Squatting

This weekend my mother moved out of the condo; fear not, it was an amicable end to our co habitation. She and the step papa took possession of their new place on Friday and the condo’s lease isn’t up until the end of April; so lucky me, I have it all to myself.

I've really been enjoying the solitude; I was raised an only child and “me” time is my thing. However, she took everything. Seriously, I am living like a squatter, case in point the pictures.


A mere week ago I was watching digital cable on a plasma screen television, like most people living in the 21st century. Now I watch television like they did in the 80’s, on a small grainy box, that requires I squint to see any of the finer details, like letters or expressions. Truth be told the first day of watching this archaic box, I was beyond hung over and I swear the effort that focusing required was only exacerbating my already throbbing head.


The TV is bad; the hub is worse. That’s the endearing term I have for my seating accommodations; that isn’t a seat at all. The hub is a cluster of blankets and pillows, along with my computer and a heating pad (cramps). It was fun at first but now my ass hurts. Getting up from a seated position is no problem, but getting up from the ground is a bitch. I make certain I have EVERYTHING I need before I sit down; because straight up, it’s too much fucking work getting up and getting back down again.


This whole set up is a lot like camping, which some people find rather recreational; I, however, despise camping. Black people don’t rough it, slavery was rough enough.

If I could talk to my adolescent self, I would say one thing; study harder or else you will be 24 and sitting on blankets on the floor watching a grainy $80 television. Sadly no one said that to me and here we are.

The countdown to my move is on...17 days.

De Caffeinated

2 months ago, I gave up coffee. I’d like to say it was because I wanted to be “naturally” energized; but truthfully, I was concerned my teeth were getting yellow, and I don’t want busted looking teeth. So I gave it up, cold turkey.

I will admit I was a bit of a savage the first few days, I kept to myself in order to preserve my close relationships; but after the first week it was all good. I was coffee free. I started drinking Matcha green tea powder because of the antioxidants; and I heard it helps drop pounds. I cannot vouch for the weight loss or the antioxidants; but my energy level stabilized.

Things were going well; until COSTCO happened.

My friend Chris and I needed to go to COSTCO for some catering supplies and COSTCO being COSTCO there were samples. Now I am a sucker for free stuff, I mean it; free stuff is ALWAYS awesome. Free meals, free compliments and free porn are always welcome. Especially the porn, you know what I’m talking about, porn ain’t cheap. Anyways, they were sampling Salt Spring Island Coffee and if it wasn’t free, I would have passed; but those assholes were giving full cups away for free. And I am a greedy bitch, so I had to indulge; you would have to.

Since that day I have not been able to carry on without my daily brew. I have fallen way off the wagon; we’re talking daily trip to Starbucks. And to make matter worse, from March 1 to March 15 McDonalds was offering free coffee ALL DAY; whatever size I wanted. I mean, they gave me no choice; I love free shit.

FUCK. My teeth. After a month and a half of restraint and glimmering teeth, I’m drinking coffee again.

Yesterday I was looking in the mirror, at a poorly lit public washroom and my teeth appeared as yellow as a 2 pack a day smoker; and it scared the shit out of me. How can I achieve impossible beauty with teeth the color of sunshine? Sunshine is wonderful when it beams from the sky, but sunshine yellow teeth are far less enchanting.

So after weeks of teeth staining behavior, I am giving up coffee again. I have replenished my Matcha reserves and I have adopted Crest Whitestrips as my new best friends.

And as for the coffee purveyors, Starbucks can suck my dick, they gauge anyways, $3.00 for a drip coffee with vanilla syrup is ridiculous. And McDonalds, I was only drinking your swill because it was free.

Crusin' the Cosmos

Cancer Horoscope for the week of March 18-24, 2010
“You’ve got a problem that can’t be ignored and that’s the fact that you’re so dang bored. You need a challenge, like a karmic bitch slap, to force you to draw from the strength you’ve yet to tap. This week, if you’re up to the test, you’ll be amazed at your newly found zest.”

I used to be really into astrology; in fact there was a time when I guided my life by my zodiac. Those days are gone. For the most part, I think its all mumbo jumbo; but this week’s horoscope was dead on.

I’m bored as fuck.

I mean I have a pretty interesting life, it keeps me on my toes to say the least; but there is something missing, the "fire" has gone out. And I couldn’t agree more with the “stars” that I need a bitch slap to get me going again.

Not a real bitch slap, so don’t try anything stupid…

Every day is the same; wake up, work, eat, go to bed, repeat. I have said it before and I will say it again THERE HAS TO BE MORE TO LIFE THAN THIS.

There really does.

Am I going through a quarter life crisis? Or just realizing this is what life is? Whatever it is, it’s dry as fuck and bumming me out.

So the “stars” say I need to challenge myself, but with what?

As a New Year's challenge, I undertook a healthy lifestyle and that’s going well; but I’m still bored. I'm working on my BIG project; and still, nada.

So what’s a bored girl to do? Stop complaining? Nah, that's no fun for you guys.

Truthfully, I don't what to do, or I wouldn't be writing this; but I am determined to find out. There has got to be a way out of this rut.

The search begins or continues, depending on how long you've been reading…

Any ideas?

A message from Bill Gates

Rule1 Life is not fair — get used to it!

Rule2 The world won’t care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish
something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule3 You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won’t be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule4 If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule5 Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping — they called it opportunity.

Rule6 If you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule7 Before you were born, your parents weren’t as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you are. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent’s generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule8 Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools they have abolished failing grades and they’ll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule9 Life is not divided into semesters. You don’t get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule10 Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule11 Be nice to nerds. Chances are you’ll end up working for one.


‘Nuff said.

Ugh...

I am so damaged.

Another Sunday wasted watching Real Housewives and nursing a 2 liter of Ginger Ale.

The Plague

When most people think of the plague, bubonic comes to mind. When I think of the Plague, I think tickets.

Superman had Kryptonite, I have tickets.

I did my taxes and to my great surprise the government thinks they owe me money and I thought, before they wise up and take this money away, I better pay those fucking tickets.

I had plans to go to the registry to pay the piper and renew my registration; and then to the carwash to celebrate my liberation from the shackles of tickets.

Turns out, I owe more than I thought...way more. I didn’t want to let them see me sweat, so I kept my cool; but if I was being real, my jaw would have been on the floor. I knew I was in for a “treat”, when I saw the look on the customer service agent’s face; the look was a mix of pity and utter bewilderment. I lied and told her I was out the country for months, in an attempt to explain the astronomical amount of ticket fines and their late charges.

So although I received a nice honorarium from the Canada Revenue Agency, the government of Alberta has taken their share and nothing remains. I hope you all are enjoying Edmonton’s economic growth; because I am singlehandedly paying for it.

However, since I am approaching life with optimism in mind, I have found a lesson in this stupid mess…organization is king.

If I would have been slightly more organized, I would not have misplaced 4 tickets; yes, you read right, 4 GOD DAMNED TICKETS! I would have had them filed nicely in a folder with labels or better yet I would have paid them on time.

Having to dodge the cops for 3 ½ months is no easy feat; key word here is exit strategy. If I see those bitches pull up behind me, I get the fuck out of there. I have been spending lots of time in the right hand lane; which wouldn’t be too bad, if the elderly would HURRY THE FUCK UP. It must be nice to be retired and have the ability to take your sweet fucking time getting where you need to be; but I’m not, so move it or lose it grandma. I have been pushed to the point where I have actually yelled that in the direction of a cotton top driving a Cadillac Deville; the quintessential old people car. I’m not trying to rude, really I’m not; but you all know where I’m coming from.

In any case, my days of being plagued by stupid government issued pieces of paper are over.

Good fucking riddance.

Project 365

I was doing this little challenge called project 365; the premise is you take a picture a day for the whole year, hence the name project 365. I started out with a zeal that one can only muster at the dawn of a new decade.

January was great, I kept up my end of the bargain, I took a picture every day; granted some of the photos were shitty, at best; but I did it.

February is when things started to hit the skids. Blame the mid winter slump, that hit me like a ton of bricks; but I just wasn’t feeling inspired by my surroundings, therefore unable to capture it with passion. And truthfully I just didn’t want to. I don’t know how people carry around big behemoth cameras and feel normal snapping pictures. All throughout January I felt like a Japanese tourist at Disneyland, being annoying and taking shit loads of pictures; and in February I was over it and so we’re my friends.

So after some review I have decided to throw in the towel on P365. I’m a writer not a photographer and I like it that way.

Of course I will still post the odd picture, mainly because I made my parents buy me an expensive SLR; but also because I love still life, I just don’t want to be tied to it.

Besides I'm black, not Asian; and blacks don’t like the camera; it feels too much like a mug shot.

Spring Awakening

It's March Madness in Edmonton; the weather is topping the charts at 10degrees. Which is straight up madness at this time of year. The gods must be crazy or something wicked this way comes, either way the warm weather is melting the chill in this city and I feel alive again.

It has only been March for a week, and through this beautiful madness, I have been finding my sanity. I have been going on walks, lots of walks; and being sans IPod or anything from the “future”, I have had some time to think.

The short version of what materialized is this:

I am awakened...FUCKING awakened.

Blame the sun I suppose, but I feel like I can see clearly now.

What I see is what I want to do and who I want to be. All this life admin I have been preoccupied with is starting to show some results. So who do I want to be? What do I want to do? Well, obviously, I want to write; I'm also becoming slightly enamoured with media, of the social kind; which is ironic considering I still use a PC and I don’t own a fucking IPod. I was using a Discman for a while, but I felt like I was in the cast of "The Whackness", so I chose to enjoy the quiet instead.

Anyways, during this “quiet” I let the voices reign supreme and they had some very valuable input. Funny, I was ignoring them for so long and all along, they had some good shit to say. Voices in cold weather are just fucking annoying, on a warm weather walk they make for great company. We spoke for the better part of last week, which to the people on Edmonton streets, it would appears as though I need to be committed; but Martin, Janet and I (yes, they have names now) have come to an agreement, I’ll listen and they will stop talking shit about me when I can hear.

Truth be told Janet is a bit of bitch, she likes to make snide comments about money and men; initially we were battling, I yelled at her at the top of my lungs; but she had it coming. I had to apologize to the woman standing next to me, willing the light to change; she thought I was talking to her; I assured her I was talking to the voices in my head; which only made her more frightened. In any case, the voices and I are homeys now.

After all this chat, the 3 of us agreed to embark on a HUGE project, that I am so fucking excited about I could spit on a 6 year old (I wouldn’t, of course, but I cannot be held responsible for my actions at this level of excitement). So in light of my sometimes wishy-washy nature pertaining to life pursuits re: 28 jobs, I'm going to keep mum on the whole shebang until the ball is rolling and has picked up some speed.

Last week I was aiming low; now I'm shooting for the moon.

What the hell is happening to me?

Is it...

Me or are elevator rides with strangers the longest, most awkward 25 seconds?

Aim Low

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.”

They say this to children in elementary schools, they use it to motivate young athletes before the championship game, they even put it on posters in gyms to jumpstart the lazy; but I think they should do away with this aim high bullshit.

Aiming high, for most people, only leads to failure; but if you aim low, I guarantee you will surprise and impress yourself. I used to buy into the aim high diatribe, and admittedly it does help with the initial motivation; but failure is surely on the horizon, because that’s life. And after this failure, quitting is usually the next step; don’t believe me, just look at the stalled gym enrollments in spring and the junior high dropout rate. It’s because we are aiming too high; it would certainly explain the rise in anti depressant use.

If I were a teacher, I would have posters all over my class that would say “aim low, you will probably succeed” or “shoot for the outer layer of the ozone, you might hit the stars”; that is realistic motivation. When I have children, their only goal will be to get up, get dressed on their own and get to school, anything beyond that is gravy.

I think I have been aiming too high people, I had it all backwards. If I had been aiming low, I would feel great right now, instead “they” had me believing this moon shoot bullshit; but like I said before...Times are a changing.


So my weekend nugget of wisdom for the world is:

“Aim Low, you will probably succeed’.


Scholastic should put that shit on a poster.

I think...

Anthony Sedlak from "The Main", should stop talking with his hands. It's too much Anthony.

I think...

I just fucked up a really sweet opportunity...sad face.

Cut

They made me do it. They made me cut up my credit card; into smithereens so that I couldn’t tape it back together. Those credit counselors are smart as fuck.

I have no idea why I feel so nostalgic for that little green piece of shit, it’s not as if there was any money on it or anything; but now it’s gone forever. And I can’t get another one for…god knows when.

When I cut it up, I made a high pitch “ahh” sound like I had stubbed my toe. And I felt a deep pang in my lower abdomen like I was taking in a monster penis or something; ladies, you know what I’m talking about. I mean, it didn’t hurt, but it was certainly uncomfortable. But like any good screw, I felt better after a few pumps or in this case, some encouraging words from my “Gail”.

So it is now official; I have no credit, that said credit rating is in the toilet and I am B-R-O-K-E; but the contract is signed, the ink is dry and I am bound by law. The silver lining, and there is one, is that things are only going to get better from here.

I think...

It's the black in me that makes me nervous whenever the cops go by.

Why...

Does Avril Lavigne get to perform at the Olympics? Canadians don't even like her.

I also find it mysterious that Nickelback manages to sell albums.

I used to think Canada was the final frontier of talent...I was wrong.

Getting with the Program

As promised I am getting my life together; and although I can be all talk, you are now free to call me Action Jackson.

I started a program of Orderly Payment of Debt aka get off my back bitches; you’re going to get your cash. It’s like I have found my very own Gail Vaz Oxlade and I am on an episode of “Til Debt Do Us Part” except I’m not married, and this won’t end with my holding a cheque for $5000. But I do get to halt the financial fisting that has overtaken my life.

I’ll take it; I’m a dick girl, fisting has never been my thing.

In the meeting I expected my “Gail” to look at my history, burst out into a guttural laugh and then proceed to invite her co-workers to continue the guffaw. Instead she was really nice and not in the slightest bit surprised at the diarrhea stain I call my financial standing. After 30 minutes and pit stains like something fierce, we agreed that I need to “get with the program” NOW.

Wednesday I sign the agreement and sign my frivolous, head in the sand lifestyle away.

Even though I am about to be Edmonton bound for the next year, at least, I feel freedom on the horizon. I see a future of not having to screen my calls or burn someone at the stake for answering a 1-866 number; those fucking bill collectors change their phone numbers as much as drug dealers.

So to the dear folks at Bell, Visa, Rogers and TELUS, I will now gladly pick up your phone calls and the verbal assaults will now cease; which, by the way, I am terribly sorry about, she caught me on a bad day.

***Suze Orman would be so proud.