A Cringe-worthy Oscar

I watch it every year and every year I always marvel at how showbiz is the most self-congratulatory profession. And last night - what a bunch of wankers! Especially this douche-bag deluxe. Uncool to Kanye someone, but uber-uncool to cite it as a feminist issue! No. Not. I don't know the politics of what went on, but you just don't do that. Nobody listens to your message they just think, "Wow. What a twat."

In case you missed it, this woman stormed the stage while the guy was accepting his award, put her head on his chest while he was speaking and said, “Isn’t that just like the man, never let’s the woman talk.”

She talked. Tis better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

My take on the 82 Annual Academy Awards

Moodiest Starlet Who Needs to Get Over Herself: Kristin Stewart.

Weird Dress That Does Not Fit: Miley Cyrus. (p.s. lingerie is goes under the dress)

Uber Weird Dress That Looks Like a Science-Fair Project: Zoe Saldana

Lamest Hosts Ever: Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin. On their own, they're great. Together - so awkward. It was a cringeworthy event.

But really, the stand-out of the evening was...

Most Arrogant Ungrateful Snot : Sandy Powell for The Young Victoria.

Why didn't someone Kanye her? She deserved it.

In all the Oscars were vastly disappointing this year. We didn't even do our usual dress up. Good thing we DID do our usual tacos around the coffee table.

Bah.

Would My Conscience Please Shut Up?

Living in a big city means daily encounters with street people. There are plenty of people who literally live on the sidewalk here - because, unlike the rest of this country, our climate allows them to not die of exposure in January.

A friend once told me that the poor are Buddha's watchers. No seriously. That they are sent to keep us aware of the needs of others. I'll sort of buy that. Because I get a real conscience twinge every time I walk past someone and pretend not to see him or hear him.

The conscience is saying, "You so totally do have spare change. You could actually give this guy $100 and your life would not change in the slightest."

But my Other Brain says, "Yeah, well shoes ain't cheap!" And "She works hard the money! So hard for it honey..."

and as I hum Tina Turner, I walk merrily on my way. I also make up stories about how said homeless person wound up homeless and decide this person probably did something really really terrible and his family didn't want him anymore because of it. Would you give money to someone who drowned a puppy? Me neither.

On the other hand....and there's always another hand ready to smack you for thinking like this...there's the whole "Buddha's watchers" thing. So I give food. If I've got it. Or immediate access to it.

Today, I'd just been to the market and had a bag of apples. The dude didn't ask for anything. He was just sitting there looking sad. I asked him, "Are you hungry?". Silence. I dug into my bag and produced a shiny red apple. I presented it to him like it was the Holy Grail. He took it and put it in his pocket without a nod or a thank you. And as I walked away, I thought, "Ungrateful Jackass,".

Conscience pipes again - as she ALWAYS does - and says, "Now what does this say about you? You expect some kind of written Thank You card because you spared an apple? Do you only give with strings attached? Can you not give selflessly?

Other Brain goes, "Of COURSE I can, Dipshit! I just ask for a little decency!"

Conscience: "You're asking for gratitude. That's not a gift. It's a negotiation."

Other Brain: "You're an Asshole, Conscience."

Conscience: "You know I'm right."

Other Brain: "Fuck off."

And this is me on an average day of running errands. Pretty soon someone will just give me an apple and tell me to shut it.

And that would be why I couldn't say "thank you".

I believe...

...that I will find the perfect day planner. I just don't think anyone has produced it yet. I think I have to make my own.

I've been reading Getting Things Done by David Allen. It would be great if he'd just sit down with me and help me figure it all out. Or rather help Husband figure it all out. Husband would dig Allen's approach because he claims that the more of a procrastinator you are, the more intelligent and creative you are.

Or a lazy S.O.B. It could go either way.

I LOVE, love, love, like in a crazy-obsessed-going-through its' garbage-kind-of-way, day planners. I have five of them. Like, for this year.

The irony of all this is that I am exceptionally disorganized because I don't know where I wrote the thing down or where I put it - which day planning system is housing my current To Do list?

The reason for multiple day-planners, other than voluntary insanity, is to find the ultimate solution. The Perfect Day Planner. The Uber Plan; one that encompasses everything from my urgent need to pick up Cheerios to my career goals. In some ways you could say that they are one and the same, because ignoring the Cheerios, is ignoring my children's hunger, and that wouldn't be in keeping with my goal of keeping them alive and it would be hard to focus on my work if my children were starving.

Could be on to something here: if I reduced my ambitions to Making Sure Children Are Alive, I'd free up a significant amount of time. But let's be lofty and enterprising, shall we?

When I worked for another company, one of the things we were working on was developing the ultimate organizer - the kind that does what I described above, and cappucino maker all in one.

We were unsuccessful. But! I prevail! I was all into bubbles for a while, but...there was something missing. The concept is great, and if absolutely works for project planning. But it's still just one part of the whole.

I turned to David Allen. What got me reading straight away was the title "Intelligent Dumbing Down". Oooh! I do that for a living! He claims that if you figure out your next action (a project is merely a series of actions) then ..."you alleviate the pressure on your brain. Nothing essentially changes in the world, but shifting your focus to something that your mind perceives as a doable, completable task will create a real increase in positive energy, direction and motivation."

So when I think: project: clear out the work room in the basement, I sigh deeply and turn on the TV. Mission so completely not accomplished. The problem, apparently, is that I need smaller actions. Like, decide on what shouldn't be in the workroom. I can do that. That's the first step.

And the other thing to consider is that, for every goal, there is an underlying feeling you want to have. Consider why you clean your floor. The process of cleaning a floor is only enjoyable if you have attained some radical kind of enlightenment or you are so vigorous you actually get a workout. For me, I have to think that I want to feel comfortable and proud and relaxed in my home. If I hold that thought, then I just might clean the floor. Or pay good money to have someone else do it. (Preferred method.) So somehow, I need to create a planner that takes those 'wanted emotions' into account. And it has to be something that, if I left it in the staff room, I wouldn't get endlessly razzed about it. My previous list had "Relationship: to feel loved and connected. To Do: arrange Date Night with Husband" and I just KNOW that if anyone found that, I would be asked, daily, if I feel LOVED or CONNECTED and then smirked at. So it can't be something embarassing.

In other words: "Day Planner: to feel organized and motivated: To Do: find better system that does not make me look like a total wanker."

How does this relate to my Life Goals/Grocery List Planner? I'm working on it.

But at least I know the next action. My next action is to buy this. It's all sold out. God, I need this.

It would have been more romantic if it weren't a glowing review for eyeliner.

Even though it may make me seem just the teensiest bit braggy. Ignore that and just know that there is some seriously great eyeliner out there.

I was sitting at a train station in Toronto waiting for my friend to meet me on the platform. I looked up from my book (which was the amazing Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, which has nothing to do with anything except that you should read it because it's very good.) I saw a man on the train looking at me. He didn't wave. I didn't wave. I just went back to my book and the train took off.

Five minutes, and a few pages later, the same man comes running down the stairs at the platform. He approaches me all breathless and says, "I just had to come back to this stop and meet you! You are so pretty."

Whatever he was on or whatever his game was, I don't care. The fact remains that he did this and it made me feel awesomely awesome and I'm still taking it to the bank, one week later. He was Brazilian and therefore had a sexy accent. He asked me, "Where are these eyes from?" Mesmerized, I answered, "Vancouver... Well, the rest of me is also from there, but that's where I meant that my eyes were from because you asked about just them and I was thinking that you meant the whole package because I'm attached to them and they don't come out although when I take my contacts out I say that I'm taking my eyeballs out even though I'm not really but I say that to my daughters because they're young and I have daughters with my husband and I'm married."

He made a very convincing attempt at being fascinated by my inability to sound like a normal person. He asked me for my phone number. I told him I couldn't give it to him. So he gave me his card and I said thank you but explained that I wouldn't call him because I'm married. So he said, "That doesn't mean you are dead," and this opened me up to a whole other pointless diatribe which would fully convince him that he wanted nothing more to do with the strange lady from Vancouver.

However, he made my freaking day!

I credit the new Bobbi Brown eyeliner I was wearing. It was totally because of that. Because the day before I wasn't wearing any and that did not happen. So I recommend Bobbi Brown and hanging out in the St. Clair subway station with a book. It's very good for the ego.

Bad Ass

This is my three-year-old. Clearly, she's practicing for being a bad-ass - with her black T shirt, shades and cigarillo. See the stance? That's pretend Harley ridin' baby.

I know this because yesterday she told her bear to "piss off".

When I told her that's not a nice thing to say, I half expected to hear, "That's how I roll, mofo!"

Can you make this up?

The Anxiety Olympics

Welcome to another day of Anxiety Olympics ladies and gentlemen! We're here at Pearson International Airport, which has been beautifully designed to overwhelm the travellor. Now, first up, we have the Canadian contender here, she's going to check in with...oh, she's got TWO bags plus a carry on. So her coach has really piled on the weight for this one. Looking carefully at the luggage, one of the zippers doesn't work, so that will of course add to the stress level. So she's fully kitted out for the event.

There's the starter gun! She's off, looking bewildered - which we often expect here - and she's going up to a uniformed person and asking which lineup she should be in. Okay now, that's going to cut down on her anxiety significantly, so she's knocking some points off right there. Off she goes to stand in a very long line. Oh...she's looking very calm and controlled. Wait until she's been standing there for thirty minutes and they tell her she's in the wrong line. We'll check back in.

Yes! We've seen the first sign of freakage...she's got it in check. Just went obediently to another line. Okay - so far, she's relatively unfazed. All good. The other team has thrown in a few loud Germans, which is always very effective in upping the stress level, but our gal seems to be managing. Alright, it's been twenty minutes and here she goes up to the second desk now. Let's watch:

The ticket is for the 19th of March, not February. This is it folks! This is the make or break part - how will she handle the news that she's not getting on this plane? Oh, wait - I see the hyperventilating start. And she's off! The hands are shaking, and...oh she's pulling out a cell phone. She's on the phone with her coach - it looks like she using some strong language and waving her arms around in the air.

Former Anxiety Olympian, Jerzy Spazz is here to comment, "Typically, people under these pressures exhibit all kinds of responses, but the Canadian here in the Anxiety Olympics is displaying a classic show of panic. Her execution is perfect! The brow is expertly knitted and you can tell just how much training has gone into the arm movements. An anxiety athlete can actually speed up her heart rate with this kind of focus on doom."

Wait...it looks like something has happened. The gate closes in 6 minutes. The coach will have arranged a last-minute seat deal. Yes. There it is! She's checked her bags, she sprinting to security. The shoes are off, the bag stowed...through the metal detector without any resistance, down the escalators, knocking a few people around...and there's the loud-speaker, "This is the final boarding call for Air Canada flight 1169 with service to Vancouver. All passengers must now be on board,". That's the final momentum, there she goes - full sprint to the gate...and...

and...

she makes it!

Gold for the Canadian!

I'm baaaaack!

A whole month of silence is so unlike me. But so is keeping a really good secret. See, I was in on this surprise so I couldn't write about it on my blog, even though it was pretty much the only thing on my mind.

I went to Toronto to surprise one friend and visit another. I also went to see my centurian grandfather and my cousins. It was awesome. How a city so bleak and slushy can be so fabulous is still beyond me...no, wait. It's the shopping. Whatever you want, they have it. Even vegan cupcakes.

So amid blustery days, icy walks and entirely too much coffee, I had a week of pleasures! Reconnecting with friends is so good for the soul. Almost as good as coming home to warmth and sunshine and the gratitude of being 'home'.