Do you remember that Madonna song – Ray of Light? You know, from the 90s?
It had the lyrics:
Faster than the speeding light she’s flying
Trying to remember where it all began –
Now, normally I’m not one to go around quoting the Big M, but this – this pretty much sums up my life at the moment.
(Except I’m pretty sure the girl she’s singing about is happy about her ride, whereas I am blinkin’ excited to get the heck get off mine.)
I’m feeling overwhelmed and exhausted and completely creatively zonked.
I am also pretty sure that I am now part human, part almond butter, because that stuff has become my life force extraordinaire over the past few weeks. I’ve been eating it like a eating thing.
(And yet somehow I’m still as white as I ever was. What a raw deal!)
Yeesh.
Add in the fact that M and I are still trying to complete our compulsory Tough Mudder training, and I’m basically a walking zombie that has been shot with insane amounts of adrenaline and caffeine to keep her momentum going.
Thank goodness for all my amazing co-workers – J, L, A and S – seriously, these ladies are pretty much the coolest dudettes a girl could ever ask for.
(If it wasn’t for them I would probably have taken off for the wilds of the BC forests long, long ago.)
And there are lights at the end of this bleak-sauce tunnel! Like I said, after this week I will be down one major project (and only have to deal with the tail end of another.)
In other thank-goodness-this-alone-is-keeping-me-semi-sane news, M and I are putting the finishing touches on our travel plans for the end of June. We will be heading down the Oregon Coast for some sweet, sweet anniversary camping times, and going to see Henry V at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland.
This will be my state of mind once I am on vacation.
We are more than a little excited.
We are the most excited.
(It seems as though I cannot write too much more on the subject because when I get this excited I waste much of my precious energy resources on being excited, and not, you know, on other more pressing – but nowhere nearly as brilliant – ventures.)
So what’s shaking in your neck of the woods friends? And how do you deal with insane work commitments? Your tips and tricks are always appreciated around these parts.
p.s. I’m sorry I’ve been such a crap blogger-gal, not visiting your rad spaces and responding to comments. I’ll be much better in the next couple of weeks once I am human again.
One of my favourite bands ever is Franz Ferdinand. If you don’t know about them, I definitely recommend that you check them out – they are tip top groove troopers and pretty much my number one choice every time I feel the need for a mad, solo dance party.
I saw them live a couple of summers ago and these rocking Scotsmen put on a fab show, despite the pouring rain, slick stage, and a brutal opening band.
Anyway, there is a song of theirs that I love very much – it’s off of their third album and is called “No You Girls”. It’s a great tune, so definitely have a listen if you are interested:
The lines that always get me are near the end, when Alex (Kapranos, the band’s lead man) sings:
Sometimes I say stupid things
That I think
Well, I mean I
Sometimes I think the stupidest things
Because I never wonder
Oh how the girl feels
Oh how the girl feels
I feel as though these lyrics work for so many different situations (whether taken literally or not). I mean, who hasn’t been in the position where they have said something that (inadvertently) comes across as ignorant, because they haven’t taken the time to consider whether or not other parties involved may be offended, or come at the issues from a different point of view?
Not I, that’s for sure.
These kind of things happen all the time – rarely for malicious purposes, and hopefully the offending party can quickly rectify their faux pas.
Unfortunately, I feel as though the self-awareness required to do said rectifying is often lacking when it comes to the majority of these situations.
For instance, yesterday I felt very much like I was in fact the girl in those above lyrics – awash in a sea of inconsiderate, unaware, and uninformed comments, made by so, so many individuals who hadn’t given a moment’s thought to whether or not their words may 1.) be impolite or 2.) indicative of huge social problems existent the world over or 3.) infused in such casual misogyny that trying to explain why their comments are harmful would be pointless because a.) JEEZE ETHEL they weren’t meant that way, so how could I misconstrue them to such a degree? or b.) I should probably just lighten up and learn how to take a joke. You feminists have no sense of humour!!!
For the sake of full disclosure, I should let you know that This Is True. As someone who cares about the status of women, I am required by law to be a full-on laugh suck-hole, governed by nothing more than my intolerance of jokes and laughing.
(My hatred of all men of course, is second only to this.)
Le sigh.
You see, lovely readers, yesterday was International Women’s Day.
Which I’ve actually come to believe is also “International Day for Men to Ask Why There Isn’t an International Men’s Day?”
For the answer to this question, please consult the answer to, “So, like, why don’t we have White Entertainment Television?”
P.S. To all people (whether male or female) who ask these questions, you are part of the reason why International Women’s Day and Black Entertainment Television exist.
Also, I just want to put this out there (for hopefully the last time): the number of times “get back in the kitchen” or “make me a sandwich” have ever been funny is zero.
Zero times.
What’s that you say? It was all in jest?
Yeah, no. Answer’s still zero.
(And anyone who says otherwise should probably stay away from choral arrangements, or singing in front of dogs, because they are tone deaf.)
Right at this moment as I am typing these words I am doing ninja-style yoga breathing in an attempt to both regulate my heartbeat and bring my blood pressure down to a simmer (and not the roiling boil it is currently checking in at.)
I also LOVE to laugh, you stinking rats!!!
Breathe in…breathe out…
As some of you may have guessed, my mood today hasn’t exactly been one hundred percent cheerful.
I keep oscillating back and forth between happiness and rage. As soon as I start to feel cheerful, I slip-slide back to wrath so quickly that it makes my mind spin.
*In all seriousness folks, I am beginning to think that as I get older I am going to become so consumed by sadness over all the world’s ills (that as much as I try, I just cannot change) that I may die of a broken heart.
(And that’s probably the best case scenario! In reality, I’ll probably keel on the treadmill, have working myself up into the frenzy of all frenzies, wearing the shorts that always fall down when I run.)
And that’s serious class (with a K.)
So because I spent so much of today thinking of these things, and because the weather was absolute crap during my lunch hour, I walked over to the mall and proceeded to try on three outfits from H&M, all from the men’s clothing section, all based on what was advertised on the male mannequins.
And I have to say, I really, really liked them.
The crotch on the pants was a little low, but overall they were super comfortable.
I don’t know if this is because of my sour mood, or my pre-existing penchant for men’s fashion, but I had a hard time not buying every single thing I tried on.
I REALLY like these pants.
(I also thought about how the guy working in the dressing room didn’t bat an eyelash when I handed him the clothes I wanted to try on. I couldn’t (and still can’t) help wondering what reactions the exact opposite of that situation would garner – how would he have felt if I was a man, trying on women’s clothes?)
I think I will buy this sweater. But the pants were so tight I think I may have cut off some circulation.
I’m almost even interested in taking up a short sociological experiment: for two weeks I would dress solely in masculine clothing. After the time was up, I would switch, and wear only (what society deems) feminine clothing – along the way I would chronicle the different reactions I encountered to both modes of dress, and how they varied during the course of the trial. This is a topic that I’ve given much thought to for a long time, but am only now thinking of acting on it.
What do you think?
I’ll let the idea marinate a little longer, and let you know as my deliberation process progresses.
In the mean time, I am going to continue to do my yoga breathing.
And I am going to weigh the pros and cons of those burgundy pants.
And I am going to wish all the amazing, brilliant, and inspirational, women I know and love, a very happy, (belated) International Women’s Day.
Rant and Roll 