The Luxury of Being the Toronto Maple Leafs

Due to a fortunate series of events last night, I was able to score a last-minute ticket to see the Maple Leafs face off against Buffalo last night, owners of my favorite cheer in the NHL ("Let's Go, Buff-a-lo! *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap*) ... which is entirely beside the point. It was an exciting game at times; in particular, the Leafs capped off a second-period scoring frenzy by deciding not to show up in the third period, thus losing the game 8-4.

Most fans right now are legitimately frustrated that the Leafs are heading into the weekend on a 7-game losing streak, their best players can't stay healthy, Ed Belfour is getting old, yadda, yadda, yadda - I mean, it's been analyzed and over-analyzed. We get it, right? But I think it points to a bigger, stupid, problem. Last night, Michael, Steve and I were talking about how the Leafs could easily sell out a 22,000+ seat arena. But think about what the team has done recently. Seriously - they were eliminated early from the playoffs by Philly in 2003 and 2004, they're currently not in contention for a playoff spot at all, their defense is painful to watch, they haven't brought home a cup in more than 30 years, their coach has been sitting behind the bench so long he's petrified ... I mean, what have they done to deserve such loyal and dedicated fans? And how could the team keep making such frustratingly inept decisions?

Some people might say that it is the most loyal fan, the one with the strongest allegiance, that will stick by their team in bad times as well as good - and I agree, to a certain extent. When Calgary was in danger of losing the faltering Flames in 2000, 15,000 fans bought season's tickets and filled the Saddledome, cheering for a team that was by far the worst in the NHL. But Toronto's dedication seems lackluster. Yesterday, I witnessed a scene that went something like this:

Announcer: Answer - they are the team with the loudest fans in the NHL? Question - Who are the Toronto Maple Leafs? Let's hear it for the leagues LOUDEST FANS

TML Fans: *cough*

Announcer: We're gonna count down from 4, and we want you to make some noise, Toronto. 4....3....2...1.... GO LEAFS!

TML FANS: *crickets chirping*

RANDOM TML FAN: "Go Raptors!"

RANDOM TML FAN: "Go back to the AHL!"

As a fact, when it opened, the Gaylord Entertainment Centre in Nashville (seating 20,000) was named "The Loudest Arena in the NHL". Although it's fans may not be the most rabid, I can attest from personal experience that the acoustics are mindblowing; even the sounds of the game itself -the sticks hitting the ice, the checks against the boards- come at you like a train. Also a great place to see a game: Winnipeg Arena or Chicago Stadium, circa 1990. But I digress. Seeing a Leafs game at the ACC is about as involving as sitting in a board room with a bunch of guys in stuffy suits eating shrimp rings. It's so civilized! I just can't get past the corporate domination to find the real, rowdy, crazy fans. I dunno what point I'm trying to make here, other than that the Leafs are damn lucky to have fans that will follow them blindly to the bottom of the Eastern Conference, and that whoever the announcer was last night, he was a total liar. And that's a fact.

PS - I definitely woke up at 5:30 in the morning to write this entry. Whether or not that makes it more legitimate is probably up to you.

"I Love Bri"

This is by far the low point in my career as an undercover geek. I noticed, as I checked my blog to make sure that my update published alright, that there was a little search form on the top, and a button that ordered me to "search all blogs". Yes, ordered me.

So the first thing I did was look for my employers name or the names of their kids, which I may have inadvertently used from time to time (just in case, y'know, THEY are searching for THEMSELVES and may happen to come across my blog). Nothing of mine came up, in case you were interested.

Then I searched for "I love Bri". That's right. To see who loved me. I got 153 matches. Never mind that there is obviously more than one Bri out there (in fact, there are a number of Bri Johnsons with blogs, which weirds me out). Never mind that not a single one of the "I love Bri" references had anything to do with me. Never mind that most of them were by teenaged girls who were actually talking about someone named BRIan. Nope. I'm loved. Very, very loved.

Finally, I decided to look for "Fat Guts", the name of Steve's stuffed monkey who sits smugly atop his pillows. I found nothing but this, a lamb who likes to eat and apparently goes by the same alias. Someone, clearly, shares my taste in animal names.

It's Getting Better All the Time

And in the words of the Beatles, it can't get much worse.

Here's what I'm thinking: I hit a pivot point a few days ago where my life was concerned. I decided that instead of feeling bored, blue and uninspired, chained to a job that I disliked to the point where I would call my mom at night crying so hard that she couldn't understand me ... well, why not quit? I mean, what's stopping me from being happy? And really, why not quit right away? For those of you who think I'm too nice to stand up for myself (and yes, it's something I've been working on), I got my most threatening Bri-face on, stood in the entry way when my employer got home on Wednesday night, and told her in no uncertain terms that I would like to deliver my two weeks notice. She answered with "before you make that decision, why don't you go home and think about all the things we've done for you", and turned and walked briskly upstairs, the smell of her chanel perfume lingering behind. Then, I turned around, and threw up in the bathroom sink. No, seriously. (And besides taking me to the US Virgin Islands and ditching me with their kids in the hotel room for 190 consecutive un-paid hours while they traipsed about, what have they really done for me?)

So it turned out to be a serious stomach virus and not just a case of nerves. I've had the last two days off to recover (well, one day miserably sick and one day recovering) and I've decided that there's something to be said for wearing your boyfriend's roots sweatshirt, watching TLC on his plasma TV while curled up on the sofa with two comforters and a stuffed monkey, and drinking tea with the fireplace on. I could definitely get used to this life (thanks for convincing me to come over, Steve!) Things are really starting to look up -- I mean, consider, just CONSIDER what we all have to look forward to in the next 6 months:

1. I'm Done My Awful Job: T-363 hours. Let's just hope that it goes really, REALLY fast.

2. The Olympics: T-20 days. Yeehaw! 16 days of all-night TV marathons, hockey games on really big rinks, figure skating and snowboarding. I got to witness the Olympics first-hand when I was a 5-year-old, living in Calgary. I have a few memories - a drawing of Heidi and Howdy, the Olympic mascots, that I made in kindergarden. Watching the Russian figure skaters on our little TV while watching dinner. my grandma taking me to see the speed skaters, and stomping my feet in the ice oval because it was so cold. I love the festivities, I love the sports and I love the idea that most successful way of bringing the world together isn't through politics or business, but through sport. Let the games begin!

3. The Academy Awards: T-43 Days. I'm a movie buff, which is a legit reason for watching the Oscars; I am also, however, totally entertained by the red carpet cattle call, where actors and actresses strut their stuff in ten-thousand dollar dresses. And I will be sitting in my living room in my yoga pants, with a stained sweatshirt and unwashed hair, judging them shamelessly. It's what I do. On top of that, I was a huge fan of Brokeback Mountain and would like to see it go all the way.

4. Teacher's College Acceptance: T-70 Days. Sigh. I feel like this day may never get here. And honestly, I need it to. It will make a huge difference to know that there's something out there thfor me in September. I've been wanting to teach for a long time, and April 01 is the first step towards getting there. I've applied to Queen's and UToronto, but really, really, really want to stay where I am so that I don't have to move again (so cross your fingers for Toronto)

5. Hockey Playoffs: T-90 days. The first 81 games of the season mean only a jostling in position: once the playoffs are set, that's when the real fun starts. I've got my money on Calgary to go all the way, and am looking forward to taking a trip to the Red Mile sometime in May to cheer them on, if I should be so lucky!

Doesn't it seem wild that it's already 2006? I feel like huge chunks of my life took place without my awareness. At 22, I feel like I should have my shit together more than I currently do -- it's hard to see friends that are the same age as me zooming up the career ladder while I'm still stuck at the bottom, wondering what I'm going to do with my life and when I'm finally going to get there. I was so excited to be done university because I was eager to START everything; now, I realize that it's possible to always be waiting and looking forward for the next thing to happen. My job in the weeks coming up is to find a job that suits me, meet new people and start to really get settled in Toronto. If the last 6 months have taught me anything, it's that good things don't always happen to those who wait. Time for me to get on with it!

A Blast from the Past

Here's one from the archives for ya - directly from Bri Johnson's personal journal, 1995-1996, when I was in grade 7 at Queen Elizabeth Junior High in Calgary,

January 14th, 1996
Dear Diary,
In school at lunch today, Beth and Claire dared me to kiss Danny! I didn't say yes (although I would have loved to) but I didn't say no, either. So they grabbed him and brought him over, and I was so shy that I didn't say or do anything! Whenever he is around my tongue feels like it's made of sawdust (probably because I like him so much). remember - no one else can know this (especially not danny!) but I wish I accepted the dare!

January 16th, 1996
Dear Diary,
I am so miserable! Whenever I phone "HIM" (by now, you know who he is, right?) he barely talks to me. It seems like he's preoccupied with football ALL the time. I think that his life is too full and I feel like I'm now at the bottom of his list of important things. I feel sort of lonely. Is this normal?

January 17th, 1996
Dear Diary,
Why did I ever think that anything could possibly come between us? I still think that I'm in LUV! I wish that he could be here so that I could tell him that I think he's the cutest (and the greatest)

January 28th, 1996
Danny and I are broken up, and all my friends are not talking to him at school any more. He was my first kiss and now I wish I saved it for someone else. But tomorrow I am going to see "The Truth About Cats and Dogs" and Colin is going to be there. Colin is my friend but I know that he likes me 'cause he's always sending me notes. I hope that everything goes well, despite the bloody lip I got in my soccer game today! We won 8-0. Right now, this is what I want: I really want to go to Alanis Morissette, and I want a walkman and I want to get chosen to go to Edmonton for soccer .... and maybe for Colin to keep liking me!

BACK TO THE PRESENT: Sometimes I feel like I haven't changed that much since I was younger. In part, of course, I am the same person with the same reactions and motivations and quirks, but I've also grown up in more ways than I've been able to realize. The slow passage of time means that we can never actually see ourselves growing - we have to rely on benchmarks, like the pencil markings on the wall, to realize how far we've come since the last time we measured. For me, my diaries (which I've been keeping regularly since about 1989) are not only an outlet and a place for me to be honest with myself about the things that happen in my life, but also a benchmark to measure how far I've come. If only I could tell my 12 year old self that football will ALWAYS be important to guys - maybe I could have saved myself a lot of heartache! But in retrospect, I can look back, laugh, and know that I have come a long, long way since I kissed Danny Thornton in the emergency exit hallway at Chinook Centre mall, waiting for our moms to come and pick us up. And I will continue to journal, so that in 10 years, I can look back again, and realize how little I knew in 2006 :D

-b

Stuck in a moment

My lack of recent updates is pretty indicative of my mental state right now: nothing. Seriously, there's absolutely nothing going on in my mind. My days feel as though they're on auto-repeat - wake up, take the subway, be a nanny for 10 hours (a combination of cooking, laundry, wiping faces, changing diapers, rushing to the potty, commenting on superheros, singing the Dora theme song and trying to get two toddlers into complicated snowsuits), subway home, sleep, repeat. It's not a bad existence, necessarily, but also not one that lends itself to an exciting blog. I am totally underwhelming myself lately, with the feeling that the only way to get through the next two months of my boring job as a personal doormat is to become desensitized.

Here are the most exciting things that happened to me in the last week:
- I watched a squirrel become roadkill in my review mirror on St.Claire Avenue, and started bawling.
- I fought with a 4 year old over whether "sixy-ninety-fourty-seven" was a bigger number than 1000.
- I lugged a 4 foot bulletin board home from Staples on friday, feeling ambitious, and haven't done anything with it since
- I watched a couple of solid football games.

I've realized that the repetitive life doesn't satisfy me. I think that some people find a routine to be comforting and look forward to knowing, always knowing, what's going to happen next. I really like stability, but I'm starting to differentiate that from repetition. I want ... no, NEED a job that's new and exciting every day. I need to explore, whether it's going on a week-long hike or a neighborhood stroll. I need to meet new people and have interesting conversations and read challenging books and take chances and create change in my life.

When I was little, I used to change around the furniture in my bedroom every month or so. There was one house that we lived in where at one point or another, I occupied every bedroom in the house. We create change to pull ourselves out of the rut and back into the sunshine. Even something as mundane as having to think about which side of the room my dresser has been moved to creates a new mental pattern and relieves the old one. I hate ruts. And the only way that I'm going to survive this winter, this monotonous job where people are constantly critisizing and being mean to me, the commuting, the same old same old, is to pull myself out of the rut every way I can.

With that - I hopefully will have something more interesting on my mind the next time you hear from me.

How Do You Measure a Year in Your Life?

2005 in Numbers:

ONEgraduation from Queen's. Sure, I did it alongside 3000 other students, but it didn't make the experience any less special for me. In hindsight, the four years I spent at Queen's felt like four weeks. Happily, I was able to leave feeling as though I had accomplished everything that I set out to do. Would I have gone to more classes? Definitely. Dated more boys? For sure. But all in all, I left Queen's this may with no regrets.

TWO Stuffed monkeys named Fat Guts and Fatter Guts. One wears a Toronto Maple Leafs hoodie and the other wears a Calgary Flames hoodie. They have a very complicated relationship, and I am pretty sure that Steve loves Fat Guts more than he loves me.

THREE Pearl Jam shows (Hamilton, London and Toronto) - only one of which I was expecting to attend, or could afford! I had a blast on my mini-tour of the province and seeing a band a couple of nights in a row gave me a sense of the depth of PJ's catalogue and the total fresh appeal of each of their shows: every night was completely different!

FOUR months since Steve and I dropped out of Grad School and Teacher's College, respectively. Three days in and I knew the program wasn't for me. I think I liked the idea of grad school more than the reality of it. After attending a class on Italian Liturgical Drama that was conducted almost exclusively in Italian, I realized that if I was going to put the energy and money into an MA, it should probably be one that excited me. Walking out of the U of T building for the last time was thrilling and terrifying, made more memorable by the fact that my lovely significant other, Steve Johns, was doing the exact same thing at Teacher's College. 4 months later, we're both broke and working half-assed jobs. The message? Stay in school, if you like the cushy lifestyle of being a student. I don't miss the program I left, but I really miss having free career advice and being able to sleep in on weekdays.

FIVE dollars, which I inadvertently waved in front of a strung out, homeless crack addict in Detroit on a trip to see Phantom of the Opera, trying to prove that we were Canadian and our money wouldn't be any good to him. Too bad for me, he took it anyway. Then Steve got it back, and he took it again.

SIX discs of Desperate Housewives, which I have been watching obsessively since I got them for myself on Boxing Day. I love Bree (obviously) and I think that I would want to be a mom like Susan when I got older

SEVEN Broadway shows: Wicked, Mamma Mia!, Phantom of the Opera, Evita, Rent, Les Miserables, and Movin' Out. One of the big pulls for Toronto has got to be the theatre that is here - since I've moved to the city, I've been like a kid in a candy store and I couldn't be happier.

EIGHT concerts in order from least memorable to rocked-my-fucking-world memorable: Jason Mraz, Sleater-Kinney, Pearl Jam (x3), Rolling Stones, Oasis, U2. Also a clear winner in the "most concerts seen in a single year of Bri Johnson's life" category

NINE weeks in British Columbia (does it qualify as a moment?) On a whim, I quit my job at Lonestar Texas Grill (where I was working as a hostess/fajita bitch ... bah!) and move back to BC, where I bunked with mom in her bachelorette pad. I quickly got a job in Vancouver that I loved and spent the rest of the summer with my brother, mom, sisters and grandparents. It was a smart move and helped me save a bit for 'school' to come (slash being unemployed and living off of my student loan while looking for a full time job)

TEN Blue Jays games, which I initially started going to for the afternoon of sunshine and the over-priced hot dogs, but eventually started to care about and follow (just a little bit). I couldn't think of a more enjoyable way to spend a Sunday afternoon than at the Skydome with a few friends, a baseball cap and a bag of M&Ms. This year, I want to try to catch a fly ball!

ELEVEN hours a day, I now spend working as a nanny for a well-to-do-but-totally-crazy family living in Forest Hill. The kids are adorable, the parents are monsters. Needless to say I'm over-worked, underpaid, and made to cook dinner for the family EVERY NIGHT, even though everybody in the GTA knows that I burn broccoli to the bottom of the pot.

TWELVE months in love with my monkey-loving boyfriend Steve, who has given me more support and unconditional affection than I arguably deserve. Make that 12 very happy months :)

2005 was a bit of a roller coaster year for me. The highs - Charity Ball, Convocation, nights spent with Walkhome friends, time home in BC, a committed relationship, were peppered with pretty devastating lows: my dad and stepmother's divorce, my little sisters moving away to Calgary, my brother not being able to finish his business degree due to depression, leaving university and realizing that the 'real world' isn't as rosy as anticipated ... But ultimately what I'm hoping is that I can put the ups and downs of the past year behind me and focus on finding some stability in Toronto in 2006. I need a job that I like, friends that I care about and a budget that I can stick to - none of which are easy to find when you're new in a big city. That being said, I have three New Years Resolutions for 2006 and I really believe that they're worthy of the lofty title:

1. Love myself enough to stop eating like garbage and work towards a healthier-self over the next 12 months (slow but steady!)

2. Stick to a budget that works for me and my income. I make these lofty goals of NEVER spending ANY money, but then go out and blow my grocery budget on a new pair of boots. If I can get one thing under control this year, money would be it.

3. Practice gratitude. I'm keeping the idea that if I say one prayer every day, let it be a prayer of thanks, close to my heart. Despite being cranky lately, I have many things to be thankful for every day and I really want to focus on them instead of on the negative. This includes keeping up with my gratitude journal, and openly expressing thanks to people who make my life better.

A Happy Belated New Year to All, and thanks for reading :D

Frog Wisdom

I've always been a fan of Kermit the Frog. I love all of the muppets, but Kermit has a soft spot in my heart - he's sweet and simple and intelligent and has a lot of quiet energy. When I was younger, I definitely considered Kermit a close personal friend of mine. That's why I was thrilled when my brother got me "It's Not Easy Being Green (and other things to consider)" by Jim Henson and the muppets. It's a fantastic book and I thought I'd post some of the best quotes for any other closet muppet lovers to enjoy.

"The game on The Muppet Show was to upstage as much as you could. Jim loved upstaging and he would reward you for it. I remember during the instrumental break on a production number featuring Miss Piggy, I had my character lean over the balcony backwards and play a trumpet solo upside down, and Jim was in hystarics. it was great to have a boss who really sanctioned and encouraged anarchy."
-Dave Goelz, puppeteer

"Whenever characters become self-important or sentimental in the Muppets, there's always another character there to blow them up immediatly"
-Jim Henson

"I really do believe that all of you are at the beginning of a wonderful journey. As you start travelling down the road of life, remember this: there are never enough comfort stops. The places you're going to are never on the map. And once you get that map out, you won't be able to unfold it no matter how smart you are. So forget the map, roll down the windows, and whenever you can, have a picnic with a pig. And if you can help it, never fly as cargo"
-Kermit the Frog

Thanks Kermit - I couldn't have put it better myself

So This Is The New Year (and I don't feel any different)

New Year's resolutions can be fleeting at best, when your resolve to honestly lose the "frosh 15" that you've been carrying around since 2001 meets its match: New Year's breakfast at a greasy spoon. What else was I supposed to do - starve? Maybe I can start again tomorrow. I like to think that I can always start again tomorrow. There's something redeeming about knowing that every day is sort of like a second chance.

My jet lagged body seems almost certain that it's only 9:30 at night. I'm a little bit torn though, because I feel like I left more than my internal clock in Vancouver... some little part of me is still there as well. I talked to my mom on the phone and didn't feel like there was suddenly 7000 kilometers between us; I could almost pretend that I just came back to Toronto to pick up a few things, and I'll be going back home to BC tomorrow (wouldn't that be perfect!) But you know what I was thinking? Going home to BC is like having an affair: I leave behind all the troubles of my complicated relationship with Toronto and bask in something comepletely selfish. There are no bills in Vancouver, no fights with my boyfriend or mean employers or lonely apartments or groceries to lug home through the snow. Maybe the appeal of going back out west is amplified by the fact that it has become a veritable escape route for me. And honestly, I'm not interested in escaping, really. I want to make things better here, first.

I have to be back at work in 7 hours and I am praying (really praying, in a not-very-religious-but-willing-to-give-it-a-shot way) that a job comes along where I'm treated with respect. I don't need to love going to work every day, I don't need things to do that are particularly exciting, but I really do think that I deserve to be treated fairly for the work that I do. I might quit my job tomorrow, if it comes down to it. This would be the stupidest idea in the world, since I wouldn't be able to afford rent next month, but it might also be the most attractive idea in the world as well. If I was confident that someone could look at my resume (which has a lot of legit experience) and know how enthusiastic I am and could give me a chance ... well, I would call my boss and quit today.

Please let it snow 7 feet tonight so that everything is closed down tomorrow and I am unable to leave my house. I'm actually that desperate. Until then, I'm gonna try to put together a few hours of sleep and think about how to tackle my day, my week, my 8 months left as the official whipping girl of the G residence.

(this was meant to be a happy new year post - honestly. I just get cynical after midnight. Bear with me - I have a lot of positive things happening in my life, making me much less whiney than I probably appear. It just feels so good to BITCH about thing, y'know?)