Long Day

I arrived at work at 7:45 this morning, well aware of the tedious workload I was facing. You see, I spent my day working on a file that was done by people who do not know English very well. They do not know that Oz is a fictional place, that the New York Ballet is a company, not a dance name, that it's Rodgers and Hammerstein, not Rogers and Hammerstein.

Essentially, I spent my day fixing other people's work.

And I titled song after song after song (a dance montage project).

After almost 11 hours of staring at my screen, I went home. My eyes were bloodshot and I was slightly jittery (my healthy lunch gone by 11am, I resorted to caffeine and Smarties to get me through the rest of the day).

I decided to meander home and take an extra-long route. This may not make sense to most people, who, after a really long day, want nothing more than dinner and their couch. I, however, saw myself as having two options: I could be computer-screen tired or fresh-air tired. So I walked for about 45 minutes, checking out the local architecture (I love looking at houses), and zig-zagging my way up and down the streets near my place. Then I ate a lot of vegetables. To compensate for the earlier sugar.

Then I checked my work email. This is never a good idea. Ever. LA emailed me (not literally the city; a guy from the LA office). He decided that my musical montage project didn't need the songs titled. My hundreds of subtitles were deleted with the stroke of one button, leaving only the narration of aging dancers. "The lyrics weren't plot-pertinent." I wonder what would happen if I told him that he is not plot-pertinent.

So now I'm heading to bed. After reading some Truman Capote. And a monologue about hallucinations and Keanu Reeves.

And I will wake up at 6 and do it all over again. At least tomorrow is musical-free.

Just Because.

Best Christmas present ever: a little white cassette player (that still works beautifully). And with it was "Carman: Yo Kidz," the coolest tape for the coolest kid on the planet.

And today, I would like to share with you all a video from the album. Hilariously starring Hanson lip-synching to Carman. Yes, this is for real. Way before Hanson was Hanson (outside of their last name).

PS I loved this song because "shut up" is in the lyrics. My parents were giving me permission to be profane.

Coolest Thing Ever

Check this out.

And The New York Times, too.
So close to fame. So far from fortune.

Secrets

Okay, so there's this tagging going around that challenges people to share 5 secrets with the world. Here's my problem with this: 1) I'm pretty open-book, 2) Most of my secrets are only half secrets. A friend from university might not know something, but my family does. And 3) Real secrets aren't for posting online. This said, I'll do my best. I have a feeling this will be more "Nadine trivia" than actual secrets. And because they're not big and juicy secrets, I'll even list six:

1. I have always been a reader. When I was in public school, I could easily make it through one of The Babysitter's Club books in one sitting. And one character, Claudia, had candy hidden throughout her room (her parents had banned junk food). So I did the same. I hid little chocolate bars I won in Sunday School behind the books in my bookshelf. There's nothing more exciting than finding a forgotten Aero bar behind Little Women.
   
2. I own a Hanson album ("Live and Electric"). On purpose. Did you write a hit song when you were 11? I didn't think so.
3. I love infomercials. I pine for a Magic Bullet. And I own Windsor Pilates DVDs (yes, I use them, and no, I did not order them. I bought them from a store). I think I'm just a sucker for all things before-and-after (Oprah's weight-loss shows make me want to lose 100 pounds. But I don't want to die, so I don't do it).
   
4. I have washed my face every single night before going to bed since I was 10. This includes on mission trips and when camping. I can't sleep without a clean face.
5. Sharon has always been my favourite (of "Sharon, Lois and Bram" fame). I wanted to be her.
   
6. I grew up in a household that respected most styles of music. Except country. And so as my subconscious rebellion against my father, I would spent afternoons at my friend's house, watching Billy Ray Cyrus videos. This one was my favorite. Can you blame me?

Church and the Movies.

I hate going to church alone. I love going to the movies alone. On Sunday, I merged the two and went to The Meeting House. And you know what? I actually had a pretty great time. Of course, being the single girl all alone, the sermon would naturally be "Sex and Singleness." I have a lot of respect for a sermon that opens with the song "Let's Talk About Sex," and, in the course of the teaching, includes the phrase "crushing of testicles" without once sounding glib or immature. Yeah, Bruxy rocks. And for the first time since arriving in Toronto, I feel like my friends would actually enjoy themselves. Or at least not get the creeps. I guess the whole "church for people who aren't into church" thing is true. It was packed. And since the sermon was a part of a series, I'll be back next week. It's so refreshing to be enthusiastic about church again. And no, not just because it's about sex, people. Sheesh.

As someone who spends quite a bit of time at the movies, it was pretty powerful to be worshipping God in a theatre. It sort of put things in perspective for me; It's about God, not movies and dreams and Jake Gyllenhaal's eyebrows (see below). In fact, lately I've come to the realization that I could give it all up. I could drop the life I'm currently living/dreaming of in a heartbeat and follow God's leading anywhere. I just want to be where God wants me and who He wants me to be. Nothing else.

And then I hung around and saw Zodiac (which has nothing to do with astrology, for those who are anti-horoscope). It's long but completely worth the numb butt. There's something very intriguing about a film that's based on case files. Yes, case files. It's a true story that's never really been resolved, so the film can't go there. Highly recommended. Not scary, but captivating. And do I really look like Chloe Sevigny? I guess if my hair was long, blonde and stringy...

March 2nd. Version Nadine.0

6:00

Alarm goes off. The DJ is announcing school closures. “If you don’t have to go outside, don’t,” is what I hear. I want to call in sick/slushed in. To make the best case, I figure I’ll get ready for work and have the weather stop me. Yesterday, I had to walk home in half a foot of snow, with the wind knifing me in the face.

6:45

Showered, dressed, makeuped (word of the day). I’m eating breakfast. The TV weather guy says it’s gross out. Theweathernetwork.com says it’s gross out. My window says it’s gross out.

7:11

I’m on the bus, heading to work. I left a rent cheque and a small list of bathroom-repair issues for my landlord in the drawer in the table in the entryway. And I left my laundry in a heap on the floor so I can do it the minute I get home.

7:50

At work. No delays, no real weather issues at all for transit. My pants are soaked from the flooding at the intersections. While I don’t want to be at work, I know I’d feel guilty sitting at home and leaving the massive workload to the few who chose to come.

10:31

Mom calls. She thinks I’m at home. I’m not. The sun is shining and the streets are drying up. It’s nice to talk to someone who’s not bitter/tired/stupid.

11:00

Wondering why anyone would want to watch TV on their cell phone.

12:00

So hungry. I go next door and order herb chicken on Caesar salad. I’m too lazy to actually walk to Queen St. where the selection/quality/prices are better.

2:00

I’m providing feedback for new subtitlers. It’s painful. I want to smash my face against a brick wall. I talk to one of my supervisors. There will be an intervention next week (read: shape up or you’re gone. And no, it’s not MY job that’s at risk).

3:00

Smarties and Diet Coke. My drug combo. I need rehab.

4:30

I’m out of there.

5:00

Grocery shopping. My favorite kind of shopping. I buy nothing with sugar or flour or caffeine; I’m trying to detox from my crappy week. I limit myself to 5 tomatoes.

6:00

I’m home. There’s a note under my door from my landlord. Everything is fixed. Which means she saw my crappy laundry-strewn decorating style. I love my landlords. Day-of repairs deserves an award.

6:15

Doing laundry. I run into the boy. The one behind my wall. After more than a year and a half, I see him. And he’s very good-looking. Darn. I’m in sweats that are 6 years old (and from +20 pounds ago). I’m the queen of the first impression. No formal introduction, but I think I’ve figured out his name from sorting through the house mail.

7:00

Yoghurt poured over grapes and cut-up apple. And green tea. I feel almost human again. And I Swiffer. Mentally plan an omelet for tomorrow morning. Because I’m a planner.

9:00

Finally done laundry. There’s nothing on TV except Top Chef reruns. So I’m half-watching. Misery is on later. I read the book, so I may watch it. Or I may go to bed. But that means I have to put my sheets back on. I may be tired, but not tired enough to go to all that effort of going to bed….