Summer brings about some strange things. For example, the compulsion to create things like this, which might be the most disgusting thing I've ever seen.
We all know that frappaccinos and their friends are bad times for health but good times for summer drinking. As an alternative, I like to get an iced Americano, pour off (or drink) some, and then top it up with whole milk and some of the vanilla stuff that Starbucks has on hand in salt shakers. It's not quite a frappaccino, but it's a cold and tasty drink that hits the spot on a hot day.
There are many things I love about summer. Being hot. Really, the sheer sensation of heat, feeling the waves of it come from car exhaust, radiating off the sidewalks, the crispy feeling my skin takes on sitting out in the sun, sweaty car (that sauna feeling when your car's been sitting in the sun and you have to get in it)... sweaty car relief (when you get in and roll down the windows and crank the A/C even though it's inefficient), just being hot. And I love beaches, and being outside, and swimming, and flowers. Barbecued meat. Popsicles. Sundresses. Certain brands of sunscreen. Wedge sandals. Long days and evenings that go on forever. Cottages. My island. Fish. The smell of mosquito fog.
I would like to submit one complaint about summer. Where were the smokers hibernating? They all come out in droves at the first sign of warm weather. Something about a heady breath of tobacco as I walk past a smoker makes me crave those carefree days when I knew that smoking was some form of slow suicide but chose not to care. Tobacco smells of freedom and death, and it's delicious. I have no desire to smoke again, but those early-summer breathfuls of nicotine wear on my resolve.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Whistling
I think this blog will be a testament to all the things that I find particularly bothersome, annoying, or to which I have a neurotic aversion. One of the things I most enjoy doing is complaining. It's something that I can't really explain - why does it make me happy to point out things I don't like? The truth is that I have a thing for having my pet peeves and irritants known, without any expectation or hope that any action will be taken to remedy the situation. It's probably driven by the same compulsion that drives me to take surveys and answer questionnaires whenever possible, to fill out all the comment cards and participate in market research studies. It's just something I like to do.
Which brings me to this blog. It will probably be a long string of complaints, with (I hope) the odd witty comment or musing thrown in for variety. If you're not into that, look elsewhere for reading material.
Today's complaint revolves around whistling. This is perhaps the best known of my neurotic aversions. It's not just a dislike; the sound of whistling actually makes my skin crawl. It's just so annoying. It's not even a real sound. Why anyone would take enjoyment from creating or listening to the sound that old, environmentally unfriendly windows or poorly-spaced teeth make is beyond me.
And people seem to accept it as a form of music. And one that can be reproduced anywhere. When you see people singing on the subway, a far more valid form of music, you probably give them a strange look. If they're whistling, people tend to let that go, especially if it's some grandfatherly old man or smart-ass kid. Personally, if someone is whistling on the subway, I will get off and wait for the next train.
On the other hand, I was on the streetcar last week with a girl who was unabashedly singing, and I thought it was actually pretty cool. Of course, she was singing a song I like by one of my favourite bands (Little Hands by Mother Mother), so that may have influenced my opinion on the incident, but I'm inclined to say that random girl singing along with her iPod is far superior to weird old guy whistling.
Which brings me to this blog. It will probably be a long string of complaints, with (I hope) the odd witty comment or musing thrown in for variety. If you're not into that, look elsewhere for reading material.
Today's complaint revolves around whistling. This is perhaps the best known of my neurotic aversions. It's not just a dislike; the sound of whistling actually makes my skin crawl. It's just so annoying. It's not even a real sound. Why anyone would take enjoyment from creating or listening to the sound that old, environmentally unfriendly windows or poorly-spaced teeth make is beyond me.
And people seem to accept it as a form of music. And one that can be reproduced anywhere. When you see people singing on the subway, a far more valid form of music, you probably give them a strange look. If they're whistling, people tend to let that go, especially if it's some grandfatherly old man or smart-ass kid. Personally, if someone is whistling on the subway, I will get off and wait for the next train.
On the other hand, I was on the streetcar last week with a girl who was unabashedly singing, and I thought it was actually pretty cool. Of course, she was singing a song I like by one of my favourite bands (Little Hands by Mother Mother), so that may have influenced my opinion on the incident, but I'm inclined to say that random girl singing along with her iPod is far superior to weird old guy whistling.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
changes
Just what I need - another blog. between Twitter, Livejournal, and the odd musing on Facebook, clearly what I need is another venue for expressing myself.
I think what brought me here today is the fact that it's Mothers' Day. And while this is the third one that I've experienced without my mother, it's the first one where I haven't been at work all day, and it comes at a time where I feel like a ridiculous amount of change has happened. It's only been a little over three years, but it's astounding how much has happened... the number of relationships, jobs, experiences... Even just the number of places I've lived.
Sometimes I think about the person I was when she died, and I wonder if she'd even recognize me. I occasionally work with an old friend of my mother's. I saw her yesterday, and she told me I look more beautiful every time she sees me. Maybe I'm happier... thinner, for sure. Beyond that... I like to think that she'd be pleased with what I've done with myself. Even though I'm not always 100% happy with how things turn out, for now things are good.
But there are a lot of things I'd really like to ask her. Y'know, that motherly advice stuff. It feels silly. I'm an adult, I should know these things by now. But life's a constant stream of things you didn't see coming. Like dating a guy with kids. Or how to figure out what I want to do with my career. I guess that feeling never goes away.
I think what brought me here today is the fact that it's Mothers' Day. And while this is the third one that I've experienced without my mother, it's the first one where I haven't been at work all day, and it comes at a time where I feel like a ridiculous amount of change has happened. It's only been a little over three years, but it's astounding how much has happened... the number of relationships, jobs, experiences... Even just the number of places I've lived.
Sometimes I think about the person I was when she died, and I wonder if she'd even recognize me. I occasionally work with an old friend of my mother's. I saw her yesterday, and she told me I look more beautiful every time she sees me. Maybe I'm happier... thinner, for sure. Beyond that... I like to think that she'd be pleased with what I've done with myself. Even though I'm not always 100% happy with how things turn out, for now things are good.
But there are a lot of things I'd really like to ask her. Y'know, that motherly advice stuff. It feels silly. I'm an adult, I should know these things by now. But life's a constant stream of things you didn't see coming. Like dating a guy with kids. Or how to figure out what I want to do with my career. I guess that feeling never goes away.
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