A Life in Paper

I was completely uninspired to pursue job leads today. Sure, I applied for a job and posted a quick Gather.com item or two, but I had little desire to send out application upon application for gigs that barely pay and inspire even less.

It was time to purge.

When my space is cluttered, I can't focus. I feel defeated. So I spent my afternoon surrounded by stacks of paper, sorting through the paper trail created by four years of Toronto living. Oddly, I found things from 15 years ago. Paper must follow me.

My life in paper reads as half-fiction. Partly because I remember nothing, and partly because people send me lies.

P.S. I miss acting.

Things I found:

• Wrapping paper that says "hottie holidays." It's covered in the floating heads of Joshua Jackson, Will Smith, James Van Der Beek, Matt Damon, Nick Carter, Usher, Leo DiCaprio and Andrew Keegan.
• A program from Stratford with the lead actor's phone number scrawled across his bio.
• A postcard of a cartoon Toby Penner. Oh, Jake.
• The script from Oliver! I was Nancy in the SIXTH GRADE. And yes, it's the original copy.
• Monologues I wrote in university. Including the children's story about suicide.
• A napkin from East Side Mario's. I outlined the plot of a play on it.
• Two fake love letters. I don't remember ever receiving them. But they're clearly written by a girlfriend, pretending to be the man we quasi-stalked one summer. He's now married. And on TV. I'm neither.
• A letter that was probably supposed to be a love letter. But I was pretty stupid and didn't notice at the time. Boys, don't be subtle. We'll miss the awesomeness.
• A clipping from the school newspaper that favourably reviewed a performance of mine. The "cancer baby" play.
• A note from a woman at my parents' old church, strategically written to introduce me to her nephew. Hilarious. (Yep, I emailed him. And yep, we're still friends.)
• A lot of thank-you notes. Apparently I used to do a lot of kind stuff. Huh.
• A card that commented on my flirting skills. It took me almost 5 minutes to realize it was referencing a jazz opera I was in. I didn't recognize a single signature. Quiet panic.
• Floppy disks.
• The headshot of a middle-aged Kitchener-based actor I once worked with.
• My Exer-Clean Launderers contract. Yes, I have proof that I once did laundry for a living.

YouTube Tuesday Bonus: Breaker High Theme Song

I feel like I should apologize to Ryan Gosling for excluding this little ditty of brilliance from the previous post.

Breaker High forever.

YouTube Tuesday: Nostalgic TV Theme Songs

Dawson's Creek

Confession: I'd still choose Dawson, the over-analytical, too-wordy-for-his-own-good, slightly self-absorbed filmmaker teeming with endearing optimism and impossible dreams. Don't balk. This lets you have Pacey. Everyone wins.

And the theme song still rings true.

Arthur

I grew up without cable. So after-school TV options were limited. I watched Arthur. Yes, while I was in high school. It was educational, okay? Better than a drug habit.

And sometimes I still get the theme song stuck in my head.



The Beverly Hillbillies

So....a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I watched a lot of retro TV growing up. Someone asked me if I knew the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies. I said yes. He asked me to sing it. Did I mention were in a cute little cafe? Surrounded by strangers?

So I sang it. In the cafe. Yes, I did. I have no pride.



Bonus: Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers

If you're a musician and choose to cover this song, I might love you forever. You have been warned.

P.S. I was a Chip gal. Because he was practically Indiana Jones.

YouTube Tuesday: Randomness

Next Time I Fall

This song popped into my head the other day. I don't know why.

When I was little, Peter Cetera creeped me out. Mostly because you can see saliva spewing from his mouth when he enunciates in the official music video for this song. And when you're 10, that's the grossest thing EVER.

(YouTube must think so, too. That video is suspiciously MIA.)

Like a Donut

This is pure genius. If you didn't have my childhood, I ache for you. Watch at 2:10.

I may have gone to a Donut Man concert when I was 13. By choice. Without parents. That's right. No one dragged me.

Would You Rather: Gaga vs. Bolton

Lady Gaga wrote a song for Michael Bolton. My brain just imploded. I. Don't. Understand. Is this a career-killer-comeback song in one?

"Murder My Heart"?! Sheesh. Give me a midnight and a piano and I'll give Bolton something to cry about. Uh, maybe.

P.S. Best Michael Bolton moment: the opening of The Crying Game. "When a Man Loves a Woman" plays over the credits. This is brilliant by the end. Trust me.

J Corridor

Not long ago, a friend of mine posted some of her gorgeous photography on Facebook. The photos were of an engagement shoot. As I admired her lovely work, I realized that I recognized the man in each shot. Vaguely. Then I saw his name.

I had the same locker throughout my entire high-school career. It was on J corridor, the perfect location for sprawling out on the floor and doing homework, and for hanging out with friends during lunch hour. It was a central location so loved by my friends that three of us ended up sharing my locker, leaving notes on my locker door about the genius of Heath Ledger and the swoon-worthiness of certain never-to-be-mentioned church boys.

The boy with the locker beside mine was quiet. Timid. At least around me. I always felt guilty, the way my social circle would take over the space in front of his locker. Almost every day I'd have to move just to give him access to his belongings. He never once complained. He didn't even make a face.

I liked him. Not a "like" like. Just a quiet respect for a quiet guy I knew absolutely nothing about.

But thanks to Facebook and my online stalking skills, I now know that he's getting married. And that his boyish grin matured into an unexpected handsomeness. And I'm oddly excited for him. For somehow rising above the adolescent shyness and becoming an almost-husband.

Congrats, my J corridor friend. I apologize for the four years of inconvenience. And for the show tunes I'd sing at lunch. I hope you at least appreciated my cockney accent.

Three Cool Things

1. I'm going to meet the Sartorialist tomorrow. Yes, THE Sartorialist. The one who took this picture. Talk about fashion-brilliance pressure. Eek!
2. Sarah and Dave make me happy. Congrats, guys!
3. This movie has the potential to rock my nostalgic little world:

That is all. Carry on.

Remember Gerbert?

I do.

That's all. Carry on.

My MySpace Face

I keep forgetting about MySpace. I still use it to check out bands, but I don't log in anymore. Maybe it's a good thing. This profile pic is a little old:

Nothing says "be my cyber-friend" like a trucker hat. And mullet wig. And fake pearls.

And you thought you knew me....

YouTube Tuesday: Reading Rainbow

I'm in Stratford. But that isn't stopping this blog from posting on its own. And it has a thing for Levar Burton.

The Theme Song

Rhett and Link's Version

Run-D.M.C.

Up In Smoke

image source

Many people in a small, northern New Brunswick First Nations community say they lost more than just a place of learning when their local school was gutted by an early-morning fire Thursday.

With smoke drifting over the charred structure that afternoon, many people, including students, visited what was left of the school in Eskinuopitijk, the community formerly known as Burnt Church.

source: CBC

I turned 16 in that school. I danced in a powwow in its gymnasium. I slept on its stage and showered in its locker room. I harmonized in its classrooms. I ran down its halls, escaping water-gun-wielding boys. I gave piggy-back rides outside its front doors.

And if you looked closely, you would have seen "Nadine was here" carved into a brick wall. Not by my hands.

Burnt Church First Nation School, I'll always love you.

YouTube Tuesday: Zack Morris

He lives. And whatever he's been drinking, I want some.

(HE DOES NOT AGE.)

The most significant wardrobe regret of my life? Not buying this:

Even though it's a lie.

Will I tune in to a reunion? Um, yes.

YouTube Tuesday: 17 Again

No, I haven't seen 17 Again. But I do know that if a movie were to be made about a 17-year-old me, the following songs would be on the soundtrack. Especially the youth-group montage. This YouTube party excludes the genius of BBMak, the catchiness of "Bye Bye Bye," and the music-life-changing album, All That You Can't Leave Behind. Once Bono showed up, the boy bands started to fade away...

To most of you, I apologize.

To the exceptions, you're welcome.

And yes, it's an eclectic mix. Sort of. That's how I rolled. And continue to roll.

The Supertones: "Unite"

From their greatest album, Supertones Strike Back. When they lost the tenor sax player, they lost me.

Plus One: "Written On My Heart"

There were three pastors' sons in this group. And they danced while harmonizing. And I was 17. Enough said.

The W's: "The Devil is Bad"

Swing was so cool. And so was I.

Lifehouse: "Hanging By a Moment"

It's really too bad that this song was played to death. Because the album remains pretty incredible. And I still love this song. Too much.

And saving the best for last...

Jake: "Waiting"

I'm pretty sure I would have married Toby if he had asked me. It's probably best he didn't. But he did help me get 100% on an OAC creative-writing project. And I'm now a writer. Hmm.

P.S. There was also the now-painful (Marilyn Manson Ate) My Girlfriend. But even Relient K is too embarrassed to ever play that song again. EVER. Far, far cooler was this Hocus Pick classic. Yes, I'm so happy, feeling snappy.

Belated YouTube Tuesday: Girls' Day

Yesterday was Girls' Day in Japan. It was also Square Root Day (3/3/09), but I'm not really in a mathematical mood.

So in honor of Girls' Day, let's have some nostalgic little-girl fun.

With the Chipettes.



Why did I always relate to the one with the glasses? (Jeanette. I Googled.) Even before I wore glasses. And Jessie Spano instead of Kelly Kapowski. I guess I just embraced my inner brainy-non-cheerleader at a young age.

Girls' Day with Zac Efron.



Confession: I can't not run when this starts playing on my iPod. It's just so darn catchy and fun. And lyrically quite hilariously sketchy. Yes, I'll be running to this when I tackle my first official 5k this summer.

And is it really ladies' choice? I've had this discussion with some rather respectable men who firmly believe that women hold such power. I'm on the fence. The fence of complete disagreement.

Girls' Day with Eric Hutchinson.

Yep, Eric and I are still going strong. LOVE him. And "You Don't Have to Believe Me" is my girl-power anthem. (Well, this and Sugarland's "Settlin'." More on that later.) And it's another running* song.

*I wonder how many times I can type "running" this evening. It might convince me to head back to the gym.

If I were a boy, I'd dress like him. And then I'd sing this song to every girl on the planet.

Lyrics are here. For some reason, I can't find a YouTube version that ends with this:

But you sure better believe me
When I tell you your mind's what's hot

Start at 3:50.



Maybe I should just buy a vest and get over this whole dress-like-a-boy insanity. Sheesh.


Okay, off to watch Lost. My phone will be off. Just to warn you.

Tales From Orillia: Part 5 - Nostalgia

This is my final weekend-in-Orillia post. I think.

Kids, be careful what you make in elementary school art class. Your crafty creations may surface in your mother's decor almost two decades later.

My great-grandmother's candy dish. I'm pretty sure I ate most of the jelly beans. And then I went on a jelly-bean run just so I could eat some more.

Welcome to diet-detox week, Nadine. 

Nathan was missing from the steady stream of parties this weekend (I call a game of Scrabble in front of the TV a party, so don't get too excited). But his masterpiece reminded us that he was there in construction-paper spirit.

Study hard, little brother. And keep up the art thing. I think you've got a real natural ability.

Marry Me

Adorable.

And pretty much my childhood.



The sandbox. The bike. The jump. The little boy with bad hair....

Yeah, my first marriage ended in the second grade.

Because I Don't Pick Favorites

This is a follow-up post to this one. 

Check out this commercial at 0:35. The doll with the hat.

Her name is Cynthia.*

And that magic heart? It took a lot more than a warm fingerprint. You had to rub it and breathe on it for a good minute. But it was worth it.

I'll grow up tomorrow. Pinky swear.

*Official name: So Innocent Cynthia. She has fans.

Notice how these commercials are a minute long? Kids used to have attention spans. 

YouTube Tuesday: Ghosts of Christmases Past

Just to warn you, this isn't a nod to the classics in the Bing sense of classic. This is my childhood. The '80s. I dare you to handle it. And no, I'm not posting any sort of Charlie Brown greatness. Too easy.

There is a '90s video at the end. A video that's pretty gosh darn neat. There, I've dangled a carrot. May the YouTube Party begin....

Amy Grant

Just as Whitney will always love you (and Kevin Costner), so will I always love Amy. That hair. That sweater. The way it perfectly matches those amazing pants. She's timeless.

Plus, she has friends like Art Garkunfel. And Art reads books. A lot of them. He's indexed every book he's read in the last 40 years. Be intimidated.



And if you want to watch the entire Amy special, just ask. The VHS is sitting on the shelf behind me. There's a 0% chance I'm kidding.

Evie

Not her signature "Come On Rings Those Bells," but equally nostalgic. This was what my childhood sounded like, folks. Although I don't remember Dutch subtitles.

And yes, I'm very aware that Boney M. monopolizes this song. Whatev.*

*ALERT: That was the first time I've ever typed "whatev." I don't think I like it.



Jon Anderson

I don't remember the intro, but the rest I do. That voice. That arrangement. No one else should ever sing this song. And I should have asked for a synthesizer for Christmas.



Um, Dad, it was Jon Anderson you used to play in the old gray car, right? Or am I just completely insane, adopting someone else's nostalgia as my own?

Nostalgic Honorable Mention: Michael W. Smith

Yes, I get my '80s piano noodling* style from this man. Blame Smitty for my awesomeness. I believe we have the same vocal range too.

This is just an audio file. But a good one. If you can't handle staring at a non-video video, dance around the room or something. I won't tell.

*noodle is in the dictionary as a verb. I love that. And yes, I used it correctly. I love it when the English language follows my lead.



Muppets. Singing about Michael Caine.

"Even the vegetables don't like him."

If you've made it this far, I applaud you. And reward you. It isn't Christmas without Michael Caine and singing puppets. I have this song on my iPod. Because it's amazing. And because I have a crush on Rizzo the Rat.



Gonzo = Christmas cheer.

Love Is Magic

"My Magic Nursery Baby is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen."

I only had three significant baby dolls growing up. Which was a perfectly manageable number for a very organized fake mother such as myself. I wrote lists upon lists of detailed stats about my dolls, I created daily schedules, I designed report cards for them. In fact, I wrote test questions for them, I took the tests on their behalf, and then I scrawled big red X's where I intentionally got questions wrong. It wouldn't be right to expect my children to be perfect.

I knew what each wanted for lunch. How long an appropriate nap should be. I buckled them into the stroller and took them to the park, hoping people would mistake my fictional family for a real one.

I remember desperately wanting a Magic Nursery Baby. It was a planned non-pregnancy, if you will. I didn't want just any doll. I wanted that one. So my parents, being the psychics that they are, put her under the Christmas tree. And made their little girl an extremely happy one.

I knew she was a girl from the very beginning. Because even though the "love is magic" trick is supposed to reveal the sex, the super-smart kids knew that if there was a tuft of hair sticking out from the gender-neutral bonnet, the doll was female. All boys are bald. It's common knowledge.

I named her Julia. She was quite good at math.

Nadine of Avonlea

There was a Road to Avonlea Christmas special on TV tonight. I didn't watch it. I did, however, experience a strange almost deja-vu familiarity in the few minutes I did catch before opting, instead, to spend an evening away from screens.

(Of course, sleep did not come, so here I am, typing away....)

Once upon a time, my Sunday evenings were dedicated to The Wonderful World of Disney and Road to Avonlea. But there's an even stronger bond than mere rerun nostalgia. And the more I think about it, the more I'm aware of how closely tied I am to Canadian television at its best.

Who needs Kevin Bacon and his Six Degrees of Separation? I'm, like, one and two degrees away from EVERYONE on this show.

White Sands Hotel

First of all, when I was 10, I saw the White Sands Hotel. In person. If hotels can be people. It was from a distance. And while I actually toured Green Gables, there was something quite magical about seeing the hotel (called Dalvay by the Sea in the real world), slightly inaccessible and completely gorgeous. I made a mental note to enter its doors one day. If anyone wants to road-trip it out east, let me know.

Aunt Olivia

My dad went to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with her in high school. I'm glad she didn't end up being my mom. Weird thought of the day.

Aunt Janet

My friend partied with her only mere months ago. I kid you not. She still rocks the Canadian stage. And mingles with brilliant young art directors whom I happen to adore.

Felix King

Another friend is good friends with him. Yes, we've sipped coffee and discussed Felix King ad nauseam. Just because.

Sara Stanley

I met Sarah Polley. Actually, I wrote her interview for the TV show Distinguished Artists. She is super-talented and tiny. And likes zombie movies. And is deserving of far greater interviews.

Gus Pike

The best feedback from a prof I've ever received was a stern warning to never date the actor who played Gus Pike. I believe the term "ladykiller" was used. She didn't want me to be one of his disposable girlfriends.

For the record, there was no actual opportunity to date said playboy. Her warning was just the most hilarious aside in an email critiquing a scene I wrote for playwriting class. Clearly, she was not a fan. Of him. She adored me. Naturally.

(He's also 19 years older than me. Shocking, I know. Gus is now 44.)

Anne Shirley

Okay, so Megan Follows wasn't on Avonlea per se, but she got the ball rolling with Anne. Did you see her on The Border a couple weeks ago? She's still brilliant and beautiful. I still don't know how I feel about the show (The Border, not Avonlea. Just to clarify), seeing as I once used the bathroom of one of the show's lead actors. Weirdness. I mean, how can I be all swoony over his rugged rogue-copness after drinking juice on his couch?

(Also, who needs Gus Pike when there's Gilbert Blythe?)

Ryan Gosling

I saved the best for last. Yes, he starred in one episode. And was even nominated for some best-child's-performance award for it. We were meant to be, I tell you. Road to Avonlea AND Breaker High? No wonder he ended up an Oscar contender.

(He's on the far left.)

PEI is underrated. Let's go, folks.

Anatomy 101

I pretty much love this. It would have come in handy during my years as a disinterested high-school biology student. Although I really loved cutting open those rats. And pretending to string their intestines around my neck like jewelry. Don't judge.

(Check out the anatomy of a Gummi bear.)

On a semi-related note, I used LEGO men in a science-fair project once and someone stole all their hair. Seriously. Someone walked around the gym, checking out the displays, pocketing plastic hair.

I wasn't trying to make the point that polluted water contributed to baldness, but it certainly ended up looking that way.

Sheesh. Some people's kids.


source