secret: i'm afraid!

i think if you examine it carefully, it's not so crazy to be scared of snowboarding- it can hurt you. it's not so crazy to be afriad of getting hurt. self-preservation. survival of the fittest- read up on your darwin if you're not sure where i'm going with this, because this is my defense (read:excuse).

i've loved snowboards a few seasons, and all the fun stuff you can do on them. except right now i can't wrap my head around the fear of getting hurt. i can't seem to psych myself into trees, or even powder. am i doomed to wander the groomers for the rest of my days?

help me, jeebus... i'm skeeeeered.

treasure: phonecalls with the general public

just a quick amused musing here:

as the one who sits in the office at work i pretty much always get the phone first (mostly after the first ring, if i'm mixing things up i'll let it ring one and a half times) which means i can now sort calls to a thrift store into several categories:

1. My boss- actually work related
2. Other employees - call contains something work-related but often also has high percentage of meaningless chat
3. "What time do you close?" - 6pm every single day of the week, mofo
4. "I bought some skis yesterday and they're not the right height for me and I know your cashier told me no refunds and I know it also says no refunds on my receipt that I have right in front of me, but like, can I have a refund?" - nup.
5. "Do you have any size 7 ice skates?" - just hold the line for me one moment while I go and look for you, already knowing the answer is no because it's been winter for a while now and everyone else in town already thought of that
6. "I have a washer/dryer, can you guys come pick it up right meow?" - here is a number you can call, and good luck with your irrational demands
7. " .... ..... is this the re-use-it centre?" - surprisingly constant response to my spiel when i answer the phone: "Good morning, Re-Use-It Centre, Helen speaking". Yes it is the re-use-it centre. i apologize for my mumbly australian accent. except that i. don't. mumble.

my favorite is to leave a little pause when someone phones with a particularly stupid question. this causes them to say ".... um, hello?", while you get to sit back enjoying the awkwardness, then responding to them in a very civil and friendly manner (i can't ever bring myself to actually be rude to people on the phone).

i really do not like phonecalls. it's a pity I can't screen the ones at work.

secret: missing

i have a list of those i miss
i could almost alphabetize it

christmas is
a bad reason for thinking of the ones you love. i love
you all, your missing laughs and eyes and hands
your explosions of conversation in my ear, your
bad jokes and off-key songs

i have a list,
i have a list.




i don't believe in jebus. i don't believe in new year's, really, not in the way that we mean it in this here and now, the planning and the buying of tickets and the expectations of it.
i plan to be at my closest pub
i will buy beer
i expect to have a reasonably good time.


i do like the idea of an excuse for celebration, for the 3 day christmas extravaganza (although i feel a little exhausted, or over-tired, just now), but i also love about whistler the fact that we find cause to celebrate a good powder day. or to celebrate all of us having the same day off work.

i celebrate you all, mi amigos, but what i dislike (and alternatively, embrace with macabre enjoyment) is the missing. the ones i love. the best ones i know.

i've realized a big part of it is ego. because the ones i know and love, the ones i miss, they miss me too. and that makes me somebody, even if i am in canada.

i miss their comfortability. i miss their jokes. i miss them. and if they miss me too sometimes, then they know who they are.






I don't believe in magic
I don't believe in I-Ching
I don't believe in Bible
I don't believe in tarot
I don't believe in Hitler
I don't believe in Jesus
I don't believe in Kennedy
I don't believe in Buddha
I don't believe in mantra
I don't believe in Gita
I don't believe in yoga
I don't believe in kings
I don't believe in Elvis
I don't believe in Zimmerman
I don't believe in Beatles
I just believe in me.

god, john lennon



except that i believe in Beatles.





happy birthday jebus, jebus it's your birthday.


amen, and to all a good night.

treasure: the wisdom to know the difference

why are dishwashers always noisy?






ha. and there you thought i was going to post something deep and profound, you silly monkies.

monkeys? monkies?

spelling is hard.

the saddest thing

secret: all i wanna do is get christmas drunk

rum and eggnog, whistler brewery christmas seasonal ale, fireball, red wine.

christmas drunk is nice for a variety of reasons; the list above and the list below:

1. everyone else is drunk too.
   
2. there is eating to go with the drinking, so nothing gets too out of control, and you feel generally warm and fuzzy and buzzy instead of crazytown.
3. it's tasty! the high sugar content in christmas beverages means it's like eating loads of candy that makes you extra happy.
4. even in whistler, where most of us have to work at some point, everyone is generally pretty chilled because of the constant state of inebriation.
   
5. continuous drinking means no real hangover.
6. other stuff i can't remember right now.

i intend to enjoy my christmas buzz immensely. i like to buzz, it's a fun time.

the only way to know for sure

treasure: flight of the conchords

aussies are not as funny as kiwis. <--- click here for funny stuff

i'm sorry, but this song can always put me in a good mood. i think it's possibly one of the best songs ever.

Twice I turn my back on you
I fell flat on my face but didn't lose
Tell me where would I go
Tell me what led you on I’d love to know

Was it the blue night
Gone fragile
Was it both men
In wonder steady gone under
Was it the light ways
So frightening
Was it two wills
One mirror holding us dearer now


Little Dragon: Twice

secret:

i got nothing that any of you out there in internet land would care for.

treasure: something pretty

listen to this (click here)

secret: i rode on Thursday and I liked it (to the tune of Katy Perry's "I kissed a girl")

nawww, i just love the mountains. they's all purdy and whatnot.

i've missed the first month of riding for 2011/2012 season. own fault. but i've suffered- i've missed the feeling of a board beneath my feet, the wind rushing by, the joy of a simple turn...

i haven't missed chairlifts, but that's neither here nor there.

i snuck up the mountain on thursday morning for a few cheeky runs, to get amongst the 8cm of new pow (some scoff at 8cm, but after weeks of nothing, it starts to look not so bad). hard not to get excited, logging day 3 of the season (count 'em: 1 run opening day, 3 runs on icy groomers monday) with some favorites: Cam, Karin, Phill, Mitch and Sandra.

We hit up Dave Murray, fresh pow on top of groomed run; my legs ached already (yeah, i have a bit of work to do), then Jolly Green Giant with a brief diversion through some tiny trees. This run I remember from that other time early season 2010/2011 when Phill and I got a little... ahem... caught up. It was nice, fairly soft on top, fresh tracks to be had, little bumps here and there for those so inclined towards getting a little air...

Bless 'em all, they waited for me at the chairlifts, and that's why the love I have for these folk is huge. I'm not a speedy rider at the best of times, but things are proceeding in a fairly cautious fashion (swallowing pride for the sake of posterity) and I'm lagging behind. I'm ok with it.

A catchup with Sandra was next on the list, and we snuck down Orange Peel this time (slowed down by a gaggle of small skiing children complete with ski school instructor giving me the evil eye, because as a snowboarder, I am obviously intent on running down those smaller and less able to defend themselves).

Quality chatting on Red chair revealed that Sandra hadn't had the pleasure of being up on Whistler Peak yet. And godDAMN it was beautiful up there; my first visit of the season and the clouds cleared to give us a view right to Black Tusk, as well as up and down the valley, a nice blanket of cloud cover making for some rather satisfactory if obligatory photos of the inukshuk.

Upper Peak to Creek was splendid, even though by this time of day it was a little lumpy in spots. I managed to find a few bits and pieces of soft fresh snow on the sides of the runs to keep me happy, but my guilty conscience was starting to suggest to me I shouldn't push my luck with the stupid ankle (as it shall henceforth be known), so I called it at 4 runs and downloaded to Dustys. A burger was had. It was delicious.

It's nice to be back, even if in small quantities. I want to be better. I want to be healed, but I'm not yet. So I shall take those small moments of joy and amplify them for my own selfish reasons.

And that's how my day of riding was on Thursday. Thanks for asking.

treasure: to try.

in the face of the stupid planet and time passing and the gaps and all the missing buttons
in the face of always being left with hands empty, of being the one to teach and encourage
(til you're/i'm blue in the face)
despite the audience willing your failure
despite all the patronizing but well meant advice
in the face of those who would not choose me for you or you for me
in the face of being caught breathless before you even start to climb the stairs
(this time til you're/i'm red in the face)

despite forgetting keys and losing maps and
despite the metaphorical chip missing from your glasses

in the face of a supermassive black hole
in the face of boredom

despite




well, listen, i'm going to try anyway. wanna try too?

she said "keep him warm, he needs you to keep him warm".

and i knew what she meant, and i knew that i would try my best.

treasure: the stars, the moon

most of the nights in whistler have been crystal clear of late. despite the fact this means it's not snowing, i am slightly enchanted. it's cold; you have to keep moving (one is not so enchanted, let's say, waiting at the bus stop for a bus that's late at this time of night in these temperatures).

as i walk home it is nice to be alone with my thoughts and the sweet sounds of florence and the machine (click here) breathing into my ears. the cold makes my humanness seem more real to me, warmer and more tangible by stark contrast.

sometimes "i'm just a human" is my mantra. i need to take care it is not an excuse. i had a wonderful unplanned meal with kate, phill, sister kate, grace, mitch and paul tonight (woohoo 50% off sushi!) and had a really good time. i wondered to myself why i was walking away from them to come home early, but my instincts (after being in the store all day with 50% off everything) stood me in good stead. i had a great time because they are all such easy people to know, anything and everything is fodder for jokes. there is a lot of laugher and i love them all for it.

my crime here is being a human, i guess. i abandoned them for warm and bed, but as i walked home and breathed in a clear canadian winter night (trying super hard not to slip on ice) i didn't want to rush up the hill. in the distance there was yellow light peeking out the window of our little house. the promise of warmth was enough.

it's the breath and the promise that crystallizes things and makes me reality check my complaints and insecurities.

i am happy and i should shut up.

secret: a prayer

please please please please please ankle

let me go shredding tomorrow

i promise to be good.

treasure: to be humbled

there is work being done by all sorts of exceptional folks out there with passion who believe in things. i don't feel that i'm doing very much, when all is boiled down to its bared bones.

i veer between selfishness and the over-give, which is unsustainable. at 26 you would think i would have figured this out.

whistler is a selfish phase, there is not way to avoid that fact- i guess i'll just settle for a to-do list which involves saving the planet.

and i'll uh, get to it later. after winter season.

secret: i think i might get slightly drunk and write christmas cards to everyone i know

lost treasure: erin

i made a friend in uni called erin. i was studying postmodernism and was completely lost and struggling, wading through all the bullshit created by other more self-important lit students. i had a friday morning tute which is basically unheard of when you study arts- everyone has friday off, making thursday the night to go out drinking cheap dirty beer. so friday tutes make for some rather uninspired and hungover contributions, except by that peppy know-it-all who i now suspect of being on crack, or at least a shit-tonne of coffee. damn her. anyways.

we had a discussion about one of the novels we were studying, and for once i was inspired instead of bored. i wanted to continue the discussion post-tutorial, and bravely put the suggestion out there- i didn't have any friends in my tutorial- but nobody had the time, or the inclination. it was at this point erin piped up to accept my offer. we went to have coffee, both slightly nervous at the prospect of a new friend (university of melbourne, i felt at that stage, was mainly groups of private school students who all knew each other and had no need to make friends or even be polite to strangers) but filled with enough lit student bravado to muster up a half decent conversation.

we didn't talk about the book. at all. i managed to mention early on something of my religious ex with schizophrenia, to discover that erin, in fact, also had a religious ex with schizophrenia.

i'm sure there are plenty of them out there, but it felt like a pretty magical meeting at the time. there are not many instances where you can confess horrible things and have someone meet and match you. we had a great chat that day, a little shy of 2 hours and 2 coffees later swapping numbers.

we met up fairly frequently, and wrote letters over the holidays when i was in nsw with my family. she was beautiful, she looks like katherine heigl, freakishly so.

and then i left uni, and she continued on, and we lost touch. now i don't know where she is, or if she's in australia anymore, and if she managed to shake the echo of the crazy ex.

i hadn't thought of her for a long time, but tonight she popped into my head and i looked for her on facebook, and googled her, and nothing appeared...

i hope she is happy, doing things she loves and being alive.

secret: a small rant on assholes

what is the deal with assholes anyway

i hate those guys

secret: a midnight thought (at 1am)

i watched a lot of grey's anatomy today and i decided i would like to die in my sleep. calmly, when i'm old, but not so old i've started putting the kettle in the fridge and microwaving my handbag.

i'd like it to be free of drama, and i'd like my affairs to be in order, and i'd like to have some awesome possessions to leave to my appreciative grandkids in my will.

i'd like something nice but relatively obscure to be played at the funeral, so that only my close friends knew to chuckle or smile wryly, or fondly, when they heard it play.

and i'd like to go before anyone else died, so i never had to live alone.

i'd also like my body to be found right away when i didn't wake up in the morning. i do not like the idea of being found in a decomposed state, because that is scary.

also, if something bad happens and i'm resurrected as a zombie, i want my loved ones to know i fully support them doing what it takes to disable me and stop me from eating brains.

secret: I've lost my feet (I've lost my head)

i confessed to a friend recently that without snowboarding, i realize, i have become rather 2 dimensional. i'm working on healing an injury i did last season. ladies and gentleman, learn from my mistake, and treat your sprained ankle right away please.

i haven't had any time up the hill yet, besides that one run on opening day. besides not being able to ride, there are all sorts of other things i'm missing out on. i'm trying desperately not to be 'the injured one who can't go riding and doesn't want anyone else to enjoy themselves or tell her anything about their day' (yeah, nobody wants to be that guy). i don't know if i've succeeded, but in trying so damn hard not to let it bother me i wonder exactly i have put off dealing with.

i met up with a fairly new friend last week. she has had many ankle related injuries in her time. she's also a bit of a hippy, which reminds me of my mum, who i dearly love and miss a lot right now (mums always fix hurty stuff with their mum magicks). spiritually, and i say this with hesitation as i know you're probably sniggering at me even bringing it up, your ankles are what ground you, what put you in touch with solid ground. so she says, she says that a bad ankle disrupts everything.

i will listen to anyone's opinion on nearly anything. i will consider it. i know i don't know everything, a fact i become increasingly aware of as time passes.

i've been so damned sad. i thought it was just because i really really like snowboarding. it was suggested to me that the shitty things i normally let run off me like water do, in fact, run out through my feet. and the darn ankle's just fucking my shit up.

it might be true, it might not, maybe he did, maybe he didn't (not... alive). <-- click here

all i know is: foot bad. me angry. no go riding. sad and angry inside. pretend happy outside.

except when i eat really tasty food. then i'm happy right down to the crappy ankle. and beyond.


also i like to youtube bits of tv shows i like.
this week it's scrubs. oooh and family guy. <-- click here too

i have more to say but youTube just took my brain hostage.

post ended.

i want to play piano. <--- click here

it's the robot talking

treasure: know thyself

"know yourself the best. people don't tell you who you are, you tell them".

On Facebook, at some point in time I hit "Like" on a page called Quotes. Mainly they're ridiculous, and many's the time I've contemplated un-Liking this page. Quotes- words for people who can't make their own words.

This one today got me thinking. And I'm still not entirely convinced it's not incredbily uncool to jump on a be-yourself motivational bandwagon. Fucking hate bandwagons (or maybe I need to research the bandwagon concept... what is a bandwagon anyways?).

There was also a nice blog post this morning about being awesome on HelloGiggles.com. Which was sort of running with the same idea.

I think the important thing to figure out at some point in your early adult life is at least what sort of person you'd like to be. and then accept the fact that realistically, choice and your decisions figures for a portion of your personality, the other parts being how much impact your parents and early life experiences have upon you (read: screwed you up real good).

The hardest part, I've found, is taking that knowledge one step further and realizing the realities of yourself that might not be so nice to look at, the ones you often wish weren't part of you, because they're embarassing, or because they alienate people (or make them run screaming), or because they set you apart from others in a way that makes you feel alone.

I put forward my opinion here, which is that it is these less comfortable bits, the ones that make you uneasy, are the ones that make you who you are. Or rather, the way you negotiate these less-favorable aspects of yourself reveals to anyone paying actual attention the kind of person you are.

Many of my best friends have their little quirks that I sometimes find difficult to deal with, and I'm sure they do too. However, the reason they're all counted by me as best friends is they know, acknowledge and give a wry shrug to their quirks. By no means are any of us perfect.

I used to be really hard on myself about my own quirks. My temper which I can't hide. My need to win, to be right, my unwillingness to accept advice, no matter how well-meant. My inability to let go of the tight control I imagine I have on everything around me. My constant and obsessive habit of planning ahead. I realize now, I'm something of a crazy person.

The best thing I ever did as far as knowing myself better, as far as accepting the crazy Helen, was to move to Whistler, B.C. and take up snowboarding. Not only am I a novice, which I make myself accept on a daily basis (every time I fall over) but I have something which puts me right smack-bang into the right now, and gives my poor brain that second of relief from over-thinking every single little thing.

Riding = winning.

That's what I know about myself. Nobody told me riding would do that for me, because nobody knew. I try to think of the whole deal as a privledge; in knowing yourself you have insight to a whole world at nobody else can really get at. I've focused on the negatives, but the flipside is all the little awesome things that make you who you are: the awesomeness. The HelloGiggles blog noted that the key to awesome is to own every single thing you do.

So, here goes:

Yes, I do love to blog because it gives me a chance to say what I want to say uninterrupted. Yes, sometimes what I want to say is a load of self-indulgent crap. But I don't care! That's what this blog is for me. I've spent a lot of my life listening, and now I'm talking! LOUD NOISES!

And that's why I'm awesome, because I know it.

the people you've been before that you don't want around anymore

Drink up baby, stay up all night
With the things you could do
You won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now
And forget all about the pressure of days
Do what I say and I'll make you okay
And drive them away
The images stuck in your head

The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Drink up baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot

The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still


- elliott smith, between the bars

secret: i don't want so much, just everything

i'd quite like it if someone wrote me a song.

if bon iver, elliott smith, ben howard, or even adele wrote me a song, i'd be stoked.

i like the small quiet moments of love, but i also, being a girl (having seen the "movies" i believe they call them), wish for a moment of grandeur, of complete and utter romance that is stupid and extravagant. one moment so i was sure that someone really loved me.

not too much to ask, surely.

the awkward moment where you tell your mum you've been having really good sex

treasure: things i doubt, and things i know for sure

(put this on now, it's nice)

do you think it's fair and legitimate to fall in love with someone based on a song they like that you listen to one night, cuddled up in bed alone, wishing you were wearing socks, with a cold nose, annoyed because you should have forced your boyfriend to stay over, even though he's tired from stomping epic 360s on the mountain all day, because he's a furnace?

secret: alex, in the story of my life i would give you three pages

he said: "i have this idea in my head that i should write a book sometime in my life, but im definitely not ready... i promised myself to dedicate you a page when i do".





it's just really fucking nice when someone knows the right thing to say, and they weren't even trying that hard.

the quiz: hello saferide

You look nice alright
and I like the way you nod after everything I say
like it actually means something
to you

And I like your record collection
Townes and Jens with a hint of Rickie Lee
And you've cleaned up the bathroom, made a really nice soup
but a bit too much sci-fi in your shelf with DVDs

But there's some things you need to know about me:
I'm weak right now, real weak right now
I need proof before I dare to open this heart
so I prepared a quiz for you:

Would you freak out if I said I liked you?
Do you walk the line?
Is your IQ higher than your neighbour's?
And is it very much higher than mine?

Can you sleep when I grind my teeth?
Do you look away if I slob when I eat?
Will you let me be myself?
Can you at all times wear socks?
because I'm still scared of feet

Do you talk in the middle of Seinfeld?
Do you read more than two books a month?
Do you get racist or sexist when you've had a few?
Is it fine if I make more money than you?

Have you slept with any people I work with?
Is there anyone you'd rather wish I'd be?
Do you still keep pictures of old girlfriends?
Are they prettier than me?

And if I'd fall, would you pick me up?
If I fall, will you pick me up?

treasure: when i grow up ...

... i'll :

• be able to drive
• eat vegetables and fruits 7-10 times daily
• be prepared for unexpected circumstances
• go to the dentist every 6 months and subsequently never have any fillings
• give good advice
• not care what anyone thinks of me
• own furniture (and not sleep on a mattress on the floor of a room that doesn't have a door)
• exercise reguarly (let's face it, i'l probably do yoga)
• have a real job where i am regularly recognized for my hard work (or maybe work for myself, so i can take myself out for celebratory beers when i'm awesome at something)
• live closer to my family so i can spend memorable occasions with them
• not be an aspiring alcoholic
• have political leanings that are well-informed and legitimate
• respect those who have different values from me
• go to bed at a sensible bed time
• never hesitate to tell anyone i love that i love them
• have plans and goals
• be better at being a person.

and i also hope i'll be happy.

secret: why i learned to play the guitar

i learned about music before i even knew to think about it. my mother is the one i have to thank for my musical education: she raised us kids on her mix tapes. we rode in the back seat on long car journeys (sometimes days at a time) listening to the mix tapes she'd made, named after months of the year. i've picked up the habit myself; i make a playlist every month. almost as cool as an old school cassette tape.

we knew all the words. fleetwood mac. dylan. rolling stones. tracy chapman. james taylor. the beatles. neil young. chili peppers, and many more besides. she had an obsession with alanis morrisette's "ironic" which started from the film clip. we had a stereo system set up which meant i could tape from vhs or tv right to a cassette, so mum and i used to tape ABC's "Rage" every saturday or sunday morning and make it into our mix tapes...

inevitably as i stepped into my own PG-rated version of teenage rebellion and angst, there were pockets of pop music. i then went through a snobbish elitist phase at about 15 where i thought i was the only one that "got" radiohead in the whole world, feeling all my angsty feelings that nobody else had ever felt, ever...

at the same sort of time, i asked for a guitar for my 16th birthday. i learned the piano from a young age, then picked up a violin at about 10, and have always been involved in choirs and orchestras through school. music nerd. music camps, the works.

i never really attacked any of these intruments with much persistance, despite taking violin and viola lessons from 10 to 17. the one instrument i do love to use, the one that always travels with me, is my voice. i can sing in tune, i'm pretty sure... crippling self doubt makes me ponder that assumption at times, but mostly i'm pretty sure i can do things in tune. i have horrific stage fright, but i love to sing.

i asked for a guitar at 16 so i could take this show on the road. my first guitar was blue. i loved it even though it was blue. i loved it because it was blue. i learned barre chords. i wrote some horrific poetry and put it to chords. bless.

the first song i learned on guitar was 'house of the rising sun', followed, unexpectedly, by 'stairway to heaven'- little bit of a jump in skill level, but i sucked it up.

i never had any lessons, which is why i plateaued at barre chords. however, i know enough chords now to muddle my way through many easy versions of pop songs i love, which means i can sing to my heart's content in the humble and safe confines of my bedroom. it's like a warm, intimate karaoke-type situation. the songs i've written have also plateaued.

i'm sorry, but in this world of constant self-improvement, bragging and one-upmanship, i do not care that i am never going to be famous. i love music and i learned to play guitar so that on the odd occasion where writing on its own didn't cut it, i had another creative outlet.

i learned to play the guitar to be more alive. i know now i did partly expect to be famous one day, but have since settled for relative obscurity.

i love music more than i love nearly any other thing, just like most others on the planet. it's magical. i want a piece of that action.

coming soon to an open mic near you (probably not).

poetry challenge: some things i said once

i have all sorts of things to say, you know, things i could say in all sorts of poetic ways with you know, words and such. but right now they fail me, through possibly fatigue, or the dramatic imagination i possess.

these are some words i said another time, when i had a better vocabulary and a stronger need to vocalize my hidden pain:

the wind was hot and sweet on the walk home. the scent of candied flower air. the hot nights here are brown, orange, umber, burnt sienna- a list that exhausts my Derwent collection.
our hands held and slipped, slick with sweat they'd made by touching. the heat makes conversation hard. the night we walk through slows and sticks, impossible confectioners mix of marshmallow, toffee, caramel.
i've tried before to make poems to capture to capture my experience of magnificance. they never make it past the first languid line, for to sit holding pen to paper, the waiting for inspiration, that makes droplets which stream down my back, under knees and between crossed legs and ankles.
i lay in bed smelling of my day stuck in airconditioned 9-5 drudgery, but a shower is almost too much work to warrant cool water on hot skin.


actually there's no hidden pain in that one. enjoy.

yeah well, fuck you

secret: stress and anxiety

yeah i know, it's been a while.

been doing things. promise.

the funny thing about doing things when you're doing a lot of them, is that you keep finding more things to do, and the funniest thing is that all you start thinking about is how nice it would be NOT to do any things at all.

this month has been a trial in staying sane. and sometimes i suspect i didn't make it.

stay tuned for more exciting details, some musings, a few scraps of poetry and musics.

anticipated treasure: the winter, the everything.

i have long harboured a theory that winter is even better when you have somebody to love.

i have written several terrible poems on the subject. they were truly bad.

here are the awesome things about winter, that are awesome even as a single folk:

• snow falling. quite separate from what it means for the conditions on the mountain, snow falling as you walk home, making soft crunching noises underfoot. as long as you wear appropriate footwear and some form of jacketing, this is pleasant. It's nicest at night time. One time I was making the tiresome hike up the bloody Bayshores hill to home, with the earphones in, and "goreki" by lamb was playing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PILJRHjUVEw ) and snow was falling, quite big flakes, slowly slowly, and my brain nearly exploded with the epiphany of it all...
• pow. different from snow falling, and yet the same, pow is all about the awesome crazy things you will be able to achieve on a board on a day with fresh snow on the hill. anyone just reading for the first time is oblivious to it, but i must confess i have mentioned my pow addiction more than once in this blog. heaven. happiness. gets your heart beating but keeps your mind in the happiest state of Zen. and i don't even belieeeeve in jebus.
• rum and eggnog/christmas and new year festivities. i don't know what's in eggnogg, and i don't really want to, to be honest. i suspect its basically a liquified heart attack. but i like it. take ice (cubed, but a handful of fresh pow will make a sort of slushy that has also been found quite tasty on occasion), pour generous amounts of captain morgan's spiced rum, or appletons if you're a classier type of folk, over the ice. then top up with eggnogg. some people like to add a sprinkling of nutmeg (little brother, my favorite Hugh, taught me that one) but you should really just do what you feel once you've added those other necessities. drink it anywhere you want. one time i drank it in a tow truck. a story for another time that i'll never tell because it's not that good.
• potluck dinners. we did these last season. they petered out a little at the end. but the idea was a different country and a different household every week or 2. it was delicious, because only one of the things there was your cooking and everything else was interesting because it was made by Others. most fun when held after a day of riding epic powder.
• slow-cooked stuff. sort of works in with potluck dinners. slowcooked chili is the best. but basically anything can go in there. it all tastes good when it comes out 8 hours later. and the best thing is the implied multitasking skill- you can drop cliffs AND cook something at the same time. your friends are always impressed.
• apres ski. it's where you ride all day then you have one drink and you're shmammered. i heard that term from some french-canadian girls that used to work at spag (it's what people in the know call the Old Spaghetti Factory). The favorites last year for apres were Dustys, with sprinklings of Crystal Lounge. Cinnamon Bear didnt get so much airplay this past season, but i think it's time for a comeback. also, Creekbread, an awesome pizza place, does $10 jugs and is conveniently located. well i hope it is. my future house is close by. well i hope it is.
  

the things i look forward to now i'm all loved up and gross include:

• cuddling in front of a woodfire that he has build in an efficient manner
  
• having a boy's arm around me on a chairlift
• a warm body to sleep close to (just for warmth and survival purposes)
• having someone to carry my litres and litres of rum and eggnogg home from the market for me
• bullet point lists (that's a red herring for you kate jenkins)
• kisses in the snow.
  
• having someone to hug at the bus stop while i wait in the snow.

yup so that's the stuff.

winter is great. i like it the best. it is my mantra right now because although the last few moments of Fall have been alright, the rain is just all wet, and that's not really what i'm about. unless it's guaranteed snow higher up the mountain. that i accept it as necessary.

winter and love. best.

secret: you're all up in my ventricles n shit

treasure: the wise things I have to say that I forget before I've written them down (or, my shitty memory)

I was going to start with a quote, but in the time it took to click on "new post" so I could write it down, the damned wordses in my head were gone.

Yes, I said wordses. Makes me feel like I'm Gollum; a bizarre aspiration, but, y'know, the dude's got an interesting back story.

I confess that at times when I write this blog, I shake my head at the fact that sometimes I write words just to see them sitting on the page. It amuses me. And so, to the long-suffering (and very loyal and thus very loved) friends who continue to read my blog, despite the occasional lapse in both quality and regularity and, let's face it, maturity, I apologize.

We were talking about memories tonight, or actually this afternoon was when it started, with my friend Andy who is fixing my ailments in the back area (popped my ribs out; careless really) talking about his recall post-concussions (note the plural there). Apparently it gets shitty. I'm always intruiged by Andy's stories about his brain- he told me of one post-concussion incident where he got lost in Whistler village, despite being a local for several years. He luckily ran into a friend and had to confess to him that he knew who he was, and where he was, but not how to get back to his house, or work, or wherever he was going (he probably forgot where he was going too).

This sort of story scares the shit out of me. Stu also told me a story once about his buddy KB who was meeting him on Blackcomb one day, took ages to turn up, and it took Stu a while to figure it out but KB hit his head in the park on a lap through on the way to meet Stu. He kept re-setting, and Stu told me how scary it was riding him down the mountain to the hospital.

My memory issues are a lot broader and less scary or concerning in any kind of serious context. It's more that sort of, "oh crap, I know I came into the kitchen for something, what the bloody hell was it again", generally annoying memory issue.

What I'd like to know is how it happened. Given and acknowledged, I have partaken in the odd spot of friendly, harmless, sociable binge drinking. A few times. Mostly since being in this silly old Whistler town. But how come I forget stuff? Me no likey dumb Helen.

I undermine myself when I forget things. I could be amazing. I could be quite good at things. Like, really quite good. I have potential and shit.

My greatest frustration is having things to say, and starting to say them in a group of friends, and then halfway through the story, forgetting where I was going with the story, then adding a few extra details desperately trying to buy time for my brain to figure out where it was going with that. And worrying that the details I'm adding are irrelevant and I'm telling a somewhat amusing story that goes "yeah so then I turned around and I said... what nice weather we're having, purple monkey dishwasher .... oh yeah, I mean, wait, those are MY shoes!" (cue crickets chirping).

Anyone else get this? Yes? No?

And so I says to Mabel, I says....

I used to be better at this.

the work that must be done

working so hard on being happy this week.

it's raining
my back hurts
i haven't slept.

i've been listening to a lot of heartbroken music and realizing that i might be in love now, but all that fact is going to leave me later is..... drumroll...

alone.

i tell you right now, this is not easy work. this is hard work.

secret: things i am thankful for

not in any particular order, i am thankful for the following (we didn't quite get to it at thanksgiving dinner on monday night, so i am using my blog as a blurtingspace):

• turkey. obviously. particuarly left-over turkey.
• friends (present and absent)
• family... the various, brothers, brothers from other mothers, mothers, fathers, sisters
• love, lovers, loving (or liking... you know... casual-like)
• warmth
• alcohol in moderation (by god you feel so much better in the morning)
• the mountains, the impending season, oh the happiness and powder...

these are the things that hold me back from throwing myself off a bridge or a balcony while it's raining every day ...

treasure: songs and whatnot.

manchester orchestra:

"Heard don't move unless you know someone you can move
And I bruise just like anyone would bruise
And I know we've got a long way to go
I know I've got so far

We built this house with our hands, and our time, and our blood
You build this up in one day to fall downward and rust"

skee-lo:

"I wish I was little bit taller,

I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good
I would call her"


okkervil river:

"When I was younger, handsomer and stronger,
I felt like I could do anything."


foster the people:

"I reason with my cigarette,
And say your hair's on fire, you must have lost your wits, yeah"


M83:

"Each shade of blue
Is kept in our eyes
Keep blowing and lighting
Because we own the sky"





i like music. i like music i can snowboard to. i like music that makes me feel feelings.


this one, for some reason, breaks my heart tonight:

Tracy Chapman:

"so I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast it felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped round my shoulder
And I had a feeling that I belonged
And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone"

i'm so tired i'm thinking of sleeping on the couch instead of walking upstairs

secret: sober october

don't ask me why, but i'm doing sober october.

we've talked about it a little bit (me and the lovely kate jenkins) and i can't help but conclude in following her wisdom that maybe it's just "don't get drunk all the time" october. i know that doesn't rhyme and is therefore a little less catchy, but then, it's not really meant to be marketable. it's just meant to give my body a second to catch its breath before the madness that is winter descends and kills not only brain and liver cells, but also self-worth and dignity.

it's maybe not that bad. although halloween last year was a black mark on my respectable history. at least i think it was. i don't remember things.

5 hours worth of things. that's way too many.

i want to get really really fit for winter, and i cant do that if i'm drunk/hungover. so besides my birthday, and possibly thanksgiving, there shall be no heavy drinking. see? i've amended my goal with kate's sensible input. i had a glass of wine tonight while i ate a delicious meal cooked by ms jenkins, and we played cards (and totally won) and it was very civilized, and i liked it, and i might even do it again.

thanks kate, for teaching me it's ok to drink instead of not drinking for a month.

i like you.

treasure: the first cool onesie story (there are more)

those of us that are seasonal working holiday types are well-known for our love of ridiculousness on the mountain. it normally coincides with an occasion or event, but we love to get out a costume and ride around the mountain looking silly. we normally do it in gangs, so the feeling of silliness is dispersed among many.

those truly dedicated amongst us own a one piece ski suit, all the rage in earlier skiing years, referred to fondly as the "onesie". now, they actually are practical for several reasons, the main being that on a powder day you are safe from the phenomenon known as "powder down the pants".

it's exactly what it sounds like.

one piece suits are never flattering, and if picked correctly, are a little too tight (you'll find it's normally men that go all out with an inappropriately fitted onesie), and are either patterned to look like an old couch, or have trimmings of neon.

i still do not one a onesie, despite being positioned in the very best spot to secure one, the Re-Use-It Centre. there was one onesie i fell in love with one time...

it was the Fall of '09. i was new to whistler, canada, and thus new to my place of employment, the Re-Use-It Centre. i was working as a cashier one day, minding my own business when a customer with a gleam of fanatical excitement came to the counter. this gleam was one i had come to know quite well in my so-far short term of employment at the thrift store, it being that of someone who has found the perfect Something, and cannot believe their luck.

it was an australian gentleman, and in his hands he had the most beautiful onesie i think i have ever seen. it was bright red. it had gold embroidery on the back, and a hood with a red fur trim. it was a thing of beauty, a sight to behold...

with my heart breaking a little, as i knew this onesie could never be mine, i sold it to the excited australian man. it was unpriced, and although i knew i could have priced it overly high to discourage his purchase, i could see love in his eyes. who was i to get between soul mates? i sold the onesie to him for a very fair $20, sighed to myself and let it leave the store.

i thought of the onesie from time to time, but i never saw it on the mountain. i did keep my eye out on those crazy "occasion" days i referred to earlier: i did not see it on Australia Days or Gaper Days for the next two seasons.

just the other day my housemate Mitch celebrated his 25th birthday with a house party in the style of barbeque. many of his work mates came by, and much fun was had. i introduced myself to the throng that arrived, and got to chatting with a nice australian boy. as always happens, we covered the "how long have you been in whistler" and "where do you work" segments of the conversation (you get these out of the way early to discern any commonality, and proceed accordingly). upon discovering that i worked at the Re-Use-It Centre, the australian boy proceeded to tell me about his best find at the store (this also often happens: occupational hazard). lo and behold, this was the very same australian boy who had purchased the heavenly red onesie all those years ago!!!

i discovered that he had spent 20 of his last 40 dollars (at the time) on the onesie. i discovered that he had been offered $1000 for it on the hill one day, and he had refused the offer. the red onesie lives on a special hook in this guy's house. his female housemate thinks it is hideous. but he doesn't care: he loves the onesie, and it shall travel with him back to australia when he finally leaves this place (we did not establish when that might be, for, who really ever knows?).

it is a true and pure love he has for the onesie. i am so happy that such a beautiful thing found such a warm and appreciative home.

amen.

secret/confession: i am a hoarder and i hate moving house.

i like to collect things. i read a lot of books, i wear a lot of clothes (not at once... different outfits on different days), i wear different earrings every day of the week.

people may understand this in different ways. perhaps they assume i am commitment-phobic, thusly needing many options. perhaps they think i have embraced variety as the spice of life, like they say. maybe they just think i'm a nutter and there is no method or rhythm to my madness.

people can think what they like. any way you spin it i own a lot of things.

do you know why this is?? i'll tell you why, mother 'uckers: i work at a thrift store and i'm compulsive. that's the long and short of it. do i really need earwarmers made from rabbit (sorry ellie)? one earring that is over 20cm long made from feathers? a ceramic teddybear piggybank? a terminator 2 action figure? 12 different kinds of perfume? do i really truly need over 20 tshirts? actually, my good friend phill owns 3 tshirts and i do not find him to be any less rad, so i at least know the answer to that one: nope.

i'm moving house, and because the househunting did not go according to plan i have a month to sleepover at mikaela, annica, lisa, amy and charlie's house. so the amount of possesions really has to drop down to zero. or like, minus zero, if you can imagine such a number. to live out of one bag again, like the month when i first arrived in whistler, scares the bejeeesus out of me. almost as much as the prospect of not having adult sleepovers with a certain boy i know...

so moving is traumatic on a few different counts. what i do have to remember is that i got here with one suitcase and a guitar, and it's going to be ok.

packing has found me re-discovering all sorts of treasures i'd forgotten i owned. i have pieces of clothing that are fierce favorites for maybe a month, and then they fall to the back of the drawer and i forget them... and then i have to decide what makes the final cut. how you decide that is beyond me, it's like choosing your favorite family member.

here's the biggest secret of all, children: the only way to pack when you have to throw out lots of stuff as you go is to get drunk and blast hiphop. it makes you care way less, and make instantaneous decisions. i found it out last time i moved. it works a charm.

the flipside of this sad sad story is that i get to live with my swedish loves for a whole month, which is enough time to get sick of mika before she ABANDONS ME for australia, of all places. unbelievable. so rude. the betrayal!! the angst!! i've got hurt feelings.

i will miss her even more than i will miss all the stuff i don't keep when i move, and that, dear readers, is saying something. but it's a story for another time.

a wierd place to leave this, but i have some drunk packing to do.

treasure: breakfasting like a boss

brought to you by cap'n crunch, david's tea's pumpkin chai and a soundtrack of GirlTalk, City and Colour and Citizen Cope.

it is not raining.

like a boss, i tell ya.

secret: testing testing: re-use-it centre blogging

originally, when i began this blog, i was intending to write about the thrift store where i work. it didn't end up coming together as i was seduced by the confessional nature of a personal blog. so i just went with that. but it's on the table, a blog for whistler community services society and the re-use-it centre in particular. so i thought i'd give it a test run here. practice makes perfect, after all.



i am a child of secondhand clothing. despite being the oldest child of three, my wardrobe was always a kingdom of hand-me-downs from older cousins, or family friends. i loved the worn-in, the pre-loved. i hated breaking in new shoes on the first day back at school. as i got a little older it was more of a statement, a rifling through of our "dress up" box which was really just mum and dad's old clothes. as a teenager in the country town where i grew up i moved pretty quickly past the brands and the replicas of each other. it was a lot to do with not being able to afford these brands, but i like to think i was attempting individuality.

my circle of friends in highschool was pretty like-minded, so we hit up thrift stores in town when we could. a lot of the time i lacked the patience to sort through all the racks and find the treasure that i'm sure was hiding there.

that skill came later when i moved to melbourne and studying arts at uni was all about thrift store chic. a statement of recycling (but only appropriate when accessorized properly) as fashion. the vintage and consignment stores where everything had already been carefully picked through by someone with an 'eye'; someone far wiser than me, undoubtedly.

just barely scraping through the poser-chic of university, i discovered my thrift store love had extended to secondhand books, mostly. i love books. i would live in a library if i could.

my favorite secondhand experience at this stage was the camberwell market. you paid a fee to rotary, who ran the market in a big carpark in camberwell every sunday, and filled up your spot with any and everything you had to sell. it was a haven of haggling, of the thrill of last minute bargains when everyone was keen to sell a few more bits and pieces before the end of the day.

i had a stall myself just before i left melbourne, to rid myself of clothes, books and shoes. it is hard to get rid of things you love, but it is harder still when you realize that maybe nobody else wants to buy it from you!

arriving in whistler, i had full intentions of checking out the thrift store in town. before i could wander down there as a customer, i found an ad. in the careers section of the Pique. the rest is history.

it's been a wild ride. it's confronting, the sheer quantity of stuff that gets brought to us everyday. literal piles upon piles to sort through, in a never-ending cycle. it ranges from whole bags of odd socks to new items, still tagged from where they were bought. there is so many treasures to be found. being behind the scenes does afford you first look at everything, but it also means there are days when the bag that someone had mixed up in their car on the way down to Function is actual garbage, donated at the busiest time of day and left under a pile of other bags for a few days in the warm weather.

everything balances out.

setting out to blog about the re-use-it centre, i have plenty to say, plenty to share, and plenty to show. thrift store shopping is not just for the trend-setters; items that would be snapped up for vintage stores in the city sit on the racks here sometimes for weeks. thrift stores help those on a low-income, young families, seasonal folk outfitting their homes away from home...

i love the whistler i know, and i want to share the things that happen to our little crew down at the store, as well as paint a picture for you all of the wider contribution made to our community here by any donations or shopping you do at re-use-it centre. it is our community, whether you're visiting for a week or you were born here. life is happening here!

stay tuned as i start up a re-use-it centre blog. i'd love your feedback and support.

treasure: Friday night= forgetting sarah marshall

fall makes me curl in on myself. in the foetal position.

friday night finds me with a phone full of text message invites to things with close friends whom i love (you'll find outpourings of that love in previous posts; do not doubt the love), options for drinks and movies and even a lovely boy offering to cook for me.

my night tonight, being a friday, has the following components:
1) perogis (three cheese) and broccoli (they balance each other out)
2) a cocktail that i just invented with organic apple juice, club soda and fireball
3) a skype with stu comprising mainly of chatter about how awesome it will be when he visits in january (if you want to know how awesome, the answer is: very awesome)
4) nobody else in the house
5) forgetting sarah marshall on tv.






and i just realized that i may as well be blogging about my sock choices on different days of the week.

kaPOW!

secret: always amused by the whistler ski rat

we're just moving out of our place in the next week (another story all together where we're moving to... because we uh... don't gots a place) but our landlord is having a little trouble renting the house, so i've kindly offered to show people through.

this afternoon two young canadians came through earlier than i was expecting them and they reminded me of a phenomenon i find hilarious here in whistler- the teenage ski rat.

when i say teenager i guess they could be in their early 20s, but all signs point to youth when you're pimply with all the visual markings of ski rat- long hair, baggy toque, long sweater (the warmer re-incarnation of the tall tee), tight jeans that mysteriously are still baggy around the ass, hi-top sneakers... and just generally the vibe of it, y'know?

if you are a ski-rat you must regulary use the words 'dude' and 'totally'. you must find it hilarious to speak only in quotes from movies such as step brothers, anchorman: the legend of ron burgundy, or basically anything with will ferrell in it, except that one serious movie he did. and bewitched. don't quote bewitched.

the more quotes you can remember the cooler you are. the ultimate is not to exchange any words that aren't movie quotes for an entire night. coupled with smoking a little weed, this is the ultimate in ski rat social interaction... it's a code, and a culture.

i don't get it, but i reserve the right to remain amused by all things ski-rat.

i often wonder what sort of men they grow into.





the flip side is they're a lot politer than you'd think. and honestly, making a life (carefully read: not a living, a life) out of skiing isn't such a crazy notion after all. and a few of these ski rats probably end up mega-famous and ultra rad... and the rest get real jobs and stuff.

and that's all i have to say about that, for now.

treasure: whistler's rainy days

Fall.

every year it comes and every year i struggle through it, only to forget the struggle on the flipside, and by that i mean, when the POW gets here.

and then it comes back again and WAH-BAM! Fall.

it is a struggle to keep balance. everyone feels it, everyone i speak with is working through the rain and the grumpy. all i really want is chocolate biscuits and cuddles. last Fall i did sober october. this year i am aiming for sober october plus strength training with the lovely lisa twice a week. plus i've cut wheat out again, on account of the whole... you know... intolerance.

it's an undertaking, but i shall at least try.

things to do in Whistler when it rains:

1) bond with strangers by discussing the shitty weather
2) obsessively check the weather forecast with hopes of either a sunny day or snow on the mtn
3) watch art of flight and that's it that's all a lot of times, and try and figure out if you can afford heli-boarding in alaska by mortgaging your spleen
4) spend a lot of time online looking at outerwear, reading board reviews, wishing you were a billionaire
5) jigsaw puzzles. they sell them at reuseit, but cannot guarantee that all the pieces are enclosed. do not get mad. do not ask for your money back. do not ask for the manager when the cashier will not give you your money back.
6) alcohol
7) go to vancouver and see bands
8) watch entire, 7 season tv shows.
9) thrift store shopping!
10) making high-stakes bets about when the mtn will open
11) pot luck dinners, thanksgiving dinners, other kinds of dinners.
12) meet a nice boy or girl
13) eat out at all the fancy places doing shoulder season specials. favorites include the rimrock and kypriakis.
14) start a blog
15) work out and get epic muscles in time for the mtn to open.

i think 15 is enough to keep you all busy.

good luck

secret:

treasure: oh boy, sleep! that's where i'm a viking!

secret: someone like you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAc83CF8Ejk&ob=av2n

"Someone Like You"

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a girl and you're married now.

I heard that your dreams came true.

Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

You know how the time flies

Only yesterday it was the time of our lives

We were born and raised

In a summer haze

Bound by the surprise of our glory days

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me it isn't over, yeah.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Nothing compares

No worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes

They are memories made.

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love

But sometimes it hurts instead.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

-----------------------------------------------------------Adele

who knows what makes me think it's different this time, but so help me god it feels like it.


it's interesting to think about all the others i've loved before and left behind. is that what life equates to? love and un-love, and this history that feels less and less real the further you get from it?

i've changed so much since past loves that the relationships feel like a book i read that i remember bits of, where other bits blur and fade. as i suppose they're supposed to. my first relationship made me feel angry, and the second one made me feel guilty, but these things too get less crisp with time. it's all part of being alive, i guess.

i don't want to sing praises, i just want to say that i am grateful in all kinds of small ways for this gorgeous boy who takes nothing away from any of the parts of my life that i love. my biggest fear has always been the parts that get taken away. i am fiercely certain that if i cannot stay myself i will have un-done all the good that whistler has done me. i am not prepared to be anything less than awesome.

mostly, but then sometimes i trip over things that aren't even there. nobody, after all, is a perfect specimen.

"Do, or Do Not. There is no try" : Yoda.

treasure: the golden ones

i love to write, but i never end up putting pen to paper when i'm happiest. is it some sort of flaw that i only aim to capture happiness after the fact?

i am in love. so much love. my time in whistler just gets more and more golden with each passing day. i have the kinds of friends and family here that would make others jealous. i've never been so happy, or so alive. i'm even happy at home on my own tonight with a cup of tea listening to dubstep remixes of songs i like while i blog... (hah, self-reflexive much?).

these people, with whom i text every day, who leave flowers to greet me when i arrive home, who i will live with, love, laugh with, drink eat sleep and breathe with, these people are the golden ones. the ones that all end up at my house for an unplanned bbq, and stay to have Mortal Kombat battles. they are my Whistler.

i am afraid, for i have a lot to lose in the next 6 months. but i am not so afraid that i will stop throwing myself right into the middle of my life, as my life is happening now, and i guess that's really what whistler has taught me. to grab things and love them to little bits while they're up for grabbing and loving.

whistler can get ugly, it can ruin you, or it can be the best time you ever had in your life. i want to talk about these days when i am old. i want to see all these people again, and reminisce about a different time. maybe soon we will all be responsible and committed to things. but we will always have the joyous memory of labor day, laying on a balcony covered with mattresses, drawing on each other with markers and facepaint, so pleased with the cleverness of us, ze Family, who got it right and beautiful for one day, and spent that day together.

i want my life to be a motley collection of "remember that time when" 's.

that is all i ask.

poem challenge: i've words

I've words,
I've plenty. You're just a button
I like to push sometimes- you're no less for it, but
I reassure myself that
I
am the pusher of the button, and
Shall not be pushed.

Blatantly I stretch to bullshit- you don't
Understand the words I've made, and you
Smile your charmed smile, and I
Become something less (read: consumed),
Just a little less than what you can hold in your hand.

I'm embittered, and for tonight the effort of shininess
Displaced by a poet half a world away, for,
If we make feelings just inklings,
Nothing ever shall be done
Nothing shall ever be done.

You fool, you've put a something in the way of a gap
You've chosen wrong
You should not have gone home.

Unless home had been
What you made me. And what have you made of me?

secret: i collect pictures the way i collect physical piles of thrift store junk. seriously, it's scary.

treasure: whistler summer, activities, love love love

i do realize it has been some time since my last confession.




i've been busy doing activities, all different sorts. those of you who know what's up with me these days will probably snigger at this point. honestly, i haven't been having sex this whole time. i have a job and stuff too.



whistler has managed to provide us with some summer the last month or so, and while it's not like the previous two summers i had the privledge of living through here, i am not one to pass up any sunshine at this point.



ultimate summer activities include:


1) laking. it's a verb now, didn'tya know? alpha lake park is where it's at. you take with you a mat to lay on, a pillow, books, ipod and speakers, sunglasses, swimwear, and as many like-minded friends as you can find (read: those who have the same days off, normally kate, phill and the beautiful swedish ones are the best to take along). the swimwear is predominantly for tanning purposes, as the lakes are glacier fed and, to borrow from the kiwis, a "but chully".



you can picnic, you can sneak beers (not that i have ever done that as it's quite clearly Against The Rules), you can play volleyball (although I'm scared of it since being forced to play and thusly traumatized in highschool), you can frisbee, you can just do what you feel.





2)mountain sightseeing. to be fair, i do prefer being up in the mountains on those winter days where there's snow, and boards what you strap to yer feet, and such. but in summer, despite the stupid amount of snow still aboot, they won't let you shred. so you put on sensible shoes (or sometimes you're australian and you wear flippyfloppys) and you wander about marvelling loudly at how different it looks in summer and how crazy the Harmony Horseshoes are with no pow on them. and then you get homesick for winter.

also, sometimes you can go up and eat insane amounts of seafood, call it a bbq buffet and feel no shame at all in getting 2 full plates and eating them ALL and then pausing for a brief moment and then eating dessert...

3) daydrinking. if you don't understand what i mean by this, i shall not explain it to you, merely shake my head in pity.

i just recently had one of the very best daydrinking days of my life. we came off the back of drinking dustys dry, but we had planned for Labour Day Monday (a long weekend public holiday) to be spent at the Bayshores Bitches mansion drinking Caesars and general whatnot.
we kept an itinerary. it looks like this (thanks Mika for copying it down from the big piece of paper we had stuck to the washroom door):

TIMELINE FOR DAYPARTY AT LABOUR DAY, BAYSHORES BITCHES MANSION


7:59 am: Kate wakes up
8:00 am: Phill texts Kate
8:19 am: Phill, Janice and Andy arrives
8:36 am: Ceasar no 1, made by Karin. Helen Taylor receives voicemail from Phill Mitchell. Aaron puts his clothes on.
9:21 am: Ceasar no 2, also made by Karin. Everybody happy and not hung from last nites drinking Dusties dry. Sucess.
9:26 am: Clamatojuice no 1 finished
9:31 am: Hot sauce no 1 finished
9:32 am: Karin provides shuttlebus service between bayshores mansion and timber ridge mansion.
9:52 am: Helen and Annika gets here and Helen gives Kate a brief lesson in the history of the cup.
10:00 am: Mika reads timeline
10:09 am: Phill attempts shower
10:10: Phill actually has a shower (and a poo)
10:11: Clamatojuice no 2 finished
10:25: Phill, Charlie and Mitch tries to make a vodka watermelon
10:30: Phill, Charlie and Mitch fails (and then asks google)
10:37: Phill tells Mitch about the underwater bridge to Buffys island idea. Mitch is suitably impressed.
10:43: Kate shouts at Phill for being a douche
10:45: The first vodka is nearly finished
10:46: Phill tells Kate to write “Kate tells Phill he is not a douche and is a very good lover'. Kate writes it.
10:57: Boys on the balcony, girls in the kitchen. Where they belong.
11:00: Mika and Strumps doing secret stuff...
11:08: waiting to get in the bathroom
11:09: Still waiting...
11:10: Still waiting...
11:12: Peed my pants
11:14: Mika comes down the stairs wearing a sheet...
11:18: Phill finally realizes he likes men, after playing with a ribbon (also has a wet ass)
11:23: BREAKFAST IS ALMOST READY!!
11:24: Breakfast is ready. Phill skips to get some.
11:29: Phill has the best eggs benny EVER!
11:45: Karin takes a photo of Helen, Phill and Kate.
11:45 and 53 sec: Karin has her first drink of the day!!!
11:50: Janice is impressed by how they put new water in the hot tub.
11:51: Phill wonders if the movie “Hot tub time machine” is based on a true story.
12:09: Everybody takes a nap. Kate washes dishes. Karin showers. Helen updates the timeline.
12:40: Hot tub, nap on the deck. Fighting of paparazzis. Almost sun on the deck!:)
1:05 pm: charlie and Karin leaves. Phill has ruined xmas!!
1:12: Everyone feels slightly uncomfy in Phills company and decides to drink it all away.
1:26: Mika wants to know whats goin on on the timeline.
1:27: Phill tells Mika whats going on on the timeline.
2:24: Karin applies sunblock and Mark hangs his washing.
2:47: Pina colada on the sundeck. Literally ON the sundeck.
2:56: Janice googles “muppets”. Phills face appears.

3:27: Phill did a wee... It lasted 47 sec.
3:30: Mark laughs at Phill for his 47 long wee.
3:41: Alla ska bada!!All bitches off to the lake!
Time not set for next happening: Officer to Kate Mitchell: whats ur name and address?”
Kate Mitchell gives officer false information.
Kate Mitchell: “Bah! 230 dollar fine..My ass! Bahaha!”
Mitch gets a 100 dollar fine for drinking in public.
(Not on timeline, but miss Mitchell ends up in cop car, handcuffed for just a little while. )
4:45 pm: Janice gets re-f###king arrested!

EVENING SHIFT!
Present: Annika, Mika, Karin, Lisa, Charlie, Sierra, Mitch, Phill, Kate J, Kate M, Andy, Helen, Aaron, Brendhan.

7:15 pm: Phill makes Mika change clothes with him. Then jumps in the hot tub. Mika feels used and dirty.
7:20: Bayshores bitches in the kitchen! The bbq is lit!
7:25: Handsome Josh with the best beard arrives.
7:35: Amy comes home...and has a beer. Her life was better. And she had a blue jumper on and everyone knows what that means.
8:46: Helen regales us with tales of Lousie...”ur mum”.
8:48: Everyone gets a sugar high after dessert brownies, ice cream and sugar-ful cones...icecream cones.
8:49: Its getting cold. Karin and Kate both embrace the idea of a jumper/hoodie.
9:00. Mark comes back!
(Wrong in timeline because of Phill misreading his watch) 3:21: SHIT GOT REAL!
9:16: Helen goes home with...relief that she lived! Also, with Aaron. (but he is welcome to stay). ...Actually, without him. Thank you very much!
9:23: Josh takes his awesome beard home boo:(
9:25: Phill realizes that Mark is back!
10:03: Aaron is leaving. Sorry guys:(
11:22: everyone is in bed. Kate appreciates what a respectative time it is.
11:24: Phill remembers how good breakfast was.
11:24: Charlie needs the bathroom.

NEXT DAY

8.30: Mika arrives home says hi to Mitch and Sierra, who is leaving the sinking ship, eats a lovely english muffin and watches Phill and Kate sleep...moaahaha!

10:00: Official timeline reading is complete. Everyone is satisfied.

UPDATE SEPT 6th!

10:20 pm: Bayshores Bitches finally finds out what REALLY happened. Mika was a naughty girl...





so that's what happened with that. more happened, but the important thing to remember is that no-one was hurt, and everyone was the very best of friends.

4) work. yep. it is sometimes an activity.

5) falling in love with new gear and boards for upcoming season. trying not to watch boarding movies, and failing miserably.

to expand: my brother gave me a $600 voucher for a Prior snowboard. Prior is a local company that make a sweet powder board called the Khybers. Because Stu is awesome, he waited until i was 26 and really wanted this board to give me a birthday present. well played, sir. well played.

you get to customize it. the graphics of your choice, and whatnot. i am so stoked, and ordering it monday... then i shall be the happiest gal on the mountain.

i have also decided to grant myself new outerwear this year, which means, ladies and gentlemens, yellow pants. there, i said it. i think yellow pants with lots of pockets will be about right. i have a dark purple jacket that i scored from work. yellow shall set the outfit off nicely. it's not just about the board you know- everything has to look right. pimp.

and as for movies... well... i try not to watch til at least mid october, otherwise i get all wistful and stare sadly out windows wishing it was puking and i was shredding emerald trees listening to some kind of sweet tunes, like maybe this one by awolnation:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5SC9h6vBa4

stu told me to like this one, but the joke's on him, because it turns out i already liked it but didn't know what it was called.

but thanks stu for telling me what it was called. good one bru.

more to the point, the art of flight is premiering in whis on monday night, and as "that's it that's all" blows my mind whenever i watch it, i am stoked for this one, plus the premiere atmosphere (basically everyone in whis will go, and certainly everyone i know) is going to be pretty decent.

6) that's it, that's all.

peace.