Sunday Ponderings and Post Ideas

Another Sunday flooded with random ponderings and clouded thoughtscapes around these parts...

I admit, the ideas are half-formed at best. I blame the stretch of cold weather to come this week and the random bits of snow we've collected here in Suburbs. I might not be as winter-weary as the masses, but the darker nights are adding up, methinks. And, of course, it happens to be Sunday night which = a new week to mull over.

Shall we point form? Yes? Oh, heck yes:

• Novel I received the axe this weekend on the school schedule. Tough call, that one -- the three publishing certificate courses came with heavier workloads than I anticipated (read: one assignment per week for the online course alone.) Man, what a diverse mix of writers I've had to sacrifice, though. Profit-and-loss sheets are hijacking my time, so creative endeavors will have to be shuffled aside for the moment.
• I believe I am doomed to a one-date maximum, forevermore. Can't seem to get past the first hurdle. This time around: mismatched schedules. Nothing worse than the right person at the wrong time, hmm?
• Am pondering my position as The Only Queer in the Family again. Having a niece/nephew on the horizon has brought up issues relating to lessons for New Baby vs. my identity. I'm debating if I ought to make that the subject of a post...

On a positive note, dropping Novel I will free some time for a renewed interest in queer blogging. I have a few topics stored away, and I think it's about darn time I write 'em out, hmm?

Strange Days Lead to Strange Nights

I return -- the last crush of final assignments and panic-inducing sales conferences are finito, and I am free until January. But, last night. Oh, last night..... I can't quit you.

And by "quit you," I mean I cannot process just how events spun so off track.

Original Plans:

• Attend the last overview course, learn about scholarly publishing.
• Meet-up with all the kids from our program at 8 PM, and attend Ship Sharp's fundraising event at The Boat.

Straight-forward, right? The process was A-->B-->C, and then home again.

But no. No, no. I realize now just how much 2010 is not the Year of the Moffatt.

The Real Events:

• Drove 40 minutes to Kipling subway station to allow for a later night out. Started strolling to the underground path when I realized: Where are my keys? Imagine me pawing the window, staring at the keys nestled in the front seat cup holders.
• Called Mom so she could drive the back-up keys over. I did mention I was 40 minutes from home, right? And that I couldn't leave the car alone since the keys were so visible? And it was about -5C at that point? Did I also mention Mom has never been to the Kipling Station before? And that there are no clear signs indicating where the Kipling Station is? Did I also mention I suck at giving directions? Yep.

• Arrived downtown ten minutes late for class. Booked it across Yonge-Dundas Square where I wiped out on the pavement. And I mean wiped out. As in, four people were around me in four seconds helping me up and asking, "OHMYGOD, are you okay?!" My knee is swollen this morning.

• Ran into A and B, two girls from the program. Turns out our lecture was moved to another building, despite the fact that all night courses take place in ONE building only. None of us knew where the other room was, and a security guard offered the most confusing directions imaginable. Translation: Class is cancelled.
• Ran into K, who was also confused over the sign, but arrived later than the original group had. Decided to go to B's house to hang out before The Boat.
• Had an awesome time at B's for a few hours. Played the most cerebral version of Kings ever. Also discussed: party subs, December birthdays, how much older I am than everyone else even though I don't look it (yaaay!), how wild K's family is, how straight-laced mine is, plans for our publishing careers.

• 9 PM. B's friends still hadn't arrived. S texted B, told her he was heading out soon. Beer cut through rising nervousness, at least for a short while.
• 10 PM. B's friends arrived. No one but the publishing kids wanted to leave.
• 10:30 PM. Still trying to corral people who were at various stages of drinking/creeping sobriety. S arrived at The Boat with no one else from our program there.
• 11 PM. Managed to get people on the street. K and I were sober, everyone else was not quite. B tried to direct a crowd wandering in at least three different directions at once.
• 11:30 PM. Realized the people who said they were going to stop in at Pizza Pizza to pick up a slice were gone for 20 minutes. They sat down to eat. We were all waiting outside. Did I mention we were still on Front St. at this point? And The Boat is in Kensingtion Market area? Check out the interactive map --> here. Also, the Dundas St. W. streetcar had gone off the tracks earlier in the afternoon to add to the confusion.

• 11:45 PM. K and I split off from the group. K was exhausted, had to work the next morning at 8 AM. I had steadily lost hope for the second half of the night.
• 12:00 AM. Arrived at St. Patrick Station. Could not orient myself to the map. Realized if I made it to The Boat, I would just have to turn around to make sure I got back to Kipling Station before the trains stopped at 1:30 AM.
• 12:30 AM. Back at Kipling Station, defeated. Read a text from The Advocate asking about my whereabouts. Felt very cinematic at this point, surreal.
• 1 AM. Back home, icing my knee. Wondering how this would have looked as a bizarre, arts hauz film. Collapsed in bed.

***

In a nutshell, it was a strange night. I don't often experience strange nights like that. I felt disoriented, and not on account of the beer, either.

I had a three-hour window where the world was right.

We were all sitting around, sipping drinks, talking arrogant about the future. I was in a good place, mingling with new people who were interested in attaining the same goals as me. And the thought of connecting this new network with the established network of people from high school felt right. I was buzzing at the prospect of one artistic crowd blending with another. I'd been talking about The Boat all week, and the ladies were excited to get there and dancedancedance.

And then I watched the night unravel. I felt removed from it, oddly. I was watching the beer pounded back, I was watching the clock ticking forward, I was watching the red-and-green CN Tower lit up from B's window -- the whole scene was like a glass floor cracking under foot. I traced the lines out, and knew there wasn't a single thing I could do to stop it.

And then I knew 2011 has to be different. In all possible senses, it has to be.

The Sunday Survey: Part Three

Another Sunday evening, and another addition to the sprawling Sunday Survey here at Cute, Queer, Canadian. I worked a 7.5 hour shift chez Chapters, and I have finished the first leg of Christmas shopping for the season as well. Ohh, sweet discount on books..... what have I done all my life without you?

So, all part-time praise aside, here is the third installment of the epic survey in question. Find Parts One and Two ----> here, and ----> here.

Voilà:

The Sunday Survey: Part Three

20. Do I care too much about what others think of me?: I do tend to fret over other people's thoughts. I know it's futile considering I haven't mastered mind control yet (muahaha). Or, I should be more specific -- I have certain aspects or traits I am more sensitive about. I stress over whether people see me as successful or not, and I take great efforts to give off an air of intelligence. But then, I don't care what people think about me being queer, and I don't mind if people misread my shyness as attitude. Oh, and I tend to be sensitive about people stating, "You can live vicariously through me as I _______" -- I've had BIG issues over that one in the past.

21. Do I take offense too easily?: Oh, heck yes. I am a Sensitive Sally when it comes to glibness. I put a great deal of stress on myself, and I judge myself more harshly than I judge others. As a result, outside comments tend to hurt more because I use it to confirm some failing I perceive in myself. I know, vicious, eh?

22. What makes me happy?: A hot mug of green tea, a rich piece of chocolate, and a ridiculous episode of whatever anime I am hooked on at the moment. I also love cold, crisp winter mornings, and I love hiking in the fall. Music tends to augment my mood, so I construct soundtracks accordingly. Happiness comes from "earned stillness," for me.

23. Do I procrastinate?: YES. ONEMILLIONTIMESYES. Procrastination is an affliction at this point. I cultivated the practice in school, and it has worsened since I first left it. I even procrastinate on self-defined deadlines.

24. Do I stand up for myself?: I've gotten better at it since I entered my 20s, but I know I could develop the skill further. Consciousness about other people's thoughts tends to dampen my assertion abilities. I am making progress, though, so I need to celebrate my growth on that one.

25. Do I hold grudges?: No, not at all. Why spend energy on someone if you don't even like them in the first place? In all seriousness, a grudge drains a remarkable amount of attention and resources from your life, and I don't think I've been pissed off enough to warrant insulating my life with grudges.

26. Do I constantly dwell on the past?: I reflect a great deal on the past, and I find some aspects are hard to part with; however, I accept the actions I took or did not take, and I understand that I would act the same way even if I had the chance to re-live a moment or two. On a lighter note, I am a historian of sorts, so I do "dwell" on the past, a ha!

27. Do I let other people’s negativity affect me?: Oddly, no. I know I am a general pessimist, yet I am somehow resistant to other people's negativity....? Not sure how that one works. Perhaps two levels of negative thought cancel one another out....? If it's negativity about me, it will affect me. If the bad vibes are about other things, it tends to not take hold of me. Strange.

28. Do I forgive myself?: I find it difficult to forgive myself for certain choices or realities. I can accept them after time, but it's hard to forgive the mistakes or the inactions. I can forgive myself for petty things ("Ahh, I ate sugar when I said I wouldn't -- whatev") -- but yeah, the bigger hardships are difficult ones to move past.

29. Do I smile often?: Now, despite how bleak this survey seems, I actually do smile a lot. Folks are often shocked when I class myself as a pessimist -- ha, I am of the grinning variety. I tend to make myself laugh a lot, too, which is hilarious and disconcerting all in one. I make jokes to myself, and sometimes it takes all my power to not laugh out loud. I value wit and sharp senses of humour, so I have to make sure I practice (even if it's for an audience of ME). I noticed I don't tend to smile when I commute into Toronto even though I love taking the GO Train. Haha, it must be the whole "city attitude" thing taking effect. Haha, who knows?

The Sunday Survey: Part Two

As promised, I am forging on with the Sunday Survey (even in the face of my NaBloPoMo space-out on Friday night.... agh, the agony of forgetfulness....)

To re-cap: Endless search for NaBloPoMo material --> Discovered an old, 99-question survey buried in the archives --> Goldmine for Sunday content.

Good? Great.

Part One of the Epic Survey is right --> here.

And now:

The Sunday Survey: Part Two

10. Am I on the look out for opportunities?: I am -- if you've got leads, send 'em on over. (Ah, the passive approach to opportunism). I admit, I tend to have trouble spotting good opportunities -- or, perhaps I tend to misread situations, and I end up finding bad opportunities instead...? But yes, I like to cultivate experiences, and I like to observe the world around me, so new opportunities tend to foster those discoveries for me.

11. Do I seize opportunities?: Hmm, I think I need to work on this. I tend to balk at positive opportunities. Is it a fear of failure? Is it a fear of success, maybe? I know hesitation is a default position in me, or I tend to label it as "caution" -- I like to have ample information on me before I make a decision. Spur of the moment? What is that poppycock? I need to work on spontaneity. Or, I just need to relax and accept the fact that I just move slower than others and there ain't nothing wrong with it.

12. Am I open-minded? Am I flexible?: I tend to approach people with an open mind. New situations make me a touch nervous, especially when I'm not sure what's expected of me. Though, I tend to be a hilarious sight when it comes to culture shock which makes me a treat to travel with (I am bashful by nature, but it tends to amplify itself when I am in a social setting where I don't know the rules of proper etiquette). I also tend to roll with life, too -- I might not be one to make a group decision, but I'm willing to explore new scenes (even with a perma-blush on my shy self).

13. Am I quick to judge others?: Again, I tend to fall in favour of most people when I meet them. A person would need to treat me in a horrible manner to incur my wrath (and even then, there's not a great deal of wrath in me to dole out). I look for the best in people, and I tend to find it.

14. Do I take calculated risks?: I take calculation, without the risk. *Grin* I think I do need time to sit and mull over decisions before I would risk pursuing them. I still make bad choices at times, not gonna lie. But, when I find out it was a lame decision, I can at least articulate to myself that I made the best effort I could at the time. I get that when I think about my undergrad days -- even while I lament how I sacrificed to get excellent grades, I understand the choice, and I know I would do again even if I could go back. Ha, even though that's not a real risk, it explains my approach to the past and assessing my choices.

15. Do I give others sincere compliments?: I do -- it took me some time to build up the nerve to tell others how I felt (even close friends!), but I'm glad I was able to press past that internal censor. I find it amusing now -- when I give people compliments, I tend to state them in a matter-of-fact tone (since, you know, it's truth as far as I am concerned), and I think it throws people off....? Haha, I just don't want to mess about when someone is being awesome. All business, here.

16. Do I appreciate what others do for me?: I do, but I think I need to work on stating that appreciation more clearly. I make a pointed effort to thank people, and I make sure to look them in the eye when I say it. I think it stems from my own need to be acknowledged, so I try to make sure others feel noticed and appreciated.

17. Where do I want to go?: THE UNITED KINGDOM! I have been desperate to go since I was fourteen (though, I guess I must not be so desperate since it's ten years later, and I have yet to step down on British soil...) I realized a few months ago how most of the places I want to visit are all cold climate locales. Check it: Northern Canada, the U.K., Sweden, Norway, Russia, Northern Europe. Odd. I suppose I am a cold weather gal after all. I also want to go back to Japan. OH! And I want to go to Australia and New Zealand, too.

18. Who do I want to meet?: I want to keep meeting sweet, artistic, nerdy types who encourage me to develop myself, and who pull me out of my personal bubble to experience the world.

19. What adventures do I want to go on?: Oh, I could spend the night listing adventures. Travel adventures consist of the locations listed under Question 17. I have other journeys in mind, but those are all the cerebral, written word kind. If I can't travel to those places, then I'll invent 'em.

The Sunday Survey: Part One

While brainstorming ideas for another NaBloPoMo post, I stumbled across a rather in-depth survey squirreled away in a folder on my laptop. I had the intention to address it a number of months ago.... and then I promptly forgot about it.

Ah, but NaBloPoMo possesses the strength to dredge up all those hidden topics for the sake of daily posting quotas. What better form of filler is there than the illustrious Online Survey?

How about one drawn out for ELEVEN WEEKS OF CONTENT, WOOOOOOT?!

And these aren't run-of-the-mill questions either. No, no. We are intense here at Cute, Queer, Canadian, and we like to wax existential. I knew all those years of schooling would prove its mettle one day.

So, without further ado, I give you:

The Sunday Survey: Part One

1. What do I want?: Ooh, a question with heft to start us off. I suppose what I want most is acknowledgment. It's a recurring theme in my life -- I know we all struggle through loneliness, futility, and other stresses at times, but my quest for acknowledgment knows no limits. I tend to coast under the radar of others, and my shy tendencies keep me closed off even when I wish someone would just tell me I'm on the right track. Since 2008, I get the impression I've made mistake after mistake with almost every facet of my life -- sometimes, I wish there were someone there to tell me I've done a lot of good, too, even if I never noticed it at the time. I guess I just want to know I am doing right by myself and by the people around me.

2. What am I grateful for?: Well, from a queer perspective, I am effin' grateful for the role models I had as a young'un. From older kids at our high school to the folks I worked with at my first real job, I was surrounded by an amazing group of gay men and women who taught me that life out of the closet was possible, all when I was at the critical age of sixteen. I am also grateful for the friends I have, and for the family who accepted me without hesitation. It's a gay gal's dream, let me tell you.

3. What’s missing in my life?: I am missing self-confidence for one. I can fake it, but I wouldn't mind believing it, too. I am also lacking adventure in general. I've aged earlier than expected it seems. I need to get out and mingle more, but that whole lack of confidence thing tends to counteract my efforts. Heh, yeah, the social life is missing for the most part, but I do this to myself.

4. Do I see the whole world anew each day?: Not as often as I ought to. It's so simple to become complacent with the world, and to ignore those little moments of amazement. I need to master the whole Dead Poets' Society vibe of seizing the eff' out of the day.

5. Do I take the time to really listen to what others say?: I do -- I am an observer/thinker by nature, and I like to hear stories and launch into discussion of all sorts. I hear lesbians are pros at processing information, and I believe I live up to that hype. The best memories I have with others often involve hours worth of conversation held over mugs of tea. I imagine this will be the case well into the future.

6. Do I have fun?: Again, not as often as I should be. Bah, youth is wasted on me. Most of the time, I either drift through an unaffected fog, or I lose track of the present moment and float on waves of random thought. Fun tends to play off of a heightened awareness of one's environment and a disassociation from the passage of time itself. I tend to invert those two points, which is most likely why I am lacking fun most of the time.

7. How can I bring more joy into my life?: Ah, if I knew that, then I would have nothing to complain about, would I? I think the key to this would be greater involvement with family affairs, with friends, with community events -- the works. Keeping occupied tends to increase joy for the sheer fact it leads you to greater opportunities and distracts you from the darkness.

8. What do I want more of in my life?: I want to spend more time surrounded by other artists/writers/thinkers. I want more exploration of the local world and the world abroad. I want to collect more stories, and I want to share some of my own, too.

9. What do I want less of in my life?: Indecision. Oh, indecision is a curse -- it takes all those dreams and files down their brilliance. I've been fretful with it in the last, oh, three years, and I'd like to move on from the drama, thank you.

Frets and Faults

Perhaps I am being a touch rash in calling this conclusion -- it is November after all. We've still got about 54 days until 2011 arrives all fresh and perfect on our doorsteps.

I can't help this nagging realization that 2010 was a wash-out for me.

I've heard the condition you find yourself in on January 1st tends to dictate the coming year. Me? I was upstairs in a hotel room, bracing myself against a violent stomach flu while I missed out on my sister's wedding reception.

If ever a darker omen for the new year existed, I would like to hear of it now.

So, 2010 was not the Year of the Moffatt. I reflect on this now as I stumbled across a so-called "Game Plan" I crafted in the 2009 NaBloPoMo. Hrrm, a good chunk of that list still intrigues me, though. Over the course of the year, I let myself stumble against old patterns, and I froze in the face of change. Both are traits I'd like to shake off, to be honest.

More than that, I've managed to isolate myself from important people. The trend started this summer, and its results are palpable now. Now is the time I feel like running away, which solves nothing, of course. That's probably the allure of it -- a fresh start without fixing those loose ends.

Maybe its the stubborn remnants of my cold speaking. I had one of those ominous dreams last night where a character comments on something hitting close to home. A musician was sitting under a bridge with an acoustic guitar, and some girl (not I) came to insult him. Anyhow, he leveled this look at her, laughed, and said, "This from the girl who has never even lived outside her city. Who has never even been abroad. This from the girl who still cries over that absence at her parents' dinner table."

I know, it's weird dream speak. It all made sense as he was talking. I was his friend in the dream, but he didn't realize how much that comment struck me, too.

I have a lot of hard thinking to do in the next few weeks. This time, I need results.

All Grammar'd Out

Oh, the pain.... the snapping of the synapses.....

I am in the middle of a grammar overload at the moment. Just spent the last few hours writing and fine-tuning a short essay on the use of "hopefully" as a sentence adverb.

....

See? I was destined to be a lesbian.

... alright, perhaps that's not concrete proof. Still, it's a theory at least.

I am in need of fun updates, I think. I miss my ladies. *Pout* Granted, I get to interact with ladies while at work and I also get to interact with new ladies while in the classroom. Both environments are excellent for the ladies, might I add. I swear, I'm not that much of a lech..... really...

This coming week is shaping up to be a whiteout of random. Check it:

• Grammar assignment, 25% (Tuesday)
• Textbook assessment assignment, 25% (Thursday)
• Mon-Thurs: 5 AM - 9:30 AM shifts at work
• Fri & Sat: Volunteer shifts w/ IFOA

... and my iTunes just shuffled to "Tossin' & Turnin'" by Bobby Lewis. I am not even kidding. I think my laptop is trying to tell me to settle the eff' down.

I must be making up for a slow August-October stretch. I tend to clot a lot of events all together and then go for weeks where I walk around moaning about how bored I am. Still, I know I'd rather be hanging out with The Advocate and Ship Sharp, if they'd have me back. Ah, just got to slog through this tough stretch and perhaps I shall see freedom once again.

Milestone Missed

There is no greater injustice than a personal milestone passed in silence. See? Yet another reason to blog with greater fervor and without pausing for two months *cough* Miz Moffatt*cough, cough*

I seek reconciliation with the person I was one year ago and the person I am at the moment of writing this post now.

On August 28, 2009, I made the major passage from closeted so-and-so to out 'n' proud woman on the home front. From where I sit at this moment, I have now been out to both parents for over one year.

ONE YEAR, people.

The revelation is humbling. It caps off a personal adventure spanning almost a decade, encompassing most of my teen years and the entirety of my adult life.

I first came out to myself when I was sixteen.

I first came out to others when I was eighteen in the safe confines of "CampOut," a coming out discussion group.

I came out to my Sister when I was twenty-one, spurred on before I was quite confident enough.

I came out to a high school best friend when I was twenty-two and tired of displacing all responsibilities for myself.

And then, in 2009, I took the leap and outed myself to the lil' Brother and the 'rents in the span of one month. I never thought I would reach that point where I was comfortable enough with myself to talk with them as equals, to not ask permission but to present the simple fact of who I am with the understanding I might not be met with acceptance.

One year later and I have attended Toronto's main Pride parade with my Sister.

One year later and I have noticed the sudden appearance of "partner" in my family's vernacular where "husband/wife" or "girlfriend/boyfriend" once existed.

One year later and there are new discussions in the home focused on understanding queer issues and where it places us as a family.

Total head rush.

And I took that milestone for granted and let it pass without its due respect.

So here is to that night in August and here is to the kids in years to come who will embark upon the same journey I did.

August?!

Egads.

Surprising how the seasons sneak up on a mild-mannered, negligent blogette such as myself.

I am pleased to report there are five weeks left in the current administrative work contract and that, come September, I will be attending a fine Canadian educational establishment to learn the rigours of the publishing world.

*Confetti*

So, progress = yes. The months of reeling over what to do and where to go and how to focus myself are now resolving, at least a touch. I admit, the act of choosing and the commitment in the decision have offered a sort of calm. It is done. I am traveling toward that choice. Mmm, fresh start out of the ashes of this summer. Sheer brilliance, I tell you.

I have more to mull over in different facets, but those ramblings are best saved for another time and another place. As for blogging, I come prepared with topics for this week and with the hope I won't let another three-week stretch of silence mar this space.

So, until then, I will doff my hat and return to the last few chapters of Ray Bradbury's, From The Dust Returned.

Strange Winds

July is proving to be a disorienting month (hence the hiatus from this blog). Issues and events tend to converge at once -- all of it is amplified this time by the rapid cycling between cooler climates and oppressive spells of heat.

I tend to get restless when thunderstorms hover on the horizon.

I've been locked into reassessing a number of points around me. The first half of 2010 slipped from me quickly and I've been complacent with it for the most part. But no, I am starting to rebel against that laziness and will take over the responsibilities I ought to.

One of those things just happens to be writing.

I love this blog. I love writing about queer issues and queer interests and celebrating women in general. The fact is, there are other projects I want to pursue as well -- projects based in a professional path and a possible career arc. With the precious free hours I have on weekday evenings, I want to start developing those projects.

Before I have anyone crying into keyboards or cursing my good name as a queer blogger, I want to state now: I am not abandoning the blog. No, no. I just need to reshuffle time which means I will most likely be posting less or crafting shorter blog posts.

Hey, but some Moffatt is better than none, am I right?

I found the inspiration to take back 2010 from the nearest and dearest. Ship Sharp and The Advocate have made impressive progress with their chosen fields and have landed job opportunities that rival all others. In typical fashion, I am a touch nervous as I am still working the same stagnant job I did last summer and see no release.

That is, unless I create that escape for myself.

Hence: dedication to the writing projects I deem "serious work." It's still fun and light and adventurous, but, as I stated earlier, it's more in line with the ol' career path and therefore needs more time for development.

*Sigh* Oh, to be an adult. And an artist at that.

Will definitely keep all updated on any/all progress on that front. I have quite a bit of work ahead of me and need to quit distracting myself with hours of anime. Shucks.

About to Get Her Feet Wet... Once Again...

After a brief stint volunteering for the 2010 Inside Out Film Festival......

After discussing the options and the general "scene" with all the close companions.....

After clicking through a spate of new profiles at our favourite last resort, Plenty of Fish.....

... I might have convinced myself to give the online dating pool another shot.

There are no profiles out on the site at the moment -- there's no more than a tentative toe out there in the water, both testing the temperature and gauging the plunge.

But the alluring spark of potential has returned and it's luring me out to dark waters ahead.

Still, I know I would prefer to meet someone face-to-face first. I want to feel the gentle pull of attraction between two people and I want to experience the slow build across the senses drawing me toward another person. The worrisome aspect of the online world is its penchant for reductionism -- we are downsized to a series of photos, a few keywords, and a condensed paragraph constituting a profile.

As much as I deride the practice, I am aware of its advantage when it comes to the queer scene. I get awkward in the bars and find the bass-frenzied swirl of the dance floor daunting. I am still on the lookout for events catered to queer women + business/activity-based interests. I liked Inside Out for the sheer fact I had immediate conversation topics with fellow volunteers and patrons alike. Now, it's a matter of finding more events like these and launching myself into them.

Hmm. It's a rather loaded night for questions and such. I have more to discuss with the companions, but that shall be left to future evenings filled with tea and gossip.

For now, I turn to contemplation and manga before the onset of bedtime.

Mottled Thoughts

I've been pensive this evening. Another Saturday spent at home --> Thoughts wandering across all those subjects that aren't quite visible in the light of day. Once I shut off the constant stream of anime and once I laid A.E. Moorat's Queen Victoria, Demon Hunter to rest, all those thoughts swelled to the surface.

Since lists do justice to thought, I shall craft one now:

• Online dating: Someone smack me. I am considering it again. Now, I managed to avoid the urge to profile myself back in the fall. Remember all those discussions about the Major and Minor Archetypes of the Online Dating Realm? I thought I'd managed to scare my own self out of that trip. But.... well..... I kinda, sorta, maybe took just a quick glance at the women listed in my area. I was curious, it's been a while since I was last on PoF. I admit, there's quite a few women I'm interested in on the site. But that nagging voice keeps resurfacing and reminds me about those first two attempts and how negative they were. Maybe the third time's a charm? (P.S. -- I've noticed the urge to online date coincides with my unemployment. It's a little difficult to hit on a woman when there's no money there to even buy her a drink, though).
• Job Hunting: I'm putting the shine back on my resume and refining my cover letter skills for another round of self-promotion. Here's hoping my strange command of the English language can catch an eye or two out there in the Big World of Business. I'm also exploring the volunteer world. At the moment, I've seen listings for a feminist theatre and the year-round activities for a queer film festival. I've always used the Suburbs as an excuse for not getting active in Toronto (since it's a pain of a commute), but perhaps I just need to slide right in. I'm too young to bemoan distance and travel -- it's time to summon my energies and channel them to exciting new experiences.
• Anime and Manga: I'm delving in there and just about guzzling down every new series I have even a passing interest in. I'm starting to worry that I'm spending more time with drawn people than, you know.... REAL people. SO addictive, though.
• Reading: I need to do more of this. And it has to be literature. As much as I love, LOVE manga, it is sugar for the mind. I have two full shelves of books I need to read/re-read and I need to just tackle 'em when they're least suspecting it. (This will also help me to clean out my room of undesired objects since I have the sense that most of those two shelves will not be mine for much longer).

***

Before Chantal headed back for Scotland, she updated me on a gent we went to high school with. Over the past year, he found himself growing tired of Canada and the scene here. Now, he's got a British passport and he's got family living in the U.K., so escape was more than possible. But, rather than leaving life back here in tact, he up and sold ALL of his possession aside from the clothes that would fit in a backpack. And that's how he left Canada.

It's such a tempting, romantic idea. I thought I'd managed to clean out a bunch of stuff over the summer, but, even now, it still seems like so much.

Hmm, more and more thoughts keep crushing in here tonight. I don't know that this post can house them all. I've got quite the series of questions to pose myself in the next few weeks.

We'll just have to see where all that takes me.

Miz Moffatt Takes On Life Reassessments

Does an angel contemplate my fate? Mara86

I wonder what is about Thursdays that invite such contemplation. I've been sifting through prompts for most of the evening to find lighter topics for this post, but I can't seem to push past the trouble on my mind.

I'm in the throes of another "life reassessment" deal -- you know the one I'm talking about. It's that cold rush of restlessness pocked with indecisiveness and a dull sense of irritation at the circumstances. I seem to circle back to this place without ever intending to. I was tipped off this morning after I discovered a woman at work is pushing to extend my contract for the third undecided stretch of time.

Did I mention I've been counting down the days -- nay, the hours left in this current contract extension?

I know, it takes a lot of nerve to complain about a job during a crippling global recession. Trust me, I've heard comments to that effect each time I open up to discuss this topic. Still, I am not satisfied.

I am an administrative assistant for a pool product manufacturer. Yeah. Not great. It was supposed to be a summer gig, ending before the Labour Day long weekend. Had there been school to return to, I would have been free.

The first extension came about because of their workload after acquiring another large pool manufacturer.

The second extension came after a rash decision made by our management to fire a customer service rep. after a minor misunderstanding.

Now, this third extension is being orchestrated by a woman who wants a personal assistant to take on the brunt of the administrative aspects of credits, payments, blah blah, boring office jargon.

I can't do it. I mean, I did make a pretty piece of change while working there for the past six months. But, serious -- I can't do it anymore. I know I've mentioned my issues when it comes to commitment, but I didn't even want this job to start with. It's a stop-gap job, not a career. *Dusts hand of the discussion*

So, the natural question: Then where DO you want to work, Miz Moffatt?

Well, I quite like this gig as a blogette. Heck, you know me -- I love to write about/for other ladies. If I could scheme a way to make this a full-time, paying practice then SIGN ME UP.

I admit, I've been thinking about writing quite heavily in the past month. I've had a rather love/hate relationship with the written word -- an array of teachers and friends have urged me on to take up writing in some aspect, full-time. And yes, I rebelled for long enough. I wonder if it's the instinct of middle children to do the exact opposite of what everyone is advising them to follow. (Guilty as charged). I fought against it and operated with this overwhelming disbelief when folks would compliment me on stories, poems, entries, essays -- you name it. I'm starting to see the error of my ways...

***

Ideal Image: I can picture myself sitting in a smart, clean cafe on a quiet street corner in France, or maybe a cozy pub somewhere in London. I'm there during their off hours, so the staff is bored, though friendlier than usual. I'm sitting there with a laptop, maybe a cup of tea or a light beer, tapping out some verse or some short story fragments in preparation for a creative writing class. I'm off in my own thoughts, but still a part of the action of real life.

***

I've been debating the whole Masters in Creative Writing again. I'm wary of it. I mean, if you're a writer, you shouldn't need to pay an institution to do so. But then, those Masters degrees can connect you with peers and with established writers. And heck, I'd welcome the chance to revisit those bizarre student hours again. I could even look into European schools and shake off the Canadian soil from my shoes for a while...

Ah, romantic notions. I feel as though some unknown spark has ignited a new desire in me, one based on travel and writing.

Let's see if we can't fan it a little, shall we?

Fickle Time and Topic

I wonder what it is that's driving me to the distraction of dating. I know, this post will be an aboutface from the one I wrote all of one hour ago, but this idea has been prickling my thoughts since I first touched on it in a paper journal entry from Monday.

Why am I feeling compelled to throw myself out into the singles community?

I mean, it's not an unusual desire -- I understand the need to find a like-minded individual to connect with on mental, physical, and emotional levels. I know the fear associated with loneliness and I know how love and attraction can add a sense of substance to an otherwise dull world. Granted, I have never been in love before, but I've seen people who were/are and it's an impressive energy to witness.

But what about me? I wonder sometimes if I'm cut out for this love... stuff. I mean, like any complex being, I have these opposing sides that rotate in their strength on a daily basis, but I can sense them both at all times:

One side views the world through those bright and colourful romantic lenses. This is the side that drives me to place a girl on a pedestal and to be the one who anchors her. I want to be the one to hold the door open, to plan surprise trips or secret weekend escapes, and to leave cute, little surprise notes and gifts for her where I know she'll discover them when I'm not there. I want her to find that forgotten safety in me and I want to help construct that whole impenetrable language lovers build between one another.

But then, there's the other side that dismantles that image. I have that side that is terrified to commit. At the moment, it's difficult to sort out just exactly what I want to pursue in life. Should I become an archivist/librarian, or should I forsake it all and try to write full-time? Or maybe I ought to enter publishing? And what of where I want to live or where I want to travel to or what dreams I want to realize in real time? It seems as though I need to suss all that out before I even think of bringing a partner into the mix.

I know I tend to overthink simple, organic things. And I wonder if maybe I should abandon that inner monologue and live as impulsively as my age dictates. Hrmm, it's quite a conundrum. And I know I'm a bit of a late bloomer in all regards, so perhaps this is just another point that will get sorted in a few years time.

Still, I know I need to get out there and get moving. I just wonder if dating is one of those areas that will need to be shifted to the background until I can figure myself out well enough.

That, and I'm sure the Online Dating Major/Minor Archetypes have reminded me of the perils involved with exchanging flirtations.

Ah, such a fickle time and topic.