As a girl who has recently been given a iPhone for work (and who now has to carry THREE- that’s right THREE- cell phones around everywhere) I am a little nostalgic lately for the dates of the simple phone.
I remember when my dad had one of the original Motorola flip phones for the job he was doing at the time. I remember fighting with my sister over it. I seem to remember playing games on it, but that seems a little advanced.
Some argue this was egged on by social media. But then look at the story’s dissemination! The beast feeds itself. The whole event is surreal. Surreal enough to be one of those things that becomes historic.
Over a game.
What in the world do people think they have to be angry at? All this was so unnecessary. I’d have rathered if they just lost in Boston in Game 5. At least then maybe people wouldn’t have been so revved up. So prepared.
I have friends and colleagues who were attacked in the riots. One went out basically to “watch the back” of another, who was working solo in some very hostile crowds. They had a skateboard swung at them. Because they were media.
I read earlier today that a police officer was slugged in the head with a brick. Needed 14 stitches.
It’s sad this fellow died, but it was incredible to watch dive crews figure out where he and his car were located and how they retrieved it. Also — bigger issues at play here. This is a highly dangerous area. More to come tomorrow.
I was at a friend’s/colleague’s housewarming party last night. They moved into their place 2 weeks ago, and it looks like they’ve lived there for years. I’ve been in my silly little basement suite for 8 months and it still looks like a hobo lives here. It’s terrible. I don’t even like inviting people over because I’m ashamed of the disarray. Part of this is because I have GRAND PLANS and some of those PLANS require money that I am hesitant to part with (see: a real bedframe). But today I went browsing and this little kitchen set was on for half price, and I couldn’t say no when it was exactly what I’d been looking for, at a cheaper price than the second-hand ones I’ve been looking at locally. And now the kitchen’s done.
I’ve long had this theory that if I just had a little table and chair set in my kitchen I might actually eat at a table, rather than on the couch while defending my dinner from the pup. So far it’s worked for 2 meals. We’ll see how long it lasts.
Oops. Can’t remember the third.
Why am I writing about a new table? Why don’t I have anything more interesting to write about? Not sure. Probably because my life seems overwhelmed with work and the play right now. We’re 5 weeks from opening night and our consultant was SUPPOSED to come and give us feedback a week from today (giving us 3 rehearsals to get things in shape). Today we learned the woman messed up her schedule, and is coming Tuesday instead.
I may or may not have had a meltdown.
And not in-character either (though I get to do that too. Apparently I’m very good at crying at the drop of a hat. Probably because I am very good at crying at the drop of a hat).
I am not 100% happy with how my timing is going yet with this play. We’re completely off-script, have been for a couple weeks, so now it’s just getting the rhythm and the mannerisms down pat. I’m a perfectionist, I can’t help it, and until I have that one run through where I just kill it, I won’t be happy. And I’m so not there yet.
I guess there’s pleanty of time, but I really wanted to be in top form for the consultant. I wanted what she saw to be a PERFORMANCE. I guess I’ll just have to adjust my expectations.
I’ve never been the person who has a million friends. I’ve always had one or two close ones, in each of the places I have lived. And it often takes me a little while to develop those friendships. Not sure why, I’m generally a social person. But I guess I feel I need people in my life I can rely on.
I’m in the middle of a several week-long battle with a close friend I’ve known since high school. At one point we dated, then broke up. I consider him a very important part of my life, and has been a constant I rely on.
I don’t fight with friends. I don’t like to fight at all, to be honest. I don’t like to fight with family — I’m always in a hurry to “fix” things. I hate conflict.
I don’t know what happened a couple weeks ago. I don’t get how this friendship got so derailed. I asked him to stop doing something that he had been doing for years that really bothered me. I had reached a point where I felt this was interfering with our friendship. I told him so.
Ever since, it’s feels like I’m back in the early 2000’s. We’re dating, we’re fighting. He says I’m being over-dramatic. I feel like I’m not being given a chance. He disappears. I chase to explain that I’m not trying to be unreasonable. I apologize.
It’s the same cycle. It’s the same crap we did when we were dating. But now I’m fighting for a friendship that I’m not really sure if he wants anymore.
I’ve always believed we could be friends. We were too oil and water to ever be good in a relationship.
But I respected him and he was always there if I needed him. And I hoped he felt he could always come to me too (though admittedly, rarely did).
But maybe friendships have a best-before date. And maybe ours has expired.
That was a photo I took on the last trip out to his and Sarah’s cabin before I left Rankin Inlet in July 2009. I remember it as a great last weekend. Full of friends, fishing, fun and food.
I still try to talk about him as much as I can. If not with people who knew him, than to people who didn’t. It’s the only way I can keep his memory alive. It’s too bad his story had to end the way it did. It doesn’t do justice to his life.
Paul had amazing taste in music. A couple of weeks ago, my iTunes playlist brought memories of sitting at his old apartment, him getting excited about his latest Amazon shipment of CDs (it was impossible to download most of the time, and Paul liked the real deal anyways). And he put on Duffy’s Rockferry.
Rest in Peace, my friend. We love you dearly and will always keep your memory and spirit alive.
I have this picture as the desktop background on my home computer these days, and I wanted to share it with y’all.
There’s something about the way the light is hitting that heart-shaped tree stump that is just magical. And I didn’t touch it in Photoshop, didn’t even crop it.
Kudos to my mom for pointing it out to me.What’s even more amazing is just a foot or so away, was another heart-shaped stump. But the photo didn’t turn out as well.
It was taken just before Christmas in PEI at the Christmas Tree farm where the fam has gone for the past number of years to pick out our tree. We bundle up in our wool coats and winter boots and stomp through the farm hunting for the perfect tree. There’s just something about doing it yourself, you know?
Also? I called my parents because I was bursting with the GOOD NEWS. They have since disowned me for waking them up and giving them heart attacks and for making them think I was dying because it was 2AM in PEI when I decided to make my bursting-at-the-seams phone call.
I GOT OFFERED A PART IN THE PLAY! It’s not the ‘sarcastic sister’ part, but I’m equally happy with this role. It’s kind of huge, and kind of daunting (I’m on stage from beginning to end of the play). I’ve not done any real acting in … well since Grade 12.
So I’m thrilled. Our first readthrough is Sunday, but the play doesn’t hit the stage until May. That’s a long way away, but I’m bouncing off the walls just thinking about it.
In 2006 I somehow found myself living and working in Northern France, as a tour guide at Vimy Ridge and Beaumont Hamel. Most people know the story of Vimy Ridge, but Beaumont Hamel is lesser-known, and where I spent most of my time working.
I did a lot of travelling when I was there. Including a trip up through the northern battlefields in France, up through Belgium, to Ypres and Flanders Fields. I don’t think I realized then how lucky I was to be doing what I was doing, and seeing what I was seeing.
And for those who haven’t or can’t… I want you to “see” too. So here’s some photos from my battlefield trip.
Enjoy!
Flanders Fields — where John McRae wrote the poem.
Tubing down a little river in Oliver is LOTS of fun.
But when you are tubing in a little $7-wuss-tube from the dollar store, sometimes your bottom sticks out a bit more than it should.
And sometimes, you run into rocks.
Butt-first.
I actually couldn’t sleep on my back that night because it was THAT painful.
Also? I’m a wuss.
But seriously. Rock+tailbone = sad Jackie.
Also of note in the above photo:
– I’m a lady, and did not moon the internets
– I had to go put pants on to take this photo. The original was just me in my skivvies and it looked like grandma-butt.
– You can see my race number from the one and only 5k I’ve ever participated in (note: I definitely walked half of it)
Also of note, not about the above photo:
– I have been way to serious on the blog lately. More random, less depressoid moping.
The pup and I are feeling lonely today. He’s shuffling around with less enthusiasm than before, and half-heartedly squeaking his little red dog toy.
I just dropped my sister off at the airport, and it was a sad time. Now, I’m fighting back tears because it’ll be months before I see her again.
I’m really lucky, I know I am. Not everyone has as bizarre and random a relationship with their sister as I do, and I love it. Each time we get together, we discover just a bit more how similar we really are. How we have the exact same sense of humour, thought processes, anxieties (though mine, maybe a bit more extreme than hers, haha — “you worry too much about things you can’t change” may have been Danielle’s mantra this weekend).
We don’t get along all of the time, of course. There was a point this week when we both just had a little too much of one another, and started fighting over a silly little comment one of us had made. But that was short-lived.
What really kills me though, is how far apart we’ve always been — geographic-ly. We’ve not been in the same province for more than a month or two since I graduated high school. I even missed her prom and graduation because I was in France that summer (and never have forgiven myself). It just breaks my heart that two sisters who get along so well, and have so much in common, and who really could use one another in their lives a little bit more ….
Are separated by 4000 kilometers and 3 time zones.
Serendipity Now 
