The people in my family are huge fans of The Beatles. By family, I mean the entire freaking Bailey side, and by huge, I mean, we have dogs named Jude and Abbey. My brother's girlfriend is (coincidentally? ha.) named Julia. My brother? His middle name is Ringo. My boyfriend? His middle name is George. I have a cousin named Paul. You put the rest of that puzzle together, okay?
I could never, ever name a favourite Beatles song. It's entirely dependant on my mood. Sometimes I like a good early tune, sometimes I need a little Maharajah in my life.
But today, it's Norwegian Wood. Because honestly, I feel a little unbalanced. Like I might do something a little...crazy. And then sing about it.
I've been at my new job for just over 5 months now. It's funny to think that a year ago tomorrow, I started working at the Ballet. I was sure I'd be there forever, but that quickly turned into a "get me outta here" type situation. The gods intervened and I landed on my feet at my wonderful new gig in February. The last few years have been a wild ride, career wise, and I've yet to ever feel settled in at a job.
I'm feeling settled in. It feels good. It feels weird. I know what is expected of me, I have an amazing boss, and an equally amazing team of people to work with. Sure, there are bumps, but I've NEVER doubted my decision to accept this job offer.
The past two months at work have been super, super busy. Now things have slowed down a bit, and everyone is on vacation. Some people have worked here for so long that they have upwards of 8 weeks of holiday time. Can you imagine? (non-teaching friends and family, that is)
So it's a bit slow. Yesterday I wasn't feeling super hot so I left early. I've had a lot of time to poke around in my office and get my space organized. Things are by no means crazy or chaotic or frantic. It's different for me. I like it, but at the same time, I'm not exactly sure how to process it.
Last night I dreamed about the job that I had in High School. I worked at the local convenience store/fast food and ice cream shack/motel registration desk/video rental centre. I worked there for six summers, and the school years in between. I really liked that job in school - it was one of the ONLY jobs in town available, and I was pretty good at it.
But then it started to drive me crazy. I wanted more - could you blame me? I was 18 and antsy. I wanted the stars, the moon, my name on a marquee. Or the big-city business lady equivalent.
When I was in University, I kept a photo of myself working there taped to the wall above my desk. As a reminder that if I didn't work hard enough, that's where I'd have to go back to.
And every once in awhile, I dream that I've lost my job and my boyfriend and my life and have moved home to work at the 21. Last night I had that dream, and I was unloading the Beatrice dairy shipment, something I really, really hated to do.
Let me tell you, that dream lit a fire under me. All of those things lingering on my to-do list? Today, they're getting checked off.
Gary owns something like nine million dvds. I wish I had a photo on me, but alas, I am at work and do not have access to the "Photos of the Apartment: Past and Present" file, so you'll have to just trust me when I say our living room walls are, for the most part, lined with dvd shelves and a giant bookshelf (represent, bookish nerd girls!).
Gary is super organized and has a giant spreadsheet that catalogues his dvd/blueray collection. He knows when he bought the movie, or if it was a gift; how much it cost, who directed it, where it was purchased, and who wrote the soundtrack. Among other things. This is pretty cool or pretty crazy, depending on your perspective.
From my perspective, right now, I wish I could get my grubby little paws on it at this exact moment, because I NEED to watch Sixteen Candles, RIGHT NOW. And I know that I only own that movie on VHS, and as far as I know, my VCR is hanging out at El Rancho Doug and Lenore. But I can't remember if Gary owns it.
Gary? You out there? Do you own Sixteen Candles? If not, maybe some other film from the John Hughes collection? Help?
PS - did you know that the actor who played *swoon* Jake Ryan *double swoon* has spent the last twenty-some years building furniture somewhere in Upstate New York or something? What a strange, but oddly hot, concept.
I know, okay. I'm raining on a million hopes and cowboy dreams, but I hate the Stampede. I hate it. I hate the tarts, I hate the fake cowboys, I hate how everyone is drunk and obnoxious and shoving their stupid free pancakes in my face all the freaking time. I have a lot of rage, okay?
I live on the parade route. Oh, I know what you're going to say. "You chose to live there" or "it's just one day" or "you live downtown and you expect silence? think again, bucko!"
I don't expect silence. I choose to live at that address. And yes, it is one day. One awful effing day that started with some jerk who thought he was funny and in teh Stampede Spirit playing the first four bars of "Do your ears hang low" OVER AND OVER AND OVER for twenty-five minutes. Loudly. AT SIX THIRTY THIS MORNING.
I'm pretty sure that by law, outdoor construction, bally-hooing tomfoolery and other forms of noise pollution can't start until 7:00 am.