screaming into the darkness

I'm not quite sure why I keep this blog active, I jumped onto Blogger at the end of the age of blogging. I thought all my clever-ist thoughts would be spread across the blogosphere; that people would click my ads and make me famous, but little did I know it was already over.
It sped up. People started being so connected that they couldn't maintain eye contact for more than a second.
Dinner parties started turning into youtube parties. Lunch dates included my friends favourite cat videos.
Slowly but surely the internet became one with all of our thoughts, and yet it wasn't the internet of old, it was the new internet; where minutes were months and cynicism ruled.
Click this, favourite that, downvote him and upvote feminism. To hell with patience I want it now!
I had a cell phone once  for 3 months in 2002. My phone was already obsolete when I got it, it was pay as you go and had a flip top. I loaded it up with minutes and went on my merry way. I kept it plugged into the wall of my first apartment most of the time which defeated the purpose of having a phone you could bring anywhere. One day after having the phone a few weeks I was expecting a call and I had errands to run so I decided to bring my phone with me.
I was browsing the cheeses at the grocery store when it rang, and back then you didn't have silent mode or whatever so when your phone rang it fucking rang! I had an armful of produce and my phone was deep in my purse so I began fumbling around while my fellow shoppers looked on. I finally made it to the bottom of my purse and just as my hands settled upon that grey rectangle it stopped ringing.
That night when my phone ran out of minutes I decided that it wasn't for me, I didn't care if no one could get in touch with me, I preferred it this way.
This decision didn't seem that odd until about 4 years ago, at which point it became unacceptable and almost suspect to not have a smartphone. I see the looks I get on the bus when I look out the window,instead of into my lap. I can feel your judgement when I'm waiting in line and instead of looking at my bff's facebook pics I'm reading the back of a pamphlet.
Im not poor , Im not foreign, I didn't drop my phone in the toilet or the sink, I just prefer to not have one. I don't want to see your dinner unless you are across the table from me and I would much rather log into something for a few hours in the evening and be able to fully detangle myself at the end of the day.
I just miss talking to people about people. Don't even get me started on why I don't drive.

I'm a Man?

I've been thinking a lot about Feminism lately. I've noticed quite a few of the shows I watch and almost all of the media I consume had had a hard focus on Feminism as of late.
From Lena Dunham finding well deserved success in her writing and overall brand to Beyonce and others putting a new take on the strong fierce female.
I grew up in a time where women always had equal rights, I never had to fight to have my voice heard or do any drastic acts of defiance to change the way things were.
I never burned any bras , I have always embraced my femininity and the femininity of others. I always saw it as a strength to be feminine and masculine at the same time, to have control in all situations and yet still be able to wear Tulle on occasion. To be able to work a rewarding full time job and yet still be very interested in window treatments. To be interested politically and yet worry about the consistency of your mashed potatoes. To embrace motherhood , or shun it completely ; my feelings have always been " whatever boo, you do you " without question I have taken these rights for granted, blissfully applying blush prior to mowing the lawn.
Until recently I hadn't given much thought to the fairly recent women in history who fought desperately for Women's rights, even now with it fresh on my mind I can't name names. I have no feminist icon, women my age are more likely to quote Marilyn Monroe a paranoid schizophrenic than Ani Difranco ( I googled her btw).
I have a tendency to think that this is not ALL the media's fault. I think to a point we all perpetuate the system of women being second class, not in all things anymore; sure we have jobs and mow lawns and shit but in the bigger picture we all do it. If a girl or woman doesn't mesh with the image of a lady who can do it all we see her as a failure. These days we think if you aren't a wife, mother , executive, exceptional baker , and top notch housekeeper you aren't trying hard enough. Why don't you have the ass of a 14 year old and 4 children at age 30? Well, clearly you haven't purchased enough face creams or done enough cleanses. You look bloated.
If these Feminists from days of yore hadn't gotten passive like myself , hadn't taken our place in the world for granted we may have been able to end this shit too, accepted people as people, some will be one way some will be another. Some will be women , some will stay girls; some will be boys who want to be girls and some will be girls who want to be boys. We need to protect and embrace these differences To me this is the new Feminism. Don't see your short haired friend who doesn't ever wear makeup as a "tomboy" she is just your short haired friend who doesn't wear makeup.
The same goes for your uber glam friend who loves makeup and wearing pink. She isn't a girly girl.
I may have gone off on a tangent but no one reads this anymore so idgaf.
I want to give praise where its due, there have been some amazing things happening with women out there, I am proud and excited for the next phase, hopefully things get even better for us.
I will wait lip gloss and drumsticks in hand trying to figure it all out.

I'm a man , you're a man

Fashion is a Passion

I have a problem, it may even be bad enough to be called a character flaw at this point.
I have a fondness for cheap clothes made for teenagers. Most of my clothes are made in Bangladesh or China. They are made of cheap fabric which doesn't wash well. They cannot be put in the dryer at all nor washed in water which temperature is above the freezing point.

There is almost always something about the garment that I don't like, and yet I buy it anyway.
I find myself persuading myself to buy these things, you almost have to talk yourself into it.
I will find a fabulous shirt , it will be a perfect shade of blue with charming gold buttons. The shirt will evoke images of a summer afternoon in the Hamptons. I will hold it up, and realize that it has a wonky hemline, or an unnecessary tie for your waist and I will think to myself " it is 2 for $20" or " I haven't ever had a shirt with a fully lace back" and sometimes " I would be an idiot to pass up this deal" and I will buy it. Just because.

Flash forward to a week later, after I've worn my brand new shirt one time without washing it. Laundry day , I will throw it in the wash , knowing full well my new cheap top needs special care.
I'll take it out of the washer and carefully hang it to dry.

To slip into a shirt that fit mere days ago only to find that it is now 3 sizes too small is a weird feeling.
How did it even get so wrinkly?

Is it even a deal? I don't think it is.

I know it's wrong to buy items manufactured under poor working conditions and unfair trade practises, and yet I choose to do it anyway.
It's just the way it is here, but I don't understand why.

So what if its half off? Half off of what? A price that has been inflated by 300%?
Why are we paying $60 for a top that costs 60 cents to make?

I'm done , sick of it all. I need to start my own fashion line...I also need to clear my closets of these yards of "polyester blend" nonsense.

If we stop buying it will they stop making it?

The Doyle Verdict

Travel Bug

I've travelled a lot in my almost 30 years of life, I even went so far as to actually move to a few of the places I've been.
I've seen a lot of things, travelled a lot of roads, flown in 37 planes,  and slept in a lot of rest station parking lots.
I've stood outside of a jiffy mart in the heart of Florida  at the tender age of 14 asking random older men to buy me and my friends booze and cigarettes.

Thinking back on that now, I wonder who the hell those old guys thought they were? How I always wound up finding them and getting them to do my bidding and somehow avoid getting murdered.
Not all of my time spent travelling around as a young lady had a seedy underbelly though.
I also got to see some amazing shit.The Bayou's of Louisiana, real life mirages in the Nevada Desert, Northern California,  Beautiful British Columbia; the list goes on and on. Sadly in those days, I only possessed throw away cameras, and we didn't feel the need to document ALL of the things.
I have a bunch of wonderful photos, and even more terrible photos from those days.
Perhaps one day I will digitize them and share them with the world.

I've been thinking about travelling a lot lately, for the last 5 years or so I purposefully didn't travel at all.
I had lived my formative years essentially on the road and I was so sick of moving around. Packing your stuff up after a few years or months can take a toll on a person.
Starting a new life or missing an old one isn't something someone should feel over and over again.
I had to settle down, I even yearned for it.

I got married bought a house and never looked back. I regretfully declined invitations to go away with friends.
I no longer stayed in touch with my far away friends. I didn't look at hotel deals or plane ticket steals online.
The thought of living out of a suitcase or packing up my flatiron annoyed me.
Trying to determine how the garbage would get out to the curb while I was away perplexed me.
It seemed unnecessary, the whole travel thing. Why bother really if you have it all and more in your little house?  Well that can only go on for so long, sooner or later you are going to get bored.

The past few months have killed me, my soul is feeling as grey as the sky this winter...that sounds so emo but it's how I feel. I'm not depressed or anything like that. I'm just so bored. The monotony has finally gotten to me. There is something to be said for that feeling that comes over you when you are laying eyes on a new landscape for the very first time. Around here I can tell time by the sun for crying out loud, even the shadows are familiar.

I need a trip, I gotta go, I gotta get out of here.
Plane train or automobile  
I'm not sure where or when, but soon.
I need to feel something new, something strange, something scary.
I need new places and faces.
 
If anything , maybe going out of town for a few days will remind me what I'm doing here in the first place.

Meh

 Tonight I thought it would be a good idea to log into my blog. Turns out logging in alone has been a ridiculous waste of my precious time.
It's been awhile I'll admit, but I couldn't even remember what e-mail address it was linked to.
I had to do one of those "captcha" things and send a password reset to my e-mail.
I then had to log into my e-mail account.
Little did I know I had also forgotten the password to my e-mail account. I answered a few skill testing questions and deciphered yet another "captcha" thinger and here we are.

I tried to do a manicure tonight. I went and spent a bunch of money at Shoppers Drug Mart.
I sat down with a bunch of TV to catch up on and meant to do a manicure. I pushed back my cuticles, I clipped and buffed. I used a base coat which I let dry and put on two coats of a nice pink colour called "sugar daddy" I let it sit and did a top coat and then...well then I got cold. I grabbed a velour blankie and curled up on the sofa with an episode of The Walking Dead.

I sat and watched, and when it was all over and I got up to turn on something else....and my nails were stuck to my blankie. They were unsalvageable.

I got out all the stuff and did it again. I removed my old nail polish which had cat hair and bits of blanket in it. I did my base coat and two coats of "sugar daddy" . I painstakingly applied my shiny top coat.

I sat and watched BoardWalk Empire. Wouldn't you know it.....I had to pee.
I tried to wiggle out of my pants....but they had a drawstring. I tried to pat dry...but I dropped the TP on the floor. I then had to struggle back into my pants.
Needless to say, my right hand looks like it was painted by a tasmanian devil..

I just don't care anymore. 

Palaver

listen to this 

or perhaps this:

Second Season

Who's ever heard of a drought in SouthWestern Ontario?
The summers of my childhood remind me of epic thunderstorms and sweater weather.
Blankets by the fire in the evening and space heaters in the trailer in July.

These days the grass underfoot is dry and lumpy, and the creek beds look like yesterdays whore.
It reminds me of last call at the bar, some asshole turns on the lights and all of a sudden you see how fucking pathetic it all is.
Garbage everywhere, people clinging desperately to the best view. Trying to argue their way to the front of the line.

Inside their sheetrock houses, tuned into the tube. Obsessive text messaging has become a sport.
No one remembers the peace in quiet. Crickets chirp on deaf ears.

The Blue Heron sees it all, from upon his perch he observes the decay. As the sewage treatment plant withers away at his environment he questions why with his sullen cry.

Nobody hears him. They are busy picking roses. So many roses this year due to the lack of rainy days.
The leaves look like shit, and the blooms are lacking in scent but this is the second season my friend.
Consider it a gift.
Relish in your riches and turn up the A/C, drive to the mall and pick up some scented candles, hunker down and microwave some popcorn.

Its time for a show.
 


Nothing make any sense....including me.

Bombay Beach

So I am currently watching a documentary called Bombay Beach, it's about this insane place in the US that epitomizes to me the entire US.
Once grand and plentiful, rife with life and happiness. A fleeting memory only recognizable by the faded beach umbrella full of holes and flapping in the wind,  the ever persistent sun rotting away at the outer flesh.
I have never been moved quite so much by the life of strangers. I watch a lot of documentaries, usually about 3 a week on varying subjects. I do this to learn and to entertain myself, and because regular TV is for the simple minded people I tend to avoid. I did not know what to expect this evening, had I known I may have changed into something a little more comfortable and grabbed a box of tissues.
I am blown away. the filming is exceptional, I am no critic as I have no credentials; but wow......
The raw emotion in each and every second, I have never seen anything like it.
Part of my emotional response to this movie may be coming from the fact that I can relate to the subjects of this doc.
I'm an orphan, of people who suffered from substance abuse...I was a weird kid who then moved to a desolate trailer park in the state of Florida and proceeded to do all the bad things I could.
I could have ended up in a place like Bombay Beach, easily.
Yet somehow due to an unexpected turn of events here I am living in well fed- well kept suburban Ontario, taking advantage of free health care and all the social services a lady could ever want.
I want to hug the kids in this movie, I want to embrace their creativity and feed them organic food.
I want for them to stop being a victim of the economy of their country and their income and I want them to stop being coerced by their doctors to take Rydaline for being weird in that environment...of course those kids are weird, have you looked around you?
A desolate ghost town in the middle of the desert with abandoned homes and bomb shelters.
unexploded ammo in their sandboxes.
I know worse things are happening in the world, but when I see it happening so close to home it's shameful. I feel shame for not making this stop. For having it so easy, for not helping these people to live a happy life.
Why would anyone move to the desert?
It's no place to raise a family.

http://vimeo.com/19572656

Find it online. The entire doc is available somewhere.

On the verge of summer

Hello again world! How ya doing? How have you been?
I've been great; I started boxing! Real boxing, in a dank basement with extremely questionable carpet and a plethora of sweaty people. It's been great really. I feel a little bit "Fight Club" most of the time. I almost bought a dove grey tracksuit and that song "Eye of the tiger" is at the top of my mind. Stairs aren't just stairs anymore but a potential victory platform from which to shout the name of my love.
Boxing has helped with my raging temper tantrums and I'm pretty proud of myself for trying this new thing.
It also can't hurt to train a little just in case the zombie apocalypse ends up happening. You can punch Zombies right?

Summer is here. I don't know what it is about summer that I love the most.
What jumps to mind would be the unexplainable nostalgic feeling which occurs when you feel a mild summer breeze against your bare legs. What is that? Why does a summer breeze make me feel like a young deer? Why does that make me feel like crying?
It's probably some weird PH balanced atmosphere scent recognition brain thing, triggering my long term memory, but it feels more like a celestial event where my soul is blown open by the scent of lilacs and afternoon rain.
I'm no scientist.

I mainly wanted to stop in to my blog to kill some time. Isn't that what this is all about anyway?
A moment in time, the ramblings of a satisfied suburban lady? I have nothing to complain about, no great tragedy, nothing to avenge. I'm happy and fed and healthy and strong......nothing to say yet always talking.
I wish people read this shit, I wish they replied, and talked about themselves and trolled me and whatever.....it would give me something to do while my husband is on the night shift.
In the meantime I will find something else to do with my time. Maybe I will finally clean out the closet in the guest room so I can feel as though I've accomplished something.
Maybe I will floss, people like that right?