mine for Vega and I to watch tonight (Love, Actually), and I’m gonna bake some cookies after I finish up here. Low key way to spend my “sunday” before a sandwich shift tomorrow morning (I HATE YOU SO MUCH, 5AM). The perk here being that I am finished my shift at 11:30, have a closing shift on Wednesday, and then 2 days off. I think I can handle that without lobotomizing myself or eviscerating anyone else. Just as long as there are no tuna-pocalypse moments when I’m sandwiching tomorrow. Cross them fingers, would y’all? Also, please be kind to baristas this holiday season. If it isn’t Starbucks, don’t order a “Venti,” because I will give you a large. Know your drink order. And for the love of bacon, remember that I am not a goddamn slave, okay? Please?
Don’t piss off the people that make your extra hot extra dry no foam skinny soy sugarfree vanilla pumpkin latte with a drizzle of caramel on top. Just don’t.
On that note, I think it’s about time that I bake some cookies and wrap up this post. I didn’t intend to write this much today but oh well, at least it’s not all swirling around in my head. Have fantastic weeks, readers. I’ll be back with another post lickety split.
Happy Saturday to you all! Hopefully, you got out and enjoyed your days – it was a beautiful one here in the 250 – hot and humid and sunny as all hell, just the way I like it!
I had a fucking HELL of a time falling asleep last night. I think I came down off the shock of hearing about my friend’s passing and started feeling it after my (supposedly) bedtime bowl, so after kissing Vega goodnight, I sat on the couch for a few hours, television on but not paying attention, Visa cuddled up on my lap. For the first time in months I just let myself cry and it was a total out of body experience, sitting there still and numb and sad and broken and feeling it. Really feeling it, the weight of it, of past mistakes and transgressions, of mistakes made and friends laid to rest, of enemies and drugs, of Harleys and Hell, beatings both verbal and physical. I have lived a life that has made me cold; however, I think I’m starting to truly thaw in the warmth of the promise of a future I never dreamed would be mine. I cried, and I laughed, and I remembered…and then I let a lot of it go. Don’t get me wrong, it’s never gone, but there comes a time when you really have to accept the past and put it back in its place; that is, as a guiding light to remind you who you are, who you were, and where you want to be.
Anyways, the point of it all is that I’d be a liar if I told you that I’m over my friend’s death, because I’m not. I’m sad, I’m angry, and I’m grieving; however, I’m happy to be alive, to be free, to be happy and healthy and loved. My friend’s death is not in vain – she’ll forever inspire me to enjoy every minute that much more. Life is fleeting, and I feel that we all take that for granted too much and too often. Live, truly live, and be grateful that you’re alive and can do so.
I fell asleep at like 5:30 in the morning, and I had the craziest happiest dreams. When I rolled over this morning and saw the love of my life next to me everything made perfect sense, and I snuggled up next to him after hitting the snooze button with a grin on my lips and an elevated heartrate. I am the luckiest woman alive. Vega STILL gives me butterflies (and I have a feeling that he always will).
We finally got out of bed around 1:00, had a cup of coffee and a few cigarettes, then I showered and got dressed (in some amazingly obnoxious fluorescent pink jeans) and had a rip and a smoke before heading off to the Westrock Tattoo Convention in Saanich. We got there and were both giddy as could be, artist shopping and portfolio ogling. I managed to get my shitty old prison-style tatt fixed up by the wonderful mister Mike from Incendiary Tattoos (they’re in Esquimalt, and if you’re looking for trad, Mike’s your guy) for a nominal fee. Of course, we knew some of the same folks, and had a good laugh while I was getting touched up. Aside: real tattoo machines hurt a fuck ton less than Bic pens with jury-rigged motors do. Anyways. Vega also found an unbelievably talented artist who is in the running for the prestige of tattooing a large portion of my handsome man, and it was overall a great expo full of wonderful art, lots of inspiration, and some serious talent. Big ups.
Madchild also performed this evening, which was a MAJOR highlight of the day for this girl. Special guest Slain from La Coka Nostra tore up the stage as well as Ad Lib; however, Mad killed it. Like, slaughtered it. The crowd was small and mostly tweenies, I got waved up to the front of the stage via security (after a knowing little nod was passed forth from the ill villain) and got a handshake, a wink, and a smile before my favorite track off the album was played. You guys, “It Gets Better” almost brought me to tears this evening – the entirety of this year has been a turning point for me; however, that was a lynchpin kind of moment. It DOES get better, it really does. Plus, it’s kind of fun having enough cred to have security put you front and (slightly off-)center. There are few perks to the lifestyle I used to lead, and I don’t mind a little VIP treatment here and there as fallout. Hah.
Now, we’re at home and relaxing – Vega is cooking us up some steaks and yam fries (which smell AMAZING, by the by), I kind of want to hit the bong (scratch that, I will be hitting the bong), and though I still feel kind of messy and sad and down, I also feel at peace.
I am truly, deeply, seriously grateful for how my life turned out. And no, I’m not trying to “be a martyr,” as my mom would claim; however, I’m happy that I carry the weight of it all with me everywhere I go. I don’t think I’d get as much unbridled joy and appreciation out of things now if it weren’t for the shit I put myself through back then.
Anywhore. This post is becoming too personal and circular and I think it’s high time (ha!) that I take my introspective bullshit outside and mull it over while I float away on strange clouds.
“Wake up in the morning and I drink my coffee/
By now my girl knows I don’t talk talking/
Till I wake up/
She knows not to take it personal/
Until I’ve had a cigarette my mood is irreversible/
That’s how it’s always been but things have gotten worse/
‘Cause now for me to start the day I’ve got to pop a Perc/
Started out for fun/
It was purely recreation/
But now my mind is on a permanent vacation/
Lost my motivation/
Lost my inspiration/
My mission every day is escaping from reality/
Calling people back and paying bills a technicality/
It doesn’t really matter cause I as long as I got twenty pills/
A couple new movies and my girl comes to my house to chill/
I even got her hooked for a while when she asked, “How’s it feel?”/
But she’s responsible/
She passed that phase/
Now people look at her like “why the fuck he act that way?”/
I gotta wake up/
About three years ago we were doing a show and we drank like usual cause we drink for every show. And my homeboy asked like, “Hey, you wanna try a Percocet?” And I was like, “Okay, I’ll try it.” He was like, “Yeah you’ll have more fun.” So I remember doing that show and it was just like BOOM. It was like everything was so much brighter…
You can ask anybody that does dope/
The opiate is like utopia/
It’s tough to cope with it/
I quit for six weeks and do it for two months/
The problem with that is/
I was just gonna do it once/
One day turns to two into a week/
Until I’m locked inside my house and I’ve turned into a freak/
Jump around my living room at five in the morning/
With the music so loud you’d think that I was performing/
And if that ain’t a warning that I’ve gone too far/
After shopping I can never seem to find my car/
And it’s a shocking/
That’s a fact and you’re walking forth and back/
And you’re talking to your dogs and your dogs are talking back/
And they are not even with you/
They are back up at your place/
Only to find you’re in your bathroom scratching at your face/
And I’m trapped in outer space/
By then you’d figure it’s quits/
I fall asleep sitting up with a cigarette lit/
Shit/
Wake up/
I started getting more like deep into it like I’d do it for the weekends and all of a sudden it’d be Monday I’d get high and then Tuesday I’d get high and then I’d wake up in the morning and say, “Fuck it, I’ll just keep the blinds closed and get high from when we wake up yo till six, seven in the morning.” And before you know it a month’s gone by…
I’m acting like a clown but think that I’m debonair/
I can’t dance/
But when I’m stoned I’m better than Fred Astaire/
With a voice like Sinatra/
I really can’t sing/
Looking in front of the mirror posing like James Dean/
Wake up/
Come on/
Let’s get realistic/
When I quit this shit I get real distant/
And I don’t even look at my reflection/
Sing? Shit I sound like a trombone section/
Stoned I feel young/
Detoxed I feel old/
Feels like my fucking heart’s gonna stop then explode/
So cold I start shaking/
My body is aching/
Well that’s what I get for partying in the Matrix/
I got a problem let’s face it/
While you listen to this song I’m probably wasted/
Acting crazy/
People looking at me like I’m a psycho/
Gotta give my a head a shake/
It’s time to break this cycle/
Need to wake up/
You know you think you got that shit under control but if I’m doing it every day how could I be having shit under control? You gotta be happy with life as it is; with your mind clear, you know? It’s kind of crazy because even when I think about like myself in the future I think yeah I’ll have like a little secret room in my house and I can go escape for the night and get stoned. It’s kind of fucked up I guess. It’s like I’m incorporating getting high into my future. That’s probably not the best look .”
It’s 10:24pm, and I have officially been awake for 1 hour and 45 minutes. Vega and I both apparently needed a “mini-hibernation,” so we both succumbed to a thirteen and a half hour snooze and woke up this evening feeling refreshed and more than well rested. All things considered, it really isn’t that big of a deal–we’re going to be attacking the Kijiji-realm and posting the last few odds and ends we haven’t listed yet, Vega’s got some work to do, I have an early morning run planned, and we’ll be visiting my old workplace tomorrow afternoon to figure out our U-Haul rental for the move. In the words of Sheen, “winning.”
The only downside to the long ass sleep was the onset of some pretty nasty nightmares. I really, really hope that my psyche figures its shit out soon here. There really are only so many nights of this that I can take. On the plus side, I managed to sleep through these ones – on the negative, I remember them pretty vividly. I’m trying not to put too much stock into them, which is made infinitely easier by the fact that when I wake up shaken, the first thing I see when I roll over is the face of my lovely man (and I always get the best snuggles from him, so that makes things easier too). Not much I can do about them scary dreams other than let them work their way through my brain. Hopefully I’ll be saying sayonara to them forever when we make it to the coast – I feel like a lot of this is coming from just being in Calgary. There’s plenty of old ghosts in this city, and I can’t wait to leave them all behind.
Anywhore. Besides being excited about the move, I’m excited about the new training plan I’ve put together for myself for June and the first 2 weeks of July. The distances aren’t anything impressive, but I want to work on my form and increase my pace, so I’ve decided to start small and work my way back up. Id been planning on starting it this week; however, with Endure and Brother’s grad, I’ve made the executive decision to push it back a week and spend this week working on hills and intervals. Regardless, the plan looks like this:
WEEK 1: JUNE 3-JUNE 9 Monday, June 3:maintenance run (3.5 miles/5.63 kilometres) Wednesday, June 5:fartlek run (3 miles/4.83 kilometres) Friday, June 7: long run (4 miles/6.44 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 10.5 miles/16.9 kilometres
WEEK 2: JUNE 10-JUNE 16 Monday, June 10:maintenance run (4 miles/6.44 kilometres) Wednesday, June 12: fartlek run (3.25 miles/5.23 kilometres) Friday, June 14: long run (5 miles/8.05 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 12.25 miles/19.71 kilometres
WEEK 3: JUNE 17-JUNE 23
Monday, June 17:maintenance run (4 miles/6.44 kilometres) Wednesday, June 19:fartlek run (3 miles/4.83 kilometres) Friday, June 21: long run (4 miles/6.44 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 11 miles/17.7 kilometres
WEEK 4: JUNE 24-JUNE 30
Monday, June 24:maintenance run (5 miles/8.05 kilometres) Wednesday, June 26:cadence drills (3.5 miles/5.63 kilometres) Friday, June 28: long run (6 miles/9.66 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 14.5 miles/23.34 kilometres
WEEK 5: JULY 1 – JULY 7
Monday, July 1:maintenance run (5.5 miles/8.85 kilometres) Wednesday, July 3:interval work (3 miles/4.83 kilometres) Friday, July 5:long run (4 miles/6.44 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 12.5 miles/20.12 kilometres
WEEK 6: JULY 8-JULY 14
Monday, July 8: maintenance run (6 miles/9.66 kilometres) Wednesday, July 10:tempo run (3.5 miles/5.63 kilometres) Friday, July 12:long run (7 miles/11.27 kilometres) Total Weekly Distance: 16.5 miles/26.65 kilometres
6 WEEKTOTALS:
Miles Run: 77.25
Kilometres Run: 124.32
Considering that come week 5, I’ll be running next to the water in beautiful Victoria, I anticipate myself having a hard time sticking to the plan, especially on 3 mile days. That said, there is a method to my madness, and I’m hoping to see an increase in my comfortable mile pace by the end of this summer kickstarter plan.
Anybody want to join me? Hell, if I can get a group together, I might even be able to get a contest going and send out prizes to those readers who keep up and get ‘er done with me by July 12th! Any takers? If you’re interested, drop me a line (my email is in the “Contact” dropdown menu) with the subject “RUN FORREST RUN!” Prizes TBA. Feeling like a badass, guaranteed.
You know you wannnnnnaaaaa!
Since we’re on the topic of running, I wanted to take a few minutes and address a question posed to me by one of my dearest friends, (we’ll call her Cinderella for blogosphere purposes) regarding what music I listen to when I run. I’m going to list 3 of my favorite playlists here, then start a dropdown menu for quick reference purposes. I have literally hundreds of assorted playlists for different moods and different types of runs, but here’s a few to get you started, Cinderella 🙂
The “Zone Out on a Bad Day” Playlist: (note: this one gets used a lot on maintenance run days, turn on, tune out, enjoy the Zen-like bliss I get when I hit my stride)
The “I Have No Idea What I Want To Listen To” Playlist (note: this one is my fallback on hill run days – the combination of dubstep, rap and alternative music keeps things upbeat and makes me feel like a badass)
The “Rock It Out” Playlist (note: this one is my favorite for long runs – good balance of high energy tracks to get me moving, slower alternative rock for the slower miles, and a few angrier tunes for when the going gets tough)
Hello again blogosphere!I am warning you in advance that this is going to be a long and rambly post, best read with plenty of caffeine and some patience. You’ve been warned. Anyways, when I left off with the last post, Vega and I had executed a foolproof plan to fix our retarded sleeping habits with the assistance of a very long, caffeine fueled day. We got through it, sold a whole shitload of things off of Kijiji, and by five o’clock, we were both ready to hit the hay for some much needed comatose like sleep. Basically, my eyes were closed well before my wee head hit the pillow.
Basically, this.
Foolproof plan was foolproof…until my subconscious decided to rebel and I had the weirdest, worst nightmare I have had in bloody years. Woke up with a start, then looked at the clock–6:24pm. There may or may not have been about five minutes of cursing at the clock and at myself–I mean, C’MON PSYCHE. ONE HOUR AND TWENTY-FOUR MINUTES OF SLEEP? AFTER A FULL DAY AWAKE? Tossed and turned for another half hour, then gave up and shuffled out of the bedroom so that I could read XOJane articles and let Mr. Vega continue to rest.
I felt pretty much exactly like Patrick at 7:00pm last night.
About an hour and a half later, Mr. Vega woke up and came out for a smoke and a hug, and much to my chagrin, I was nowhere near as tired as I wanted to be. Post-couch snugglies, Vega wandered back to bed and I continued with my (super important) internet readings and (not-so) patiently awaited the Sandman while snuggling with Visa on the couch. Another hour later (and still no closer to sleeping), Vega re-emerged from the bedroom and we decided that it was time for coffee (for us), food (for the dog), and the continuation of our Restaurant:Impossible marathon viewing (thank Jeebus for YouTube). Three cups of coffee later, we’d decided that sleep was for the weak.
Word to yo’ mama.
So, we did the responsible thing and ordered a pizza. After devouring the pizza, we decided that it was as good a night as any to nerd out and watch a superhero movie (note: “Thor” was absolutely fucking fantastic. So. Much. Nerdgasm). Post-“Thor,” (aka 4:30 am) neither one of us was anywhere near sleepy, so we accepted our fate and watched a favorite of mine that Vega hadn’t seen yet (note: “Paul” is AWESOME) over a bag of SunChips and a glass (or five) of mead. I absolutely live for geek nights with my love – it’s such an amazing privilege to have the capacity to be able to talk to the man you love for hours on end about all things sci-fi and space and aliens and such without feeling like a total loser.
question of the night: if you were the lucky first person who was to greet an alien having landed on Earth, what would be the first question you’d ask them?
After “Paul,” we were up for another hour or so discussing “Dune” and other such wonderful things (by the way, another round of kudos to Herbert for continuing to be an important fixture of mine and Vega’s relationship – from our first date to the present, “Dune” has brought us together) while finally feeling the sleepy-fairies working their magic. Neve rmind the fact that it was 7:00 in the morning (who really cares when you don’t care for the general public? Not really missing anything), it was time to finally give in and enjoy a much needed and well-deserved sleep. Naught but fifteen minutes later, me and my pillow were getting some serious face-time.
SCREW DAYTIME – today was a holiday anyways, I have zero regrets about my obviously wise and well thought out scheduling of sleep.
I am happy to report that thirteen and a half hours later, I awoke from a comatose sleep feeling refreshed and with no weird as fuck nightmares to note. We’ll count that as a life win. Vega woke up before I had, and upon my return to the land of the living, there was a hot cup of coffee awaiting me. That, Mr. Vega, is also a victory. Points to you for being both handsome and perfect. We ascertained that the pet food store was closed, so Visa had some rice noms for dinner, and as I type this, my wonderful and handsome love is in the kitchen making some seriously amazing smelling brekky food for the two of us. I bagged a serious keeper – not quite sure how the hell I got so lucky, but I am sure as fuck not about to complain.
Coffee and brekky AND couch snuggles? Hell yes, I was a-smilin’.
In fact, following a delicious brekky (eggs and hashbrowns, cooked with lots of love), I was on the receiving end of an unexpected foot rub (not sure what I did to deserve that…once again, Vega scores top of his class and has made a very happy and spoiled woman out of me), and he’s going to do the dishes. Seriously. I love Vega heart and soul already, and just when I think he’s done everything and more possible to spoil the living hell out of me, he finds ways to spoil me even further. Lucky, lucky, lucky woman. The mind-blowingly amazing part of all of this is that we have years and years ahead of us to spend with each other–I need to figure out how the hell to ramp up my game, as I have been pampered entirely too much by my lovely love. Vega, you are amazing, and I am the luckiest woman in the universe.
And I love you with everything I’ve got ❤
As of right now, we are enjoying some old school Iron Chef (gotta love voiceovers), poochie fantastico is snoozing between us on the couch, and we have managed to find potential buyers for more Kijiji treasures. In fact, tomorrow should make us another $130.00 in furniture that’s slated to be picked up, and there’s the potential for another $150.00 if the replies I just replied to pan out as I’m hoping that they will. Sell dressers, get money (much nicer a modus operandi than disregarding females and acquiring currency–either way, I’m still an OG..and a goofball). This evening (morning in my case but whatthefuckever) is going to be spent relaxing and enjoying some time with my love (case in point: Food Network marathon and couch time – we enjoy the finer things in life, which are the simple things, natch) and blogging (obviously). Since we didn’t rise until 8:00pm, Vega will be able to attack his work day at a normal time, and I’ll be able to facilitate selling shit – should be a productive day (actual normal person time day), which will hopefully end at a normal person time, with two tired monkeys (me and Vega) by 8:00 tomorrow evening. Slowly but surely, we’ll conquer this sleep pattern thing. Until then, I think we’re both doing a pretty awesome job at making the best of things as they are. This is going to be a huge and wonderful positive for us both when we make it to Vic – Vega’s going to be in an office during normal office hours, and I’ll be finding a job that takes place during normal people hours. This interim is just that, a pause from the normal, and as long as we keep plugging away at the necessities that come along with the process of moving, some fucked up behaviors (i.e. becoming intermittently nocturnal) aren’t anything to be hung up on.
As far as everything else goes, I had been feeling guilty for like 3 minutes about not being my usual work out 6 days a week kind of self recently, and then, upon realizing that I am still stuffed up and fighting the seemingly endless cold from hell (seriously, I am still nowhere near 100%, my energy levels are still low, and I would basically give an appendage to be able to breathe without snuffling), that going for a run or trying to attack a cray cray HIIT circuit with how I’m feeling now would be straight up futile. I’d end up with a shitty pace, hack up a lung, and come home feeling discouraged and probably end up being meaner to myself than I ever really deserve. I also start my “job” with that theatre group on Wednesday, and that’s going to require me being able to talk and laugh and be energetic. Burning myself out before I even have a chance to get better would be stupid. SO – I have a game plan. I’m still going to get my plank-off challenge done, along with my wall-sit challenge, but I’m giving myself the right to a day off. Guilt free. That’s right – Mia Wallace, taking GUILT FREE time away from workouts. This is new for me. Even last week I’d been trying to eke in some (what ended up being half assed) workouts at home, and at the end of it? Still sick, still don’t fit into my size 0 jeans (disordered thinking at its best – as IF a week, let alone a month, let alone a lifetime of workouts and actually eating food again is going to allow me to magically become emaciated. Duh.), and last week I was straight up being a bitch to myself.
Take this, loop it in your brain on infinite, and you’ve got me last week. Sad state of affairs.
Changing tact – a few days to rest up, making sure I continue to eat (I fucking loathe my broken food relationship. Luckily, I have amazing support systems in the form of Vega and Visa (seriously, Visa’s love of kibbles makes me feel guilty about wanting to not enjoy eating), and I’ve not relapsed since Oromocto), and going into the next week with the promise to myself of stopping this being mean to myself and expecting it to work somehow paradigm. News flash, Mia: it didn’t work then, and it won’t work now. What WILL (and is) work is patience, with myself and with the process. And quite frankly, I deserve to enjoy the freedom that is being with someone who loves me exactly as I am. It’s a hard pill to swallow sometimes…but it’s got magical healing powers. Truth is that Vega absolutely adores me. All of me. Even the squidgy bits I’m trying to (in a healthy way, now) get rid of. And the other truth is, I’m really quite far from being fat. In fact, when I was a teenager, I’d have killed to look as I do now. Mirrors and scales and disordered eating kind of skewed the way I see myself (edit: MAJORLY skewed the way I see myself), so good part of the BHAG that I’m only now learning to give importance to has been learning not to trust myself in a lot of respects; and instead, to listen to the outside voices (in my case, Vega) that see me as I truly am. Of course, this isn’t to say that I’m perfect, because I’m not. I have plenty of toning and leaning out and gaining muscle to do–but that isn’t really anything I have to be stressing myself sick over. I’m going into this new week and the next few days of guilt free resting up anticipating there to be stumbling blocks, but I shall persevere. I deserve to be healthy and well-fed and well-rested and happy; and Vega deserves to be with someone who is capable of all of those things, without the bullshit baggage that EDNOS, Ana and Mia have left behind in my head. Recovery process. Baby steps. Endless verbose paragraphs on the matter (like this one).
Just gotta keep plodding away, and this remains the truth.
Whatever it takes (even if its another damn paragraph on the matter), I’m committed. Why the fuck is this part (the eating noms and enjoying noms and being healthy and enjoying being healthy) so much goddamned harder than its emaciated counterpart of my past (which was starving myself, exercising until I literally couldn’t move the next day, looking like a corpse and eventually getting checked in to the recovery ward)?! Logic dictates that this part should be both easier and more fun. Recovery nurses told me it would eventually become that way. I am trying so so so very hard to focus on the positives, but the sick and sad truth is that sometimes, I just want to revert to my old days when I could literally list a week of food on one hand (cup of rice, apple, coffee, banana, cocaine). When I really think about it though, those are the days I want to revisit the least. Literally the only thing I was in any way in control over at that point was my food intake, and by not eating, I was basically giving my power away, back to the people who wanted to exert power over me in the first place. How, you ask? Simple–Sunshine wanted a “hotter” girlfriend (as I lost weight, I gained looks from other men..), my mom and dad always wanted me to look “better” (aka thinner), Sunshine’s mom was always on my case about not having food in the fridge (so I solved that by not eating)…basically, the one thing I exerted control over eventually took control of me. I get judged about this all the goddamn time – I’ve heard it all, from “well you don’t look like you’ve had an eating disorder,” to, “eating disorders don’t exist,” to, “eating disorders aren’t a disease, you can choose to start eating again whenever you wish”. I don’t want to go backwards in my life, to hand my power off to idiots, to not take charge of the things I am in control of. I know I’m kind of going off on the topic tonight, but it’s been weighing heavy (pun not intended, but welcome) on my mind lately. Maybe I don’t “look like” I used to be emaciated (and trust me, I am grateful for that fact, despite the difficulties that come along with it). Maybe you’ve never had a tube shoved down your throat in the name of re-feeding you. Maybe you just don’t understand, and that’s fine..but if I’ve lived my life and can stop judging myself, who the fuck are you to judge my life?
Em’s got it right.
I promise I’m done ranting now, at least over the ED stuff. I’ve noticed that I really don’t write about it anywhere near as often as I think about it, and in terms of the BHAG, that is just wrong. I suppose that good part of the reason I’ve been holding back on things in the blog is a certain reader who up to this point has remained hidden. NO more – mother, you’ve been exposed. Truth be told, I cared a little bit about what it was I was writing in here for a little while after I found out that she was still actively seeking out information on my life (mainly via sourcing the URL for this here blog of mine), and in turn, she was getting in the way of my BHAG. She took away the sanctity and the safety that this blog provides to me in my life, and in keeping with the aforementioned reclaiming of my power in life, I’m done with the filters. Mom, I hope that it hurts you to read a whole fucking lot of what I write in here, because the harsh reality is that you’ve caused me to undergo a whole fucking shitload of unwarranted pain in my life. Deny, deny, deny will likely be your reaction (as it always has), but I’m denying myself the right to write no longer, about any and every thing that comes to my mind and weighs on my soul. Keep reading, or don’t – I could give half a flying fuck these days. I’ve cared for almost 23 years, and I can afford that in my life no longer.
Bye-bye, closet skeletons.
Man it feels fucking amazing to just talk sometimes. I do a lot of talking in this blog – not often that I’m quite THIS stream of consciousness. Granted, it’s tough to be truly stream of consciousness when you’re as all over the place as I tend to be, but hey. Learning curves abound! While I indulge my blogging bone here, Mr. Vega is currently cheffing up some sushi for the two of us to nomnomnom on (reason #3276 why I don’t miss my eating disorder: my fiancé cooks delicious noms which I fully enjoy eating), the house smells amazing, and I’ve got the Beatles playing in the background of it all. Totally self-indulgent use of my time. Totally spoiled by the world’s most wonderful man, who also happens to be mine. Totally tickled all shades of pink by the fact that Vega is tickled pink to see me once again blogging my heart out after my wee hiatus.
I was actually just thinking to myself that I don’t remember the last time that I felt this happy and this whole living my life (literally every aspect of it is better than I could ever ask for, including the stumbling blocks), and it also just dawned on me now that the reason I can’t remember is because this is the first time in my life I’ve ever felt this happy and whole. Kind of a sad revelation, really–but it’s giving leeway to the most unbelievable new lease on life for this here blogmistress. I realize that to you, dear readers, this is all variations on a theme (the theme being me realizing that my life from now on is not at all going to be what it was before the love story of Vega and Wallace began to take shape); however, it’s a whole new world for me and I make sense of things by rambling and reveling–and after years of convincing myself that I’d never land in a place as idyllic as this, I’m taking the liberty of stepping back and analyzing the situation.
…worth the wait. Trust me.
Part of the BHAG that you’ll recall from four and a half months ago is starting the seemingly gargantuan task of writing my book – the story of my life. That’s also in part where this rambly never ending post is coming from – it is in part me stepping back and trying to ascertain where in the fuck I’m going to jump in and start writing this book from. I wish I could tell you that this exercise has cleared things up for me; however, as I sit here and ponder the thought, I feel more lost than ever. It feels like everything up to meeting Vega is the tale of another person’s lifetime. Funny how your whole life can change so many times within a lifetime (if you let it). These days, I feel like happy dancing everywhere I go, all the damn time. It kind of frightens me, trying to imagine the depths of awesome awaiting Vega and I on the coast. I really and truly could not be more excited to be alive these days – and I have a whole fucking lifetime of it ahead with the love of my life. Seriously, how did I end up getting this lucky?!
If there’s a short brunette chick doing this in the streets, it’s probably me. There is a limit to how much I can suppress my urges to happy dance in public.
I suppose the whole point of my rambling this evening is twofold – first, I’m a creature of habit. When I’m overwhelmed in life, I deal with it by writing. Lots. Usually in my journal, never to be seen by the eyes of the general public (or in this case, typed out to be read by the blogosphere). Normally; however, this happens when my life is falling apart. I have a sneaking suspicion that from now on, that isn’t something I have to fear. Second point in the rambles? The more I write to myself (and the blogosphere) about the positive things in my existence, the more the negativity of my past seems to fade away. I am hoping that eventually, through writing it out and through living in this new paradigm, I can free myself from the nightmares and the uncertainties and the disordered thought patterns I’ve built up and lived with for so damned long. The future I’m building with Vega takes my breath away sometimes, in the best way. I’ve got to stop holding on to my past.
Complete tangent here – Brother W graduates in a week. I can’t believe that my little kid brother is about to make his foray into the big bad world. Expect a post regarding this in a few days time. Until then, I have to work on deciding what the fuck I’m going to wear to his commencement ceremony. Being a girl is so tough sometimes…
…like seriously, so many clothes and NOTHING to wear. Sigh.
But that’s a post in and of itself.
Anywhore, Vega’s got sushi ready, I’ve pretty much exhausted what I wanted to say, and I’m going to leave you with some gratuitous cute and call this a post.
Dinner was fabulous, thanks for asking. We ended up with a fabulous beef and veggie (and rice for Vega, I’m trying to be at least somewhat true to the Paleo thing) stirfry and more beers, as predicted. Beta came home midway through cheffing, so we sat and nommed with her while watching more =3 and laughing rather gratuitously at the stupidity of the species we call Human. That lasted about half an hour, then our brains all melted and we slowly opened our respective laptops and fell into our various realms of online existence. It always amuses me, how in this day and age we can call it “hanging out with each other,” when in reality, we’re all in our own little worlds with our laptops open not saying a word besides the occasional giggle at some dumb meme. Kids these days. I s’pose I’m one of ’em.
Regardless, I’m warning y’all now that there is not a true point to this post besides the fact that I felt kinda awkward sitting in the silence that is the aforementioned Facebook dichotomy, and my Facebook is admittedly dead this evening, so here’s some stream of consciousness bullshit with which to entertain myself (and hopefully you all, too).
Die Antwoord. Vega broke my brain with them yesterday, and all I have to say is that I am never, ever, ever going to South Africa. Their videos are all royally fucked up, and while I’d like to say that I’m adventurous enough to ask the dude whether or not they’re kidding, I’d also venture a guess that I’d get shanked for doing so. Also, I have “I Fink You Freeky” stuck in my head, and I recommend a click. I’ve linked it to ya for your brain melting bemusement. Humanity, I worry about you sometimes.
Also, it’s Vega’s birthday tomorrow, so head on over to his blog and give him some happy birthday love, why don’t ya? Hell, play some Die Antwoord in the background while you do so, it’s the makings of a good time, I promise.
Vega and I are headed to the bedroom to watch some Battlestar now. Not sure if that’s a euphemism for “have some freaky sex” and we’re just being polite because Beta’s around, but either way,
|Eloquence is Bliss| 