Last night, Tuesdays With Morrie was on.

It was one of those books that Oprah featured on her show and which she claimed was "life changing." But as inspiring as it was the first time I flipped through the book, I identified with what Hank Azaria (playing Mitch) said to Morrie (played by Jack Lemmon in his final role) about how he worried he was one of those people who wouldn't fully learn what Morrie was trying to teach him.

It's one thing to hear something that you know in your heart is true, but it's another thing to actually put it into action and to live life to the fullest extent.

I dug out my copy of the book after I finished watching the movie and found this:

"As you grow, you learn more. If you stayed as ignorant as you were at twenty-two, you'd always be twenty-two. Aging is not just decay, you know. It's growth. It's more than the negative that you're going to die, it's the positive that you understand you're going to die, and that you live a better life because of it," Morrie told Mitch.

In the movie, watching Morrie's condition worsen, I found myself thinking back to that week before gran died --- how she was so weak and couldn't even recognize us anymore. I started crying, even though I tried to hide it --- God, I hated myself so much for it. It was so embarrassing...but there was something about how far she'd come from being the independent woman she used to be.

A few days ago, I was out with my family for Christmas and at the table next to us was a little old man, out with his own family. There was something about the way his hand shook when he tried to feed himself and the way his head sort of listed to the side that reminded me of gran.

I told a friend two days ago that seeing anybody who's old reminds me of what it was like to visit gran at the nursing home...all those people...some who never seemed to have anybody visiting them. At meal times, when I'd go and visit to help feed gran, there'd be other people at her table, who'd sit there in their wheelchairs, waiting to be fed as the personal care workers scrambled to feed anybody who didn't have relatives there, helping them out.

So...yeah, Jack Lemmon's performance reminded me of all that.

But I guess what really haunted me was how he looked as he lay in bed, staring out the window, silently crying...because I've had those moments, too.

---

It's another half day at work today.

Time's just dragging.

The weird thing is, I don't know what else I'd rather be doing or where I'd rather be.

You know...it's not so much about hating the holidays as being resentful of how everybody seems to think you have to be happy.

Okay.

I lied.

This is a post done in the evening.

Not during the morning.

I don't know. Sometimes, I wonder why I have so much to write about...especially since I've started cutting out writing about the people in my life --- 'cause let me tell ya, when someone finds your blog and realizes you're writing about them, it ain't pretty.

I was just so fucking sleepy this morning.

I didn't have the greatest night last night, either. I wasn't feeling so great and I was shaking as I frantically turned my bag inside out, trying to find my pills. That's why I kind of get what House was going through in that last episode.

Life can be really crap when you deal with chronic pain.

But, anyway...last night, there was nothing to watch and I needed a break from re-reading "Pride and Prejudice." I'd begun to look at my library the other day and started to feel like I'd sunk a whole lot of money into building up that library...and for what? I don't often re-read my books. And at last count, I actually have three copies of "Othello". Why? Yes, it's my favourite play by the Bard, but I don't exactly need three copies.

And I can't take all of these books with me when I die. I can't take any of the stuff I own with me when I die.

I always tell myself this whenever I want to try and curb my spending habits. And yet, today, I bought more clothes.

New Year's resolution #37: spend less.

A couple of friends mentioned they didn't like the fact that I keep talking about how I'm going to change a lot of things about myself as of January 1, 2007. They don't think there's anything that needs to be changed; I just think they're afraid the sarcastic, bitchy person who says the first thing that crosses her mind is going to disappear.

Um, yeah. That's not happening.

So, anyway, it's been awhile since I last read "Pride and Prejudice." Yes, it's Austen's most popular work, but I actually love it the best. But...last night, I put the book aside and tuned into TLC, where they had this feature on this three-year-old girl named Juliana Wetmore, who has Treacher Collins Syndrome. The show was called, "Building A New Face".

Whoa.

That's all I can say. I mean, you feel sorry for the child and you can't help but admire the parents for being so strong and loving, but you also wonder if you'd have that kind of strength if your own child was born with this disease.

I was reading about it online...the chances of being born with this syndrome is about 1 in 10,000; it's a lottery you don't want to win. The emphasis on most of the sites was about how people born with this syndrome may look physically very different from so-called "normal" folk, but that they're just like you and me.

Anyways...

Something else that I'd recently watched was "Mad Hot Ballroom", which I absolutely loved --- especially that one kid, Wilson? Oh my God. Could he be any cuter?

I just loved the whole message of the documentary and seeing those kids work so hard, learning how to dance.

It was a great doc.

The other day, I did a post in my other journal about The Ethicist and how this person wrote in about a co-worker who faked having cancer and whose work was redistributed to other co-workers, but who was never punished by management.

I told my mother I was all about public shaming.

She thought I was mean --- as if this was something I was going to actually do when I got into work and that this was something that had unfolded while I was at work.

You know, I don't really get why she always seems to think that the things I say I'd do if I was in such a situation are things I'm about to do at any second unless she talks some sense into me.

That's how my mom and I are different, though...she's all about turning the other cheek, being the better person, etc....and maybe that makes her a better person than me. She's certainly more forgiving. Me? Fuggedaboudit.

I once read that the truly wise person will forgive but never forget.

Guess I'm not so wise...though, I'm working on it, you know? After all, the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference.

---

I love that week at work when most people bridge the time off from Christmas to New Year's --- most people are at home, doing nothing, while I'm at work...not exactly doing nothing, but a whole lot less than I would be if everybody and everything was swinging at full gear.

When I tell people I'm working through the holidays, they make that face that goes, "Oh, poor you", which I don't get, because over the last couple of years, being home during the holidays gets kind of boring. I kinda think that the holidays were meant for kids. And Christmas in Toronto just isn't what it used to be.

For one thing, there's no snow this year.

There was no tree up, no wrapped presents. And it was fine.

Met up with a friend yesterday who had moved back into town. You know what I think marks a good friendship? When you can pick up from where you left off and it's like nothing's changed.

Umbrellas

Umbrellas
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.

I just liked the colours on this. I usually hate using the Samsung Digimax (I got it free), but this turned out okay.

Man, I Hate This

Man, I Hate This
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.

Yes, she's not smiling here and yes, the picture is blurry, but I love it anyways because she still looks adorable. Sure, getting a picture of a child smiling is great...but a kid isn't always going to be smiling and I love capturing all kinds of emotions as they play out across a baby's face. I love how she has this, "Ugh, I'd really rather be somewhere else" look on her face.

Sunlight --- it's a rare thing in December.


24Dec2006 003
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.

24Dec2006 019
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.


24Dec2006 020
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.

24Dec2006 021
Originally uploaded by Anonymous Writer.

There's a family thing later tonight.

Yay.

That was sarcasm in case you couldn't tell.

On Post Secret, there were two cards that resonated with what I was feeling:



and



I know.

The last one's a little overly optimistic for me...and I really mean next year and not so much this one...though, truth be told, this year wasn't a particularly crappy one. I seriously think it's just the whole end-of-the-year stuff that makes me feel like sleeping through the whole holiday season just to avoid the crowds, the faux merry-making, the pretense of coming together as one big extended family, the purchasing of gifts, etc., etc.

I've been doing pretty much...nothing so far.

I've been doing a bit of reading (mostly in the vein of In Style, Vanity Fair, People and Martha Stewart Living) and a lot of movie-watching.

Caught "The Lake House" yesterday and "The Sound of Music."

I don't really care about what the critics had to say about the Lake House or about Keanu Reeves and how he can't act. I still liked it...sometimes, you're in the mood for a romance and as far as romances go, I really liked this one. Sure, Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves spend most of the movie apart, but I liked the story. It wasn't overly sappy.

---

Every time I see "Singapore" pop up on the Site Meter stats, a part of me grimaces and wonders if it's the same guy who started reading my other blogs and then joined Flickr --- not to post pictures of his own, but to leave a comment on some of my pictures --- and who then got all offended when I didn't really feel like striking up a pen pal-type relationship with him.

Wrapped up my Christmas shopping yesterday at the Eaton Centre, which just brought back memories of being a kid, when we'd make the trek downtown for my mom's office Christmas party and then stop off at the Eaton Centre and past the window displays at the Bay.

I always hated it.

I didn't like crowds --- that was the main thing. A part of me would be scared I'd get lost in the heavy throng of people. But I guess that's one thing you get used to when you're working downtown...or maybe not.

It was sort of like watching a swarm of ants --- bodies moving everywhere, in constant motion.

A couple of years ago, around Christmas-time, they did this radio program where they rolled out the stats of how many times an item will be picked up, tried on, or handled by other people before it lands in your posession and the cashier swipes your credit card.

I think it was like, 11 people will try on the same sweater that you finally wind up buying.

That's why I'll always toss something into the wash before wearing it.

But I'm kind of a germaphobe that way.

Anyways, I have no plans of setting foot in a mall for the rest of the weekend.

I finally got around to watching the last four remaining episodes of Fox's Vanished.

I'm probably one of only 3.5 million people who tuned into this show --- and apparently, 3.5 million isn't a heck of a lot.

Maybe they were only counting the U.S.

In any event, when they cancelled the show, they opted to burn off the rest of the episodes online on the MySpace page for the show --- but only for US viewers, which was really very annoying because in Canada, the show aired on Global TV and you need to only take a cursory glance at the web site to know what a shitty site it is.

One thing's for sure about Global --- you're never going to find a link to the unaired episodes of a show that you've already invested 9 hours into.

Thank God for Bit Torrent!

And for people who never got a chance to check out this show, I really think they were missing out, because it was fascinating. You needed to watch right from the beginning and have a good memory to pick up on all the little clues to start piecing together everything.




One of the stupid things about this show, though, is how the main character, played by Queer As Folk alum, Gale Harold, was killed off on the eighth episode and Eddie Cibrian's character was brought in to continue the investigation in the kidnapping of a senator's wife.

At that point, I kind of thought I wouldn't really want to continue watching, but the thing about this show is that it's not so much about the characters as it is the storyline that keeps the show interesting.

You know how on Lost, it's all about the characters? 'Cause, really, nothing's moving the story forward. We're just caught in the minutiae of flashbacks and what was once fresh and interesting and captivating is now just tedious --- partly because networks inexplicably think it's okay to break for a couple of weeks and parachute something else in.

I'm not a sports fan so it annoys me when they show the World Series for whatever sport is wrapping up for the season --- I mean, why the hell do we have TSN? If you're such a diehard sports fan, wouldn't you subscribe to the package that would offer that channel?

That's just my thinking.

And you know, I don't see the point in yanking a show after you've already aired nine and opt to repeat other shows or bring in something new, like the case with ABC and the Taye Diggs vehicle, Day Break, which --- surprise, surprise --- got cancelled.

Why not just continue to air Lost and learn from last season's mistake and viewers' complaints that too frequent lulls in new episodes does nothing to retain a fan base.

I mean, isn't a strong viewership in a show important? That's what networks want, right? Don't they realize by now that it doesn't take much for a show's audience to nose dive as they get impatient with the constant fiddling of the TV schedule?

It's all just so stupid.

I have this awful crick in my neck.

I remember waking up a few years ago with a stiff neck --- I could barely move. Turning made me scream in pain.

So, here I am at work.

It's a half day today.

The HR here is so fucked up.

They don't normally do half days --- managers will encourage you to make up that time because apparently, it makes life difficult for HR to adjust our pay in that case. Either take a whole day off, or make up the time.

I don't know how this is really my problem if it causes a headache for HR.

But whatever.

They're giving us a half day next Friday, too.

I always feel like the week before Christmas drags on and on. And it's not really like I'm riddled with excitement and anticipation. The only day I look forward to is January 1. Wipe the slate clean, get a new year to do better.

I'm listening to the second part of "Rice Bowl Tales" --- they're featuring Thailand in this installment. The first one was about China, of course, since it's the largest consumer of rice.

I love ABC National and its programs. It almost makes me wish I lived in Australia...there's probably more sunlight and less of a chance to develop S.A.D.

I'd rather listen to ABC rather than CBC. I know. How "un-Canadian" of me.

I realized I forgot to get KAR something for Christmas. She's really into the holidays and goes for the elaborate gifts, whereas I don't even see the point in buying Christmas cards.

One of the older guys from work gave me one yesterday. A part of me was glad I was on the phone at the time, because I would have felt obligated to engage in chit chat and yesterday, I was already starting to feel the first twinges of pain.

Fuck --- it's extending all the way to my back now. And unlike House I'm not going to start popping my small supply of painkillers like candy. Did you see the way he was going through them?

Hugh Laurie was on Ellen the other day. Well, it was probably a repeat or something, since everything's on repeat these days. CITY TV used to have Ellen on late in the afternoon right before six, but when that Rachael Ray show started, they replaced Ellen for a bit before bringing her back.

Thank God.

Okay. I admit it. I used to watch Rachael Ray's 30 Minute Meals. Presentation-wise, the food looked pretty unappetizing, but just from the ingredients, you could tell it probably tasted okay.

Man, was I ever surprised Rachael Ray managed to beat out Giada De Laurentiis in the Iron Chef challenge. I kind of wondered how she felt about having to be paired up with Mario Bitalli, though. I remember reading somewhere that he and Anthony Bourdain were totally ragging on her 'cause she's not a "real" chef --- plus, that chipper, cheerful, loudmouth thing's gotta grate on your nerves after awhile, huh?

Okay --- yes. I'm a nerd. I love Food Network.

I'd probably do miserably as a chef because I don't take to being yelled at. God, can you imagine having someone like Gordon Ramsey screaming at you? I'd be on the six o'clock news for sure, looking disshevelled in my mug shots.

Got an email from someone yesterday who'd read my other journal. It was kind of nice, but I think a lot of people who read my other journal tend to think I'm manic depressive. Maybe I am. Who knows?

You know what I've come to notice, though? It's how, when you read about how bad someone else is feeling and you can kind of identify with it and feel that way, too, you still feel the need to tell them, "It's gonna be okay."

Well...maybe that's just me.

Anyway...I've gotta wrap this up and get to work.

'Til tomorrow morning, then...

I like chocolate chip cookies that don't have all that many chocolate chips in them. That happens sometimes when you're baking --- all chocolate chip cookies are not made equally.

Okay, so I guess that makes me weird or something.

Thought I'd start blogging here in the mornings instead of after I get home from work, when I'll feel obligated to update all the blogs but not cross-post. I wonder if people who read all the blogs think I'm slightly schizophrenic...though, I know enough that people who have schizophrenia don't literally have a split personality. There's this pharmaceutical company that has come up with a virtual reality machine that you can strap onto your head that will simulate what a typical trek out to the pharmacy is like for someone who has schizophrenia --- it's more like you hear voices in your head and start seeing things that aren't there.

Y'know, sometimes when I tell people that I used to work as a research assistant at this outpatient program, I get the usual jokes.

"Ha ha. Did you really work there or were you a patient there?"

God, it just makes me want to punch them in the face.

It's like, "Oh, aren't I being so clever?"

Most people aren't funny. And when they try to be, it's painful. Most people feel obligated to force out a fake laugh. I guess it's better than looking at them like you feel sorry for them and saying, "You're pathetic."

The other day I was at a meeting and I sort of blanked out, thinking about other stuff. It's weird, the kind of random stuff that'll come into your mind when you're bored and stuck in a meeting. Stuff like how you really should buy so-and-so a Christmas present just in case they get you one, even though you really think they should be saving their money instead of wasting it on junk you don't really need.

You know what I don't get? People who seem to think that the more expensive the gift and the more gifts you get a person is a sign of how much you love them.

I just don't get that.

Anyway, at one point, the top guy looks over at me and is going, "Blah blah blah blah blah" and casts this expectant look in my direction and I decide to nod sagely like I know what he's talking about.

KN looked over at me as I turned my head and I mouthed, "I have no idea what he's talking about."

He probably saw me do it, too.

Ugh...I could care less at this point.

I had to write up my year end review yesterday, which I thought was totally and completely pointless seeing as it's supposed to be a tool used to decide whether someone's eligible for an increase, a bonus or a promotion --- none of which I would be eligible for as a contract person.

I remember sitting next to this guy in the training session and he said something about how he refused to do it. At the time, I kind of looked at him with respect despite the fact that he kept "playfully" swatting me in the arm throughout our group exercise...which just annoyed me because I don't like to be touched...and speaking of inappropriate touching, there's this granny type woman who works with me...Oh my God...why doesn't she ever lift her damned feet off of the fucking floor when she walks? And why-oh-why does she always have to grab hold of my wrist and stroke my hair and rub my back when she talks to me? It's not endearing when I see her picking her teeth and picking up crap off the floor before popping it into her mouth.

But I digress.

Where was I?

Oh, right.

The guy who claimed he wasn't going to do the review.

I bet he did it anyway.

Okay...time to start the work day.

God have mercy on my soul.

If you read my other blog, don't worry, this isn't a cross-post.

But yes, you're right --- I write way too much. It's weird how I feel this need to document so much of what I think and feel in my life when I don't really feel like my life's all that interesting. But maybe that's one of my main problems, you know? I actually firmly believe that some people, i.e. my "friend", JM, see me in this way that makes me feel like a loser, just because my life hasn't played out the way so many of our other friends' lives have.

So, anyway...today's soundtrack is..."Erase and Rewind" by The Cardigans.

Remember that song they first came out with in North America? "Love Fool"? It was just so cheerful and pop-ish that it was easy to just dismiss them.

But then their other song, "Live and Learn" was featured on an episode of "Grey's Anatomy." And for me, it's the lyrics that draw me in.

Don't know why, but she really reminds me of Veronica Mars here.

I was thinking about this song because I've changed my mind about certain things...like doing something for New Year's Eve.

Screw what everybody else thinks.

If I look like a loser for spending the night at home, doing nothing, then so be it.

I don't give a shit anymore.

I was thinking, today, though, that it's so stupid how people will say nice things about you behind your back and never let you know what they really think...so instead, you focus all of your energies on the things that people have said that make you feel bad about yourself.

It's always a weird thing when you discover that people have been complimenting you and think highly of you.

Though...I guess the truth is, I know I'm generally well-liked...maybe it's the fact that, after all these years, I still hate myself a lot...and that gets in the way.

Anyway...

I found out today that China has changed the rules for foreign adoptions.

This was a big deal to me because I just pictured myself doing the whole single mom thing and adopting a little girl from China.

I never thought that this wouldn't be an option.

Of course, nobody really understood why I was so upset about it.

I hate how everybody kept saying, "Don't worry. You'll get married and have babies of your own."

Don't tell me not to worry. You can't guarantee that I'll get married and have my own kids.

It just...really left me feeling empty, you know? Like, the universe had taken away all hope of ever falling in love and having someone to grow old with...and now, the universe had taken away the hope of a child, too.

It just really irritated me how everybody kept saying, "You're still young."

Do you know how much I hate that?

*sigh*

Some people showed up with nothing.

Oh my God, I was incensed!

You want to know why? It's because these were the same people who got to go to the company-sponsored luncheon --- plus, they were the big wigs, who seemed to think that gracing us with their presence was just as good as bringing something to the paltry table.

It was just so...tacky.

I mean, I didn't want to go in the first place, but once I made the decision to pretend to be a team player, I at least brought something. To not bring something would just be so...tacky. Tacky's the only word for it.

No class.

People just wind up talking about you behind your back and they start looking at you like you're sub-human.

Okay.

So, it's just me who starts looking at you like your brethern are from the Planet of the Apes --- and I'm not talking about the movie. I'm talking about the actual apes you find in zoos.

I didn't want any part of this. I just wanted to dump the food on the table and snap, "Merry fucking Christmas" and then stalk right out the door again because the whole thing was just embarrassing. First, you don't invite us to lunch. Then, you send us pictures of that lunch. And then you tell us that we should just make our own lunch and share like we're in school still or something.

The thing is, I kind of felt bad for certain people...like this one Chinese guy who made a really delicious salad. He sat near us and it kind of made me realize how some people don't have any friends at work or in their department and how it must be truly heinous having to come to one of these stupid pot lucks where you don't really have any people to sit with.

And then there was me, crabby and bitter, unable to keep the snide comments in check or stop the eye rolling --- like when this one manager got up to thank the girls who'd put all of this together.

You know, I'm really beginning to suspect that it's just the holiday season that does this to me...it just doesn't seem to let up until after Valentine's Day is over.

Who knows? Maybe it's a combination of that and seasonal affective disorder.

I seriously need to move to some place sunny all year round.

I think I want to boycott New Year's Eve.

Fuck this.

I just want to go to fall asleep in my own bed and go to sleep early and start 2007 without a hangover.

Plus, if I saw my so-called-friend right now, I'd probably want to gouge her eyes out.

This is just bullshit.

Each department has room in their budget for a Christmas luncheon.

The department I'm in now has a lot of people on "loan" from this other department, and last week, they got a fancy Christmas lunch.

We got nothing.

Instead, a couple of girls in my department decided, "Wouldn't it be fun to have a potluck?"

Um, no.

I don't want to come home from work and slave in front of the kitchen stove to cook something besides my own dinner and then lug a huge casserole dish to work and then lug it all the way back.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be fun to try other types of cuisine?" someone asked.

Listen here: if I wanted to try other types of cuisine, I'd go to a fucking restaurant, okay? Some people that we work with are just downright nasty and have really questionable hygiene issues. I don't want to be eating their food.

But the main issue here is: you have room in the budget for this one small thing, but you decide not to use that money; instead, you're going to come in under budget and that money's gonna go into some big wig's bonus.

It's friggin' unreal.

There's more, though: for those of us who didn't get to go to this fancy luncheon, we were included in this mass email that had all these pictures from the lunch.

It was like, "Ha ha. Look at all the fun we had. Guess it sucks to be you!"

I don't get it.

I always wind up in shit companies!

Here's the other thing: they hired this company to develop new software for us. This company basically lied and said, "No problem. We can do that."

Instead, several months later, we get a shitty, faulty product that doesn't make life easier; it makes life so much more difficult that they actually need to hire all these people just to fix all the mistakes generated by this new software.

Okay, so what would a rational CEO do?

I'll tell you what I would have done: I would have fired them on the spot, sued them and got my money back and hired somebody else to do the job right.

But no.

This company opted to just work around this problem.

It's like this: you decide to install a security alarm in your house. The alarm company doesn't do the job right and now you've got a state-of-the-art system that goes off at will and doesn't do jack shit to prevent people from breaking into your house.

But instead of saying, "Either fix this or I'm going to sue your fucking ass", you decide to say, "You know what? It's okay. I'll just live with the noise and sit by the front door for the rest of my life to make sure nobody breaks in."

At our annual meeting, I got the overriding sense that this company always aims for "middle of the pack."

Forget excellence! Forget about investing in our employees! Forget about trying to be better! Let's just aim for the middle of the road, because we're underachievers, goddamnit!

I swear to God, when I got that stupid email with the pictures, I just wanted to send a snotty email back to the Senior VP's office and say, "Thanks for the kick in the teeth!"

Bloody assholes.

I initially thought about refusing to go because I disagreed with the whole principle of the thing.

(And yes, I've become increasingly Scrooge/Grinch-like in my old age.)

But a couple of people kept telling me I was just going to look uncooperative and not much of a team player and that this would come back to bite me in the ass.

Will report back tomorrow about how this bullshit pot luck went.

I'm listening to a radio program about the Chimeric brain --- it's all about how, to test human stem cells, they're implanted into animals first, which effectively turn them into chimeras.

Sister 2 was like, "How can you listen to that? It's so boring."

Well, no, not really.

This doesn't necessarily apply to my sister, but I kind of think that we all have this idea of what it means to be cool and interesting, but when you boil it down, all of that stuff that's supposed to mean we lead full and interesting lives...well, they aren't all that interesting.

There's just got to be a point in your life where getting hammered doesn't sound all that cool --- it just sounds like you're on the road to having a problem...the kind where you stand up in front of a group of strangers and go, "Hi, my name is _________ and I'm an alcoholic."

So, the family Christmas party is happening in about a week's time.

It's been a year since my grandmother died --- sometimes, it startles and surprises me that it's been a year. At the time, you don't think it's possible, but you kind of get used to not having someone around. It's a weird feeling, knowing that everyone eventually disappears from your life.

We went to her grave yesterday and afterwards, I just felt like...with her gone, the extended family has just sort of given up all pretense of being close. The extended family's too large, anyway. Eventually, the cousins I grew up with will just be people I bump into at weddings and funerals. Family will only mean my sisters and their spouses.

God, I hope my youngest sister falls in love and gets married one day. I hope she doesn't wind up like me.

Today's Soundtrack - "Nothing In My Way" by Keane



A turning tide
Lovers at a great divide
why d'you laugh
When I know that you hurt inside?

And why'd you say
It's just another day, nothing in my way
I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay
So there's nothing left to say?
And why'd you lie
When you wanna die, when you hurt inside
Don't know what you lie for anyway
Now there's nothing left to say

A tell tale sign
You don't know where to draw the line

And why'd you say
It's just another day, nothing in my way
I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay
So there's nothing left to say
And why'd you lie
When you wanna die, when you hurt inside
Don't know what you lie for anyway
Now there's nothing left to say

Well for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
For a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time
You're having such a nice time

For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
For a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time
You're having such a nice time

---

I know.

I used to hate it when other people would post lyrics in their blogs.

I actually read lyrics, though.

I like to read along when I'm listening to a song that I like.

And right now, I'm in a "Keane" phase.

I used to play "Bad Dream" over and over again.

There was just something about that one part where he sings:

When will I meet my fate?
Baby, I'm a man I was born to hate

I just...understood it.

Because, sometimes, I feel like I was a woman I was born to hate.

Ah.

Self-loathing.

Nobody does it like me.

I'm probably going to want to stab myself over this later, but as I walked towards the subway station with a co-worker, I found myself slagging one of the team leads.

Okay.

Right.

Not the brightest idea, right?

And really, PMS is no excuse.

Why not just chalk it up to being a colossal bitch?

You know what kind of sickens me about this whole deal, though? It's the fact that I sized it up on his first day at work and I just knew there was something off about him that I couldn't put my finger on --- I didn't hate him, but I didn't trust him, either...and when it comes to work, trust is a big issue.

(Okay --- so trust is a big issue when it comes to any relationship.)

Don't fucking mess with me with the office politics.

Sure, lots of people will say that they don't like to get involved in office politics, but the thing is, when you avoid it altogether, you're not really in the loop the way you need to be if you want to make sure you're not the one on the chopping block; if you want to come across as a team player; if you want to be in line for a promotion.

I'm not talking about kissing ass; I'm talking about knowing how to play the diplomacy game when it comes to office politics.

And it looks like tonight, I didn't much care for being diplomatic.

I don't know what the hell got into me.

I've been feeling fucking crazy all day.

I opened the paper and started sniffling reading about this sick kid whose wish was to go to the North Pole to meet Santa. And then, when I was reading about this woman who gave birth to conjoined twins and I got this sneaking suspicion that the twins' father was nowhere in the picture, I was totally incensed.

If somebody had said the wrong thing to me today, I might have gouged their eyes out with my bare hands.

The thing is, I don't even care right now if word gets back to this team lead what I think about him.

From day one, I had this sense that he was an oily, loud-mouthed snake-in-the-grass and it might have taken several months of accumulating incidents, but I feel strangely vindicated, knowing that I'm right and knowing that everyone else on the team has finally come to the same conclusion all on their own.

I happen to be ovulating today, so that might have something to do with it.

I guess it's kind of weird, but whenever it gets to December, I sort of feel like that gives me licence to put off things.

"Oh, I'll start doing that in the new year," I tell myself.

I guess it's kind of stupid.

But there's something about new beginnings, isn't there? The opportunity to redeem yourself? To start over again? The promise of something new...or maybe just the promise that there's the opportunity for something new.

---

Since I'd been throwing up so much lately, I actually found this article interesting.

---

Opinions
New Ways to Lose Your Lunch
by Jenell Williams Paris

I vomited at least 700 times during the first four months of my pregnancy. Let me do the math for you: That’s an average of almost six pukes a day, or one upchuck every four hours—around the clock. For me, though, it worked out to be more like 10 pukes a day, then a blessed day of digestive rest, and then 12 hurls the next day. I don’t resent it, of course; four months of puking prepared me for many more months of being puked upon by my child.

Constant vomiting is difficult in part because it is so isolating. If you were too drunk at a keg party, a good friend might have held back your hair as you spewed into the host’s toilet. Aside from that, no one will venture into the bathroom and be with you in those trying times. My husband attempted it, but a primordial instinct forced him to turn away as I let loose. If not just for the grossness of proximity to it, vomiting is also isolating because it’s impossible, for English speakers at least, to accurately describe the experience. American English offers its users many words for the act of puking. We all will, in our most common moments, use puke, hurl, honk, retch, spew, barf, ralph, hurl, heave, or upchuck, and at our most clinical (say, when we’re talking to our doctor), regurgitate, expel, throw up, spit up, emesis, or be sick. Those who barf on a regular basis—say, those who can’t hold their liquor—have made an art out of vomit language: driving the porcelain bus, blowing chunks, tossing your cookies, losing your lunch, talking to ralph on the big white phone, and, new to me, singing psychedelic praises to the depths of the china bowl.

These words are helpful, fun, and sometimes mind-blowing, but none describe the vomit itself. Beer, orange juice, cottage cheese, meat, bile, and water all make for very different pukes. Pregnant women and other frequent hurlers could, perhaps, elicit more sympathy and care were they to more clearly explain what they are vomiting. On the international scene, Americans would appear more intelligent were we to demonstrate the superior linguistic innovation needed to describe such experiences. We may be falling behind in science and math, but I think crass linguistics just might be our niche.

So here is the beginning of my dictionary of vomit. It is based largely on my own experience, and I acknowledge it as just a small step forward. Notably absent are entries about drunken vomit and vomit related to various diseases. These areas should be explored by experts, which I am not. I’ll just offer what I know: the chunks and fluids produced by pregnancy and mild food poisoning. I sincerely hope other expert retchers will use this vocabulary, develop and extend it, and so contribute to our culture as a people, and spread our unique American vocabulary around the world.



* * *


False Emesis (commonly known as dry heaves): When the body is too weak to really puke, it retches to no effect: totally dry, not even water or bile. False emesis can be identified early by the strength of muscle contractions, and if correctly diagnosed, you can just stay in bed or watching TV while openly retching…nothing at all. If your self-diagnosis is wrong, however, you’ll be sorry. Even if you look yourself straight in the eyes in the mirror and sternly say “Stop playing!” you cannot stop false emesis. You just have to ride it out.

Sleep spew: Being able to recognize this rare form of vomit literally could save your sheets. During my pregnancy, I sometimes woke up out of a deep sleep fully convulsing. I would then say in my head, “You don’t have to throw up. You’re just walking to the bathroom. Just walking. It’s OK.” Mind control works for about 15 to 20 seconds, just long enough to get to the sink.

Food-refusal vomit: When the body immediately refuses food, the puke consists of that food in its original form, but moistened. When pregnant, food-refusal vomit may, in my experience, be produced up to 90 minutes after ingestion, though times may vary for others. If you are experiencing bouts of food-refusal vomiting, it is wise to choose foods based on the ease of vomiting them later. Granola, for example, is dry and sharp, while cheerios are mild and smooth. Tomato-based soups produce burning hot acid, yet clear soups swim upstream like salmon. While coffee produces the same sour result as tomato soup, black and green tea bring forth only a not-entirely-unpleasant warmth that rises quickly from belly to mouth. Meat is heavy, requiring strong muscle contractions to work against gravity, but vegetables are slippery and light. Despite what I once surmised, eating sweets does not make food-refusal vomit taste better, for our taste buds for sweet flavors are located on the tip of our tongues, and thus sweetness cannot be detected when food enters the mouth from the wrong end.

Waterretch: Water is a vomit-trigger for many pregnant women. It’s a simple vomit, though the first few times will be mixed with the bitter taste of bile. If you’re the kind of fool I was, you will continue sipping water, thinking that your body will prefer the third or fourth swallow. The third and fourth vomit will not contain any bile. This is the only vomit that tastes precisely the same in both directions. Though it seems easy and trouble-free, waterretch is not to be trifled with. Dehydration sets in quickly and will land you in the hospital.

Bile hurl: Bile hurl contains nothing but slippery and bright yellow stomach acid. It is a relatively weak vomit, though it usually arrives at the end of a series of more aggressive pukes. It looks fairly innocent, but bile hurl has a powerful taste because your bitter-flavor taste buds are on the back of your tongue, a.k.a., the vomit entrance ramp. Bile hurl also eats away at the throat, making the voice scratchy or absent altogether. Bile hurl is sometimes accompanied by a weak voice whispering, “I’m so sick.”

Orally contained vomit: The frequency of orally contained vomit is determined by the modesty of the puker. When my pregnant friend Julie went to work, for example, she was separated from the bathroom by a long hallway. She puked in her mouth and calmly walked to the bathroom, never revealing her state of disorder to co-workers. I, on the other hand, would rather puke in my hands and carry it to the bathroom for all to see. I suppose that’s the difference between me and Julie.

Rotten ralph: Rotten ralph is a non-pregnancy vomit that is produced by mild food poisoning. An especially potent form, in my experience, is meat cooked with tomato-based sauce. The throat and back of the tongue are especially sensitive to the unique taste of rotten, partially digested meat, and the acid of the sauce adds a piquant throat burn. Ground-beef enchiladas and picnic chicken marinated in tomato sauce provide me with two more outstanding examples. Frequently originating at state fairs and potlucks, rotten ralph is rarely discovered alone. Usually it is part of a double-orifice elimination.

Surprise spew. Sometimes it seems that, despite weeks of daily vomiting, this day will be the day it ends. You eat something, it stays down for 15 minutes, and you’re so pleased that you keep eating. You eat numerous foods, anything you want, some Doritos, a Ding Dong, milk, and a peach. Then the body sabotages the mind with a surprise spew, something you never saw—or felt—coming. Worse yet, it’s frequently embarrassing, such as the time I shot a half-digested apple onto a wall in my doctor’s office. Other times, its effects are simply mystifying, like the time I had a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a Coke, then surprise spewed the sandwich, the color from the Coke (somehow it separates from the liquid), and some lime-green bits I could never identify. I still wonder what they could have been.

—Published January 31, 2005

Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle is on in the background and damnit, I want White Castle. But I don't think they even have White Castle here.

Okay, so what I'm really craving is just any old hamburger. Something greasy --- something the doctor said to avoid for a few days. But when you haven't eaten anything solid for a few days (without immediately throwing it up right afterwards) and you're specifically told not to eat certain things, that's the only thing you suddenly want to have.

It was sort of like on Friday morning, when I got into work, weak and hungover. All I could think about was McDonald's. I had to go to McDonald's and the next thing I knew, I was shrugging on my jacket and making a beeline for the nearest restaurant.

I didn't watch Harold and Kumar when it came out 'cause I thought it looked stupid. But it's actually pretty funny --- in a stupid way.

So, anyway, there's this guy at work who's leaving the company. At first, I thought, "Cool. He's actually done something to get out of this hellhole to find something he might like better."

I don't even know why I care if he's happy or not --- maybe it's because he sort of reminds me of me. You know how, sometimes, you'll meet someone and you can just tell from the way their shoulders sag and the way their smiles really reflect in their eyes or the way they sigh softly when they say certain things...well, you can just tell that there's this weariness to them that's hard to understand unless you feel it, too.

I just think it's funny how, sometimes, someone will matter to you --- and not in any romantic sense --- even though you know they're not really going to wind up your friend or a part of your life.

But maybe that's just me.

Why do I care?

So, I got berrated today because when SR asked if I was up for being set up on a blind date, I said no.

When I told CR that SR had said the guy made her think of "knights in shining armour", CR just looked at me and said, "And you turned down the opportunity to at least meet up with him? Have a cup of coffee with the guy?"

I couldn't really explain it, but when SR first approached me about it, I just felt every fibre of my being screaming, "No, no, no."

And I really don't want to go on a date with this guy just because I feel like this is the sort of thing I need to do to "put myself out there" in an attempt to find someone to spend the rest of my life with.

Who knows? Maybe I'm just being stubborn.

You know, it's not even so much about being hung up on J.

It's not that.

Or maybe I'm just telling myself that.

I think there are a lot of things that we don't say.

Instead, we just bury them deep inside of ourselves, where they fester and grow.

Why is it so hard letting go?

And why are we so quick to believe the worst in ourselves?

Or is it just me?

Am I just too hard on myself sometimes?

I was in the car, coming home from an afternoon of Christmas shopping when I heard this Alanis Morissette song, "Unsent" and I thought about how I once posted an unsent letter that I'd written to T, and how it had made me feel better at the time because it was out there.

When I got home, I wrote another letter --- another one of those letters that will always be unsent --- and it felt like a relief to have it out there...because sometimes, even when you talk about it to others, you're still not really clear about why it is you're so upset.

"Until this moment, I never understood how hard it was to lose something you never had." - Anonymous

---

I really wonder what this person was talking about. I know what it means to me...but maybe this other person was talking about a miscarriage...or an adoption that didn't go through. Maybe it's a bigger pain than I know about right now.

Sometimes, it feels stupid to mourn something that wasn't ever your's to begin with. Sometimes, you just want something so badly and you can't understand why you can't have it. Sometimes, you're just left wondering why...why your life has turned out the way that it has.

Sometimes, it's better not to wonder at all.

Today's Soundtrack - "Sway" by The Perishers

---

I think one of the main things that I forget --- being single, that is --- is that sometimes, I really prefer being alone and being able to do whatever the hell I want.

I don't have to accomodate anybody else; I don't have to worry about someone else's feelings; I can sleep in the middle of the bed; I can watch what I want to watch on TV.

Sometimes...you forget that.

---

The other day, CR asked me if I thought she'd ever find somebody again and be happy.

My mouth twisted into a wry smile and I made some glib response.

I'm not comfortable with saying, "Yes, of course."

For all I know, that could be a lie and I'm not a peddler of false hope.

But I wonder if SR is right --- that sometimes, we need a bit of blind hope; we need to firmly believe in it, because in the end, that is what will make our heart's deepest desire come true.

I'd like to believe it, but when she said it, I wanted to sock her in the face and tell her it was one of the more stupid things I'd ever heard come out of her mouth.

I haven't talked to her in over a week. When she called last weekend, I just wasn't in the mood, you know? The older I get, the less patience I have for her naivety. (Come to think of it, I have less patience in general...tonight, it was five minutes before I was supposed to leave and this guy I work with just sat there beside me, hemming and hawing, staring at my computer monitor as if the answer would magically appear before his eyes if only he stared long enough. Instead of stewing about it afterwards, I abruptly said, "I'm going to take off now. You can mull over this tomorrow.")

You just reach that threshold of tolerance and you just think, "I don't want to listen to this anymore."

---

Sometimes, I think...if I look back on this day years from now...will I remember any of it? Was there even anything worth remembering?

You're kept awake dreaming someone else's dream
Coffee is cold, but it'll get you through
Compromise, that's nothing new to you

---

He wore a colourful wool hat woved in the bright yellow, green and blag of Jamaica's flag. He hugged a boombox, hidden in his backpack, against his chest, only partially muffling the sounds of reggae that floated through the otherwise quiet bus.

He noticed an older woman standing near him and he tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she wanted to sit.

The look she shot him, you would have thought he'd offered to spit in her face or something.

An Indian boy on the other side asked why he'd turned down the volume.

"Not everybody listens to the reggae," the other kid explained. "You like it?"

I don't normally listen to reggae, either --- but today, I didn't really mind it.

I had a moment, though, where I thought about how a million moments, just like this one, passed by in our lives, without notice and without commitment to memory and I wondered, "Why?"

Why do we hang onto those bad moments, replaying them over and over again?

---

The office Christmas party is coming up.

Oh joy.

That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.

One of the guys complained because in his last job, they had a big fancy party at one of the hotels downtown and they were allowed to bring their spouses.

Hurray for you, buddy, since you've got a spouse, I thought.

Christmas parties where you're allowed to bring people are the kinds of office events that I usually try to avoid.

This guy was hanging around KN today and talking to her. When CR saw him, she joked he should get back to work.

He replied, "But I like talking to K --- because she's nicer than you."

Okay, fine. Maybe it was his poor attempt at a joke. But then he went further and added, "And she's younger than you."

As if that wasn't enough, he added, "And prettier."

Okay, so CR's a grown woman and all, but I thought that was just cruel.

It hurt her feelings.

Thank God he didn't say it to me, 'cause I would have replied coolly, "That's kind of harsh, isn't it? It'd be like me saying, 'I prefer to talk to H because he's got less zits on his face.'"

When I made this comment to CR, she stared and then burst out laughing.

She said the similarities between me and House were more and more apparent the more she got to know me.

I'm not so sure that's a good thing.

"Yeah, but he's the guy we all love to hate."

Um, yeah. Love to hate. That's how I want to be known, too.

So, there's this email waiting for me --- a new comment on my journal.

The first two sentences kind of send these weird prickles shooting up and down the back of my head.

But then, there was confusion.

It reads:
Why do you have to make my life so complicated? You weren't in love with me when we were dating. I was, I think, once. I ended it because it was going no where. You stopped talking to me when your new girlfriend decided you shouldn't have any female friends. That hurt. You were one of my best friends. The two of you broke up at some point and you started talking to me again. I've adjusted to being your friend. You've been nice to me since we've been friends again than you were before I broke up with you. Over the weekend, you admitted you realized what you had lost and it hurt you. You pretty much tore my heart out with your pain, as you apologized for it. Why now?

Okay. First off? If you really read this blog, you'd know that I was a straight, Asian woman.

Second, who the hell is this? And why are you leaving this comment on my blog?

This is all a little weird.

---

I was sitting at my desk, examining a stain on my white shirt.

The stain was courtesy of eating like a slob, trying to get some work done during my lunch hour.

I haven't really been feeling all that focused lately --- maybe that's why I'll wind up looking at the time on my computer and realize it's time to head home and that the piles of paper are still sitting there all over my desk.

I methodically tidy up and try to shake this Bah Humbug mood off of me.

What is it about Christmas that brings this on?

It starts with Christmas and it just doesn't let up until Valentine's Day is over and done with.

I didn't sleep well last night --- I lay awake for a really long time, just staring into space, my mind in overdrive. And the funny thing is, I wasn't really thinking about anything all that important.

Someone from Livejournal sent me an email asking me to come back.

That was kind of nice...but I don't want to. I already have too many blogs, anyway.

I was going to write about my mom's forray into the world of feng shui, but maybe I'll wait until tomorrow.

Speaking of which...here's today's soundtrack:

Shhh...don't tell anyone, but I love this song and sometimes, I do think about this song when I'm unhappy:



I'd never ever go to one of those Sound of Music sing-alongs --- though, I have to admit that when I saw this episode of Will & Grace, I thought, "Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I'd probably be just like Grace if I really got into it."



Okay, so the thing is, I downloaded the whole soundtrack yesterday.

Yes. I'm a nerd.

What of it?

I finally buckled and decided to order Thomas Anderson's "Is This Love?" CD. Apparently, the only place you can order it online is from an outfit called CD Baby.

This was the confirmation letter. It kinda tickled me:


Dear __________________:

Your CD has been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with
sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.

A team of 50 employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure
it was in the best possible condition before mailing.

Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over
the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money
can buy.

We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party
marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of
Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in
our private CD Baby jet on this day, Saturday, December 2nd.

I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did.
Your picture is on our wall as 'Customer of the Year'. We're all
exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!


Thank you once again,

Derek Sivers, president, CD Baby
the little CD store with the best new independent music
phone: 1-800-448-6369 email: cdbaby@cdbaby.com
http://cdbaby.com

Today's Soundtrack: "Lucky Man" by The Verve



Happiness --- coming and going...
How many corners do I have to turn?
How many times do I have to learn?
All the love I have is in my head?
But I'm a lucky man...

Happiness --- something in my own place...
I feel no disgrace with who I am

---

Sometimes, sunlight just goes a long way to how you're feeling...especially if you live in Toronto and winters typically mean living under a cloud for a good chunk of the year.

So, Christmas is around the corner.

I can actually say that 'cause most things just seem to be around the corner lately. Maybe it's something that happens the older you get. Time flies by even when you're not having any fun at all.

Okay, maybe that's a depressing way to look at things.

Goal for next year is to be depressed less often.

Granted, when you're depressed, you're depressed. Rolling out of bed is a chore and trying to reflect on how much better you have it compared to a lot of people just doesn't cut it.

Something I've been thinking about lately, though, is this: someone said to me, "The way you see yourself is really skewed. You don't see yourself the way others do. I don't get why you're so hard on yourself all the time."

She went on to say that a lot of things that have nothing to do with me, I manage to change into an issue with myself.

Like when a relationship doesn't work out, it suddenly turns into something wrong with me. I hang onto my pain like it's worth something.

On some level, I'd thought about this before, but it's always weird when you hear it from someone else, you know?

Yesterday, I was sitting with J. I'd been avoiding him for the last couple of weeks, thinking that maybe it was just better for me in the long run to pretend that he didn't exist and to avoid him 'cause I didn't want to go down that familiar road that leads to nowhere except heartache.

I'm so tired of feeling that way.

Yeah, it's immature. I mean, what am I? 12 years old?

When we were sitting next to each other, I contemplated just saying nothing. Nobody does the Ice Queen act like me. I think I'm well on the road to actually becoming frigid.

A few days ago, I was at this meeting and found myself sitting next to this guy who wound up in the same group as me. He playfully swatted my arm a couple of times and grinned at me and all I could think was, "Don't touch me! I don't like to be touched! I think I'm frigid, damnit!"

A friend of mine said the only thing preventing me from actually being with someone is that I've completely turned myself against the notion. I have no patience for flirting and I think I've actually stopped recognizing it as such.

Like I said, nobody does the Ice Queen like me. Like Portia de Rossi's character on Ally McBeal, they might as well call me "Sub Zero" now.

For this, I thank Ass Face.

Though, I guess it's not fair. I mean, the bitterness thing was something I did to myself. I could have been the bigger person and just thought to myself, "Self: it's time to pick yourself up and just move on. Ass Face doesn't deserve all this heartache. Let's just hope he gets an STD and dies soon or moves back to where he came from."

Yes. A small part of me still hopes he gets a fate worse than death.

But again, I'm just hanging onto my pain like it's worth something. I don't know why I'm still even thinking about him. Maybe it was because I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking about J and thinking, "Great. Bloody great. I'm back here again. Feeling like shit again. All because of a man".

It makes no fucking sense.

When I look back on 2006, he will be a defining chapter in it.

I did reflect in my other journal that, in some ways, I was grateful for what had happened. I wouldn't be who I am right now.

But maybe who I am right now isn't all that great.

But no.

Mustn't think that way.

It's time for a little change in thinking.

---

I remember this one episode of Will and Grace where Grace is moaning, "Oh God, I hate myself!" when she suddenly stops and goes, "No. Wait. That's negative. I hate him."

For those of you who do read my other blog, I'm sorry about the cross-posting.

Well, it's not really a complete cross post. I just took out a huge chunk of it and pasted it in here. More to follow...

---

Life is not a dress rehearsal. Quit practising what you’re going to do, and just do it. - Marilyn Grey

Once in awhile, it really strikes people that they don’t have to live in the way they have been told. - Alain Keightly.

---

“It’s just same old, same old,” the Best Friend said.

It kind of annoys me when I hear this.

Yes.

I know this makes me somewhat of a hypocrite, seeing as I’m forever bitching and moaning in here about all the things that I think makes my life less than great, but the point is, I try not to go around moaning about this kind of thing out loud.

I don’t know — I just figure, there’s a lot out there that makes life shitty.

A lot of times, people’s lives just don’t turn out the way they thought it’d be. But hey, we can’t have everything we want. Without struggle, pain and disappointment, we wouldn’t learn anything and we wouldn’t become the people we’re meant to be.

I honestly believe that.

But maybe I’ve just grown used to the pain and I just need to tell myself that to make it through the day.

I was listening to this audio slideshow on The Globe and Mail about this 11-year-old with cancer and he said that he has a great life, even though a lot of people might think that he doesn’t. And then, he goes on to talk about his friends and his family.

It just kind of reminded me of how, when we feel like things are bad, we just never stop and consider the possibility that someone else might be looking at us and thinking, “What the fuck do you have to complain about? Your life’s fucking great.”

So, the thing is, someone told me yesterday that I should stop squandering the gift that God gave me — to go out there and write a book already.

Remember that TV show that got cancelled? Joan of Arcadia? Well, one of the things I liked about it was that it made you think about life and whether there was the existence of a higher power and about how you were living your life.

Why do shows like that get cancelled?

Anyways, it kind of made me think that, maybe, when we pray, God really does answer, but we’re just too blind and stupid to realize it; we’re so busy waiting for that big answer — like we need to be clubbed over the head with it — but maybe it’s something as simple as people in our lives telling us, “You should do this. I know you can do it.”