Ongoing Adventures in Semi-Conciousness

Justin was home for nearly three weeks. There just wasn't the work back in Florida, we were waiting to hear more about Dave, and we just got pretty comfortable! One-income financial hell set in a few days ago, and off he went this morning. We were a bit stressed about customs, he got through just fine.

He kept me busy while he was home. We kept eachother busy. The time apart was really good for us, and he managed to fit into my new routines (we managed to fit into each others) pretty well. He came with me to a couple of parties, we did some socializing with lots of friends and some family, and it was for the most part, wonderful. Some of the things I was worried about happened - I excercised less, ate more and less healthy, the house was less tidy. But it was worth it, and I finally felt safe enough to really let go of the things inside me and start to work through them.

The first night he was home, the Bigs took us out to dinner at our favourite restaurant, Allen's on the Danforth. We met Andrea, our top make-up artist and her husband Dave, and our finance guy here at the studio, also Dave, and his wife. The eight of us were loud and stayed late, ordering scotch after scotch from the list as long as my leg. We had bison steak and scallops and all kinds of amazing stuff and laughed a lot. We got home very late, and stayed up watching movies and drinking more wine. When we were finally in bed falling asleep together, the weight of the weeks prior just hit me all at once, and I burst into tears, finally able to be comforted and finally able to just be in the shit because I knew someone was there to help me stop weeping eventually. We talked about all the things that were going on - and there was a lot - and from then on, I started to feel better.

I didn't write this before because I wasn't allowed to, and now it's moot. Justin lost his job at St. Georges. And then got it back again. It's all very complicated, but to make a long story somewhat short, Justin and the other pros are not employed by St. Georges, they are employed by the Head Pro. Which was Cameron. Cameron had a budget, and with that budget, could hire who he wanted and spend what he wanted and it didn't matter as long as he stayed under the final amount, and the course ran perfectly. No small task, but that is why Head Pros make unconscionable amounts of money. In any case, Cameron failed at this miserably, and ran the course at a major loss, going far over budget under the vague assumption that "if he did a good enough job, the board of directors wouldn't care about the hundred grand he was over target".

Obviously this wasn't the case. He went over without permission my an incredible amount, then tried to hide it, then tried to excuse it. And then he got fired. Which meant Justin and all the other pros were fired, too. A new pro would be hired, and whether or not he would retain any old St. Georges staff would be completely their perogative. Often, new Head Pros bring their own apprentices. St. G's is the number one course in Canada - any asisstant professional would jump at the chance to follow their Pro there. Justin was going to have to finish up in Florida, come home in March, and find a new job. Which was not going to be easy.

Colin was the asisstant professional at St G's, under Cameron. He got fired too, essentially, but on a long-shot (he is underexperienced and young) approached the board and asked for one year to try to turn the course around financially, and to fix the problems with Cameron's management. No one thought it would happen, but it did, and we all think it was a fabulous decision. Colin announced at a Christmas party for last year's professional staff that he was giving everyone their jobs back. Colin and Justin and I and all the important people in our lives that work at St. Gs are very close to Colin - the boys sit in my living room and dish about work non-stop and I know they have the highest regard for his work ethic and ability to run the team. He's pruning young and inexperienced free-loading part timers, and giving the hard-working, experienced, mature staff better salaries and more perks - hoping that 5 happy full timers will be able to do the work of 3 underpaid full timers, cranky from picking up the slack of others, and 5 lazy and also underpaid high schoolers, looking for any way they can to cut corners.

But this had all yet to take place, and that night, I felt like we had completely lost control of our lives. But he's got his job back, and under a better boss. So that has been fixed.

We had dinner last night with Dad, Dave and Laura. The place Dave picked ended up looking a bit shit, so he insisted we go to a different Italian place across St. Clair, which was great. Laura is so lovely, in a Burberry scarf and pearl earrings - but with a loud voice and very clever. She is wonderful and surprising. I gave Dave an extra long hug and didn't mention the tests and trials and everything because he didn't bring it up. I just tried to love him from across the table, which is what I knew I'd have to do. I was scared and Justin was supportive.

Although some tests are being done, MRIs and CTs, and although Laura's surgeon dad has pulled every string he touches, we still won't have any answers or information until as late as February. It will be hard going through the holidays in the dark, but Dad insists I should just go to Florida and be there and if anything goes wrong, I can come home. I will stay with him on Christmas Eve, I think. Play scrabble and watch It's A Wonderful Life and drink wine. I don't know who else will be staying there. I hope it's everyone. I hope I end up in a sleeping bag dogpile on the shag carpet living room floor.

And that's only 12 days away.

Tonight, back to the "me" schedule. Hour at the gym. NPR documentaries while I cook myself dinner. Glass of wine and reruns. A good long stretch and a hot shower. And sleep.

I have had so much to say, so many moments where I have said to myself: I need to write this in my journal, I need to get this down while it is still fresh. I really just haven't had the time. So, as best as I can remember, here is what is up:

I feel good. Really good. I can't remember the last time I felt so in control - at first it worried me, what did it mean? Did it mean I was somehow "better" on my own? I talked to Mrs. Big about it last week, and she put it all into context for me, to some degree. She told me how much more efficient and capable she feels when Mr. Big is out of town shooting, or just away for any reason - especially when the kids are gone, too. She put words to the ineffable stuff I've been going through - the spotless house, the fridge full of healthy foods, everything. She said that she finds it so much easier to do the things she knows she needs to do when she knows no one else is going to undo them. I am so happily and easily keeping the house so clean because I know it's going to stay that way until I mess it up. Justin and I had pretty incongruous work schedules, and I would often leave the house in one state, and come home to it another. It's not that I'm messy or Justin's messy or anything like that, it's just one part enthusiasm, and one part lowered traffic.

She and I had a good lunch, and decided that the feelings of stability and ownership simply have to do with the fact that I always know what to expect. I don't get any bad news when I come in the door. I don't have to coordinate my schedule with anyone else. I don't have to call when I work late. I don't have to get a call telling me he is working late.  And I agree with her explanations; they make sense. I do know, though, that these are temporary benefits. I know that all this ME ME ME, what do I want to eat, what do I want to watch, when do I want to go to bed "stuff", while totally refreshing and having it's advantages is no substitute for companionship, for support, for someone to tell everything to. I have never taken that for granted, and with good reason. I miss him so much, but he seems happy. I'll write more about their set-up tomorrow.

Thursday of last week, I drove out to my brother's new place after work and exercising. He and his girlfriend, Laura, live in the top story of an extraordinarily narrow house. I didn't get to see much of it, because we immediately all headed out for a lovely supper at an indian/neaplese restaurant. Dad paid for everything and we shared a huge variety of delicious dishes. Laura is beautiful, and incredibly intelligent. She is my age, which is strange. I was hoping for a clear explanation of who should defer to her in matters of... everything. I can't explain that any better. I hoped it would be clearer who... who would be answering to who? Who would - not look up to - but maybe? I don't know. It was just weird. He's my big brother, he is not my peer. And yet, she is. It's different. She works at St Clements, a local private prep school. She is a former classmate of Christina Markham from Camp Ouareau. She called St. Clements "the most lesbian of the prep schools", but I remembered Maggie Hidderley telling me that her school, the Linden School was the most lesbian of the prep schools, and Laura agreed whole heartedly.

She has something about her that makes me just know she is rich. She is cultured, refined. Grew up in Toronto. But she is the furthest thing from snobby, she is laid back, funny - doesn't take herself too seriously. She told a story about David that he found particularly embarrassing, we were all relaxed and laughing and his put-out expression, she rectified the situation by earnestly telling him "if he wanted he could tell the story about her having diarhea to make up for it". We had a really fun time.

She dresses better than me, but doesn't wear any make-up, and looks like she could beat up a fashion model in a fight. So could I. That is my new way of saying "normal body weight". She is healthy. The two of the deprecate each other just the right amount. He looks at her with a touching affection in his eyes I have not seen from him. He is uncontainably, unmistakably, happy. I do hope she sticks around. But David, he spoke animatedly and fondly on so many topics, things he was doing, how his friends were, things he and Laura had done.  He is as he was - actually, better - before Mum died.

I was worried about him so deeply, so completely. It broke my heart to hear about him or talk to him or see him, he was so defeated and listless and unmotivated all the time. He is like a different person, and my heart just burst with love for him as we walked back to my car. I walked with Dad to his truck after we had taken David and Laura home, and told him how lovely I thought she was. I told him how nervous I had been to meet her, wondering what she would be like, would she like me, what if I hated her? He laughed, and agreed that she was a wonderful and warm person, and exclaimed exactly what I was thinking - that he was just so happy.

Friday was fine, and after working a little late, and cutting off most of my hair, I parked my car in the distillery and started towards the Mill St. Brewery for Eric's big 2-5. As I approached, I saw two gigantic shadows under a streetlight, and was almost knocked over by Daniel's hug. They give what my friend Mikey D calls a carwash hug - they pick you up and kind of turn, so your legs sort of rock back and forth a bit. It's good to have giant family. Deb was there - I was so glad to see her and Brooke, glad Deb found the time and the energy to come all the way down. Daniel and Eric were so drunk, it was fabulous. I'm suprised Brooke didn't need to put a deposit down. The waitress was a good sport, and didn't even cut them off. It was funny being in a bar-bar with them. People give them a wide bearth, and no one asks any questions at all.

Eric was the perfect host - every time someone left, he walked them to the door, gave big hugs and big thanks for coming. Drunken thanks, but very sincere. As Brooke was getting his coat on to take him home, he remembered nothing of it, and got that Worried Eric look, convinced he had been an awful host, convinced he had not said goodbye to anyone, that everyone had just left without him getting to say thanks. He could barely believe it when I emphatically stated that he had walked every single attendee to the door, if not their car.

This was around 1, but Daniel still had legs - one thing led to another and we ended up in the club district. We got separated from the rest of the people we were with and Dan and I stood on the corner of Adelaide and Peter, waiting for twenty minutes, watching club kids run back and forth, cops on horses, cops on bikes, cops standing around looking irritated. The same Big Man phenomenon occurred, every man swung wide of Daniel, some exclaiming "that is a huge dude.... whoa." I just stood in his shadow, being reminded every few minutes why it has been so damn long since I set foot in that neighborhood.

On the way into the neighborhood, we stopped at a traffic light beside a street meat vendor. Daniel leaned out the passenger window, yelling at two guys buying dogs. They were wearing costumes with tank tops and shorts, Daniel drunkenly hollering things like "I don't wanna see that, put cher clothes on!!" There were lots of people around, and I felt terrible for these two - they took one look at him and knew they couldn't do anything about anything, and had to stand there and just take his silly, drunken abuse. "You look like such a tool, BRING ME A HOT DOG. WITH SAUERKRAUT."

I ended up cashing out my chips after we stood on the street corner for so long, I lost my drive and energy. I said goodbye and walked back to the car (sober, of course). I was propositioned no less than four times. One guy, in a zombie outfit (no makeup left though) stood next to me waiting for our pedestrian light. He swayed and leered, I just laughed, having complete confidence in my ability to control the situation. For whatever reason, though, he took that as his cue to hug me. I locked my elbow, put my hand on his chest, and held him at bay quite easily, laughing harder: "No, no.... I don't want you to touch me." He drawled on briefly, trying to convince me to take him home with me. I told him to just let this be a funny story tomorrow, and he didn't follow me.

The rest of the weekend was very peaceful, Saturday incredibly productive. I got up and cleaned the house, went grocery shopping all by my lonesome and got all the things that only I like to eat, came home and did the laundry, those types of responsible things. I rested all Sunday, cooking great meals and watching movies. I felt completely rested and ready to go back to work on Monday.

Work has been crazy this week, I'm getting home late late some nights, barely enough time to bathe, cook dinner, and hop into bed with my plate!! It is so late sometimes when I get to eating, I eat while I watch something on the laptop to wind down, it is often still after midnight by the time I finish eating. I could have more time in the evenings if I was willing to excercise less; suprise; I'm not. I'm owning that, too.

Lots more to tell, but it will wait until tomorrow.

Justin is gone for four months. I'm an absolute mess.

Justin and I, who do try (to varying degrees of success) to avoid taking ourselves too seriously, have begun to observe and agree upon a number of unspoken Rules of Domesticity. Today, we agreed upon the following:

4. The person that pays for the pizza is exempt from any future pizza reheating duties, until the pizza is gone.

The others are:

1. The person who cooked dinner is not responsible for doing the dishes.
2. The person who has to get up first the following day is the designated driver, if one is neccesscary.
3.  The last person getting into bed at night is responsible for turning off all the lights and locking the door.

I had my consult at the dentist today, finally. The office is at Bloor and St. George, in the medical arts building, which is very old and charming. It's pretty spartan and plain, but I learned pretty quickly that the money they make is going right into dental technology. The dentist looked about 25 or 26, and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. She was very sweet, very gentle, and very funny. She just looked today, took measurements and pictures and x-rays (all digital - amazing!!)

My teeth are fine. She asked why I was so sure I was going to need fillings and crowns and root canals, was I having any pain? She made me feel better before she even saw my teeth. I admitted I was feeling the same, I just was so scared! In the end, everything was fine. Lots of tartar and plaque and the same gum problems as ever, but no cavaties, no gum disease, no root problems. She is even pretty sure my wisdom teeth are never going to appear (or need to come out). My bone density was "okay", but she says it can be fixed. So all I need is some cleaning, and one cavity fixed. 300$ tops.

So that is great.

One sort-of bad thing; Justin cannot take a week off from now until the end of the season. So our vacation plans have gone down the tubes, unless the season starts strangely late. Justin is awesome, though, and says he knows how badly I need the vacation, and should feel more than welcome to go on a vacation on my own, or with a friend - although he's miss me and will be very jealous. He is right, of course, in that I do terribly need the vacation and some sun. We are planning a trip with another couple in October, and he says he is happy to wait until then. He has of course been on vacation for over 5 months, and would probably prefer a trip at the end of his work-period rather than right at the beginning.

And it just occured to me while I write this; the solution to all the problems I was planning to have with this in this very paragraph. Being afraid to be bored, lonely, where is it safe to be alone as a woman, feeling guilty about being indulgent.... but I just realized there is a single solution to all those problems.

I'm going to go to fucking surf school.

Over the last year, Justin and I spent many, many, months as hermits. We left so many of our friends behind when we moved to Toronto. Veronica and J-Ro were already living in Burlington, Hustler was living in the city, but paying his dues on the television production circuit (I.E. having no life)... before too long Justin and I were working non-stop, and our social life kind of fell by the wayside.

We also ran into trouble a couple of years ago too, when Justin first got sick. He was trying so many different types of medication to help him deal with his problems, many of which were making him paranoid, listless, and angry. We would go out with our friends and within hours he would be convinced everyone was making fun of him, feel afraid, and need to go home. He became convinced we were all against him, and that there was an elaborate plan to get me to leave him behind (regardless of the fact that they had been his friends long before they were ever mine). I eventually recognized the paranoia for what it was, and we got him on the right combination of medicine - but the damage had already been done. We had stopped calling our friends, and when they did call us, we turned down all their invitations. When we did see them, the awkwardness of trying to reintegrate was staggering, and Justin still wasn't ready to handle it. Eventually, they just stopped calling. And I don't blame them one bit. We stopped calling them, too.

They all continued spending time together through the last year - having a summer last year like the one we had all had together three years back. Just without us. And we weren't hurt, we connected with people within our new careers, and got to spend more time with new friends like Nick and Chris Connors, who take us to see amazing funk and motown - or Grant and Kristen, who we can always count on for a bottle of wine and amazing cooking.

But about two months ago, I joined facebook - weird, eh? I had a dream in which I reconnected with people from ten, fifteen years ago. People I went through first and second grade with. I didn't join facebook with the intention of meeting up with them, simply out of curiosity. I wanted to know what everyone was up to. I looked up all those people, but in the end, reconnected with our most recently lost social circle.

I had dinner with Veronica, who I hadn't seen in nearly a year. It was a bit strange initially, but we had a great talk about how hard it was to have lost touch. How it was so hard to pick up the phone, and how it only got harder the more days that went by. We confirmed for eachother that it wasn't anyones fault or that we hadn't hurt eachother. And after that, it was like it had always been before. We talked about everything, and it was amazing to remember that I had friends I could comisserate with about things - people in my own peer group who I could bitch with about everything.

After that, we made the decision to actively try to revitalize our social life. We made a concious effort to accept more invitations, and seek out our old friends. We started going to our friends' band gigs, checking in with them mid-week... and it's been great. For the longest time I thought there was bitterness, that we could try to hang out with them again, but that they had spent so much more time without us. Would they even want to try and bring us back in to the group, and would Justin be able to handle big social outings?

He has, really well. We both have way more energy, and make a concious effort to go out with our friends once a week at the least. And as soon as our group of friends realized that we were in - really in - again; that we weren't going to just disappear, it seems they've been waiting for us to come back all along. They've welcomed us with open arms and almost immediately started throwing invitations our way. We are already all looking forward to the summer, planning camping and cottages and all that great stuff that we missed out on last summer (to a degree.)

So last night we took our turn, and threw a party. We haven't really done that here - it was one thing to have the quite, cordial family - but our friends? Oh my GOD. Nikki is not know for her quiet demeanor. None of us are. The night is considered a complete failure if it doesn't involve one of the following: fireworks, a dive-bar, an aggravated vagrant, being thrown out of an establishment... you get the idea. We were worried about the size of our place, too, but once we thought about the rest of our friends' homes, we stopped worrying. We ordered 4 POUNDS of wings, made huge salads, had tons of food. We filled the bathtub with ice and everyone brought more than enough beer and wine. Nikki brought a ton of treats for dessert (which were enjoyed greatly) and everyone had an incredible time. Everyone was well fed and drank as much as they wanted (but we are all intelligent enough now to keep ourselves under control - read: no puking allowed).

I'd forgotten how much fun we have when we all get together. Mikey's loud, cruel sense of humour, Hustler's awkward and earnest manner... it was like we'd gone back in time before any bad things had happened. It was just like it used to be, like no time had passed. Nikki and I howled and laughed, remembering details from our incredible California expedition, and we all reminisced about that amazing, perfect summer 3 years ago where none of us had jobs we gave two shits about, and we barbequed in backyards four times a week.  There was a month after mom died where I didn't have a job. I wasn't ready to get back to work. Mikey was still looking for work, but was sitting on a surplus of cash from his last job - ditto for J-Ro. Hustler was only working part-time. Everyone else had silly, silly retail jobs and we all lived within walking distance of one another in great townhouses with lawns, apartments with pools and jungle gyms, flats next door to pubs.... it was an amazing summer to have right after finishing college, an incredibly long and loud hurrah before settling down into adulthood. They were gentle with me, but they pushed me to continue to laugh and live during one of the hardest times of my life. It was a time when I was convinced I was supposed to be shut down... and the forced me to have as much fun as anyone ever could. There were weepy moments, surely, which they always respected and let me have, but they always insisted that for a certain amount of time every day, I just let it go.

They are not the people we will go to art galleries and industry events or theatres with - we will not sit and watch An Inconvenient Truth or talk about our feelings - but they are the people I will ride roller coasters with and host parties for and rent cottages with.

They are the friends that will always push me to live, to go out, to move forward, to shout, yell, scream, dance. I never laugh as hard as when I'm with them, and I am always 100% myself. No pretense. No jealousy. Just laughter.

Ugh. UGH. It was a long end to the week.

Wednesday, it finally began. It's funny, we'll shoot for a month straight, three to four days a week. Just a constant stream of photography; corporate, studio portraits, promos, everything - yet no one will order a single file. And then they all need them at the same time. It kind of starts like a huge wave. At first you just hear it in the distance, you realize that in order to come through and deliver for the last two clients that called you need to start working right away and not stop until five. And then you see the wave, it gets bigger, more people start calling "by tomorrow morning, by friday, as soon as humanly possible," and you start frantically calling everyone and reminding them: "WE JUST WANTED TO REMIND YOU ALL POST-PRODUCTION REQUIRES A TWO-BUSINESS DAY TURNARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" and then it's washing over you and you are so, completely screwed and it's too late.

I frantically photoshopped file after file, pre-press and retouching at least a hundred images with varying level of complexity while I listened to Mr. and Mrs. Big booking us for all the work they had worried for years would never come. Everyone is completely afraid to say it still, but we're going to be fine. We're making money again. The slump started to die a few months after I got there, and we are actually starting to turn down jobs because we are just too busy.

I worked non-stop from 9 - 6 or so on Wednesday, worked out, and came home. We hung out here for a while, and then headed out for Chris Connor's birthday. Chris and Nick are brothers, and two of our favourite friends. Nick started at St. George's the same time as Justin, and they have been great friends ever since. Chris is his brother, and a welcome addition to every situation. We head out to see the LMT Connection at the Orbit Room with them at least once every six weeks, and that night we went for Chris' birthday. It was an incredible show, as always. Leroy knows us all at this point, and always comes over to shake hands with the gentlemen and give me a kiss. We had reserved tables, and Nick and I had a great time, just blissed out on the banquette, listening to him play an incredible solo on Stormy Monday. Blunts off the back roof-top patio with the rest of the regulars between sets, and a good time had by all. We made a night of it, cabbed there and back and I even booked off Thursday morning.

It's such a good night out to have, and you can spend as much or as little as you like. It's 8 bucks to get in, and if that's all you want to spend, you're fine. Drinks are moderately priced, and it's enough to just sit and listen to them play. But I love it because it's an excuse for everyone to get a little bit dressed up, and to let loose in the middle of the week. The first set is usually so bluesy, but Leroy Emmanuel is probably one of the most talented local guitarists, and it just rips. The crowd is incredibly mixed, but is almost completely made up of music industry folks: producers, session musicians, the odd recording artist (while we try hard and silently in the corner to not freak the fuck out), even staff from schools like Juliard, and from as far as Detroit. Everyone else is either from the television and film industry, or with people who are. Everyone is super friendly and laid back. The second and third sets are always much more funk/motown based, and the dancing is so incredible. Anyone from out of town who comes to visit us mid-week, or like Justin's little brother, who came for his first real exposure to Toronto, gets taken and the jaws always hit the floor. I was devastated when I took Katie - Leroy was out that night. Joel Parisienne on the E3 played instead, but he is not a 65 year old black man on a '65 Gibson 335. He's a 25 year-old white boy on an organ and although he does the funk well, and can beat-box like no ones, it just doesn't have the same soul. He's pretty hot though.

So I slept in until noon, threw on some sweats and rolled myself into the office for 2:30 and it was back to the grindstone. Same story with the files, more photoshop until 9 or so. Friday was more of the same, and a bit of pre-production. Pulling together scheduling, catering, and some other elements for Monday/Tuesday's shoots. I'm still only 2 years into the industry and have adapted pretty well to the change in workload, I can step back for a minute and go "oh, THIS is the way it's supposed to be" and shift into high gear. The extra money helps. But the Bigs, oh man... they are having a tough time adjusting to it after all these years of semi-stagnation. They need to just get a housekeeper or a regular nanny or both but oh MAN. Owning a business is a full-time job on both ends, and no matter what goes wrong, it's all their responsibility. There was a fuck-up with accounting (NOT my problem) so they are both spending the weekend sorting it out. They are always choosing one over the other, (family or business) because they have such a vested interest in both, obviously. They want to spend time together and with their kids, but the business supports their family, and sadly, until we grow into more employees (which might happen soon, you local folks who are looking for some work) the onus to clean all the messes falls on them. And that is a 365 day a year job.

So I was pretty glad by the time Friday evening came around. A gal I went to college with, Keri, had contacted me and we are both pretty steeped in work right now. She's freelance, but is really good at what she does. She does a lot of long-term contracts with various photographers and has done some good travel gigs in the last year or so. She came up to our place after we both finished at around 7:30 (see, she gets the hours, too!) with a bottle of wine and a quiche (knowing our fridge was as empty as hers because honestly who has time to shop) and a plant. An awesome, beautiful plant. Kristen and Grant came up later on as well, with MORE wine, and we went through two big bottles and dished about the photo industry, from very different places. We all reminisced about school, where various people were at, etc. It was a lot of fun, and everyone took of at around 12:30, leaving us to wind down a little bit.

Justin got up at like, balls o'clock this morning to help move a set of drums (?!?) and get together with Bryan, James, and Colin. The dream team and I are heading out to see The Golden Dogs at the Horseshoe Tavern. Why is it that everywhere I go, it is from 3-8 huge guys, and me. It never fails that I am the only girl. They'll land here at the condo in about 45 minutes, make a shit-load of noise, fuck with dirtbike until he snaps, eat all our food, play all the guitars, play my piano, it will go on for three hours before they finally GET THE FUCK OUT.

I kid; they come over and my stomach always aches from laughter. James loves to get under my skin, he knows exactly what fucking bothers me. For instance stand in the corner letting each song play for twenty seconds and then skipping to the next, watching me in the kitchen struggling between wanting to scream PICK A FUCKING SONG YOU DONKEY RAPING SHIT EATER and trying very hard to be a good sport. Regardless, it seems I am forever destined to have "boys" not girls - I will always have one or two female friends, but for the most part, I am doomed to almost an exclusively male social life.

The only thing worth noting at all was that Eric Hawkins called today. We do try to stay in touch, living in the same city and all. We get together every few months, and talk every month or so about the state of the union in our relationships and work on the phone. I am so proud of him. He really loves his job, and is making good money doing it. I like Brooke too, and we always have a good time with them. She is a smart girl, and I hope things work out between them. He told me he did something stupid to help out a friend - he took a second job. He already works from like, 7 - 4, and then he started going somewhere to work from 5:30 to 12:30. He said he lasted three days, and then on the fourth day, he couldn't get out of bed. Poor Eric. He smartened up and quit the second job though, and feels much better. He was on his way up to help a buddy who had returned from a business trip to find his live-in girlfriend gone. (With his home theater equipment, I gather.) So Eric was bringing him what he needed most, beer and a subwoofer. He says Chuck is doing O.K. and that Kath hasn't "been driven totally insane yet."

There is one more thing to tell everybody, and that is about my furious anger regarding the general public being fucking retarded in their opinion towards developing countries, and what I can only write off as a lack of faith in my common sense and general intelligence level. The point is, we've planned our holiday in Jamaica, and I suppose most white middle class Canadians were told that Trench Town grew and covered the entire country in extreme amounts of crime and murder or something. And think that I need to be schooled on the "proper" way to handle yourself there, which is to lock yourself in a five star resort and not speak to anybody who isn't wearing a uniform. Which is, totally false, and even so, it's not like I didn't spend three weeks in the murder capital of the fucking WORLD.

Basically everyone we've told that we're visiting Negril has first, had no idea where or what Negril is. And they think it sounds totally awesome until we tell them it's in Jamaica, and then we are promptly told we're "stupid" or "ignorant" or "going to get shot - you're staying in a nice hotel, right?". So I've essentially stopped telling anyone where we are going, because I am really tired of parrotting to every single person "well we did a lot of research and aren't really in the habit of visiting cities we haven't learned a great deal about and it actually is much safer than Havana and yes, I DO know Dominican is really cheap and yes, you are right is pretty safe isn't that funny considering it's attached to fucking HAITI well I guess places can be in proximity to a dangerous place without being that dangerous but in your books that doesn't apply to us so we might as well just go to Bermuda where everyone is white and rich and have a mild accent because I'm far too stupid to stop myself from climbing into an unlicensed taxi and pulling out my thousands of american dollars."

To make a long story short, Negril is a lovely little town that consists of two things: tourists, and tourist industry. It's a ways away from Montego Bay, and our decision to go there was based out of a lot of discussion with my aunt (who was born there) and Justin's employer (who just moved from there). Our decision to go to Jamaica, period, was based on a few factors. They speak english, which is obviously not a requirement or something we dislike about anywhere else - but I am the type of person who starts to feel stupid and guilty when I don't speak a local language. After three days in Mexico I felt like a filthy capitalist jerk who needed to prove to all the hotel staff that I knew I wasn't any better and got all stressed out and bought a fucking phrase book and talked like an idiot for the rest of the week. Plus, I think the dialect comes out of an interesting and unique mix of European and Asian languages and that shit interests me O.K?!?!?! The food was an issue too. I know all about Cuba. I know all about their lack of spices and I will not be tricked into going to a country that will not offer me CUMIN OR HOT SAUCE WITH EVERY MEAL. We don't have a lot of money, and will be doing this on a budget. And the "budget" islands will not delight me gastronomically speaking. But Jamaica. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. In Negril we can eat for like, 10$ a day. The last factor, was of course, price. And this made it so easy. I'm not the kind of person who needs any amount of luxury, and for less than 35$ a night per person, I think I can handle this just fine. (When I re-read this the sarcasm didn't come through. Seriously, that is the nicest looking cabin I've ever seen!) Because the accommodations (once you take BEACHES, SANDALS, COUPLES, CLUB, or RIU out of the name) are SO cheap, it's possible we might change out booking and stay for two weeks. The flight is the most expensive part, and the fact that we can subsist for about 50$ a person a day makes it extremely tempting to stay there longer. I guess if we can stop ourselves from getting into any unlicensed taxis or making eye contact, right? Morons. Get outside once in a while.

We haven't been in Ikea since we were renovating - which I suppose is a good thing. We love all the things we own from there, and those of you who have been in our home know that's a lot of stuff. I cant see a single piece of furniture in our bedroom that isn't from Ikea.

Justin got his first cheque from the Bigs for his first week of work - and it was as much as he makes at the Golf Course in two weeks, in three days.

We have needed a hall-cupboard since we moved in - we don't actually have anywhere to hang coats or put shoes. So we put together a fairly inexpensive pax unit that will fit in the little corner beside the front door. It hung out the back of the car all the way home, and traffic was terrible, but we got it home okay. We got two levels of shoe racks for it, and a plastic bin that slides out for all of our hats and mitts and wintery stuff. So I am regaining a considerable amount of closet space, which is AMAZING. I think we will be able to fit about ten coats in it or so.

It was a terrible Ikea trip - so busy and no carts anywhere. We waited about 40 minutes for a dolly, only to see about 300 floating around the parking lot when we finally got out of the store. And I just love how people get inside an Ikea and totally forget how to walk. They stop suddenly, vary their speed insanely, block main arteries of people-traffic while they pause to admire something with their cart, stroller, 2 toddlers that should be in the ball-room, and the partially crippled grandmother they decided would fare well in the environment.

It pleased Justin to be able to pay for it himself. It pleased me too!

So we're hoping that it helps us clean up the living room area a little bit - we have some major tidying to do over the next day.

Next week will be total hell on us - Justin continues work at the home of the Bigs, and I will be in studio or at stupid parties pretty much every moment god sends. It's like Christmas isn't even happening at all.

I woke up this morning and lay in bed for an hour or so, procrastinating. I had arranged with the Bigs to take some time off to go see a Prosecuter about all those traffic tickets I got a few weeks ago. Justin came with me, and I don't think I could have done it without him. I cannot express the stress and fear I felt. Traffic was bad, parking was worse, and by the time we got to the court house I was a nervous wreck, nauseous and shaking.

Over misdemeanor traffic tickets. What the hell.

Court services is a bloody haberdashery of the strangest assortment of people - there is no way, no matter how rich or important you are - to get out of doing this. No matter how much money you make, you have to go down there and do this. Hundreds of cabbies in line, with stacks of traffic tickets - chances are the cops won't show up for the court dates on half, it's a business measure.

Business men with DUIs, Yorkville housewives running red lights, everything.

I called Mrs. Big to fill her in on my progress and thank her again for the morning off - "But I'm in Hell!" I said. She laughed, told me to take whatever time I needed.

I took my number and filled out my forms and sat down with Justin. He got me laughing about some of the people in there. A man stamped and copied my forms, found the originals of my traffic tickets (which my very-nice cop had filed on time, a few people were turned away with a "try again in a week" after discovering the cop was late on delivery) and sent me off to another waiting room to wait to meet the Prosecuter. Justin was still allowed to come; we went through metal detectors attended by two bored looking constables.

Ten minutes later my name was called, a very tiny arab women led me into a drab room and we went over the tickets. I had copies of all the new paperwork and necesscary documents, all showing I'd taken care of everything the following day. I blathered and babbled a bit, she sternly told me to calm down and take it one thing at a time. She finally nodded, told me to have everything in order next time, and dismissed me.

"Well what now?" I said, having expected a more succinct answer.

"They're gone. They're done. You're free to go." She said.

I thanked her, and high-tailed it out of there. I'm going to relax, eat a sandwich with Justin, and head off to work. I need to calm down a bit, I'm still all jittery and my nerves are just shot. I will never, ever make this mistake again, I can tell you that much.

Tomorrow Dad is coming into the city, I bought us tickets to see The Foo Fighters and Bob Dylan play an acoustic set. I'm so excited, I hope he is too.

Oh, we had a fantastic weekend. Matt and al did my review early Friday morning (same deal as last time - but this time, with a raise!) and sprang me by lunchtime. Justin and I were out of the city by three o'clock, and had arrived at his Grandparent's cottage by dinner time. His parents were doing beers on the beach when we got there - it was so good to see them. We went inside with them and said Hello to Justin's grandparents - Poppie is doing well, his same good-humored self. Ness seemed to remember my face, but not be able to place me completely. Her Alzheimer's is much worse these days, she routinely discusses going back to work on Monday, that she has been transferred to a new school - even though she has been retired for several years, and lives in a completely different part of the province than the one she worked in.

I had a swim with Justin and sat out in a Muskoka chair with Tonia, catching up.

But she was in good spirits, and maintained that sharp sense of humour I see so much of in Jim. Dinner was burgers on the barby, and we had a big bonfire in the front yard. The cottage has lake front AND back, so whichever way the wind blows dictates where we will hunker down for the night. The stars were beautiful, and we stayed out quite late into the night. Jamie kept us all howling with impressions - he has learned to do a Stephen Hawking voice, as well as a Speak-and-Spell. He does a fantastic Arnie ordering pizza. "You want broccoli? What the hell is broccoli anyways."

Justin and Jamie stayed out on the water until three or four that night, I retreated to bed a bit earlier and slept like the dead. The morning was a bit grey, I read for awhile and we went into town that afternoon to pick up some alcohol and visit some family out there. Poppie and Jim made pork ribs for dinner and they were absolutely fantastic. We had a smaller fire in the back afterwards, and went for a late swim to wash off bug spray and sunscreen.

We all stayed up late late that night - Jim and Tonia taught me to play Euchre. I ended up being pretty good - Tonia and I whupped Justin and Jim in the second round, and lost by only one point in the first time around. I'm in love with the game, how cranky and worked up everyone gets. I can't wait to play at the cottage this summer.

Yesterday was the first day of strong, strong sun we had. I was up and on the water by 11, and got a deep, deep tan. We had a wonderful morning chatting with their cottage neighbors, the Darbys. Mrs. Darby has grown an E-bay compulsion, consisting of the purchases of mainly silk scarves and "pirate games" - board games and card games surrounding the theme of Pirates! I told her this was desperately cool, and she outlined the premise of a game with collectible cards. I was petrified it would be like Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon - but was thrilled when she explained that each card was perforated, and punched out forms that you would slot and fold into 3-D pirate ships! She told me how it all gets lain out on a table, how you can get 3-D obstacles and acessories. It was a total hoot and she said she and their cottage guests have great long drunken pirate games and get very into it.

Sadly we left around 4 - the entire weekend had taken off all the years I'd aged over the last six weeks, all the stress simply melted away. I wish we could have gone earlier, stayed later... it was too good to end so soon. I kept reminding myself we' be in NH in only three weeks - for longer than I've been up there in probably a decade. I am so excited - I can't believe how quickly it's coming. I don't want to wish the summer away, but oh lord I'm looking forward to it.

We stopped near Lovesick Lake/Burly Falls on the way home - A pub inside a beautiful hotel. We had a great early supper on a patio with good beers and had ice cream on the rocks by the rapids. The patio had great chairs that could lean right back, so you could enjoy your pre meal beer and garlic bread practically supine. The ice cream by the rushing water reminded me so much of the Mill Stream. Marby, can we take Kyla and Justin and Deb there for cones this summer?

The resort/hotel was lovely. A big colonial building with tastefully country decor. The grounds had a nice pool and a big rock wall by the hotel with water cascading over it.

Dirtbike was a pile of cranky when we got in scolding us for leaving him over the weekend. "Well, you DID leave me all that food... but REALLY, I was so BORED." We paid extra attention to him, but in the end, were in bed reading by 8 and never got out again.

It's back to the grind today, but there is a long weekend coming up! Hurrah. Because I am my father's daughter, I will spend the next few weeks excitedly making lists, maps, preparations and plans for our trip. It's a rest I need, and the act of looking forward to something so much is a joy. Soon, soon, soon.

It has been a full week of complete hell. But the hell I thrive off of. I have barely had time to breathe or pee. I have been on the phone every hour that god sent. Everything has been getting done "just in time", elevating my stress level through the stratosphere.

We busted our proverbial asses getting a quote pulled together for an emergency campaign for a major television network - proving to them that we could shoot four billboards in a week. We casted strippers and cops and nerds, put every subcontractor we could count on on hold, but in the end, they went with a different photographer anyways. Mr. Big and I were extremely disapointed; it was a very exciting campaign that will almost certainly win awards. We really wanted it.

Regardless, the next week and a half is going to be a grind. The job I got for us while the Bigs were away is going beautifully - shaping up to be a great campaign. The ad agency loves Mr Big's shooting style, and is more interested in a collaborative effort. He wants us to bring our own ideas to his table, which is creatively speaking the most ideal place to be.

I spent Saturday sleeping off the week, and reading "A Million Little Pieces". I was troubled by how much of it was a lie; but it didn't make the book any less effecting.  I was mostly upset by the notion that the more endearing characters, the ones with gold-hearts, probably never existed. I did enjoy reading it, though, and certainly found it educational. I'm currently into "The Glass Castle", which is another memoir, but more of childhood. It's terrifying and hilarious all at the same time.

Justin got home at 9, and found me napping in bed still. He instructed to get up and get my swim suit; pool party. This is the second impromptu pool party we've attended this week. The last was in the city, on Thurday, thrown by one of Justin's co-workers. A lot of the younger staff were there, and for the first  time at a party, I felt old. The house was nice (what I saw of it) but the pool was amazing. It was at the most glorious temperature, and I hapily floated around with my beer.

Last night was even better though. Nick had agreed to drive, and I kidnapped katrijn_noelle on our way out of the city. Another of Justin's co-workers was house sitting his mother's place - the house he had grown up in. It was in Oakville (strange to go back) but in a different neighborhood than mine. The house was gorgeous, immaculately clean and immaculately decorated. He had a cooler full of beer, and I opened my bottle of wine immediately. People trickled in slowly, there were ten of us in total (I think). Drinking good shiraz in a hot tub is one of the greater things in life. The big dipper was bright and we found the Herdsman. The joints were large and came around frequently. After an hour in the hot tub, the pool was absolutely heavenly. We ended the evening late, after an impromptu barbeque of filet mignon.

We completely passed out when we got home. Katie rode our couch to get a good long air conditioned sleep. She and I went to see The Devil Wears Prada this afternoon, and had a quick shopping trip to Yorkdale, where I continue to try and dress for the job I already have but do not fit into quite yet. I desperately need a little bit of style if I'm going to continue being sent to these meetings.

Plans for NH are becoming clearer, Justin has the time between the 18th and 24th booked off. I'm really looking forward to marbyco and mea_tempestas come to town. You two will have to let me know what is going on, when and where you will be staying. In my head, I am imagining a scenario where you two and smileshine and katie and I throw a tent up in my dad's new backyard and have a big fire and drink wine and talk until we have caught up on the last two years of your life.

Well, mea_tempestas was totally right - she does always find a way for things to work out.

I worked all Saturday and Sunday cleaning the space, and picking up a few things we still needed - I had a little bit of extra money, and it was so important to me that everyone be as comfortable as possible. Justin was working all day Saturday, but was around on Sunday. He was quite driven to get everything finished; the place has never looked so good.

We got up early on Sunday so that everything woud get completed by five - but we were woken early by a crash. This happens every so often, Trevor winds through something he shouldn't, chasing a fly or a bug. Usually it's not a huge deal - something gets spilled - but I always try to get up and figure it out right away. It took a while this time, for once, the problem was in the bathroom. We have two huge, beautiful blown glass pieces on the windowsill of the bathroom, over the toilet. He'd knocked it over, and it had landed upside down, in the toilet. Nothing was broken. I rinsed it off, replaced it, and went back to get a little more sleep.

We rushed around a lot the next day, finally putting away a few things, hiding tools and paint cans in the bedroom closet. The last thing I needed to do before everyone arrived, was clean the toilet.

As I swished the brush around, I noticed a black spot. It looked as if the toilet was actually chrome, or black underneath, and the white coating was chipping away. I rubbed it a bit with the brush, it got bigger. I thought of a few things I could use later on to fill the chip, and finished up. I flushed the toilet and began to notice the large amount of water on the floor. It cracked quickly, and three large chunks of porcelain fell out of the underside. The dark spot wasn't black under white - it was a hole. Everyone would arrive in 15 minutes. We only have one bathroom, so this was a problem. Justin caulked the hole, and we asked everyone when they did get there, to give it an hour or so. And it held.

My nervous-ness was replaced by self-counciousness and guilt - I had been under the impression that this was a party for Father's Day, for gathering, just becuase. I hadn't gathered that it was for US. The gifts were unexpected and unneccescary, and I feel still, ungrateful, ungracious, selfish. I interpreted it as a space invasion; miffed because I might have had plans - well I didn't have plans, and "let us come over" was "let us come love you." And it's a love that I still feel very undeserving of.

Dad paid for (and brought out) a brand new 10,000 BTU air conditioner. It's not installed, the night of the party we nearly died from the heat in our beds.  Suzanne and Dolf brought us a 100$ gift certificate to Loblaws, that I will file away and save for an emergency - the kind where we can't afford food. Kathleen brought some amazing organic olive oil hand soap and lotion that matches our kitchen perfectly. I was so elated and touched, the whole time racked by guilt. They brought everything. Ice, pop, food, chips, serving trays, serving utensils, plastic forks, plastic cups and plates - I did nothing. Everyone fit fine, not too close at all.

The more love I get, the more I miss hers. The more people that are around, the more I am reminded that this is a big deal in my life, and I feel so alone and lost. At her funeral I said I'd never been so robbed and yet so blessed. It's a duality that follows me through every major event in my life. I felt like I oozed grief with each breath, and talked incessantly to cover it up.

Dad sold the Douglas house in a day. I remember the first time I saw my mother cry. We only had one bathroom; the house was kind of falling apart. They were trying to make a decision - move to the sub-divisions, row on row of identical houses, four bathrooms, no trees, no yard. But tons of space, a finished basement and a two car garage - for half of what our house was worth. And I was six and on the stairs, listening to her crying because she just loved that house so much - that she had to stay, hoping her selfishness wouldn't cost us all our sanity. It didn't. I had a beautiful, unique, green childhood - living a block away from each of my six best friends. It's too old to be economically restored - not old enough to be protected. Another 25 years, and it might be. I will photograph it soon, to keep it in my memory. I thought I was going to be okay with it, but I'm terribly depressed about it. It's got to be done, but it makes it no easier on me.

I went for my last bathroom stop before bed, and the toilet totally fell apart. I picked up the replacement toilet, a lovely kohler - and Dad said he'd come and help me replace it. I maintain that I COULD have done it myself - I needed some stregnth to ease the pieces in. It's a two person job. I got elbowed out of it though, by Dolf and my Dad. They took over (after Dolf had sufficiently berated me for buying a european toilet) and finished it up while Suzanne and I talked photoshop. She taught me about LAB mode, (something I don't have much use for, because our stuff is all for off-set print press) and I taught her how to use Dust & Scratches properly.

They left at 9:30. Dad will come back to help me with the A/C install.

Have a psyche appointment this afternoon. Since we last saw one another, I moved to the city, bought a condo, Justin changed jobs, Dad sold the house... I'm a different person. I suppose I'll transfer to another psychiatrist in Toronto, but we've only just grown comfortable with one another. She does talk too quietly though. I've got to grab a new lock for our locker and deposit some cheques. And maybe, somewhere in there, gather my thoughts.

Wildlife Control scaled a tall, tall ladder and put Brent back with his four other brothers and sisters. He is a sparrow. Success! Hope he stays in this time.

Another one fell out of the nest earlier this morning, but it died instantly.

The WC lady said it was because of the way the nest was built in the rafters, a little crooked.

Wildlife control called back. Justin is taking the bird back to work, and they will meet him there this afternoon with a three-story ladder. They will put the bird back in his nest.

Took a few snaps before they left, while he was being fed.




This is what he did all the time, screaming for food:

Justin called me from work at around 6. "Honey, start looking up what to do with baby birds on the ground."

"How baby is it?"

"It has big lips. It doesn't have a lot of feathers, really. He's all little and naked."

I assumed this meant, really really fucking young. I did lots of reading, and told him what I learned. That it had gotten tipped out of the nest accidentatly, to put it back where it was found and that it's parents will come and feed him and take care of him. That as soon as it's quiet and there are no people around, they will come back. Justin had put him in a box, with the lid closed. I told him to put the box on the ground under the nest, and it would be okay. I read that nature is cruel, but always perfect.

I went to pick him up at 11 o'clock. He beckoned me out of the car - this is a huge no no, I'm not a member, was breaking every single dress code they had, totally not cool. Lame and silly, but something he's been cautioned not to do.

The nest wasn't in a tree. It was in an overhang. Two stories up. Over the main entrance to the country club. Golf carts. Hundreds of people walking. Bright artificial lights. He pointed out the fox in the bushes, whom he had been having a staring contest with for an hour or so. It began to rain.

The foxes are local residents of the course. The groundskeepers are happy, because there are no squirels to dig up seed. There is a huge family, 2 adults and 6 babies. They are huge and round and fat. The kids fight and roll around in the bunkers. "Always in the fucking SAND," Justin says - "And their tails are so funny... skinny skinny skinny PUFFY. It's like there is a flaming blast coming from their bums. They run and it's like SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO". They run across the driving range, during the busiest times of the day with seagulls in their mouths. Their used to be a member (who died) who used to feed them giant white marshmallows, and now they steal in-play golf-balls.

Anyways. High-traffic area. Starting to rain. The only common thread through any of the reading I did, was this:

To care for a baby bird until you can get it to a bird rehabilitation facility, keep it in a warm, dark, quiet place, such as a shoe box with air holes in the lid.

I basically learned that the things that would kill it were water and cold, excessive light and noise, predators. So we were three for three. It was going to die if we left it. No parent was ever going to come; people were always around. They couldn't hear him because of the noise from the nearby highway, not that his cries seemed loud. We didn't have a ladder tall enough to put it back in the nest. So we took it home with us in his box. It had been on the ground. Justin had taken a giant marker and written on the leaf : DO NOT MOVE HIS PARENTS WILL FEED HIM. - JUSTIN. He had drawn an arrow, with "BRENT THE BIRD".

Every time we moved the box, the bird would rear up and make a giant gaping rhombus with his mouth, and scream for food. It had taken a poop, so we figured it was in relatively good shape. We read that mostly, you can feed them dry cat or dog food soaked in water. So we did, following instructions from the Audobon society, to feed him until he refused food, and repeat every 20 minutes while the sun is in the sky. We fed him before we went to sleep, because he hadn't eaten in several hours, even though it was dark. He ate what seemed like his own body weight. He took another giant shit and went to sleep.

When I went into the bathroom this morning, the box was actually shaking he was moving so much. He didn't eat a lot. Stupid cat is going insane trying to get in the damn bathroom. I'm going nuts trying to keep him out. I finally found the number for wildlife control. I left a message on their voice mail. They are open every day. Protocol says they will call me back, and I'm assuming I will take it there where they will check it for any injury, and hopefully, if I can describe it well enough, take it to the golf course with a big enough ladder and put him back.

I was really reluctant to bring him home. Experience told me he would certainly die in the night. I can't handle dead animals, as soon as I've had some measure of contact with them. Better judgement told me to forget it. But he seems to be doing okay, maybe it will be a success story.

Friday, May 28th, 2006

9:15 p.m. EST

Her (sick in bed): Come home soon.
Him (in a white linen suit): I will.

END SCENE

Saturday, May 29th, 2006

3:30 a.m.

Her (on phone): I'm in a lot of pain - I can't really see.
Him: I'm the concience of the group. I'll be home really soon.

END SCENE

8:15 a.m.

STAGE DIRECTION: APARTMENT FRONT DOOR OPENS

Her: How was your night?

Him: Well, [-------long story-------]. And I tried it - oh my god, your face just dropped to the floor. What? No, don't cry, I'm okay.

Her: That's why you're still awake. That's so fucking sleazy.

Him: I'm sorry. Look at me. I'm sorry.

Her: Do it again and I'll leave. That's a fucking promise.

Him: I know.

END SCENE

Wow, lots of stuff.

Friday Justin disapeared to visit Colin, ended up taking care of him a bit. What a goof. At least he's grateful and makes thank-you cards. I love the kid. He came home quite early Saturday morning and we napped for a while. After we woke up and ate some breakfast, he went to meet up with a childhood best friend. Well, they stayed friends until mid-high-school, until he left school.

John's mother is Métis, 100%. She lives on a reserve, and from what I gather is a lot of negative Métis stereotypes. John has been, to an extent. Not in a way that comes from being Métis, but comes from being young and growing up in Hamilton. Anyways, John and Justin for periods of time, have been the voice of reason in one another's lives, and each have gone through periods of discord or selfishness, or for lack of a better term, failure to thrive.

But, to say the least, they have both really come into their own successes and endeavors. Justin and I just got this place, have jobs with promise and future - feel as though we're moving up in the world. The last time Justin saw John, he was still dating the same "drag-you-down-with-her" girl he'd been with since high school, still into drugs pretty badly, not in school, living at home. Two and a half years later, he has a diploma from a Toronto design school for Fashion Design, has is own small couture label being sold all over Queen West, and is making enough from it to live on his own in a small loft in the south east end, near the Gladstone.

So they had lunch, and marveled over one another's acheivements. They came back here, Justin made dinner, and we all shared an amazing bottle of wine. Afterwards we headed out on the subway to the Drake Hotel and other places - I'd never been to the Drake. Different atmosphere, exclusive, well-dressed. Suit jackets. Dresses. Martinis. The Bouncers are INSIDE, that guy outside in the fur coat is a DOORMAN. Great DJ, friendly flare-ing bar staff, trendy trendy patrons.

And for several times that night, I got to do something I had only done once - with katrijn_noelle , when her friend got us into the Getting Up Marc Ecko after party - when velvet ropes were lifted, and we floated into an exclusive party in front of hundreds and hundreds of people who had been waiting for hours. For whatever reason, John is extremely well connected down there. I don't know if it's because people wear his clothes, or because he's just a cool guy - no waiting, no paying (be it cover or coat check), no attitude, no carding all night long. Bizarre. Felt like such rock-stars. Only happens once a year or so, and NEVER because of who I am - because of who the people I'm with are. But fun and ego-boosting all the same. People just assume you're important, and it's funny, because we're just... not.

Anyways. katrijn_noelle found a decent sounding place in an excellent, trendy, core neighborhood, so I will be checking that out for her tomorrow. Looking forward to having her here, and breezing into the Drake in Little Black Dresses together.

Day two was good. We were shooting for a different company today, a company with a radically different sense of corporate culture. The head honch, CEO, head of it all - was wearing bright green and yellow skateboard shoes with his very cool suit. Houndstooth. Loved him. Wild hair, great looking office that he never uses - prefers to be in the "pit" with all his other staff, feet up on his secondary desk, headphones blaring.

The art director was sweet, a really great concept for this company. Pretty simple to set up, only an hour, and the day was literally one subject after another. People had flown in from four provinces to be photographed together - heads of departments, the ceo. They each were photographed wearing hockey jerseys from their home province... over their suits. This is for their "letter to shareholders" in the annual report - which if you know about business, is a very serious affair. They insisted also on having shots taken with the men representing "bad" teams wearing paper bags on their heads.

And GREAT food. Always a plus.

Got home to some sad news though, Justin's uncle Tom has passed on. He was a lifetime alcoholic and a lifetime smoker - it finally all took a toll, his kidney and liver failed in the hospital, where he was 150 pounds overweight - gained in the last year. Incredible. Justin is pretty upset, his parents are too. He was best man at their wedding. It will be nice to see them while they are here for the funeral, but unfortunately under such sad circumstances.

This week was... hell week? Does that sum it up?

Overslept a couple of times, drank way to much mid-week, four nine hour days in a row, the condo sale is STILL not firm, NOT sleeping, out of food, out of meds, out of money - justin got a 500$ cell phone service charge bill, and a cop at the door regarding something potentially serious, i backed into someones car, and justin lost his promotion and therefore his job for when we move to Toronto.

The horsehoes that were formerly in our asses are long gone, kids. Last night when I got the cop-at-the-door-today news, I ACTUALLY DID that thing from movies where people breathe, get up, get the glass, get the vodka, pour three shots, and giver straight up.

WAY too much stress in my life right now.