I Just Want to Sleep

But wouldn't it be so much sweeter with someone warm and soft beside me, limbs all tangled up with mine, and their sweet hot breath in my ear?

I don't know how I'm still holding up my head right now because I'm woefully sleep-deprived, but I am absolutely thrilled to see that the renovations are almost at an end, and soon I will be all unpacked and set up in this place.

That means that I can entertain guests in the fortress. I can have visitors, and dinner parties, and sleep-overs if I want. I can spend quiet evenings on my terrace with citronella candles and a bottle of wine, listening to old Joni Mitchell tunes and thinking about all of the places I want to travel to and the kind of person who would be the perfect traveling companion.

I can finally clean the layers of dust off all of the things I own, and surround myself with all of this beauty that has been stashed away in boxes for the last several months.
I can have a home.

Who knew that these renos would be so very epic? May the gods of construction see us through to the end of this long journey, because then I'm going to celebrate.

If Today Is Your Birthday

(A post that should have been posted 1 hour and 38 minutes ago)
Set yourself targets that are a little bit higher and a little bit harder to reach than you are used to. Effort and enjoyment are closely connected. Don't sit around waiting for someone to give to you what you are capable of getting for yourself.

This could also read:
A dear, new friend will save you from the after-effects of an awkward and rather depressing encounter with her gorgeous brother in tow, and the three of you will enjoy a saucy new patio in a burgeoning section of the GTA

or: An adorable stranger with mischevious eyes and tawny good looks will drive Nascar fast to have coffee with you, and then later get drunk and fall asleep when you try to booty call him for a bit of birthday icing on the cake you didn't get.

or:
The pre-dawn hours of your birthday will be spent with someone you've known of for eleven years, but are just only beginning to know, who you just want to put your hands on, and who made out with you in their car for a senior-high-school-year amount of time. Those were the best kisses you've had in about five years, and now you won't rest until you've had more.

or:
You'll be offered a new job, and you'll decide to take it because life is filled with forks, and spoons are for suckers.

or:
You will realize with certain clarity that there are really only two people that you can see yourself dating right now, and you just aren't sure what the process is because you're a cereal monogamist, which is to say that you like your sexual relationships with milk and sometimes museli.

or:
This is your first birthday in seven years where you have slept alone. It's certainly wierd, but also ok, and to celebrate you will be a rebel and fall asleep with your makeup still on.

or:
This year, this year ahead of you, this 32nd year ahead of you, will be the most grounded, self-assured, hopeful, and deeply loving year you've ever had. You have learned so much about life and love over this last big stretch, and your tenacity and bravery will pay off in rewarding career moves, lucrative opportunities to create art and celebrate all of the beautiful, talented people that you know, and you will finally meet a partner fierce enough to understand you and love you as deeply as you can love, who dreams of eating life with no utensils and raising fat, happy babies who either look like you, or feel like they could have been made by you. And the lump in your throat right now means you know that this horoscope was bang on. Happy Birthday.

And Then Came the Dawn

Holy crap. Sorry for that last one.
I woke up to my dog's cold wet nose in my ear and a fly tickling my left shoulder. I blinked twice, had an urgent craving for a glass of water, followed by the spins, and suddenly remembered my last entry. In true drunk 'n dial fashion, I hoped it was a dream, but nope. It's there for the world to see.
Last night wasn't as bad as it sounded, actually. It's just that tequila seems to lead to unnecessary tears and puddles of self-pity right now. In fact, I had a lovely dinner date with an old friend from college who may turn out to be a good prospect, and shared a cab ride home from the house party that led to my drunkenness with a very sweet fella who also shares my neighbourhood and my astrological sign.

A Leo boy and girl will bring out the best and brightest in each other. You are both energetic, glamorous and have an optimistic, fun outlook on life. You also share a sense of drama and you’ll have a lively time making life an adventure for two. With your affectionate and generous natures, you are sure to be good to each other and provide each other with all the emotional attention and little gifts that will make you both very happy. You will also have amazing physical chemistry and the kissing will be out of this world. A perfect soulmate match

I don't know about all of that, but the cab ride was nice. In fact, we talked about babies, and he told me his last relationship ended because he wanted them and she didn't. We stupidly forgot to exchange contact info, and I can't really remember his name. Actually, maybe HE didn't forget to exchange info. Yikes.

It's perfectly rainy today, which is to say that I'm in the mood for a nice, cozy, rainy day. I'm also in the mood for some french toast, and I'm going to get both. Brunch with my girlfriends, and then perhaps some time spent at the regular Sunday bluegrass gig that the cute musician plays at every week. Although I could also very happily come back to the Fortress (where I am making good headway!) and continue plugging away at that.

So, in summary, despite my rather pathetic last post, all is more than well. Hope springs eternal, and the sun has at least metaphorically come out tomorrow.

I sorry...did I wake you up?

This is the cyber equivalent of a drunk n dial.
I am so ready for sleeping, but think it's important to point out that I'm afraid that there's not a man alive who truly understands me, and that my best bets for motherhood right now involve artificial insemination and a lesbian partner named "jo".

Those of you who pretended to be on the same page because it felt good at the time should loose my number.

Not even my best friends know what to do for me right now.

Bon Nuit Toronto.....

No More Mr. Nice Guy

I'm looking for new work, but I feel incredibly guilty about it because it would be a really bad time to leave the company I currently work for. That said, they can't give me more than 24 hours a week, so I've had to subsidize my income by working in a situation that is taxing at best, and they pay me peanuts while I'm responsible for a huge amount of work. I passed up a great job opportunity before due to a misplaced sense of loyalty to these people, only to have them tell me that they couldn't guarantee that my contract would be re-newed at the end of August. They want to wait and see what the new GM (who hasn't even been hired yet) has to say.

If there's one thing I've learned over the last four months, it's that sometimes YOUR needs are more important for the greater good. I suspect this is one of those situations. In fact, this is all quite familiar.

"I can't leave. It's not a functional environment, but it's sometimes creatively rewarding. I have to be loyal because I respect the level of artistry at work. They need me. I don't want to leave them high and dry."

Mamma's taking care of herself now, which means a rigid and very frugal monthly budget, and double the rent she's been paying for the last two and a half years. Nobody at my current place of employment seems overly concerned about that.

I keep seeing red cardinals. They keep landing on the ground in front of me, or lighting on branches beside me. I am used to hearing them all of the time, but not seeing them so very close. When I consult the oracle that is the Internet about the relevance of the cardinal as an omen, here is what I get:

Cardinal-This colorful bird had power to foretell good fortune or something needed was on its way. These birds brighten up our surroundings and colors our lives. We should remember this when going through life. They are friendly birds that help us by eating up weed seeds and harmful insects (including the locust). Those with the cardinal as their guide should be careful with their diet so that they don't harm themselves or dull their vitality. The male cardinal shares with responsibility of incubating the eggs. They also will often feed the female during the raising of the young. This serves to remind us to keep to our responsibilities and the importance of our personal tasks. The cardinal has a loud whistle which helps us to remember to listen carefully. This should include listening inwardly for strength in creativity and intuition.

And then, interestingly enough, I'm reading a site dedicated to explaining the cardinal as a state symbol, and at the bottom of the page is a huge banner ad that reads "THEY'LL GET ALONG WITHOUT YOU" and it's for a company called Career Builder. Crazy. All the answers really ARE on the Internet.

Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll be one of those people who gets fired for complaining about work on their blog space, and then I can take 'em to court and retire young. I'd make a great retiree. I'd start wearing large hats and drink martinis all day long until I couldn't feel my face, and my handsome house boy has to pry the glass from my shriveled hands and put me to bed in a silky negligee.

C'mere hannnsssome. Lemme give ya a 'lil kishhh g'naghht....."

Cardinal: Recognizing your Self Importance

Cardinal reminds us that no matter what time of the day or year it is, there is always the opportunity to recognize the important of our life purpose. If a Cardinal appears, it is time to pay attention to your health and well-being. It is also a time to listen to the feminine side, the aspects of creativity and intuition. Cardinal people are in tune to the number 12. Twelve months or a year’s time is very important to a Cardinal totem person. They remind us to add “color” to our life and to remember that everything you do is important.

This is very cool because I think I have a good shot at a 12 month contract somewhere pretty awesome. Who needs a magic 8 ball?

It's a Long Way to Tipperary

I know I should be unpacking and cleaning. I know that I would even be more comfortable inside with the a/c instead of melting out here on the patio where it is still ridiculously hot at 6:30 pm. There are so many other things I could be doing rather than finally deciding to put this out there in the world, yet here I am.

I miss you.

When you launch yourself into single-hood with nobody else waiting in the wings it allows for some serious time for reflection. I know we made the right choice. It just wasn't getting any better, was it? Well, it was, but too slowly. We both felt like we were waiting for you to catch up and neither of us liked it. And we sure didn't understand each other at all. Not even a little bit. I think we would have been frustrated forever. I know we would have.

But lately, when I come home from work at night, I miss having you there. I miss hearing you click away on your keyboard while I started to cook us dinner. I miss eating in front of the television and enduring bad Star Trek re-runs. I miss movie nights with organic burgers, and I miss Battlestar Gallactica with Tofutti. I miss taking the dog to the beach with you, watching you laugh with delight as you taught him how to swim, and then going to grab lunch on the board walk. I miss the Sunday morning dog park visits followed by brunch. I even miss the motorcycle rides that ended in ribs and fries. I miss the rare few times when I really felt like you were happy.

I don't miss the ten pounds I've lost since we broke up.

Eventually, there will come a time when someone else will come along and I will create new rituals and habits with them. I just can't imagine it though. I'm sure that has something to do with the fact that my home is a shambles. Could it be that I'm avoiding all of my housework because I'm just not ready to move on yet? I'm not ready to have a functional home?

That little revelation was just the boost I needed to at least put the kitchen dishes away and vacum.

Rule #4 for the Fortress of Solitude: Keep your physical environment the way you would like your mental environment to look. (I assure you, I don't want mine dusty, cluttered, and covered in sheets.)

Make it a Double

At least one of the Coreys is still recognizable.

This will be brief because I'm exhausted, and have had several sangrias today.
My dear darling mom and dad were kind enough to rent a van and deliver their guest bed for me today, so I would no longer be sleeping on the couch.
They also delivered a stack of self-help books, but I'm not going to get into that.
The point I wish to drive home (ha!) is that the bed, which I thought was a queen, is in fact a double. Now bedding manufacturers would have you believe that there's not much difference between the two, but I'm lying in it right now, and I can tell you that this bed feels considerably different (smaller) than a queen. Which may not be so bad.
This bed gives me enough sprawling room, and could conceivably fit two if need be. The other person would have to be in very close proximity, so either they would be VERY comfortable, or uncomfortable enough that they wouldn't want to stay long.
As far as I'm concerned, either way I win.
Goodnight Toronto.

Superfudge!

Does anyone else love Judy Bloom the way I did growing up?
When we were little-ish, my mom used to read to the Gaffer and I before bed, and our favourite soon came to be Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, and Superfudge! (you have to type the exclamation). We loved it because it was so funny, and so much fun to get so wound up and silly before sleep. The Gaffer used to do this thing (up until quite recently, actually) where he would use the tips of his fingers to brush rapidly at his cheeks whilst grinning ear-to-ear when he was excited. Though we probably should have recognized it as a pre-homocidal nervous tick, we all thought it was cute, so we pretended not to notice. Now he's channeled it into a rapid palm-on-palm rub, which is probably more suited to a man of his impressive stature.

The Gaffer makes me remember who I am, and where I come from. He's a grounding force, and one of the few people in the world who really "get" me. We have the exact same sense of humour, and completely delight in making each other laugh. When he laughs at my jokes, I KNOW they are funny. We have the same taste in books and movies, and we both share a deep-seated love of Led Zepplin. Judy Bloom is something I'll always associate with him, and likewise Richard Scary, Guns and Roses, Hulkamania, The Dukes of Hazzard, The A Team, blanket forts, snow forts, my early experiments with wigs, makeup, and my mom's discarded 60's baby doll lingerie from our tickle trunk (I think the Gaffer was the first Coquette!), and any and all good-old-fashioned butcher knife chases. Can you guess who was the knife wielding maniac?

*Let me pause for a moment to remark that there is a Silence-of-the-Lambs sized moth fluttering frantically around my apartment, and I can't get rid of it because if I leave the patio door open, the raccoons who live in my wall will come in for a visit. I'm not killing the little bastard because it will make a horrific mess. One of the limitations of single hood is that there is nobody else around to deal with the really gross bugs. If it lands on me while I'm sleeping, this will be my last entry. It puts the lotion in the basket...*

Anyway, my point in all of this is to say "Chin Up Gaffer." Life is all about the leap, and the often painful crash to the earth when you get too close to the sun. Remember, without this particular brand of heart ache, Axl would have never welcomed anyone to the jungle, Robert Plant wouldn't know how to wail, there'd be no reason to say your prayers and eat your vitamins, B.A. wouldn't have anyone to pity, and the thrill of narrowly escaping with your life as the the bathroom door slammed shut in my face wouldn't taste so sweet.

Judy Bloom introduced me to menstruation, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, and scoliosis, all of which have become a big part of my adult life. Imagine how different I would be if we had been hooked on Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys.

Mama Say Mammasa Mama Cusa

Scientists say watermelon has ingredients that deliver Viagra-like effects to the body’s blood vessels and may even increase libido.

Despite an extensive search, nothing on the Internet could tell me what the hell "Mama Say Mammasa Mama Cusa"means. My brother threw it out there as a phrase to summarize the collective happenings in our personal lives right now, and whatever it means, it felt exactly right. Especially with the world-weary intonation he used to dole that out. Now you're going to be chanting it in the back of your head for the rest of the day.

The truth is, I don't know if I wanna be startin' somethin'. I feel like it makes more sense to concentrate on working off my travels, and setting up my home, but the universe keeps throwing me curve balls. The attractive, interesting kind, and in true Schnooie fashion, I feel remiss to resist. I could take the proffered phone number or email address, and politely explain that I'm taking a hiatus from dating, but where the hell is the fun in that? And how would that work anyway? When I decide that I'm fierce enough again to handle the perils of male/female relations, I dust off the business cards or slips of paper and make a "Hey, do you remember me" phone call?

How does one know when the time is right to get out in the dating world again? A friend of mine stoically opined "You'll just know. It will just happen."
Despite her Yoda-like wisdom, I was still left confused.
She also said "There are more important things to focus on than relationships."

Really? There are? I'm the most ridiculous romantic that I know. I'm hard-pressed to think up what those other things might be. I mean, I have a clear focus on maintaining my friendships, and I've managed to gain back my work focus. Maybe she means the creation of art. That one could use a little work, for sure.

Perhaps rather than going out on dates, I will lock myself up in this garret and write and dream and create some sort of masterpiece. I'm not without inspiration, that's for sure. I could pour myself into an idea I've had for some time, and see what it turns into. Or I could write the next great piece of Chick Lit. Hmm....maybe I should use my dating misadventures to write the next great piece (I think this is an oxymoron) of Chick Lit.

Listen, I think I just heard my business card being torn up.

You're A Vegetable, You're A Vegetable
Still They Hate You, You're A Vegetable
You're Just A Buffet, You're A Vegetable
They Eat Off Of You, You're A Vegetable

First Night

I declared last night my first official night as a single woman in the Fortress of Solitude.
During the afternoon yesterday I spent one entire hour cleaning my fridge, and ended up ruining the dress I was wearing in the process. That of course serves me right for wearing a dress to do house-work. I unpacked almost all of my summer clothes, and put them away in my front closet where they will hopefully be safe from drywall dust. Then I got overwhelmed by all of the cleaning and unpacking still remaining, and I decided to escape for a little bit.
I went for a stroll down Roncesvalles and popped into two local second-hand book stores in search of a good read. I was overwhelmed by choice and ended up going with a history of life among the Bohemians at the turn of the century in London. I shall use it as a guidebook for both how to live, and how not to live. (I'm going with the art and sensualism and avoiding the poverty and starvation, and hopefully consumption.) I hit the Freshwood patio and had huevos, then walked to the park to meet my lovely friend Sav (who dubbed me "Schnoo" by the way). We enjoyed some locally grown strawberries and commiserated about boys and jobs and books, and then I went back to the park to do a bit of writing before returning home.
I had a little lay-down on the grass at my aunt's house across the street, and we searched for her missing cat, who turned up locked in the neigbours shed, pooping up a storm. My cousin and I went on a rescue operation. I distracted the drunk who lives in the basement, and my cousin hopped the fence, scooped up both kitty and ca-ca, and scrambled back to her own yard just as the neighbours were pulling into their yard.
We deposited the errant cat, jumped in the car, hooked up the ipod and headed to Burlington.
My uncle shares his birthday with Canada, and has started a tradition of hosting a patio party at his penthouse, where we all sit and watch various fireworks displays. My mom sounded very eager to see me, so I thought I would put in an appearance. It was pretty low-key, but nice, and worth the excursion just to see my uncle in a suede fringe coat and leather cowboy hat with khaki shorts and socks-and-sandals. Rock and roll. I'm still not sure why, but my mom spent the better part of the evening staring at me across the table. She always knows when something isn't right with me, but fortunately she didn't ask any questions.
Once home, I made up my bed on the couch. The real bed doesn't arrive until next week. It wasn't too bad. Quite cozy, actually. I tucked into my new book, which had me unconscious in minutes. Perhaps not a good sign. I slept really well until my phone rang at quarter to seven.
Then every dream I had vanished from my brain, and I woke up having no idea where I was.
I'm looking forward to night two. Tonight I will tackle the stove and kitchen cupboards, and if there's time, perhaps I will even dust and mop. Oohhh the passion and excitement. Thankfully, another awesome friend is springing me for chicken wings and the opening night of the Fringe play that she worked on as costume designer.
I keep telling myself I'm laying the groundwork for what will be a really sensational single lifestyle. Right now, it just feels dusty and like the plumbing isn't quite working.
Ya know?
Rule #3 for the Fortress of Solitude: Always leave the Fortress ready for guests to stop in.

Still Sorting Out those Marys

Jules Joseph Lefebvre's "Mary Magdalene in the Cave" (1876)

I was raised Catholic, and within that faith, really only had two female role models - Mary the Virgin Mother of Christ, or Mary the Magdalene, who at the time, we were taught was a whore who repented her evil ways, to be accepted by Jesus and his posse.
Though I loved the idea of the nurturing mother figure with the first, I always thought the latter was kind of a bad ass, and her story really resonated with me. I especially like the mental picture of her washing Christ's feet with her inky ribbons of hair. Yum.
I love sex. I have since my very first and inappropriately older boyfriend showed me the ropes. I love it, and crave it, but I won't just have it for the sake of having it. I'm selective about my partners, and they are usually the types of people I feel really relaxed around. The types I can just cut loose with and be myself with, and not worry about the fact that I'm not in perfect shape, and am sometimes really goofy and clumsy. When I find someone like that, and we're physically compatible (which I equate to great kissing, and a love of their personal scent, and that desire to be in close proximity) it's on. It's a safe assumption that if we're together, that's what I'm thinking about, and that's where I'd like things to lead. I'm not subtle about that either.
Now, I feel like I'm constantly reading about how women don't initiate sex enough, and men always feel like they have to fight, or beg, and it's discouraging and frustrating and so I figure my enthusiastic approach is probably a welcome change of pace, but in discussing sex and sexuality with a friend, I discovered this can be off-putting.
Really. Really?
Do I have a seriously over-inflated ego? Perhaps a warped idea of the dynamic between men and women? Do I maybe have a problem that I'm in denial about?
Is it unrealistic for me to want to be devoured, and really have to fight off the enthusiasm of a lover? (And yes, I DO know this won't happen every day.)
I was told that "sometimes a guy likes to work for it".
As we know, my brain has been switched off, but now it appears to be in overdrive because I've been ruminating over that one all day long.
I can only guess it means that a man likes to feel like he's inspired the desire for sex in a woman because of something he's said or done, and that it took some effort to make that happen. I suppose it means that knowing a woman is ready to get into it more or less from the time she sees you isn't as exciting.
It still takes work though. Just because I'd like to get naked and twisted up together doesn't mean I don't want to go through the motions of getting to "that place".
Should we pretend shyness? Innocence? Indifference? Do you want to convince us that we should let you have at us? Do you want to coax us into relinquishing power? Do you want me to bat my eyelashes and smile up at you coyly?
Sometimes I really feel I need to own my sexuality and be proud to embrace it since so many women haven't been able to throughout history.
Perhaps it's a better idea to enjoy the physical, and be grateful for it. Perhaps it's better to be glad that I'm grinning at you like the Cheshire cat because I've wanted to be alone with you all day long. If you want to work, you can work at getting to know me, getting into my heart and soul, because at this point, that's going to be a hell of a lot harder I think.

Rule number 4 for the Fortress: Every corner will be awash in sensuality.