That's a wrap!

Yours in tiredness from Vancouver. Having gone to bed at 11:30pm last night, I didn't get to sleep until 1:30am, for no apparent reason. I then got up at 5:00am, since I was awake anyway, and left the house at 6:00am. I drove to Stanley Park and checked in at 6:30am. Which was too early, but I helped the random dogsbody to set up chairs. Sign-in began at 7:00am, and then we had to pass a wardrobe inspection, which involved showing the agent the three choices we'd picked out for our scenes and waiting for her to tell us they were hideous. Luckily for me, she seemed quite taken with my clothes, especially the hideous dress I had bought for $20.

Filming started at about 8:15am, and we concentrated on the opening scene of the movie. The guy who plays Robin Williams was hilarious, and really friendly. After an hour of filming with him, my jaw was hurting from laughing, and we had to do multiple takes because he would either make us laugh when we were meant to be 'frozen' for the camera, or ad-lib and offer a rude joke. At one point he also accidentally hit himself in the crotch with his fake sword, prompting much rolling about and pain. The director and the rest of the crew were fantastic as well, and the only thing wrong with the day was that it was cold, especially when wearing clothes for summer scenes. Anyway, three scenes and lunch brought us up to 5pm. The last scene saw me in the dress, at the front of a wedding, clapping the happy bride and groom. It was cool when the director said the magic 'wrap' words.....

Being an extra is fun!! Though tiring. Pictures to follow, if I can be bothered to dress up again :o)

Method acting

As I was walking down to one of the little shops near our house that sells hippie-type clothing (still searching for the perfect outfits for tomorrow) I noticed that the big house down the road which has been on the market for the past few months was having an open house. Smiling mischievously, I flew home to tell Denise. This house started off at $1.7m when it first went on the market, and had no offers whatsoever. It doesn't look that big from the outside, and although Kerrisdale is a good location, it is bang opposite the big high school here, so the road outside the front of the house is clogged with cars twice a day and all the kids can see into the front room. We had often wondered why they were trying to sell the house for such a high price, and now we had the chance to look...

Tarting ourselves up to look as if we had money (ok, just so we didn't look like slobs really), we stalked down to the open house in our best rich kid manner, and went in. I reasoned that this was good for acting practice. Having picked up the particulars in the kitchen (where there was wine, cheese and biscuits, and a rather loaded-looking real estate agent), we discovered that the house is now going for a mere $1.5m. Bargain! Putting on my best high class British accent, I agreed with the agent that yes, house prices in Britain were extortionate, and did nothing to dispel his impression that somehow we had a million pound house in some area of London. This was despite the fact that we had to take our shoes off to look round the house, and in my haste at getting dressed I had completely odd socks on, looking more like a student than a millionaire.

The first thing Denise pointed out was that the vacuum system was built in, meaning that you just plug the hose into a custom socket in each room, rather than dragging a hoover around the house. In addition the kitchen is lush, there are three fireplaces in the house, built-in closets galore, 5 bathrooms, 6 bedrooms, and a complete apartment in the basement (which kicked the arse of our basement suite any day!). Denise was particularly taken with the under-cabinet lighting in the bathrooms, which was cool in a rich way. We made a pact that if we win the lottery, we're buying that house. Even if it is opposite a load of kids.

On leaving the house, the agent casually enquired which one of us was looking to buy? My parents, I told him, what with the exchange rate being as it was. Dollar signs ringing in his eyes, he bade us goodbye.... and we headed down the road to have a burger and chips for $10 at the greasy spoon! Now I feel kind of sick, but I think I'm coming down with something. Good timing, as usual.

Before the burger joint, we stopped off at a little boutique, where I found the perfect dress for the second of my film scenes tomorrow (a hippie wedding). I'll see if I can get a picture of me in it later. Think pink and brown, with huge flowers, spaghetti straps, and a pink bow round a high waist. Oh yes, the seventies are back.... Then on to the dollar store, where I found some lurid headbands and wrist bands. I am really getting into this hippie thing! Let's hope more films need hippies. I was going to take the bus tomorrow, but we start at 7am and I can't bring myself to walk through downtown in red cords and a bright orange top, so the car it is....

In a (garden) state

So far I have only acquired two out of the seven things I want to bring home to friends in England. One of which made the checkout guy in Safeway say to me, with a slightly sarcastic smile on his face, "Mmm, nice." It's in a jar, it's basically made out of sugar, and it's white. Don't ask. I just hope all this shit gets through customs. Apologies in advance to anyone who doesn't get their presents.

Today, after not running for four days, I made myself feel guilty, and went jogging. For the first time, I did my usual course without stopping, and cut four minutes off my usual time. So now I have to extend the course, since being stuck at 3.5 miles is not good when you have to do 26 in three months' time. Oh, and I also got chased by a dog down the road which tried its best to bite me, and I had to fight it off with my feet, so I'm sure that counts for an extra minute of jogging time.

I also went to the local Salvation Army store to find 'hippie' clothes for this filming on Monday, and didn't really come back with much. I ended up with dark red cords, a bright orange top, and a see-through purple flowered shirt, which sounds horrible but I which actually really like in general, and will wear in everyday life if I can work out how to make it less see-through. Anyway, all this was $11, or £5, so hoorah for the thrift shop. Why is it you can never find a tie-dye t-shirt when you want one though? I guess I need to go to the hippie haven of Kitsilano, but I can't really be arsed for what will probably be 30 seconds on camera.

Talking of clothes, here are the promised pictures of my boots. Sorry for the fact that my camera is crap, so you don't get the full boot effect. I would have got someone else to take the photos, but there was only Denise, and I'm sure she had better things to do. And before anyone asks, I am wearing shorts, so no jokes and no rude postings about my legs please.



This evening Denise and I watched Garden State (me for the first time) and I loved it. Zack Braff's character is exactly the type of guy I fall for; funny, perhaps not conventionally attractive, outwardly confident whilst being completely insecure underneath, caring, likeable - and the most important thing (guaranteed to make me lose my heart), completely screwed up. I felt like I knew him, probably because bits of my past loves were evident in him. And then at the end of the film, I realised that I was Natalie Portman - the girl who seems to be the support that Zack Braff's character needs throughout the story, until we reach the end and she pleads with him at the airport to stay, showing how much she really cares for him, and trying not to let him see how upset she is by turning her face away. I've done that airport scene, and I've been that once strong and now utterly pathetic girl! I'm still waiting for Zack Braff's character to get off the plane and come back to me though, sadly....I guess if it can happen to them, maybe it can happen to me!

Thespian, darling

Firstly, I am glad that this is the case! It's always good to have someone appreciate you...

I've been lazy today. I did plan to go jogging, but it just hasn't happened. I woke up this morning, checked the computer to see if I had been sent any work, didn't find any, and went back to bed. So that was the morning gone. I then did a bit of messenger chatting, went to the bank, and got back to find a message from a company I didn't recognise asking to ring them back. This I did, to find out that they were a film extras company, asking me to work on Monday. As a hippie.... which should be interesting for the people who will see me as I drive through Vancouver in character on Monday, looking like a throwback....

Ok, so this movie is about the show Mork and Mindy (us old people will remember it, but for those who don't, it was the thing that shot Robin Williams into tv), and the story behind it. I guess they need hippies for something or other. I get more details on Sunday, and tomorrow I have to go and raid the charity shop down the road for tie-dye items. When I told my Italian ex-boyfriend this he was shocked, asking, "But aren't those shops for people who really need the clothes?" I think he thought I was going to get handouts from some shelter or other, thus depriving a homeless person somewhere of some flares and a hawaiian shirt. Bless.

Having decided that this heralded the time when I really needed to bite the bullet and get a Canadian phone, I went to Fido, only to discover that T-mobile have cunningly locked my phone so I can't use it with another network. So tomorrow I will end up driving to Richmond to get the damn thing unlocked, paying $35 for the privilege, and then $25 to get a new SIM card. Thus scuppering my first pay cheque as an extra, probably! But it should be fun to be on a set, and it will give me something to do other than stare at these four walls. I think I'm only really doing extras work so that I can get onto the set of X-Men 3 in June and lust after Hugh Jackman, but hey, it's a job. For peanuts, and for one day only, but a job nonetheless. Which of course means money for future plane tickets to various parts of the globe. Hoorah!

Bridge over troubled water

I don't know if anyone else who reads this site will know of Ivan Noble, but he is a science and technology writer for the BBC online who was diagnosed with a brain tumour in August 2002. After discovering his condition, he started writing a column every couple of months detailing his experiences in an online diary, covering his marriage, the birth of his two children, his brain surgeries, the chemo, and the remissions. I have been reading his diary since the beginning, and now it seems that it is coming to an end.

Today he posted what he thinks will be his last entry, written some time ago so that when he became too ill to write, he could publish a goodbye. If my memory serves me rightly, this is the third time that his tumour has returned, and this time it is too large to operate on. He doesn't expect to post again.

Although I have never met Ivan, the reading of his column has made him more real to me, as is the case with the thousands of other people around the world who leave comments on the BBC site wishing him good luck and congratulating him on his strength to keep going. And this morning, reading his goodbye, I cried.

So I moan about my life, and I get upset about my failures, and I wish that I had someone to keep me company at night, but I am relatively healthy. I am not optimistic about the future, but at least I have one. I don't know where it is, who it will be with, or how long it will be, but I should be grateful that I can get up every morning and not wonder whether this will be my last 24 hours here. Sometimes I forget this. So, I will take my chances where I can, in case one day my opportunities narrow quickly.

Never quite there

When they call your name
Will you walk right up
With a smile on your face
Or will you cower in fear
In your favorite sweater
With an old love letter
I wish you would
I wish you would

Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends
They're all full of shit
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

When you're walking downtown
Do you wish I was there
Do you wish it was me
With the windows clear
And the mannequins eyes
Do they all look like mine
You know you could
I wish you would

Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends behind my back
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

I wish you'd make up my bed
So I could make up my mind
Try it for sleeping instead
Maybe you'll rest sometime
I wish I could

Ryan Adams - Come Pick Me Up

Jekyll and Hyde

So, today sucked.

In the morning, I decided that I had officially grown up, since I bought some heeled shoes the other week. Which weren't blue or black, and actually went with a jumper that I bought in England. This to me was a sign that at the ripe old age of 26 (nearly), I was starting to leave trainer wearing behind, and might actually be starting to 'co-ordinate' (too many episodes of 'What Not To Wear' on the TLC channel, methinks).

This afternoon, I reverted back to being more non-adult and had a good sob on the sofa (and on Denise and Dan, in a virtual sense). Turns out I'm not quite as grown up as I'd like to think. Or can you still have a good old emotional crisis whatever age you are? I'd like to think so.

Tenterhooks

Despite my crossing my fingers that the place I applied for a job at on Saturday would read my resume and instantly call me today, there was no such phone call. I hope they've read it, but you can't tell with online applications. Which sucks. Because I want the job. If anyone from VGH is reading this, seek out my resume and phone me......

I went jogging again today, but didn't manage to match yesterday's acheivement of doing the course with only one stop. I stopped more than once, because the calf muscle that I ripped a few years ago decided it was going to seize up about halfway round. But, I did manage to get up the hill near our house in once go! Go me. I am beginning to rediscover how cool it is when you realise that you can run without feeling like death the entire time. This will not help when I try running 26 miles and collapse, but I am not as unfit as I was before I signed up for this whole shebang.

The woman house-sitting above us while the landlady is in Costa Rica tried to burn the place down today. I got back from jogging to find the doors and windows open, the fire alarm screaming, a neighbour looking concerned, and the woman flailing her arms about in an effort to get smoke to disperse. Apparently she lit the fire (it's 14 degrees here, why was this necessary?) and then 'discovered' that the flue was shut. Probably because the landlady didn't think someone was going to light a fire in this weather. Hence much smoke. After trying to wave papers and tea towels at the damn alarm for about five minutes it was obvious she wasn't going to get anywhere, so I got a stepladder and attacked the alarm. This did not take much genius, but it seemed like this idea had not occurred to said housesitter. And it worked. Good start to the housesitting then.

It has stopped raining here, which is good because we were starting to think about stockpiling gopher wood and tar. It may even be sunny tomorrow (whisper it quietly). It's going to be such a shock going back to England. I've never had a January so warm in my life as it is now here. Denise asked me yesterday what jacket she should take to England, and said that February was likely to be fairly decent, right? I fell about laughing. February is the worst month of the year in England (it figures that I was born then) and it sucks totally in Manchester. It's damn cold, and it rains a lot. Thank god for our weather here - we actually had to turn down the heating and open the windows today, cos the flat was getting stuffy and hot. My once-snuggly duvet is now blindingly stifling. But I am happy about it.

Having written that, I just realised that it is my birthday in two weeks and a day. That scares the hell out of me. I will be 26, and so far I have a good few failed relationships behind me, I have no real job, and I still rent. Can I not at least sort one area of my life out?!! Oh, and I'm now officially nearer 30 than 20, ouch. I planned to be settled with a significant other by this point in my life. There have been a couple such significant others who I could have (and still would) settle down with, but they're not the settling down type. I do pick 'em. Sigh.

Dreaming

Having gone to bed later than was sensible, and woken up later than was desirable, my period of unconsciousness last night involved one of those dreams that make you feel like crap when you wake up. No-one died, there were no world disasters, and nothing happened that I didn't already know about, but the events that took place combined to make me feel utterly depressed when I got up this morning. Lots of people I know were in the dream, but I came off worst in terms of friendships, relationships, betrayals, you name it. And although half of it was utter made-up crap that probably came from my subconscious, at least half of it was completely believable and probably happened. Which is what makes it so depressing. Why is it you can remember the dreams you want to forget, but not the ones that are actually worth hanging on to? Discuss.

Counters and calves

I'm not sure that having a site meter is really a good thing. True, you can tell who has been reading your site, and work out who has left comments, but then maybe that takes some of the mystery out of getting hits. And while you can tell who is interested enough in you that they check to see how you're doing, you can also tell who doesn't give a toss whether you're dead or alive. Which is kind of depressing.

On a good note, I have just got back from running (and am now trussed up in a duvet in front of the tennis, ready to do some work, with my calves massaged) and I was able to do the 3.5 mile circuit with only one stop. This was five minutes in and was near the top of the huge hill near our house, which even my car has trouble with. The other 3 miles I ran in one go. This may not sound like much to all the fit people out there, but it's good for me. Plus it's a 9th of a marathon! So I am cheered slightly by this. The annoying thing was that it took me exactly the same length of time today that it did the other day, when I stopped about ten times. This is not unsurprising, since after I have stopped for a minute I can start running again at a faster pace for a bit, but it's still annoying. But, at least there is hope for me yet! Hoorah!

I nearly got run over earlier, going to the 7/11 on a doughnut mission. Some jerk decided to turn left across the intersection when the pedestrian crossing lights were going and I was walking across the road. And then once they had screeched to a halt a few inches from my legs, they didn't even bother looking at me, but just swerved round me and carried on. Drivers here are the worst. Driving in London would be a piece of cake after Vancouver.

Annoying things on tv tonight: Sports Centre referring to a basketball coach as being "Both the winningest and the losingest coach in history" - who lets them get away with using made up words like these??!! I would have shouted at the tv, but I didn't want to disturb Denise....

Give me some luck

Today I applied for a job that I actually really want, so cross fingers for me please!!

Nothing else has really gone on today, except for me discovering that as I am technically self-employed, I can try and claim some of the cost of this laptop back as expenses. Cross fingers for that too. Oh, and the lottery ticket tomorrow. Not that I'm being greedy. I just want some money and a job. Or just one of the above. Plus clear skin, a flat stomach, the love of my life.... ok, that is greedy.

Today I went jogging in the rain, which was a fairly pleasant experience, as jogging goes. Recently the weather has been very wet, but rather warm, and it's possible to go out without a sweater on. My legs seem to be resisting the exercise less these days, so I must be getting slightly fitter - either that, or I am just deadening my nerve endings. I am still miles behind on the marathon training plan, because of the snow, but at least I am still trying to carry on regardless of my miserable level of fitness!

Last night whilst getting ready to go to bed, I pondered on whether I had lost weight since moving here. To test this theory, I salvaged a top that I have never worn from one of my drawers, and tried it on. I bought it a couple of years ago in Manchester, and it's a corset top, so for a start I've never had the confidence (many many hooks and eyes down the front of the top). But secondly, it used to be kind of tight around my rib cage, and breathing was slightly hard.... However, it now seems to fit - which is strange, since my ribs can't have got smaller, but I suppose I must have lost an inch or two from my chest? Anyway, enough about my chest. The point is, that I can now wear this top, if I ever gain a lot of confidence. And whilst standing in front of the mirror with this top on, I decided to try my black skirt with it. And THEN, the cowboy-esque boots I bought the other day.

Now I've never liked my legs, and I very very rarely show them. But with a short skirt on, and nearly knee high boots, they suddenly didn't look so bad. In fact, I looked kind of funky, in a very non-me kind of way. I may have to take a picture. The trouble with short skirts is that they tend to show off my rear, so now I have that problem to work on. And before anyone leaves comments telling me my backside isn't that big, it's a proportion thing. Plus none of you have seen my butt close up.*

Today the presidential inauguration was on tv, though luckily I only caught the end of it. What I did see, which was about fifteen minutes, infuriated the hell out of me. But before I explain my annoyance, some background.

The inauguration ceremony took place, followed by the 'parade' through downtown DC. This parade involved an extreme number of blacked out cars and trucks, snipers on roofs, bodyguards running by the vehicles, and crowds separated from all this by about twenty feet of police and barriers. Bush got out of the car to wave to the crowd and walk the street once, for approximately five minutes, then got back in. People who wanted to turn up had to get tickets, and were not allowed to be in the crowd unless they were Bush supporters. Opponents of Bush were not allowed to get through into the crowd, but were kept a few blocks away, in a designated area. Which his motorcade sped through quickly. Now I realise that this was meant to be a day for Bush to savour, and that he didn't want to be mobbed by protesters when giving his speech. But what pissed me off was that the members of his staff who got interviewed spent the entire time talking about how democratic the parade was, how everything was a show of freedom, and how it was fantastic to see all the people out there cheering. Of course they were cheering - the supporters were the only people let near the celebrations! If they'd done some interviews down the road, it would have been a different story. The 'parade' was not actually a 'parade' in the strict sense of the word, since it was actually a lot of people with guns and a motorcade. Which didn't exactly embody freedom to me. To give the interviewers credit, they did try to ask the Bush admin what exactly it was that was so democratic about the whole thing, but the staff kept avoiding the question. Which was probably what they were employed for. So I went onto messenger and ranted at Dan instead, to make myself feel better. Sorry Dan!

On a subject closer to home; home! Three weeks and counting until Denise and I fly to England. My parents have been getting the bathroom and my bedroom redone, and so far I have been informed that I have no bed, and there is no floor in the bathroom. But hey, there's always the sofa. I don't need to sleep anyway, I just intend to eat stuff thatI've been missing since being here. Namely; good cheese, Quorn sausages, decent pesto that tastes Italian, and risotto being the things that spring to mind. Oh, and Braeburn apples. Can't wait.


* Ok, since I don't know everyone who reads this, this might not strictly be true, but I'll wager that if anyone here has seen my butt close up, it was probably dark enough that you didn't get a good look at its full extent ;o) Maybe next time?

Denise and Jenny

So Denise and I, in a moment of madness, googled our names on, well, Google. There were some fairly funny individual photos, but the best ones were ones where two random people called Denise and Jenny were in the same photo. So here are the best three. I apologise in advance if any of these people find their photos on this site - they're only funny because they are so unlike what we actually look like, honestly.....


So here, Denise is on the far left, and I am on the far right. She's sporting a rather fetching orange top and hula garland, whilst I appear to be wearing a curtain with straps.

This time positions are reversed, with me being on the left and Denise being on the right. We're obviously graduating from our nth degree, and having an 80s throwback moment. The dude in the middle looks like someone's brother. I'm impressed with the fact that I have grown about a foot though.

And finally, save the best til last. Denise is allegedly wearing the hat, whilst I have shoved my head into a large black animal and it appears that neither of us is too happy about this situation.

In good company

The monsoon season continues here in Vancouver. Driving tonight (for me, the girl with driving experience of under two months) was not fun. In fact I was in two lanes at once for a good few seconds, as I couldn't see the road markings. I'm sure Denise loves me driving her about ;o)

Today, I worked, and planned to go to the gym. Then broke that plan by going to the cinema with Denise instead, to see 'In Good Company.' And as Greg could no doubt predict, my obsession with a certain colour of hair led me to covet Scarlett Johanssen's do the whole way through the film. I recommend the film though - it manages to be endearing, funny, and thankfully atypical. Plus the guy in it is cute, in a kind of geeky way. It beat the gym any day.

Talking of good acting, my favourite CSI episode (Friends and Lovers) was on today. It's not the best one in terms of plot by any means, or even in terms of acting. It's not the most exciting, and it doesn't have Eric Szmanda out in the field, which automatically loses it points! But, watching the ending never fails to move me. Without giving the plot away, lest anyone want to watch it in the future, one of the crimes being investigated involves a young man who is found dead in the desert, and who was at a rave with his best friend. As the programme progresses, the plot thickens, and there is a very sad and depressing ending.

It's not the actual plot that gets to me, but the end scene. As followers of CSI will know, Grissom's pet passion is roller coasters. He loves them, and they fill him with excitement and happiness. But this time, after solving the case, he goes at night to one of the big coasters in Vegas, and rides it alone. It's dark, there's no-one else around, and there is music playing, but it's obvious from his face that he gets no enjoyment from riding the roller coaster at all. And something in that just gets to me.

Start building the Ark

Today, the snow got washed away and the rains came. With a vengeance. It was raining all night, having started late yesterday, and so far we've had 10cm or so in the city. With another 6cm for tomorrow, and five days of 100% precipitation to come. Apparently people have been moaning about the snow - however, now people are moaning about the rain. It seems that Vancouver can't cope with any season very well. Pot holes are appearing in many of the major roads/bridges because they're not built to cope with the freeze/thaw/wet, and driving round here is lethal. Hopefully, being on our hill will mean that flooding is unlikely, but who can tell in this mad place.

Watching the Australian Open tennis today made me desperately want to go to Australia. I have always wanted to go there but have never really had the money or the guts to sit through the lengthy flight, and without knowing anyone there it would be a bit of a lonely voyage anyway. But then maybe I'm just pining for somewhere where it isn't raining the whole time.

Trying to work out my itinerary for England last night, I came to the conclusion that I should probably spend more time with my parents and less time roaming the country. For a number of reasons, many of them hard to reconcile in my mind. This is not to say that I don't want to spend a lot of time with my friends, but it's just that many of them have moved past the point they were at when I last saw them, and much as I would like some of them to go into reverse, it just ain't gonna happen.......so I should just use my time wisely, and not chase unrealistic half-chances. Sound logical? Well in that case I probably won't stick to it!

Just for a laugh, check out my hideous picture on the website of the King of Floors company, who I won the hockey tickets from. Thank goodness the guy took it from so far away that you can't really tell how bad I look. (I'm the one at the bottom, not the one with a family and kids, just to make that clear).

Someone sort my life out.....

A PS on the subject of music: songs I have trouble listening to because of their associations - Feeder (Forget About Tomorrow), The Delays (Nearer Than Heaven), Fleetwood Mac (Little Lies) and David Grey (This Year's Love). Don't even ask why!! A number of long stories.

Today has been a mixed day of weirdness, shopping and emotions. None of which was really bad as such, it just all seemed to come as a jumble, with no discernable order to any of it.

My dreams last night were fragmented and disordered, as they seem to have increasingly been over the last couple of weeks, and today was one of those mornings where you wake up and can't remember if what you dreamed was just a dream, or whether some of those things happened in reality. So for a good couple of hours I thought that one of my friends wasn't going out with his girlfriend any more, and that I had to go to some strange family get-together when I was back in England. Both of which could be true, but neither of which I actually know for sure.

This morning I got up with the intention of going downtown and getting some more car keys cut, and took the bus. Inevitably when I get on buses here I am quickly followed by the local drunk/drug addict/nutter, and today was no exception. Not long before our destination, a guy got on and loudly proclaimed to the driver that he was going to see his psychiatrist on the eastside, and could he get on this bus? Fair enough, you might think, but he spent the rest of the journey shouting stuff out to the rest of the bus. Starting with proclamations that a tsunami was coming (so if one hits us, I need to find him and ask what the rest of my life holds, cos he can obviously tell) along with some declaration about a building five storeys high. Next it was the fact that the city was full of "rats, worms, pigeons and seagulls" which was in fact pretty accurate I guess. Having decided this wasn't enough, he then moved on to swearing liberally and calling the world faggots, and then I had the misfortune to be getting off at the same stop as him, whereupon he declared, "F***ing hurry up, you whore, or I'll cut your f***ing throat on the pavement, I swear to God." Which was a nice way to end the journey. But as he only held a newspaper in his hand, I wasn't that scared.

After being unable to find the key cutting place that I had been promised by another shopkeeper, I gave up and went back to the bus stop, only to be lured into a shoe place opposite the stop. And once I had seen some cowboyesque boots that were reduced from $150 to $35, it was all over.... picture to follow, but I'm too tired to take one now, sorry.

Oh, and the breaking up of one raccoon fight. Not your normal day.

Today's music of choice has been Sarah McLachlan - 'Stupid'. I am not sure if I'm trying to tell myself something....

Random music facts and winter sports

For no particular reason, some music facts that came into my head today whilst listening to music on my computer:

1. 'Little by Little' by Oasis is the only Oasis song I have ever liked out of all the stuff they've done.
2. I love Ryan Adams - 'Come Pick Me Up', partly because it is the only song I know that can use the word 'fuck' in the lyrics without making it sound in the least offensive.
3. I have far too many Goo Goo Dolls songs on my computer.
4. My collection of songs about 'Jenny' now includes one by the Killers, one by Cross Canadian Ragweed, and one by Cowboy Mouth. I have nothing better to do, you understand.
5. I used to own a Michael Bolton CD (a long time ago).
6. The makeup of most of my mp3 collection is down to the influence of three people over the years, all male.
7. I grew up surrounded by my father's records - Foreigner, ELO, the Beatles, the Stones, and America. All of whom I still love.
8. My crowning glory in first year University was that I knew all the words to Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince - 'Boom Shake the Room' and the Bloodhound Gang - 'Bad Touch'. And still do, sadly.
9. 'Sweet Home Alabama' is a song that I never remember to proactively play, but whenever it comes up on my computer I remember how good it is. Ditto for 'Crazy Nights' by Kiss.
10. My favourite song ever is 'There She Goes' by The La's.

Today Denise and I continued the winter sports theme and went ice skating. I haven't been for a large number of years, probably more than I care to remember, and I did wobble when I first got out onto the ice. You forget just how hard and unforgiving the surface is. But soon I was whizzing round the rink (speed was never my problem, it is stopping that I am rather bad at). I need to get some skates, or some more rollerblades, as my mother threw the last pair out in a fit of spring cleaning. Stopping is easier with rollerblades because you can drag one blade without turning, whereas on skates you tend to turn if you lean on the edge too much. I guess I need to get more practice in. Much like skiing. Perhaps if I fail to run the marathon I could roller blade it - I wonder if they'd let me? That would be wicked!!

Behold the cheese!!!

Finally! The Dairy Farmers of Canada commercials that I raved about a while ago have been found on the Internet, by none other than my lovely flatmate Denise! For those who didn't read my cheesy post, these commercials have been taking Canada by storm, featuring as they do lovely black and white settings, beautiful models, great scenery and classical music - and advertising Cheese. They are so well done and very funny, you have to take a look. Please!

Enjoy!!! We certainly did.........

'Scent of a Cheddar'
'Scent of a Gouda'

A plug for Chemistry - of all things!

Yes, it's hard to believe, but I am encouraging people to do a Chemistry-type thing. For those who don't know, my father teaches Physical Chemistry at Oxford University in England, and he's doing a Chemistry show on Wednesday 2nd February at 6:30pm UK time. It was meant to be a (fairly) educational show for schools and teachers in the area, but he was inundated with requests for seats, and in the end they decided to show it on the Internet. So, on the day you can log onto the Oxford Uni Chem website and see the Chemistry show for yourself. I will post the link when I know it nearer the time. I know this will not get too many people excited, but my father does do good Chemistry shows.....once he gave my friend an asthma attack with a hydrogen balloon explosion demonstration, but we don't talk about such things any more.

After yesterday's exertions, today has been extremely lazy. This morning I played computer games, watched CSI, dossed about and generally made plans to exercise "later." This evening we ended up going out for dinner, so there was less of the exercise and more of the eating. Tomorrow there are plans for ice skating. There is certainly a winter theme going on here.

Battered and bruised, but not down and out.....

So after winning the hockey tickets, we all went to the hockey. Unsurprisingly. It was the Vancouver Giants versus the Prince George Cougars, and we got there after the first period had finished, due to some traffic problems and the fact that my cousin tried to reverse into the wall of the parking garage at high speed. Although the game was good, it wasn't great. Plus there weren't enough fights. However there was one fight which made up for this; we didn't see what started it, but suddenly there were two helmets and some gloves on the floor, with two guys squaring up to each other. In proper comic 'put your dukes up' fashion, they circled each other on skates, hands clenched in front of them, waiting for the other to make their move. After some encouragement by the crowd ("Hit him with your purse, you pussy!") the Vancouver guy went for it, and a huge punch-up ensued. The referees leave the guys to it until they wear themselves out, as it's better to get the aggression out on the ice than have it explode in the changing rooms. So they stood, and watched, and eventually when both guys were collapsing with exhaustion, they pulled them apart. The Vancouver guy won. Actually the crowd was the best part of the night, as there were two guys down our end of the rink who were the leading cheerers, one because he was loud and got all the waves going, and one because he came up with decent insults ("Oi, Zimmer, why don't you take up another sport, like knitting!"). It was a good night. Plus it was free, and we got two comfy armchairs to sit in as the people we won it from were the "King of Floors" and they had a 'throne' fetish....

So today, another icy sport - skiing. Denise and I drove to Whistler (in itself, worth doing, as the scenery is amazing - I would have taken pictures but I was driving). We got a lift pass and hired ski equipment, all for $85 (£35). I have to say, I was hideous the first time I got on the slope. In retrospect, going immediately halfway up the mountain and doing a beginner run with no experience was probably not the best idea, but then who needs learner slopes anyway. My first run took me about an hour and a bit, as every five metres I fell over, and I couldn't work out how to turn both skis at once. I got pissed off and Denise did another run, and then we had lunch. After this I decided that I was not going to let the slope beat me, and I went up again. This time I only fell over four times on the run, and I worked out how to turn. However I did have a collision with a small sapling on a hill as I forgot how to stop. Time for one more - the same slope. Down to one falling over incident (the same hill as before, which no-one had skied and was really powdery) and a clear run all the way down! Turns and everything! However, my kness are completely knackered, because I kept falling forwards onto them and at one point my skis refused to come off as they should, so I took a large part of the run on my kness. Black bruises and swelling galore. But I loved it.

Time to go til flying to England: four weeks and counting.........

I should buy a lottery ticket

Phone conversation with cousin last night, who is currently here with 4 friends to go snowboarding in Whistler:
Him: "The Vancouver Giants are playing hockey tomorrow night, do you want to go?"
Me: "Sure, I'll see if there are tickets left and we can just get them on the door tomorrow."
Him: "No problem, I'll see if any of my friends want to come too."

Phone conversation with man from big flooring company nearby this morning (I had e-mailed them to say a contest link wasn't working on their site):
Him: "Hi there, are you Jenny? Did you ever manage to get the site to work?"
Me: "Oh yes, I must just have been too early to enter, the link was there when I looked yesterday."
Him: "Well, for being the first one to try and enter, do you want ten free box tickets to the Vancouver Giants game tonight?"
Cue stunned silence.

A quick map check, a jump in the car and a 30 mile round trip, and I am the proud owner of box seats for 10....

'Love' is the hardest word, not 'sorry'

My lovely housemate Denise is back - hoorah! No more loneliness for me.....though thanks to all the people who have kept me sane over the holidays through e-mails, phone calls and messenger. Denise can now take over - bet she's excited! In further news, my equally lovely friend Shaw has booked her flights over here in March, so I have that to look forward to as well. I am becoming a holiday whore - not good for the bank balance.

Last night, leading on from previous conversations with Dan about emotions and being ruthless*, a thought - should I be more so? Would it benefit me in any way to be less feeling, and more determined? More ruthlessness might be helpful, in that it would allow me to get rid of some of the 'dead wood' that currently floats through my life. But then at some points in time, when I probably should have been ruthless with relationships and cut myself off from hurtful situations, I relented and went for the friendly, accepting approach. Has this gained me more friends, because people know that they can trust me and depend on me? Or has it gained me less respect, because people think that they can screw me over and I will probably still be friends with them? It's hard to tell. I think there is probably a little of both in there. But all I can say is, I have a lot of friends. I guess occasionally I'll get taken advantage of, but I just don't think being ruthless is for me.

Another late night thought was on the subject of loving vs being in love. Only for me to get up this morning and find that someone has beaten me to it via a comment on Butterscotch's blog! In theory I am in agreement with the commenter, James, who says that he would rather love somebody than be in love, given the choice. This is logical, but it does not stop us from wanting more.

The problem with love, as I see it, is that people are scared of it. If someone gave you a piece of paper, and asked you to write names down in two columns - people you have loved, and people you have been in love with - there should be quite a few names in the first column, and maybe a couple in the second. And then if you were to tick the names that you have said "I love you" to, how many ticks would there be? I hazard a guess that there would be very few. The trouble arises because the phrase "I love you" has become an indication of something other than just love. It seems to be taken as a commitment, or as something extremely scary. And yet there are all these people in the first column of your list, people who you love; parents, relations, friends of both sexes - and you never tell them so (possibly parents excepted). If you were to do so, they would think you were slightly odd, and your friends might start freaking out if you suddenly declared you loved them. I can't help feel that this is a sad state of affairs. If I love my friends, it is because I care a lot about them, I appreciate their friendship, and I would do everything I could to help and support them. I don't feel that it should be bad to tell them this. But because I hold to convention, and because I know that my male friends especially would run for the hills screaming if I said I loved them, I haven't told them that I do.

Is this partly because the phrase "I love you", if used commonly and by a large number of types of people, would lose its uniqueness? Perhaps hoping that the person you are in love with will one day say those words to you would not hold as much magic as it does now if everyone said them to everyone else. Or maybe there would just be more love and affection in the world, and more people who knew that they were special to someone. Who knows. But in the meantime, I guess we have to continue not telling people we love that we love them. However, after the recent events in Asia, I think it's pretty important that people that you love (or are in love with) know you love them (or are in love with them) before sometime happens to disrupt your plans to tell them "one of these days." I'm not going to list the people I love, since there'll always be someone who feel uncomfortable with this, or someone who thinks I am hitting on their girl/boyfriend. So I shall content myself with saying; to all my friends, my family, and the people who are dear to me, I love you. And I'll tell you that to your face, if you let me!


* Which as I discovered when I looked it up in curiosity, is not connected to the biblical Ruth, but rather comes from the verb rue 'to feel sorrow or pity [about]', from Old English, and the noun suffix -th, which forms nouns of action (birth) or abstract nouns denoting quality or condition.

More snow today - good fun to walk around in, but still no chance of running. The snow is up to about five inches now, so I kept ending up with snow in the folds of my trousers, which I had to roll up to actually get anywhere without being dragged down by the weight of water soaking into the fabric.





Yesterday to make up for this I got gym membership and then went swimming. However, since I haven't been swimming for a while, it was quite hard to do many lengths, plus there was some jerk doing turns in my face and trying to be cool. Since my second year I haven't been able to do much front crawl, because of some weird neurological losing my balance type thing I've got going on (the other day I had to fall against a tree down the road to stay upright...) so I am forced to do breaststroke, which is good for the stomach but not at all good for the hips! Today however, I have been less active. I caught the bus downtown, not really because I had anything to do, but more because I wanted to see what the rest of Vancouver looked like in the snow. It was kind of eerie. The main road was relatively clear because of all the traffic on it, but the side streets were deserted and completely white, kind of like a nuclear winter. And when you were at the bottom of the hill, and could see the city stretching out above you, there was this grid of white houses, all looking deserted......

The rest of the day has been spent watching tv and trying to think of things less boring to do. Punctuated by the first tears of 2005 (eight days in - what control) for no real reason, which seeing as I had a headache anyway, just made it worse. I think I realised how crap some of my holiday in England was actually going to be, and how unlikely I was to actually make anything better by going. All the things I wanted to do/say before I left, are unlikely to be done/said this time if I didn't manage to say them the first time! Ouch. But it's booked now, and my parents will be glad to see me anyway.......

In the bleak midwinter.....

Ok, so it's not that bleak, but it snowed today!! About three inches. More is predicted for overnight, and the city looks lovely - though Vancouver is not prepared for snow because it rarely happens, so there are no snow clearing machines. So there is no way I was using the car, and the pavements were pretty slippy. Hence I wasn't able to go running, which was a bit of a disappointment. And I mean this seriously, since if I miss too many training runs I will be utterly useless on the day (as opposed to mostly useless). Instead I fought my way to London Drugs and bought Baby oil to massage my aching muscles. No rude jokes about baby oil here please. Tomorrow I plan to go to the community centre and get membership so I can use the gym every so often, and take advantage of the Friday $2 swim session. Never let it be said that I am a cheapskate.....ahem.


After fine-tuning his ideas in a slightly (read 'very') random conversation the other night, the marvellous nmrboy has developed an idea which will surely revolutionise the way we eat and work. Check it out. I am sure you can place your orders with him if you so wish, though with the number of degrees he currently has going, it may be some time before the first 'toast drives' roll off the production line. Don't let that stop you from sending him your money though......can I have commission?

There is a good advert on here at the moment for a computer game called Mercenary. It has scenes from the game on the screen, with a voice over provided by some serious sounding guy.

"You are a mercenary."
(Scenes of gunfire)
"Use any weapon possible."
(More scenes of gunfire)
"Blow stuff up"
(Explosions)
"Keep blowing stuff up."
(Further explosions)
"Blow the living crap out of stuff."
(Huge exploding things)
"Blow the living crap out of it some more."
(Whole cities seem to be exploding)

Now if that isn't a descriptive and accurate representation of the game, I don't know what is.

As an unrelated aside, I am wondering if I can start an online counselling service - or if not counselling, at least an advice service. I am rarely able to take my own advice, but I can dish it out in vast quantities. And hopefully most of the time it makes sense. Or if it's crap, people haven't complained yet. Anyway, if I can't get a job doing anything else, perhaps a 'blog doc' is called for. People requesting advice: leave details below.....

P.S. I've just noticed that someone from the US military base at Quantico read my blog about an hour ago. Hello to you, and I hope this doesn't mean I've done anything wrong!!

The first Wednesday of 2005

So far the bad news has not materialised, though I still expect it to do so some time in the near future. Am I a pessimist, or a realist?!

Third day of training; pretty much a washout. Although I was able to do 10k the other day without much trouble, my legs have subsequently decided they don't like this new forced movement, and all my muscles seized up today, resulting in a run of about 5k only. I really really need a decent massage. Anyone in the Vancouver area? Damn.

I suspect that my father has found this blog, since someone from the Oxford University Chemistry department is checking it, after doing a search for "blog jenny cartwright". Either that, or someone else in the Chemistry department is reading it - in which case, you probably know my father.......

Back to life, back to reality?

This morning I did my second marathon training session in Stanley Park, though it was a bit of a non-event due to my getting a stitch about 30 seconds after starting which never left, forcing me to keep stopping and massaging my side. But it was a nice day, and there were very few people, so it was all good.

I got back to find a message on the answer phone from my cousin, who along with his friends subsequently picked me up in their rented tank of a people carrier, and we drove to the Capilano Suspension bridge. It's a fantastic place, and definitely a place to visit again in the future. As well as the massive suspension bridge, there is a raised walkway in the trees, reminiscent of Ewok villages, and we saw the largest owl ever, which looked as though it could easily eat small children.



After that, back to the friend's flat, where he proceded to cook up a wonderful meal for us all, consisting of the day's purchases from Granville Island market (and I have the leftovers, mwahahaha). Then a DVD of the film "Hero" which was good but slightly confusing, and a snowboarding film.

Although the day was good, for some reason there has been something nagging at me the entire time. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel nervous, like someone is about to tell me something I really don't want to know. And usually when I feel this way, something is up. So, if anyone out there has anything they've been putting off telling me; now is the time. Alternatively, messages telling me good things that I do want to know would be appreciated!

Success!

Hoorah, my cunning plan to brainwash my friends into coming here has worked! My marvellous and wonderful friend Shaw is coming over from Boston in March!! I am hoping that with all the fantastic people I shall therefore see in the next couple of months, things may be looking up. Let's hope I haven't spoken too soon....

Some gentle encouragement

I haven't really done much today, apart from clean the house, but I'm beginning to look forward to going back to England in roughly six weeks' time. I'm now wishing that I had booked four weeks there instead of three, but at the time that seemed excessive, since I will be imposing on people who already have lots of things to do without the added stress of me being there.

Denise and I are flying back to London together, and are going with Zoom, who have recently emerged as one of the new budget airlines. My flight was about £250 return, which was a lot better than the other airlines. So I am hereby encouraging people to come to Vancouver and see me, between now and September. My friend Liz and her friend Fran are coming here in September, so I'm definitely here until then. After that, who knows! Flights from London, Manchester or Glasgow are about £129 each way in May/June, though after that it probably gets more pricey. If people are broke I can chip in some money.... anyway it would be nice to see anyone who wants to risk the low-budgetness of Zoom. You get a holiday, I get to see my friends. What could be better? :o)

Bringing home the bacon?

I was pissed off to discover Safeway had overcharged me by $3 when buying bacon today, and this is the only time I have actually bought the stuff since I've been here because it's so expensive! The one time it's on offer, I get screwed..... of course I only discovered this when I went home, and by then I couldn't be bothered to turn round and go back....especially as earlier I nearly got totalled by some fuckwit turning left at the intersection without waiting for the light to turn red in my through lane, and deciding that yellow meant the same thing.

I started my marathon training today. And I'm sure I will pay for it later. I ran around Stanley Park, as displayed below. It was meant to be a 10k run, but looking at the map I reckon it was more like 8. Not bad for a first go back at training though. The last time I ran 10k was a year and a half ago in the Manchester Run, and then I nearly died from being unfit. My shoulders hurt (don't ask) but the rest of me is ok. I doubt I'll be able to get out of bed tomorrow though! At the moment my marathon prediction is that I might finish. Might. Hopefully this will be revised as I keep training, especially as I have incentives to get a good time.

When I went to get in the car today to drive to the park, the car doors were frozen shut. And it took a few minutes, under the suspicious eye of a dad on the other side of the road, to get them open. This worries me, as it was -4 last night, and the prediction for next Sunday has been revised (down? up?) from -9 to -13, so it might not only be the car that has trouble functioning soon.

A cheering thing on tv today (ok, also rather strange); people turning up at a cathedral somewhere or other to get their pets blessed for the New Year. It was called "Bless all creatures great and small" and the deacon/guy whose name I don't know because I am sadly ill-informed about religion would put his hand on the head of the animal and say a little prayer for their safety and good health throughout the next year. People brought their cats, dogs, birds.... I'm not sure how he did it with fish, but there was probably a way. As my cousin discovered a few nights ago, whilst we were waiting for a bus downtown at 2am, this country is mad. In a fab way. I blend right in :o)

Well, it has been a generally good day today, for no particular reason. I'm just having an optimistic episode (not to be confused with a psychotic episode). My friends in Indonesia and Malaysia are both safe, thank goodness. To end, my apologies to Penelope, whose page I commented on a few days ago - I can't get back to it because your comment link won't take me to your profile! So I haven't given up posting, I just can't find you any more.

On love and Stanley Park

It is getting colder here. Next weekend promises to be -7, and although I am sceptical of the weather network's ability to predict anything beyond the next three days, the weekend after that will allegedly be -20. I think I might freeze. This is the time you need a boyfriend/hot water bottle.

After going to bed at 4am, and getting up today at midday, I dropped a guidebook off at the flat my cousin was staying in, and then made my way to Stanley Park. There is an unwritten rule that my parents and I go for a walk every New Year's day, usually in the grounds of Blenheim Palace near our house. And this year I felt that even though I was many thousands of miles away, I should continue the tradition.

The park was full of people, although because of its size it didn't feel crowded in the least. I parked the car by the Christmas lights and set off around the seawall, following the shoreline and taking in the views. It is always extremely relaxing to walk around the park, because there is little noise apart from the waves crashing against the wall and the beaches, and today was no exception. The only thing missing was someone to share the experience with. Not necessarily a lover, although obviously that would have been nice, but just my parents, or a friend. There are some places that you find so amazing you want to share them with someone else, and make them love the place as much as you yourself do. If any of my friends visit me this year, as some of them hope to do, then I intend to take them round the park, so that they can experience it for themselves.

So after walking around the north side of the seawall, and thinking the views can't get any better, I round the NW point, and suddenly a vista opens up of West Vancouver, the mountains in the distance, and the sea stretching ahead. Fantastic. At this moment a massive tanker comes past, and everyone stops to stare at the view and the ship. And a guy on the deck of the ship pauses, then waves to me with a cute smile, picking me out from the crowd. So I wave back. Happy New Year.....

A slight, but as you will see related, digression: those of you who have not yet perused my fellow bloggers on the right of my page, I urge you to visit the page of the marvellous nmrboy.


As well as being a very good writer in general, he is an eloquent and thought-provoking blogger. With more than a little of the random included in his posts, just to keep things interesting. A recent post on the statistics of and chemistry-type explanations for love should give rise to some discussion.

In fact, whilst I was walking round the park today, a thought came to me regarding long-distance relationships (ok, so not directly on the subject of love, but it did link in there via certain of my 'exes'). Many people have told me that "long distance relationships never work" - and yet a friend of mine who I was lucky enough to be able to pair up with another friend, and who then immediately left the country, is due to be married to said second friend this year. Their relationship became stronger after she left, as they realised how much they had and how much they could lose if they didn't work at sorting something out. Another of my friends has recently got back from America where she spent a month with her boyfriend of a year, and misses him more by the day. And so, I don't think that we can generalise and say that long distance relationships never work. They just have to survive more strain and stress, and you have to trust each other implicitly.

This is relevant because when I started to entertain the idea of moving to Canada, a couple of years ago, I also started to hope that someone in particular would come with me. I was not secure enough in this relationship to directly ask for their participation in the move, but I commented that if a job came up in the same place, if he fancied a change, if he was willing to take a chance in another country, yadda yadda blah blah. Personally, I don't think that there is much of a difference between being with someone for a couple of years in different countries and knowing that at a point in the future you will be together, and being with someone in the same country, apart from the obvious (and the increased stress, as mentioned). I was willing to do the long distance thing, but he was emphatically not.

I have always attributed this unwillingness to commit to the fact that he didn't like me enough to do so, and that it was just too much hassle to go through for someone he had no intention of being with for the rest of his life. But today, apropos of nothing, a thought; perhaps there were other reasons. On meeting up with this person at various points in my life after we have been apart for a while, it is like nothing has changed. We still have the same attraction to each other, we still enjoy each other's company, and without going into detail, things have happened. So how can it be that a relationship which has continued (in the sense of the feelings continuing) for years, no matter where in the world we both have been, cannot cope with the commitment of "going out" in different countries?

Firstly, I suspect that there is some fear involved in the reluctance to commit to a "relationship." And rightly so. If someone I loved was moving to another country, and asked me to continue having a relationship with them, this would imply (at my age, at least) that they thought we had a future together. Otherwise what would be the point of having the relationship, other than to fill in time and make yourself feel wanted? And so, you are immediately forced to consider whether you like the person enough to take such a big risk; essentially one of you is committing to a move which may be very alien to you. Now I might have felt that I was willing to make this commitment, but then I was doing the moving. So it's easy for me to make the call. Although I understand why this fear may have had an impact on our relationship, it pains me that it did, since it is never good to feel that someone cares for you, but that it's just not enough.

Secondly, and more worryingly, I realise that for this particular person (and doubtless many others) there was a sense that by committing to a relationship with me when I was not in the country, they would somehow be 'missing out' on something indefinable. I don't mean to imply anything here, but for some people there is a sense that you're narrowing down your options; having a girlfriend in the country is one thing, as you can get the satisfaction of physical and emotional ties whilst also having the security of a relationship. If someone 'better' comes along, the breakup may be messy, but you're not committing to anything necessarily; after all, they are in the country anyway, so why shouldn't you go out with them? However, having a relationship with someone in another country is a different matter. You have the commitment, but none of the physical rewards, and fewer emotional ones. You have committed to something in the future, but you may feel that the present lack of contact is not worth the eventual prize. And if another potential partner comes along in the country where you live, what should you do? How can you compare them to someone who is not there, and if you feel that they are 'better' than the absent partner, how do you proceed? If you are not 100% committed, then having a long-distance relationship is the scarier option.

And although I would happily fly round the world and settle somewhere alien for the person I loved, I guess there is more to think about than I assumed at the time, in my anger at the seeming lack of commitment shown to me in the past. Perhaps I am more of a risk taker than he was. But when I weigh the security of knowing that someone loves you, even across the other side of the world, with the feeling that you've passed up an opportunity that might have led to the rest of your life, I feel there is no contest. And I'm willing to back that assertion up with plane tickets! Not necessarily with the guy from my past, but in the future, with someone who wants to take a chance on me. Hopefully one of the 850 left for me to choose from. And who knows, maybe I've even met them already, and just don't know it yet :o)

And a random New Year to all

After being so bored today that I drove to the Oakridge centre and bought tracksuit trousers (oh yes), New Year's Eve was upon me. For a start there was something strange about talking to someone in another country that has already had New Year some hours previously, when mine is yet to come. But there you go.

The chain of events this evening was roughly as follows; get phone call from errant cousin, explaining that his phone contract had expired at the precise point at which midnight came in the UK, with the phone switching itself off and refusing to come on again. Hence his lack of communication with yours truly. Arrange to meet said cousin at half past nine outside the art gallery downtown. Throw on boots and coat, leg it down to 7/11 to buy chewing gum and get change for bus in case transport is not in fact free and I look like a tit. Manage to get bus by the skin of my teeth, and the damn thing is free after all.

On entering downtown, get stuck in mega traffic jam and become late for meeting with cousin. Get off bus and run to art gallery, to find one photographer dude, many goth underage drinkers, and no cousin. Wait in cold. Cousin arrives with friends in tow, walk to so-called "First Night" which promises to be the main event in Vancouver, pay $15 to get in, get free glow-pen (this alone made the entry fee worthwhile). Walk to first stage where we are confronted by two drama students twirling to music that they alone can hear and which bears no resemblance to what is actually playing. Crowd builds to watch said students dancing like lunatics. Stare in disbelief as random Yorkshire bloke on stage (who plays the ukelele) pulls out a camcorder and invites the crowd to come forward into a big mass and "Say happy new year to my mate Stuart who didn't want to fly over here tonight because he hates planes, and while you're at it, get out your lighters and phones and wave them so he can see the lights." Run away from stage in fear of strange Yorkshire men.

Queue for half an hour to get into "CBC ballroom", eventually getting in to find a very old man with a very old band and some very old jazz songs. Listen to two, then leave when the shite love song gets played, trying to gain entry to "Songwriters cafe." On being told this will be another wait of half an hour, leave First Night in disgust, having paid $15 to do essentially naff all. (Note to readers: all First Night venues are alcohol free).

Respond to needs of men in party by finding a bar (time now: 11:10pm). Walk down road, enter one bar, decide it is too upmarket. Find "Pub 304" where flyer promises a band made up of former members of "Muscle Bitches" and queue for entry. Queue until 11:35pm, then decide to run for condo of cousin's friend in an attempt to get back and get alcohol before midnight. Make it to gardens outside condo before midnight comes, heralded by cheering from other flats, fireworks, and loud screaming. Join in with this merriment whilst outside the flat, feeling like we missed something.

Enter condo, whereupon male members of party fall upon alcohol rations and get smashed within seconds. Cousin peruses local erotic ads in paper, closely followed by personal ads for him, then personal ads for me, despite my objections. Watch two episodes of Little Britain on the laptop, then depart, followed by the cousin who insists on walking me to the bus stop. Walk to bus stop, wait 1 hour for bus, then get on random bus as frostbite hits my toes. First flakes of snow fall.

Bus journey punctuated by fears that the guy opposite me will throw up, as I had seen him do many times outside the bus stop before we got on. Many singing people, and much hilarity caused by guy at front of bus purloining driver's microphone and singing "99 bottles of beer on the wall." He makes it to 91 bottles before petering out. This is followed by renditions of the Backstreet Boys' "I want it that way," "Ole ole ole" and "The wheels on the bus." Make unwilling friends with guy next to me, who takes a picture of us with his camera. Get off at 37th Ave with same guy, who tries to force me to kiss him; I beat him off and walk six blocks home with freezing feet. Home time; 3:15am.

And you know, throughout all of this coldness, crap event-ness, and randomness, I had the best New Years I have had in a long time. There was no alcohol, hence no worrying about friends and money, and everything was so surreal that it was funny. And we all agreed that actually, being outside of loads of apartments when midnight came was really rather cool, as you could hear all the people across the harbour cheering and wishing each other a happy new year. Ok, I could have done without the bus not arriving and some arse trying to kiss me, but hey, it snowed a bit. Which makes me optimistic and happy.

Mark Twain has my New Year's resolutions this year: Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.