Extra Ordinary Beauty

Last night was another one of those bizarre, inexplicable, yet fantastic nights out. You know the kind of night I'm talking about - you go out for something simple, like a drink after work, and you end up meeting strange and wonderful new people, having truly entertaining conversations. Eventually you find yourself eating greasy Chinese food at 1:30 in the morning, hoping your new friend can remember your e-mail address because you have nothing to write with and that's easier to commit to memory than a phone number, and taking the night bus all the way home because the subway has stopped running. As I waited for said bus, I was struck by how many perfectly ordinary, beautiful things had happened around me. So here's the list:

1. Honesty. I knew I liked my new friend because as soon as I met him he criticized my outfit. You might think that rude, but the fact of the matter is, he was absolutely right. His major point was that I am "obviously a very vibrant person" and my clothes didn't reflect my personality at all. Which is 100% true. And he didn't like my sleeves - neither did I. But my utter boredom with my wardrobe is a matter for another day.

2. The charge you get from meeting a group of people and feeling like you fit right in. Good interpersonal chemistry can be hard to find, and effortlessly blending into a new group dynamic is not something that I can do often. Of course, beer helps. ;)

3. Really GOOD hugs. In case anyone was wondering, it appears that the VGLM and I are snuggle-compatible (or at least it works on my end). But before you get all excited on my behalf - he had to be bullied into snuggling me, so it doesn't count. But it was some seriously high-quality snuggle - when he actually hugged me back and rested his head on top of mine, I could've died right there.

5. As I walked from my lab to the night bus, a couple of random guys passed me going the opposite direction on College, and one said, "You look great!" I had been lost in thought, so I turned around to see if that was directed at me, and it most definitely was. When you're feeling poorly dressed and unattractive (one of the people we had been hanging out with was a girl I would definitely classify as the VGLM's type, and girls like that ALWAYS make me feel inadequate), a well-timed compliment can do wonders. And "you look great" has always been one of my favorite compliments. It implies that you've managed to put yourself together into a good overall package, and just made a generally strong impression. It seems to be the compliment you get when you're not just wearing a cute top or having a good hair day, but are exuding some sort of attractive intangible. Of course, this guy was probably just drunk and said it to every girl he passed, but it was still something I needed in that moment.

6. The two adorable, heavily perfumed men holding hands as they waited to cross Yonge, and the two girls nuzzling and cuddling while waiting for the bus. I may be alone and bitter, but I still believe that love is a beautiful thing, and this was PDA that was far more sweet than sickening at an hour when most people are drunkenly groping their companions.

7. The guy waiting for the bus that was so drunk and/or stoned that stamping out his cigarette butt seemed to completely blow his mind. He was clearly on a plane of existence that I have never experienced, and frankly hope I never do.

8. The city at closing time, still brightly lit and sidewalks bustling with happy people.

9. The quiet of the 'burbs at 3am.

We live in a beautiful world indeed.

Whine and cheese

I've had this song stuck in my head for the last couple of weeks. It's my ringtone, but my phone rarely rings so I think it's on an endless loop for some other reason. So maybe if I lead off with some lyrics, it'll retreat. Besides, they're kind of appropriate for what follows:

You say I'm crazy
'Cause I can't make up my mind
But I won't let it faze me
'Cause if I leave all these thoughts behind
You'll see that you've got
Someone who's wastin' your time
But that's all right, 'cause I got
Someone who's wastin' mine...

It's in the way you move...
Baby, what you doin' to me?
Can't stand it, can't hold back
Every time I see you get beautiful, beautiful
It's in the way you do
Baby what you're doin' to me
The way you shine, strum your chords
The way you're mine, the way you sing your words

Cause you had me at first glance...

Oh honey, you're dangerous....

-G. Love and Special Sauce, "Beautiful"

Today was an absolutely gorgeous day. Started off cloudy and damp, but shaped up to be sunny, just the right amount of breezy, and basically just what spring should be. A friend who was lucky enough to have the day off invited me to have a drink on a patio somewhere after work and really, who can say no to that? When the sun began to disappear behind the buildings and it started to get just a tiny bit chilly on the patio, I headed back to work to pick up my stuff and head home. Normally, that would be a perfectly lovely way to wrap up my day.

But life never works out quite like you think it's going to, even in trivial matters.

When I got back to work, the place was mostly empty. Until I noticed that the VGLM was still there. (Yep, I'm whining about him again. And I'm sure you're sick of reading about it, but hey, it's my blog - you people just live in it. And it's too late to call or IM anyone to obsess to - this is the only safe place to ponder.) Fueled by my glass of wine on the patio, I wandered back to say hi. Turns out he had just gotten out of a rough 90-minute talk with his boss, so we went out for a beer and wing therapy session. Through the course of the hour and a half or so we spent together, I realized something: I am in serious trouble. I started noticing imperfections. Odd facial expressions, a goofy way of walking - things that make him real, and human. Imperfections are where infatuation leaves off, and real feelings start to take hold. As long as I'm keeping him on an unattainable, idealized pedestal, we're safely in crush territory. It's silly, it's girlish, obsessive, but fun. But sitting across the table from a guy who you are starting to really be able to see yourself with as he's telling you that dating is currently running dead last on his list of priorities...that. just. sucks. Especially since I've been in his position - when I was at the same point in grad school, I made a conscious decision to not pursue any serious relationships. And I'm sure I missed out on a couple of great things as a result - knowing what I know now, would I really have been any worse off if I'd dated someone really special...someone I could have had a chance at a future with? Of course, I'm not suggesting the VGLM would feel that way about me under other circumstances - I refuse to do the whiny obsessive girl thing, trying to analyze what's going on in his head when there's really no way for me to know one way or the other.

I just wish I wasn't feeling that way about him.

Random Silliness

Okay, this has nothing to do with anything, I've just been meaning to post it on here ever since Dave first sent it to me, in the interest of doing my part to boost the number of hits it's getting on YouTube. Although I've sent it to approximately 50% of my readers already, I think we've all probably gone too long without watching it, so click on it again, won't you?

I want you to want me.

"Hi, honey, how was your day?"

I don't always have someone around to ask me that, particularly when I actually had a day that I want to talk about. But let's be honest...isn't that why I have this silly thing? I mean, The Alchemist is always here for me - it doesn't make me talk when I don't want to, but it always listens when I had a good day, or a miserable one, or one that was just plain funny. So here I am, once again, because yesterday was just an...interesting day. Let's begin with my horoscope:

You can gain solid ground today in your quest for stability. Fortunately, this goes beyond financial security, touching also on areas of emotional satisfaction. If you have recently suffered from issues related to low self-esteem, it's time to reconnect with a more positive view of you. Set new goals and move boldly toward them without reserve.

And let's throw in today's for good measure because I think it's applicable to the writing of this post:

Your thoughts are racing all over the map as the scattered Gemini Moon moves through your 8th House of Transformation. You are able to observe every idea from a secure position within your own mind. Explore all the possibilities by playing out every combination of feelings that you can, without becoming attached to any outcome. This isn't about making decisions. It's about letting your imagination loose without worrying which way things will really go.

So my day officially began at 9:30, when we started marking exams. At 6, we finished. That's a LONG freakin' time to be grading the same question, over and over, on at least 250 papers. Cooped up in a small, hot room with 9 other people. After two nights in a row of being a couple of hours shy on sleep. Basically, it's a setting primed for punchiness, and it set in even faster than usual. I realized when I left that I hadn't even taken a bathroom break in the 8 1/2 hours I was there - don't ask how I pulled that off, I'm not entirely sure myself. Suffice it to say, though, we were all a little loopy by the time the marks were all recorded.

Now, I was supposed to go to a TPMG social that was starting at 7. And while a beer was sounding like heaven on earth after all of that marking, trying to be charming and social with 30 strangers...wasn't. I mean, when I'm in that state of mind, I can't be trusted around strangers. These perfectly lovely people would never knew what hit them - being on my best first-impression behavior for an entire evening? Smurf that, yo. So I made my way back to my building, hoping I'd run into someone that would want to go have a beer with me that knew me well enough to deal with my goofy-ass mood.

Enter the VGLM. He's working at an instrument as I walk by, so I stop to chat with him. I tell him about my day, and he says, "you need a beer!" I confirm that yes, indeed I do, tell him about the social that I'm not sure I can quite muster up the motivation to go to, and throw in a, "so if you're going to be around and want to go for a beer in a bit, you know where to find me." And to my very pleasant surprise, he takes the bait! We decide that after he wraps up what he's doing, we'll go have a drink. Color me all kinds of excited. Then a couple of his labmates are heading out for all-you-can-eat sushi and invite him, so he invites me along. Now, I'm a little disappointed that I will no longer get the one-on-one time with the VGLM, but I do enjoy his labmates and I REALLY enjoy all-you-can-eat sushi! Besides, had they not been there, I never would have gotten so many choice stories about the VGLM (there was mention at one point of a rainbow-colored hula skirt), or gotten to sit next to him so that I could enjoy the occasional fleeting arm or leg brushes. I like to think that at this point I was taking my horoscope to heart - all evening I tried to flirt with confidence, keeping any whiffs of desperation at bay. I think I did pretty well. We eventually relocated to a pub for a couple of pitchers, where I managed to get more lingering arm contact as he leaned over periodically to see what was happening in the hockey game. It was just an all-around good time - I laughed a lot, and my goofy mood and silly stories made them laugh.

This morning I was thinking about the simple, effortless fun I had last night, and realized one of the biggest reasons I really like the VGLM. I can talk to him about anything...tell him any embarrassing story, or tell him about any guilty pleasure I have, and I never feel like he is judging me. Most people I know don't really know how to handle my quirks - usually when I'm in a group I end up feeling like a hyperactive weirdo. And that's fine - most people could stand to spend more time around someone who will stir things up, and every group needs a hyperactive weirdo of some sort. It's a fun role to play. But everyone needs to have people to come home to who make them feel normal. People who don't just love you in spite of your quirks, but who never even notice them as odd. And the VGLM does just as many goofy things as I do - he laughs at my stories without ever rolling his eyes or pulling the old smile-and-nod - and then proceeds to tell an even goofier one. It's like it never even occurs to him that this chick is a weirdo. I leave conversations with him feeling passionate and inspired - it's not every day that you find someone like that in this world. I'm comfortable with him in a way I am with very few people, which is why I'm glad I at least have him as a friend. Of course, I'm still completely smitten with him, and if he ever gives me the slightest indication he's interested, I'll be all over that. But I can't make him want to be with me, all I can do is give him plenty of opportunities to figure it out on his own.

I asked my Magic 8-Ball if I was going to date the VGLM.
The response: Without a doubt.

Then I asked if he was ever going to ask me out.
The response: Outlook not so good.

I hate it when I have to do all the work.

Dancin' in the Dark...Blinded by the Light

Get it? Bruce SPRINGsteen? No? Ah, to heck with ya.

Mornings like this are why I really don't mind commuting to work. It's warm outside, drizzling but not really raining, the occasional roll of quiet thunder...classic spring rainy morning. I started a new Vonnegut book this morning that I'm enjoying so much that the hour-long trip went a little too quickly. And when I got to Queen's Park station, my favorite busker was there (I need a name for him - perhaps a Fidder on the Roof reference, but Fiddler in Queen's Park just doesn't quite roll off the tongue. Or fingers, as it were...). I haven't seen much of him since the new year started - the spot he chooses is high-traffic, but WICKED cold in winter since it's right at the bottom of the stairs to the sidewalk, so it's really not a great spot to try to play the violin when the wind chills are -30. He reappeared one of the mornings last week when #1 was visiting...I was so happy, because I really want anyone who comes to visit me to see all of my favorite things in Toronto, and he's awfully high on the list. So anyway, he's usually playing something I recognize (I imagine the more well-known the piece, the better the tips are), but not always things I can connect to a title. This morning, it was easy, because he was playing Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. Spring, naturally. As I walked by, I smiled at him as usual (which alone should tell you how much I love this guy - I don't, as a general rule, smile at strangers, although I wish I did more), and he said, "I like your smile!" so I smiled bigger.

As I walked away, he changed gears and started playing "You are my Sunshine." I like to think it was for me, even though he was probably just flirting with a prettier girl a few steps behind me. :)

I felt bad, though - I had actually thought about him this morning before I left the house and decided the next time I saw him I was going to drop some money in his case; as soon as I heard him playing I pulled out my wallet, but I had absolutely nothing smaller than a twenty or bigger than a quarter. The twenty seems excessive, but the quarter seems downright insulting. Ah, well, I'll catch you next time, Fiddler, because you really do make me smile, and you deserve something for that.

Bananarama

Hello loyal readers...it's been a while, but I have many good excuses, most of which boil down to my having had a lot of work to do lately AND a social life, which doesn't leave much time for blogging. But I had to write tonight - it's kind of an emergency. You see, I heard a rumor today, and I don't know quite what to make of it.

Remember Pepe le Pew? Smarmy French dude who works in another lab on my floor? Well, one of my labmates went to a gathering of francophones/francophiles this weekend, and she and her roommate were teasing PLP, trying to find out who he was interested in. By way of changing the subject, he asked Labmate if I liked a certain labmate of his...namely, the VGLM. You know, that guy that I keep thinking my crush on is finally subsiding, only to find I'm still slightly obsessed with him. Labmate played it off nicely, but apparently PLP said something about how he thought the VGLM had liked me a while ago, but then he liked some other girl, but said other girl has now left town. So basically, the VGLM may or may not have kinda liked me at some point in the past.

What, exactly, am I supposed to do with this information???

I mean, it sucks when someone you have a crush on doesn't notice you, but I do believe it sucks more when they DID notice you, but promptly LOST interest when someone younger/thinner/prettier/taller came along. And the whole thing is just so damned 7th grade...now I inexplicably find myself thinking things like, "does he still like me? And does he like me like me, or just like me?" Since I seem to have regressed to the age of 12, what say I just go with it? How long exactly do I have to wait before leaving him a note that says, "Do you want to go out with me? Circle yes or no."

Meh, it's a moot point for several reasons: 1) I don't consider PLP a very reliable source 2) especially not when filtered through Labmate, 3) even if he DID like me, liking someone else better in the meantime means the odds of him wanting to go out with me now are slim to none, 4) there is no number 4, 5) if it turns out he DOES like me and we end up dating, he will eventually read this blog and dump me for being a stalker or at the very least an obsessive loser, because 6) I still believe he is 100% out of my league and 7) oh, hell, I could go on and on all night here. My point, dear readers, is this: if you like someone, just ask them out. And if you don't, please have the decency to stop being so damned adorable and/or charming around them.

Pop Culture Confessional

Bless me, reader, for I have sinned. It has been quite a while since my last confession. In the interest of putting off the work I'm supposed to be doing today, I find myself watching a repeat of "Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll," aka, "America's Next Top Talentless Skank." Call it what you will - morbid curiosity...shameless procrastination...whatever...I actually read a write-up that classified it as shameless guilty pleasure TV, and though I already have plenty of shameless guilty pleasures, I really don't want to face that grant proposal before my second cup of coffee. So...here we are. And I feel the need to share some of my thoughts:

- There is one girl who says she is a dancer, not a singer. She "makes no pretense of being a singer." Okay, I realize this is the Pussycat Dolls, not..you know...an ACTUAL singing group, but COME ON. They ARE a recording group - shouldn't they at least put up a front of looking for people who can actually sing??? Although I suppose I have seen ACTUAL Pussycat Dolls forget to hold the microphone to their mouths when they're "singing," so she may, in fact, have a good shot.

- One girl quit her "punk rock band" to audition for this because she thinks "singing and dancing...at the same time" is the ultimate challenge for her and what she is meant to achieve. Yeah. You do that. And here I've been wasting all this time trying to cure cancer.

- There is one girl who says she is a singer, not a dancer. Okay, yeah, you don't have a snowball's chance in hell. And I think I recognize you from Making the Band 3. Not that I watched that.

- On second thought, I think Making the Band Girl and Can't Dance Girl are two different people. Too many Melissas, and I sure as hell don't care enough to keep them straight.

- Melissa count: 3. I think.

- Plane Crash Girl: Yes, it is horribly tragic that your parents and brother died in a plane crash and that you were supposed to be on that plane. However, since you begin every statement about your limitations with, "since my parents died, it's hard to..." you have already used up your sympathy points.

- "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" count: 1

- While I appreciate the high drama factor involved with half of the girls coming down with a vicious stomach bug the night before the big elimination, do we really need the closeup on the girls while they puke? MTV has mercifully toned down the amount of vomit footage since Jackass went off the air - apparently somebody felt the need to pick up the slack.

- One of the two girls receiving an IV offstage at the audition/elimination just said, "The doctor said he needed to put an IV in me...I started shaking...whatever it was he put in me just went straight into my bloodstream." There are no words.

- Making the Band Girl - way to wear a little skirt that flashes your panties with every step you take. Now THAT's the way to become the Next Doll. But IV Girl is giving you some tough competition in that regard. The former has white panties, the latter black - it's like you're the Skanky Angel and Skanky Devil sitting on the shoulders of the Lead Doll. Aww...that's almost sweet.

- Non-Singer Girl just made it through. Honey, there HAVE to be better ways to use your classical ballet training. Get out while you still can.

- IV Girl made it - that decision can not have been made on her performance, because girl looked like leftover hell warmed over. It must have been the panties.

- Plane Crash Girl did not - good, because now I don't have to continue disliking her and feeling guilty about it because, you know, her whole family died in a plane crash.

- Oh...OH...but next week the celebrity guest judge is...LI'L KIM!!!! Okay, that might be enough to bring me back for one more try. So yeah, the show is complete trash, but there is enormous cattiness potential and it's fun to watch the Lead Doll seethe as she tries to figure out who is least likely to upstage her.

Okay, that was mildly amusing. Now "Crossroads" is on...aww...Britney Spears when she was still cute and not yet batshit insane...ah, but Britney is a pop culture confession for another day.

Feel free to post your pop culture confessions in the comments...it really is good for the soul to get it out there.

My memory has just been sold.

Sometimes I think I'm just a wee bit psychic. For a scientist, I'm remarkably willing to believe in such very unscientific things - I think it comes from having more creativity than knowledge at my disposal at any given time. So... remember that sudden, unexplained bout of homesickness about a week ago? I thought it was weird, because it's not like I just left home...I spent 7 years living in Indiana, only able to go home once (or twice, if I was lucky) a year. In that time, I would occasionally get homesick, but always when it had been 6 months or more since I'd been home, and I was just there over Christmas. Besides, I really like Toronto - I wasn't here for long at all before it started feeling comfortably homey. So wherefore the sudden feeling of longing for my homeland?

Well, I found out on Wednesday that my parents now have an offer on the house I grew up in. The price is good, the contract is uncomplicated, and they're expecting closing to go pretty quickly. And just like that, the door closes on a 25-year chapter of our family history. I was 4 years old when we moved into that house - I don't have any memories of any other house we've lived in. I learned to ride a bike on that street...practiced high-kick routines on the deck in the backyard...on snow days, I rode my little plastic sled down the little hill over and over again until I had a good, icy track made before I made a nest in the family room out of my inflatable snow tube and my comforter, tucked in with a mug of cocoa. Having a big yard with woods behind it meant we all had to help rake the leaves in fall - Mom and Dad would rake up a big pile for my brother and I to jump in, but first they'd try to find a spot of ground without too many tree roots. My brother, always the bolder and less inhibited of the two of us, always seemed to find (usually with his tailbone) exposed roots at the bottom of the pile that I never hit. My job was always to stand in the trash can and stomp down the leaves to compact them, then take them back and dump them on the compost pile when the can was full. When I re-read that, it doesn't sound like much of a memory, but I always liked raking leaves, and I'm really going to miss that yard. There were a lot of good dinners on that deck over the years, and the (now) huge trees always provide lots of squirrel and bird antics to watch. My bedroom faced due east, and I always liked the way the morning sun streamed through my window, filtered through the leaves of the maple tree in the front yard. It would wake me up early on Saturday or Sunday mornings, and I'd curl up in bed with a book, or head downstairs to watch cartoons. In the summer, Dad would usually be outside working in the garden before the full heat of the day set in, and he'd come in, sit on the couch, and start watching Looney Tunes with me. And we would usually have the following conversation:

Dad: Whatcha think, (cute nickname that only Dad is allowed to call me withheld)?
Me: About what?
Dad: Anything.
Me: I don't know...

I remember one time going upstairs to the kitchen for something while Looney Tunes were on, and finding Dad up there cleaning some of the veggies he had brought in from the garden, watching the same cartoons I was. I was SCANDALIZED. It was probably the first time it dawned with me that my daddy was silly.

But Christmas Eve was always the best day of the year in that house, and the one I will miss the most. Since my grandparents and assorted extended family all lived in Illinois, our family holidays were always just about the four of us. My brother and I would have the day off from school, so I'd help Mom with whatever decorating/baking/etc. might still need to be done around the house. Dad would come home from work early and usually rope me into helping him wrap Mom's presents. When it was time for dinner, I'd set the table downstairs in the family room so we could have dinner by the Christmas tree with a fire going in the fireplace. A number of years, dinner was cheese fondue - we did this one year, and the following year my brother and I conveniently re-wrote history and declared it Tradition, which somehow actually worked on my parents. It was the only night of the year we would eat fondue, and usually the only night of the year we used that fireplace. Dad would usually grumble and curse profusely trying to get it going (think The Old Man working on the furnace in A Christmas Story and you've got the idea), but it always had to be done and was always appreciated. After the egg nog and Christmas cookies for dessert, my brother and I would explore the pile of presents under the tree, figuring out how many we had and wondering what they were. He'd lie on his back, looking up through the branches and the colored lights, and I'd follow suit because I learned pretty early on that he has pretty cool ideas and I was a very unoriginal child. Eventually, we'd go to bed, and while the fireplace had made the family room nice and toasty, it would have sucked all of the heat out of the rest of the house, so I'd have to snuggle up in my comforter and wait for the bed to warm up before I could even think about getting to sleep. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad would start putting out the stockings and things - they kept all of the goodies in their room, which was right across the hall from mine, so I always knew what they were up to. My parents are not terribly subtle people. Two Christmases ago, we had our last Christmas Eve in that house. Mom and Dad had bought their retirement house in the Shenandoah Valley a few years ago, and had been starting to have holidays out there, but they had plans to retire last year and figured it would be the last chance to have dinner next to the fireplace. They gave my brother and I the choice of where to spend Christmas, and he voted for the old house. Most depressing Christmas ever - I spent the whole time thinking about how it was going to be the last one and getting really sad. So this year, before they put the house on the market, Mom said, "well, maybe the house won't be sold yet...we might do Christmas here again..." To which I replied, "No! I already HAD my Last Christmas, and you are NOT allowed to put me through that again."

I think that's why I'm so sad about this whole thing - it's been a long, drawn-out farewell. Since they bought the house in the Valley about 5 years ago, Mom and Dad have been slowly phasing into it and out of the old house - repainting rooms one at a time, fixing things that need to be fixed before the house goes on the market, removing things that personalize the house and moving them to the new one, leaving both houses without much of an identity. During that Last Christmas, they had moved the bookshelves that had lined one wall of that family room for 25 years out to the new house. That one change made it no longer feel like our family room, which is part of why that was such a depressing Christmas. When I moved back home briefly last May, I was stunned to see grass planted in my dad's garden - and this isn't some little patch of tomatoes in a corner of the yard...we're talking a significant presence in our backyard that has been devoted to tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, squash, lima beans, etc. for as long as I can remember. By the time I went home for this past Christmas, they were living full-time out in the Valley to avoid cluttering up the house they were trying to sell, and as Dad put it, "it's like living in someone else's house with all of our furniture" whenever they would come back up to Dale City. So it's really a good thing that it's been put out of its misery - apparently, should the deal go through smoothly, there will be two families moving into the house, and there are at least a couple of little girls. They were particularly drawn to the lot, which means my yard will be put to good use, which I am happy about. And it'll be nice for my parents to finally be able to REALLY settle into the new house, furniture, wall hangings, and all. It truly is perfect for them, and after a lifetime of working hard and making sacrifices to raise us, it's just a drop in the bucket as far as what they deserve. But pardon me while I have a moment of silence for my old house. It was a good house, and I'm going to miss it, orange shag carpeting and all.