Monday, September 24, 2007

I Heart...

3:10 to Yuma

*as recommended by the formidable Michael Lewis

Two thumbs up. Two awesome actors equally matched. A shoot-‘em-up Western with character development. Here’s to the beginning of an exciting movie season. Cheers.


So quotable. “Pedal safe.” So adorkable. Major heart. And Zac Levi (above) hearts Jesus.


I’ve been walking everywhere. More than an hour a day. Late September is amazing.

Dark Chocolate

My recent drug of choice. It gets me through the day. And keeps my heart healthy.

Christmas pudding

This may seem a little out of season, but I’m going to learn to make Christmas pudding at my grandma’s this coming weekend. You have no idea how thrilling this is. I will be the next Martha Stewart. Promise.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Blog Titles Are Tricky Things


As I was walking home a couple of days ago, I passed a little boy with his father. Clearly coming from school, the boy was rattling on about duotangs. Instantly, I was overwhelmed with a strange nostalgia. I miss the duotang. I miss calling the duotang a "cahier" in French class. I miss the math set. I miss the canvas pencil case my friends would sign every year. I’ve always liked back-to-school season, and it’s a little sad that the next time I enjoy it will be when I’m ushering my kids off to kindergarten. Sure, I could take a couple classes myself, but will anyone appreciate that I’m wearing brand-new corduroy overalls?

Vote for Pedro.

When I left for work this morning, an NDP sign was proudly planted in my front yard. When I came home this evening, a Conservative sign was there instead. Where do these signs come from? Are my landlords trying to influence my vote? And why do the NDP have such a painful color scheme? I’m not a fan of the neon. I think I will vote for the party with the prettiest signs.

And on a semi-related political note, at work I decided that Stephen Harper could play J.R. Ewing in the new Dallas movie.

What took me so long?

I had my very first Iced Cappuccino today. My life will never be the same. Unfortunately, I forgot that coffee drinks have caffeine. So I will not sleep tonight.

Maybe I wasn’t there either.

I saw I’m Not There. Christian Bale did not show up at the screening. We have yet to cross paths. A very bizarre movie experience. Cate Blanchett will win massive awards for her performance. Brilliant. Christian Bale was spot-on (as per usual). I’m still not sure how a black 12-year-old kid represents Bob Dylan. Nor am I sure how Richard Gere (as Billy the Kid) living in an old Western town obsessed with Halloween represents Bob Dylan. In fact, I left the theatre with the realization that I know absolutely nothing about Dylan. Except that he’s not one for enunciation.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

My Book Club

I don’t have a book club.

I’m currently reading four books (and my Bible), but no one comes to my house for baked goodies and discussion. And it’s just as well. Instead of my usual biographies, novels and random personal-interest material, I’m diving into some pretty awesome God stuff. And then I talk to God about it. And eat the odd sugary snack by myself.

All thumbs up (thus far) for:

  • SoulSalsa by Leonard Sweet
  • Prayer by Richard Foster
  • Blessing Your Spirit by Sylvia Gunter & Arthur Burk

With all three of these books, I’ve been catching myself doing the read-and-nod. And the read-and-nod-and-cry. And the read-and-nod-and-smile. Not only am I agreeing with what I’m reading, I’m also slightly suspicious that these were written specifically for me. As if God inspired these writers merely to encourage his daughter in Toronto. Hmm. Sneaky God.

While not a book, an honorable mention goes out to Relient K’s latest, Five Score and Seven Years Ago. As I type this, it’s playing in the background. I used to have a bit of a crush on the Relient boys. I think it was because I was envious of their goofiness. Their uninhibited sense of fun. I was the uptight one, wishing I could let my hair down and kick a can of beans in the middle of the street. Or throw Skittles at someone. But no, that would be a waste. Irresponsible. Immature. I was a middle-aged woman at 14. They seemed both spiritually mature (the later albums, anyway) and childlike. And I wanted that.

Maybe one day I’ll have a book club in my living room. When I have a couch that fits more than two skinny people. And we’ll eat brownies and discuss mind-blowing literature. And then play Kick the Can in the street.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Guess who's on IMDb?

A while ago, I sat down with a notebook and started writing down a list of things I want to accomplish in my life. A "100 things to do before I die" list, if you will. Nothing is ridiculously impossible (I will not climb Mt. Everest, so I'm not going to list it), and I'm trying to avoid listing things that are dependent on financial and relationship status. I also want it to keep evolving, with the list being added to every time something is crossed off. So even though I won’t do it all, I may end up doing more than 100 things that are story-worthy. I haven't figured out all 100 yet (plus, I think some of the things currently on the list are a little sketchy/superficial and need revising), but since I started working on it, one has been fabulously crossed off....

I have an IMDb credit.

Yeah, my career goals have been met.

Blogging Isn't Dead. Neither Am I.

I have not forgotten about blogging.

Nor have I been on vacation.

I have not been exceptionally busy.

Nor have I had nothing to say.

The past couple of weeks have been strange, painful, gut-wrenching and oddly beautiful. So I’ve journaled, I’ve cried, I’ve prayed, and I’ve stayed away from my computer. As open-book as I usually am, some things are not meant for cyberspace. And spiritual growing pains and intimate times with God are two of those things. So I apologize for the lack of amusing thoughts and quirky stories, but I haven’t been much in the mood to discuss how desperately I want to see a live wombat in my lifetime, or how someone in college thought my voice was identical to Alyson Hannigan’s from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

There will be more updates. I promise.

This weekend.

My mom came to visit. It was one of those weekends where everything went so perfectly that God’s fingerprints were pretty identifiable throughout it. I was just so blessed to have her come and encourage me. And let me finally beat her at Scrabble (with 304 points. Same score two games in a row. Yeah, I should go pro).

We spent Saturday exploring the Distillery District. I’m a sucker for old buildings, specifically once-abandoned-but-now-restored buildings, so it was my kind of place. Plus, it’s where so many films are made (I could pretty much see Cinderella Man playing out before me), so I got a little sucked into the magic of the architecture. Vintage sports cars lined the cobblestone, I had the greatest crepes ever, and I started to get excited about being creative. While my job sounds fun for those who don’t do it, lately I’ve found myself dissatisfied with who I’ve become. I’ve stopped exploring creative outlets; I’ve stopped investing in relationships the way I once did. And I've stopped dreaming the way I did when I was a kid. But seeing handbags made out of book covers and photography of abandoned pay phones actually sparked something in me.

We also stumbled upon Douglas Coupland’s latest art exhibit!!!! You have no idea how thrilled I was. You all know that he’s my literary crush (Yes, I identify strongly with a middle-aged gay man from Vancouver who writes about girlfriends in comas and such), but he’s also a visual artist. His current exhibit is all about the written word, with mixed-media single-word messages pasted on Penguin book covers. And it was free. So I smiled.

We spent the evening at my place, making homemade mini pizzas, going for a walk around my neighbourhood (making plans to eat at the nearby Greek bakery the next time she’s in town), and then doing the Scrabble-and-ice-cream thing.

This morning, we headed to The Meeting House. The entire service was dedicated to the ministries, organizations and missionaries they partner with; I was challenged to start thinking about how I want to serve in my community. And I know that I need to get hooked up with a home church (small group). I’m completely over the idea of being Miss Independent in the city. I need fellowship.

We went to Montana for lunch. We thought it was a Montana’s, but that’s a very different restaurant. Montana’s is a country-themed restaurant with a moose head on the wall; Montana is an upscale downtown restaurant with glossy floors and chrome accents. But the food was good.

The rest of our time together was spent walking around the Eaton’s Centre, snacking at Mrs. Field’s (so fantastic), and heading to the bus station. It was a little weird seeing her off; I’m used to being the one leaving my parents’ place, not them leaving me. It’s a little lonely here now, but I’m also excited to starting diving into a new book and scribbling in my new journal. I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of being inside of a time of growth and complete dependency on God; so often, hindsight is how I identify God working in me. Not this time.

So that’s a weekend update tacked onto a vague lack-of-blogging update. And now I shall go do the dishes and talk to Jesus (both in that order and at the same time).

Oh, and I have tickets for I’m Not There at the Toronto Film Festival this Friday. I believe someone pointed out at work that both my boyfriends are in the city this week (Christian Bale and Ryan Gosling). Knowing my luck, I’ll just run into Zack, the Canadian Idol judge. Again. He stalks me. I’ll give you my review next week.