drifting

I don't know how many times I've talked about how friendships change and people change and you only have so much time in the day and have to decide how to spend it and divide it among people. How that inevitably leaves people on the list that just don't get any time devoted to them...which is just the way the cookie crumbles really. How those friends get demoted to "aquaintances". That's always been my philosphy, and it always seemed to me to be the way the world works. Maybe it's just a way to cope, a defence mechanism so that when I slight someone (or get slighted) I can just say "well, that's the way the world works". I wonder if things aren't so cut and dried and maybe there's some grey area...then again...maybe not. Maybe it is that cut and dried.
I often surprise myself at how harsh I can be with friends. I'm more than willing to put in the time and energy with someone, but if that energy is not given back equally then it's a sort of three strikes rule. It's a harsh thing to do, but then again, why would I keep putting my time and energy into something that's just wasting my time and energy? That's not to say that if the lines of communication were ever brought up again I would sit there and say "screw you, you didn't have time for me six months ago, so I don't have time for you now"...I will respond and see how things go from there...but I won't be surprised if the connection fails again, and I certainly won't allow myself to feel hurt if it does.
It's one of those things that happens when people get older and start to have their own lives, and I would never begrudge someone that. It's just the way things go...but before you know it...well, who's left?

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On a completely unrelated note, I've been asked at least 8 times in the past month if I'm engaged yet. This is getting ridiculous. I'm not, and I promise, if I were, you would know. Thank you.

Drinking gives me courage!

Ok, so, contrary to popular belief, going out and getting pissed is not going to become a habit for me. It was just a coincidence that the first two weekends I had off ended up to be big party weekends, and, what with not having to work the next day, I decided to be a little silly. Last night was a little less than planned though. Oh well. Carol and I talked for a couple hours dowing glass after glass of champagne...and two bottles later, well, yeah. Let's just say it's a good thing everyone else was pissed too, because otherwise I may have made a big fool of myself. But the good thing that came from last night is the new found feeling of "I'm going to do this and damn to anyone who says no." I think it's about time I got ballsy.

Thank you for 'Tim'

A brief note:
I finally got around to watching "Tim" tonight, a 1979 movie starring Mel Gibson.
Women everywhere must see this movie...not for plot, not for character development, not for phenomenal acting...no, women must see this movie to see Mel at the tender age of 23 wearing short-shorts and a muscle shirt, or (oh dear god, it's true) a speedo.
So, thank you Director Michael Pate for the gift of a 23 year old Mel Gibson leaping and running along the white sandy beaches of Australia, caught on tape for the world to cherish forever.

Kim Mitchell wears shiny shorts, and Jessica hearts beer!

Kim Mitchell wore black shorts with shiny silver stars on them. The crowd was mostly 40+ year olds who used to groove to the music back when it was new. You should have seen the audience go crazy when they started playing "Patio Lanterns"!



In recap of the night:
*I had lots of beer.
*Heather, darling that she is, was the DD...
*Erica came up from Quesnel for a last "Hurrah" before heading to Peace River. *No one had to pay to see the show. *Colin put on a hell of a show. *and I don't think we stopped dancing from the start of the show to the end. Though, in all honesty, I don't think I could have stopped...I get that way when I drink...I feel the Rhythm Divine...until I crash that is ...which apparently I did at CWP's house (and oh what a flattering picture that is...). A good night though, and, lo and behold, this morning I woke without a hangover! Yahoo!

a mid morning reflection

change doesn't have to be scarey. the scarey thing about change is the unknown part of it, and the way it comes regardless of whether you're ready for it or not. very few people like change, but on the other side of the coin, those who have no change in their lives become bored and restless. staying in the same job for 30 years, the same tasks day in and day out, nothing different, well, it's dull and if you were faced with that prospect for the rest of your life, it would be more awful than waking up and wondering if the rug was going to be pulled out from underfoot. so change doesn't have to be scarey, being stagnant is the scarey bit.

what was the point of this?

I was going to post, but then as I was writing, it was turning into more of a rant than anything that anyone would like to read...that includes myself. I've already bitched to everyone that would listen and I don't feel much better, so I guess it's all to do with being tired. Finally getting around to importing a bunch of music into my iPod, which is good to do. Hmmm, again, sliding into a terribly boring and pointless post...I should really just delete it all and forget the idea of posting anything at all, but for some reason I'm compelled to continue.
Right now I:
love: Jack Johnson on the Curious George soundtrack, "Lady in the Water"
hate: working 15 days straight without a day off, and having to go to council tomorrow night
am feeling: tired and a little cranky
again...what was the point of this?

not so alone it would seem

I love having guests, and I love seeing my friends, and I love being social...but it's time for a pause I think. I've lived in my apartment for just shy of a month, and since I moved in, I haven't been on my own here for more than a couple of days. When I moved in, Brad came to visit, which was absolutely wonderful and I wouldn't trade for the world. He left on Sunday and was followed by my friend (another) Brad and his girlfriend stopping by and crashing on my floor for the night en route to Kamloops. Monday through to Friday I was on my own, so I guess that's 4 nights alone, then Mare and Anna came on Friday afternoon. They stayed until Sunday afternoon. I was on my own for 3 nights from Sunday to Wednesday when I went back to Smithers for my "weekend". Thursday and Friday were at home by myself and then Saturday Maureen and Matt came to visit. They stayed until Tuesday night. Now I've had 3 nights alone. So, in roughly a month, I've only been alone in my apartment for 10 nights. That seems a little ridiculous to me...and may account for why I'm so exhausted all the time. Being a really bad hostess is hard work!
(PS, most boring blog entry ever)

appearances

I have often wondered about people and society while sitting in court.
The way people dress creates a stereotype...or does the stereotype dictate the way someone dresses? For example, what makes someone who is trailer-trashy dress in tights and a ripped mini-skirt with hooker boots, an over-the-top low-cut shirt that shows way too much cleavage to be appropriate and messy bleached and teased hair? Is it because something in their history told them that was a "sexy" look? I can only assume most of these people have access to a television, and if not, they must leave the house and see other people dressed well, or at the very least, appropriately and tastefully. So, why the trailer-trash outfit? What made them think it was a "good look"?
I have also wondered, looking at people who have obviously had a hard go with life, whether those people look as rough as they do because of their lives, or because of a stigma? For example, when a person is known as a cocaine addict, do they look as rough as they do because they really are, or is it because I know they have drug problems and likely live a dilapidated lifestyle? Would they still look as harsh if they were clean cut and dressed in a suit, for example? The facial features would still be the same.
Which came first, the assumption someone lives a broken life, or the appearance they do?