T is for tedium

There is a part of a task that is like the B-roll of an editor's work day. It's not anything important, you feed it in when there's a space that needs taking up, it's an easy task and usually taken up by some fancy shot of a mountain or a bird or the view outside of a window or perhaps someone just scrubbing the floor.
The B-roll moments in life are what happens during that montage scene. We don't even amount to B-roll in these moments. We are the cut-away, the strip of film lost forever in a bin or given off to some ecstatic fan, glad to own the unwanted moments of another person's dream.
What I'm getting at is that I'm in one of those moments, but it's getting ruined by sunny feelings and the comfort of a good book.
It's strange... Feeling glad about some little action just because you are in a positive place, and even if you have a thousand more things to do.
The Boy and I are in that moment of unpacking that you've reached 'unpacked' days ago but not everything has a place. Mainly because you haven't been able to buy that one piece of furniture (i.e. the bookshelf) that keeps almost all of your personal effects at bay. Yes, we abandoned all but the books and the beasts, because neither are something you can purchase without fully adopting them.

I feel like everything is crying out to me that it wants to fit in to its own little place but IKEA is a 30$ cab drive away.
*sigh*
First world problems, as they would say.

T is for trade

I imagine many have the same problem as me. Or at least I think they do. Do you ever read those blogs about mothers or some such and they have some kind of problem and they explain that some days are hard. I am completely incapable of reading those at the moment. You want to know why? For the same drawn out, upsetting, headache inducing reason that the internet is filled with people wasting time here.

 These women or men, either have or are married to someone who is bringing in money.

Finding a job (in the area of your choosing) is almost completely impossible these days. Some would argue, you're not looking hard enough. But you know what? You know what I just want to yell out to the universe when people say these things?
OK! Alright! You've convinced me. You've convinced the person that has no idea what in the name of everything they are doing. If I had any idea of where to look other than the places I am looking at the moment, I would! Please explain, tell me what I can do to work harder at this because I will.
See the problem I think it is, other than the fact that there are way too many people that never quit their jobs in North America hence there are never any open spots until someone screws up but since the economy is tight everyone just walks on egg shells and the ones that do screw up are the ones that take risks and ultimately become the owners of the company anyways!

*breathes in* 

What I think one of the problems are is that after you get out of University or whatever learning area you were in. That's it. You learn, you are given a diploma, you walk out of the building, and there you are. You know more, you have more experience on projects (but not the experience that gets you job credits) and you are older than before you went to that place of learning. 

And that's all. That's how you come out of it. 

Then you do what anyone our age would do. Go on the internet.

"Oh there must be something under Jobs, my city, my awesome area of expertise" 

We are not currently searching for any new applicants.

"Hmm, let's go to the little known page 2 of Google!"

There are no openings at the moment.

"Alright then... Jobs, my awesome area of expertise"

Have you worked for 7 to 10 years in the industry creating such amazing work that even the Gods in Olympus weep at the very sight of you.

"Well no."

Then sorry but we have no openings at the moment. 

At one point I wonder to myself, how can they need so many senior people? They have people working there don't they? Make them senior and then make me the new person. 

It seems perfectly logical. 

We're looking for someone who has experience so they can give us something new and vibrant.

"Wait wait wait. Someone who has been in the business of whatever for that long has surely fallen into certain routines. Wouldn't something new come from a new mind? One untarnished by doing something for so many years?"

Well we don't want it to be too different because that would be taking a risk and we don't do that.

"Ah."

*cue curling up into a sad heap and scrolling through reddit, hoping for some kind of laugh*

*play with cat a bit*

*contemplate becoming something with less experience needed*

*realize you're a weak person who can't do any of those actual man jobs*

*cry like the sad artist that you are*

T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 3

---As he propelled himself to the exit, the big dark shadow of the giant fish loomed over Read.
"Read. I'm thirty one years old. You are the closest thing I've had to a friend ever since you were hatched." Pock declared, "If you're going up to the surface. I'm going with you."
Read's gleaming, bulging eyes, gleamed as he looked up at his old friend.
"Thank you."---

Although Pock was short one fin he was still a fast fish, all sharks could be fast if they wanted to, and Read had to clamp down every single one of his legs around Pock's dorsal fin.
"You better get ready." Pock said softly, gliding to the side quickly and hiding in the shade of a rock.
"For what?"

Suddenly a giant wave of ropes erupted into through the water. Read had never heard such a sound, it had come from above. A rustle like something breaking the water itself.
The ropes were all crisscrossed into a net. He had seen much smaller pieces down in the metal wreck Pock lived in. The net pulled closer and suddenly it closed in on itself. Read cried out in shock as all the fish swimming inside of it were squashed together.
"Pock!" Read called, "What's happening?"
"They are being hunted. By the ones who hunted me." Pock explained.
"We have to help!" Read cried as he bolted through the water, propelling himself towards the thick ropes.
 "Help!" A little halibut sobbed from just beside Read.
The young octopus jumped back quickly. The sharp little teeth gleamed through the tight rope that was dragging the cloud of halibut up to the end of the water.
"Please!" Another halibut cried.
Read hesitated. He had lost a few of his siblings to halibut... But this wasn't the time to think of that. No fish deserved to be hunted in masses like this.
"Pock!" Read cried, "I can't break the ropes!"
The hesitation in Pock's eyes was evident as he stared out from his hiding place but as Read wrapped his long legs around the ropes that tied up his natural enemies, Pock had no other option but to blast forward.
It took only a second for the rows of teeth to rip straight through the lines and the halibut poured free. Pock immediately circled around Read and opened his mouth wide as the halibut jumped at the little octopus.
"No!" the little halibut that had spoken to Read cried, "We need to leave now!"
The cloud answered without a word being spoken and dove down into the depths of the water. Through the giant cloud, resonating on the walls created by the giant flat fish, Read heard the distant call of thanks from the little halibut.

"Are you sure you still want to go up?" Pock asked.
"Yes."
"We wait till the metal belly is gone." Pock pointed up to the shadow off in the distance.
It was a long dark shape and as the rope was completely pulled away a low groan echoed through the waters. Read watched in horror as the water behind the shadow started twirling frantically in all directions and the giant slab of metal crept forth.

To be continued in: the second tale - Part 4

T is for tail

Today I just wanted to share my little loving family because well... isn't this just the cutest picture ever?

Ps: Harleen Quinzel - Rat ; Rocky - Cat

T is for tools

You know what I love? Seemingly unimpressive objects that have a great purpose.
You know which object I love at the moment? Bluetac.
I'm sure everyone, everywhere, has used this amazing reusable adhesive at some point and isn't it a wonder? This is the beginnings of the wall in front of my writing place (hem... the dining table... hem hem *cough*)

This was apparently a message of appreciation. 

T is for terrible

Have you ever ruined a dish.
I just did...
I ruined it completely.
It was an egg, then it was scrambled.
They were hash now they are smashed.

I ate it like a caveman as well.
Their disassembled look making me lose all decorum.
Ironically it wasn't badly cooked,
I just didn't have any cooking tools.
It tasted OK.

I feel like a failure...

T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 2

---Read woke up with a gasp. That was it, that was what he had to do, he had to swim with the gusts and the white smoke! He had to experience that again!---

Read spent days upon days researching - going to every elder he could find and every species he could find - trying to find clues, answers, anything that could bring him back to that feeling of lightness. 

"It's called air." the Great White shark whispered.
"What?" Read exclaimed.
His searches and travels had finally brought him to this abandoned place. In the darkest recesses of the ocean, down where the bright fishes of the everlasting night swam, there lay a wreck. It was a giant metal contraption, he had been told that it came from far above their waters. His mother had pulled their homes from that wreck and it only seemed apt that this should be the place that lead him to his ultimate destiny.
The Great White, who usually went by Pock, had always felt a good connection to Read; especially seeing as they shared names that were objects. Great Whites didn't really like being alone, they usually swam around looking for other sharks or seals and such. Pock wasn't like that, he liked staying in one place, not seeing to many and living off of the bare minimum. Pock was covered in marks and scars, he had never explained to Read why or how he had gotten them. Today that was going to change.
"That feeling, the one in your dream, that was the feeling of air or 'wind' against you." Pock explained.
"Wind..." Read repeated, trying to feel the words in his beak, "What's wind? Where can I find it?"
"You don't want to find it boy." Pock said, his voice was a low growl, a disturbing sound if any to hear from a Great White.
"Why?!" Read growled in return, "I've been looking everywhere!"
"Because wherever there is air... There is only pain." Pock snarled. His tail twitched as he swayed to the side.
Read fell silent.
The scars that covered his side traveled all the way down to his tail and cut one of his fins off. He relied mostly on his one fin and his tail for travel. It was lucky that he had never wanted to travel with other sharks, he wouldn't be able to now.
"You mean... You got those scars... In the air?" It couldn't be. It seemed like such a paradise.
"It has nothing to do with the air. It's what lives in it!" Pock howled, "There are creatures that you couldn't imagine. Creatures that are more cruel than you could even imagine... Creatures that create monsters such as this." he waved his one fin at the metal contraption that surrounded them.
 The drifted in silence, only the groans of Pock's demons piercing the oppressing silence.
"I still..." Read muttered, "Pock. I need to see it."
The giant fish looked down at the small, large-headed cephalopod mollusc.
 There was a silence. A silence that you can only get in the deepest darkest depths of the sea. A silence that can only seal the most wholehearted understandings.
"It's above us." Pock finally said.
"What?"
"The air. The sky. The white clouds that drift around with the wind. They are all the way up at the end of the ocean." Pock explained.
Read nodded firmly, "Thank you."
As he propelled himself to the exit, the big dark shadow of the giant fish loomed over Read.
"Read. I'm thirty one years old. You are the closest thing I've had to a friend ever since you were hatched." Pock declared, "If you're going up to the surface. I'm going with you."
Read's gleaming, bulging eyes, gleamed as he looked up at his old friend.
"Thank you."

To be continued in The second tale - Part 3

T is for Tale: the second tale

There was once an octopus named Read, it was a very strange name for an octopus, in fact it was a very strange name to anyone. Can you imagine being named after a word?
Read was named that way by his mother because when he was born he swam straight to the wall of their home and stared at the letters that were written there.
"You'd think he could read." Mrs. Octopus's friend Mrs. Ray had remarked with a giggle when the new mother had told her about it.
"That's what I'll call him then." His mother decided. Mrs. Octopus hated coming up with so many names and she was, after all, a very practical cephalopod.
As Read grew up he noticed that there were very many things he did that were strange. He didn't quite swim like the others and his head, though it pains me to say it, was enormously large!
He Read had the largest head off all the octopuses, and it wasn't even a large back of the head, that was found quite attractive, no, his beak was too big and hence he had lots of floppy, slimy octopus skin.
This made Read go to his mother one night.
"Mother. Why am I so different?" He asked.
His mother thought.
"We'll maybe you're meant to be different."
"How can you be meant to be differen?." He asked.
"We'll perhaps you have to do something different from the rest of us." She said.

Read thought about this day and night and finally, one night, something happened that had never happened before -to Read or any other octopus- he had a dream.
In the dream Read was swimming, but as he swam the water around him turned and spun and blotches up it became white and he gasped when all of the sudden something blew up against his face.
Read woke up with a gasp. That was it, that was what he had to do, he had to swim with the gusts and the white smoke! He had to experience that again!

To be continued in: the second tale - Part 2

T is for T

Yes my friends, T is most definitely for T.
It's the day. The day of obvious things getting done for the obvious reason that there is no reason to put them off anymore. I realize that was a very strange sentence and that was on purpose. There are so many evident and apparent things throughout life that the only way people create drama is by building a strange construction around it.
   A strange sentence, an unreal reasononing, a fictional character.
"So sorry I can't do that today, I have to wash the dog/car/baby."
"The word processor engince wouldn't collaborate with the unwinding engines of the machine that creates impressions on wooden shrapnel. So the deliberations will need to be repeated in a subsequent time frame, my apologies."
"Sorry, I need to find myself."

You know what these all have in common??? An apology. An empty word, expressing an even more empty sentiment. You know as well as they do that most days are days when things can be pushed back. When you don't feel like doing the extra leap.
Well today. Tomorrow. Find a day that is that day. Just one day in a week or in a month. I find that there is a great relief in a day like that. A day that you get things done. Because after that day, for the rest of that month or week, there is nothing to do anymore. There are no pressing things that you should really remember. And that relief creates a serenity that gets all of the work done faster and better.

ADVICE: Sometimes I ramble a bit.
                 (not really advice)

T is for tantrum

I agree. Tantrums are something childish and ridiculous and not something that a civilized adult should be having. But sometimes. Sometimes.... You just need to have a good old fashioned nerve breaking smash or yell or something of that kind.
The Boy and I like to yell at each other, having a reasonable conversation about mundane subjects but in a loud voice.
"How are you doing today?!" he bellowed.
"Good! I'm feeling nervous about this interview!" she screamed.
"Don't worry!" he hollered, his face turning a purple-ish tint.
"Thanks!"she screeched.

Today I smashed some of the packaging material. It was a hulk moment I admit. But stress levels were soaring.

*sigh*

ADVICE: Having a good natured fit is better than saying something you might regret. 

T is for Tetris

It feels like a giant game of Tetris at the moment. Really it does.
Hmm? Oh, sorry, I'm talking about the move of course. See? Even my exposition has gone straight out the window. The window that I need to clean........ Sigh.
Really. A giant game of Tetris.
There's a moment in unpacking that just feels like a big mess. Not that you're moved or that you in the process of moving or in the process of unpacking or that you are unpacking. It just feels like a big mess. That you've made. And you need to fix it. Oh and also find that job. But make sure that we have something to eat tonight. And tomorrow. Oh and it's bed time now so you'll just have to push all those things to do to tomorrow.


*sigh*

T is for Therpeutic

  There is something therapeutic about our situation at the moment.
  You know how you can spend days not really doing anything, even when you are doing something? You go to work, to school, to do whatever it is you do and you just go with the flow of what has become a routine day, without really thinking about what it is exactly. You find yourself back at home, staring at a screen of some kind or reading that same line of your book over and over until you give up and put it down. I'll just stare off into space at moments like that. Moments where there is no time or things to do or anything pressing.
  There has been no allowance for moments like that in the last two months. The Boy and I have been working solidly throughout them to get this move done and everything organized correctly. So suddenly, as I unpack, I find myself lulled into a sort of mesmerized state. I unwrap all the Boy's trinkets and toys with a slow sort of universal comprehension.
  There's something poetic - as well - about playing your piano, surrounded by the debris of an uprooted address. Like a familial warzone pierced by the melancholic beauty of a lonely intrument.

  In any case, good progress has been made and I am confident in saying that it won't take but a day or two more before we get this place sorted out.

ADVICE: Life isn't a race. Relax.

T is for T******

I... can't.... see. Can't......... breath.... Must find way out of all the boxes.......


Argh.......

*cough*

*hak*




ADVICE: Don't move...

ps: the Wednesday tale is postponed until I can climb out from under these three couches. 

T is for Timeportal

   My dearest Friend,

I write this message to you not from the confines of the bedroom, staring blankly and squintingly at the tiny images on my smartphone, but instead from the comfort of a chair and the brilliant screen of a laptop placed atop a table. Yes my friend, you have guessed ever so correctly. I now have access to the brilliance of an actual internet connection -that which connects us not only to each other but to the knowledge of past and future!- and the repose of a proper sitting area.
Yes work can be done now, people can be chatted to, think of all the possibilities and more! I cannot contain the excitment I am feeling and will no longer bore you with the details.

Yours Truly,

Tea

T is for timeslot

Funny how things move when you're waiting. I was scribbling away at the weekend newspaper, trying to find a four letter word across, when the Boy marched in declaring that -they can put a robot on Mars but they can't figure out these damned times?!-

Old fashioned but to the point, he has a way with words that never ceases to entertain me.

Yes, we have been waiting all day for the movers to arrive. Ikea arrived in its allotted time but that was from 9-1pm which in itself is a bit ridiculous of a slot.

Why do they do that I wonder? Imagine how little we would get done if our friends said let's meet around 12-4pm.

ADVICE: if you've made plans with someone, honour them. If you really can't show up, call in advance! All of these things would be muchly appreciated.

T is for taxi

People underestimate the adventures you can have with a good, or just insane, taxi driver. There are many a story born from my trips in taxis, some from the vast number of taxis taken in one day, some from something that happened while inside the taxi or just outside of one. But today it was the taxi driver that made the trip that much more entertaining.

I always kind of wonder about people that live through stereotypes, this man did, and it was hilarious in the confines of the taxi. It was kind of like being polite with grand-parents while they say things that were acceptable in their time and just aren't anymore.

Our taxi driver slammed out every stereotype alive and grinned such a broad grin and laughed such a wide laugh that I couldn't help but grin at it. It's strange to hear real life situations with such an intense twist on them. Hilarious though it may be.

There were the five Jewish men, fighting over which way would be cheaper, begging him never to stop moving but trying to make sure he took the shortest/cheapest route possible. The mind numbingly boring ones that make him zone out so bad he sometimes takes the wrong road. The fighting couples that are upset at everything and never tip. The Asians who he doesn't understand (yes he grouped up all the Asian communities together even though I'm sure he understands Indians and such).

Life's an adventure when you drive every day. A crazy stereotypical adventure.

T is for thought

Whenever I see anything that seems a little bit strange I always attach a story to it. I'm sure I'm probably giving them much more thought than anyone else but isn't it great to create something out of a moment that no one else would?

Stories like that make me think of scrap art and such, everyone else walks by but you create an image, something special, something worth taking note.

I always wonder if other people do that. If they are seeing things that I'm not seeing, if they are getting a glimpse into a completely different world. I hope so.

ADVICE: Everyone sees things in a different way, even the way things taste are different to people, try to keep that in mind at all times. It might make you appreciate more things and understand more people. 

And on top of that it makes listening to people about things that passion them much more enthralling, no matter the subject.

I guess this is more of an opinion than advice. My sincere apologies friend.

T is for three

   

  T is very much for my three little darlings. This has been an intense trip for all of us but definitely a harsh travel for the two oldies, our tiny lady however, traveled in style. I have never seen an animal so unaffected by travel, if anything she was excited about it. 

ADVICE: Bring as many animals as you can with you in the plane. Like carry on. But don't worry about your rat, they can handle anything.

T is for tumultuous

   The definition of tumultuous is excited, confused or disorderly. I have to admit it is every single one of those at the moment. Just failed trying to buy a matress, just finalized the paperwork for the apartment, just got caught in the rain, just started crying in the middle of the street because we are spending more money that expected. Yes, crying. In the middle of a Montreal street. Sherbrooke, I think.
   Oh the ridiculousness of it all! It's an intensely humbling feeling to have to turn away from the Boy, trying to keep him from being worried only to have him wipe away the tears a few moments later. I really couldn't ask for a better partner, my buddy cop, me compadre, the rock to my ocean of emotions. But we have an apartment! That is what should be pulled from the experience!
Huzzah!

T is for Tale

  I must admit, I am an aspiring writer. But you knew this of course, you always knew.
So I decided to dedicate Wednesday to tales. I used to enjoy spending my nights in the Christmas months telling stories to my little brother and his entertainment was always a fantastic return for the effort of coming up with something new every night. No matter how silly.
So I will share with you the silliness of my childish mind so that perhaps you might be entertained.

The tale of the sea

Once, in a place not so far from you, there was a pirate. He looked quite similar to you as well. He was short and smart and he was much younger than all the other pirates, but he was the captain - and there was one very good reason. The captain could talk to the sea.
You might wonder how he did it. The pirates surely did as well. But he never told a soul. So it was a mystery when he could sail straight into a storm and come out unharmed, the water never having touched him. A puzzle when he steered into a waterfall and landed in the rushing water below, not a scratch on his boat. A conundrum when he could pull his sails down and still reach his destination, his boat carried by the waters that he knew so well.
The captain was loved by all pirates even if he wasn't a pirate at all. You see pirates roam the oceans for gold and treasures but the captain, all he wanted to do was explore. He would smile and shake his head when treasure was offered, telling the pirates that he had enough with just the sea.
And so it was, one sunny morning, that the captain sailed into the last bit of sea that he had never spoken to. The sea spoke to him and he listened and as he turned back to his crew he whispered,
"This is the last part of the sea. My travels are finished." And he stepped into his room.
The captain was a quiet man, he had spent all of his time listening and never speaking. He wasn't sure what to do when there was no more sea to listen to. He spent all night and all morning and all night again thinking of what he might do until he heard one small whisper drifting through his window.
"There is one part of the ssssea, you have not seeeeen." The voice washed into the room.
"A part I have not seen?" He asked.
"There is a triangle in the sea." The voice swayed across his desk.
"A triangle in the sea you say?"
"That will be the end of your journeyyyy" the voice sung softly.
The captain wondered what this could mean. The sea was mischievous and dangerous and he had learned long ago not to listen to the whispers that tempt you, or scare you, or make you feel sad. Those are the whispers that can only hurt you if you listen. But he knew that if he did not, then they would stop whispering and only the good voices would speak.
He didn't know if this voice was good or bad. It was a mystery, and everyone knew that mysteries were the captain's favourite thing.

To be continued...

T is for Two

  Things in twos are happening aplenty. There are two of us moving to our new home in Montreal, this is home number two for us, this relationship is going on year two (vaguely but I was running out of twos).

There are many feelings that accompany you when you embark on a new journey.
In stories they will mention the beauty of adventure and the thrill of the new, a vague reference to how scary these new things might be. But then the scariness is something great and wonderful too.


In keeping with this being a truthful little writing spot to look back and (hopefully) laugh emphatically at, I need to shed some light on the experience of moving.
When you move you are excited at about two moments:
-when you decide to move
...
-when you have finished all the unpacking and don't ever have to look at another box until you get it in your head that you actually want to do this again.

We are currently waiting for the movers who are arriving late, waiting for the apartment that is ready late and waiting for my consigner to sign the lease.


ADVICE: Let me offer advice for anyone who is venturing out into the world. Please venture out in advance and find your apartment ahead of time, it will save headache and expense. Though you might miss great little reunions like the Boy surprising me in the hotel room.