I Scream, You Scream, We all Scream for Ugly Keychains!

I have a very interesting confession to make. Back when I was about 14 years old, I decided it was time for a collection. I considered stamps. I dabbled in exotic stones. I once had small entourage of shiny dog figurines... but the collection that stuck was that of the ugly keychains.

This is how it started. My friend in junior high went to Mexico, and came home with this - the mother of the ugly keychain:


As you can see, the back reads: Manzanillo Mexico: Caramba ...! Cuantas Curvas Y Yo Sin Frenos!, which roughly translates into: Manzanillo Mexico: Caramba Whichever Curves And I Without Brakes! ... Who knows. Either way, I was hooked.

Now I have the following collections:
The Australian Posse, all brought for me by my mom's ex-boyfriend Keith (who travelled extensively for work, and also, apparently, had hoes in different area codes)


The American Collection; and yes, the George Bush-esque bottle opener from Nashville does say "American by Birth, Southern by the Grace of God"


The English Collection (again, from my mom's ex-boyfriend)


The Vibrating Keychain - a replica of a San Francisco street car. Pull the string and it vibrates aggressively


The Canadian Collection. I don't have as many canadian keychains as I should - especially since I live here; there's really no excuse. These two gems are from the east coast, when my brother went to Acadia University in N.S.


Finally, the Tropical Collection. Most were purchased for me from my mom, who has been to several warm-weather destinations with various men interested in wooing, wining and dining her. Thanks, mom!


The lesson here? Well, firstly - my mom is currently in Mexico with her boyfriend Joe and my boyfriend Steve is currently in the UK, so at least two keychains are going to be added to the collection. Secondly? If you're my friend and you go somewhere exciting or cool or non-canadian ... get me a keychain! Not only will I pay you back ... you'll be my hero forever. I hope I haven't lost your respect, and that maybe you understand a little bit more about why I'm such a geek. No wonder Steve loves me :D

A Bri Refresher

THIRTEEN Random Things I like:
Orangutans
All-Day Breakfast
Hoodies
Ikea
Napping
Roadtrips
The Beach
Knitting
Lots and Lots of Journals
Dogs
Going to Hockey Games
Making Out
Hand-written Letters

TWELVE Movies That All My Friends Should Watch At Least Twice:
Shakespeare in Love
Forrest Gump
Moulin Rouge
Bridges of Madison County
Big
Turner and Hooch
Bend it Like Beckham
When Harry Met Sally
Big Fish
Garden State
Edward Scissorhands
Benny and Joon

ELEVEN Random Thoughts:
"Just one more cookie"
"How do you know if someone is the one?"
"I should be at the gym"
"I don't know if I'll be a good teacher"
"There has to be a better way of organizing my blue dresser"
"Do I NEED this, or do I just want it?"
"I miss you"
"Orange is not my colour"
"I wish that I could know more about you - I think we could be friends"
"Is it possible to be close to my dad, after everything we've been through?"
"I wish we had a different couch"

TEN Random Things about Me:
If my dad won the fight, my name would have been Freya
I remember my dreams vividly
Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to have a big family
It's really important to me for other people to like me
My left eye is smaller than my right eye. It’s especially noticeable when I smile
All of my grandparents are still alive
I've never shoplifted, been to a funeral or smoked a cigarette
I have climbed a mountain, walked across the golden gate bridge and saved a life
I tan easily in the summer
I have lived in 6 cities in Canada (Victoria, Vancouver, Calgary, Mississauga, Toronto, Kingston)

NINE Ways to Win My Heart:
Write me letters
Take me to Ikea and kiss me in the pretend apartments
Stand up for me if my integrity is ever in question
Teach me about things that you are passionate about and be interested in the things that *I* am passionate about
Love my family as much as I do
Be willing to try new things with me, from rock climbing to poetry reading
Take me on a random road trip ("pack your bag, I'll be there in an hour!")
Surprise me with flowers
Help to create traditions that are only "ours"

EIGHT Things I Want to Do before I Die:
Own a bed and breakfast
Learn how to snowboard
Travel to Borneo
Marry my soulmate and raise a family
Teach in a university
Act on stage
Be able to afford my own home
Adopt dogs

SEVEN Ways to Annoy Me:
Act ungrateful for something that you are priviledged to have
Smoke around me
Make an insensitive comment about my family
Snoop through my things / read my journal
Talk on your cell phone in a restaurant
Be drunk
Not wash dishes properly :)

SIX Things I Believe in:
The only way to achieve something is to work hard and work harder
In every situation, you can always choose how you react
People are more alike than they are different
Every human being has the desire and the right to be loved
The institution of marriage
Everyone has a story to tell

FIVE Things I am Afraid of:
Not achieving my potential
snakes
divorce
not living my life in the moment
being average


FOUR of My Favourite Items in My Room:
My stuffed monkey "Fatter Guts"
My journals
The picture of Steve and I from Charity Ball
My poster of Vancouver

THREE Things I Do Everyday:
Write a letter or email to someone I care about
Write in my journal
Check my favorite websites and friend's blogs

TWO Things I Want to Do Right Now:
Go out with friends instead of sticking around the house
Get all of my dental restorations over with so that I can eat regular food again

ONE Person I Want to See Right Now:
Steve, who is in England. My sisters in Calgary (I know, I cheated)

Thanks to Steph for the format and inspiration. Let me know if you do one of your own

Now I Can Die In Peace

It's official - the day I have secretly been awaiting is almost here! While Steve pines over Pearl Jam tour announcements, I've been patiently waiting for the good folks at Warner Bros. to announce the release date for the final installment of the Dawson's Creek series: Season 6. I know that the above statement might make me the biggest teenaged-angst-drama-loving geek alive (even though I'm 22), but please don't doubt that I will be first in line at Future Shop when the DVD is released on April 04th.

Under the Drill, Part III

I find myself sensitive to the smell of burning tonight. Because today, when I was getting 2 more of my teeth worked on at the dentist, the smell of the high speed drill chipping away around my nerve smelled like my mouth was on fire. I was midly concerned, but mostly uncomfortable. Tonight when I was making soup, a piece of kraft dinner that had fallen under the element started to smoke, and the smell had me running to the bathroom wanting to throw up.

Most of all, I'm ready for my dental work to be over. I have one more appointment, 2 more needles, and I'll be done, for the time being. My dentist keeps telling me that a lot of the teeth may need root canals in the next few months, but I just want to focus on finishing with all the restoration work now, and getting a break so that I don't hurt any more.

There. I'll step off of my soap box and stop whining. It's just not FUN, y'know? Hopefully there are brighter, more fun days in the future for me :)

The Academy Awards, by the Numbers

During the 78th Academy Awards:

Number of Jokes about Tom Cruise or Scientology: 1

Number of Times a Winner Walks the Wrong Way After Accepting an Award: 3

Number of Gay Cowboy Jokes: 3

Number of Gay Cowboy Montages: 1

Number of Gay Cowboys to Win an Oscar: 0 (not counting the possibility of George Cloony being a flaming homosexual)

Number of Jokes About Dick Cheney Shooting Someone: 1

Number of Dogs Thanked in Acceptance Speeches: 1 (Hooch, from Turner and Hooch)

Number of Oscars Wearing Matching Bowties: 2 (The winners for Wallace and Grommit)

Number of Stuffed Penguins Making an Appearance Onstage: 4

Number of Times Someone Refers to How Heavy the Statue Is: 2

Number of Times Jack Nickelson Grins: 6

Most Embarassing Presenter: Ben Stiller in a green unitard that clearly displayed the outline of his weiner

Best Comment By Steve: "And now, Charlize Thereon, wearing a bow that could swallow a whale"

Number of Awkward Jewish Jokes Made By Jon Stewart: 3

And there it is folks. "Crash" may have taken home the big honours, but I kept the REAL count. And honestly, it made the whole 3 and a half hour ordeal a lot more interesting to watch.

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

I was riding the streetcar home from Steve's house today (after an unexpected night off from work, which resulted in me lounging, eating pizza and going to bed early), and something really nice happened, although it took me a while to notice it. I flashed my metropass at the driver when I boarded, as per usual and to no unusual response; whenever someone tried to pay cash, use a ticket or use a token, however, the streetcar driver held his hand over the collection box and said "free today". People would insist - here's my money! And the driver simply refused to take it. "I'm telling you - get on, and keep your money - you'll need it for something else today!" About half way though the ride, I navigated up to the front of the car and asked him "is the TTC running a promotion today?"

"Nope", he replied, cranking the wheel to turn on to Carlton Street

"Are any other street cars free?" I asked.

"No, just me". He was jovial, almost laughing to himself. We picked up another few passengers, all of who were allowed to board without paying.

"Are you going to get in trouble for this?" I was worried. I am always worried about people getting into trouble.

"How could this," he said as he gestured at the people riding the car, "be trouble?"

I looked back at the passengers, who were smiling, laughing with each other, and trying to guess why they were allowed to keep their two dollars and fifty cents. There were old Portuguese men, street roamers with dreadlocks, little old ladies with crocheted hats, students, a plumber on the way to a job -- the people of Toronto who needed that money the most. The mood was almost giddy. There was camradarie between people who usually wouldn't make eye contact with each other. Every time someone else was denied fare, we all laughed out loud. For whatever reason, the streetcar driver decided to do what he could for us. When I got off at College and Spadina, the air seemed a little less cold, the sun felt wonderful, and I smiled knowingly at the people getting on the streetcar - their days would be better too. Somethings you don't see very often, but they're certainly worth noting when you do.

Who is Your Celebrity Twin?

Today I stumbled across a fascinating website called www.myheritage.com, which is pioneering a facial feature recognition process that is able to match people based on the percentage of facial similarities that they share.

The best part? They've amassed a database of more than 3500 celebrities, and if you upload a picture of yourself, your face is scanned and then compared to every celebrity in the database to see whose facial features are most similar to your own.

I uploaded this picture of myself:


And after mapping my face, I got the following celebrity matches:

Mira Sorvino

Misha Barton

Carolyn Bessette Kennedy

Drew Barrymore

Pretty Cool, hey?
So which one do you think is the most accurate?

GO try it for yourself - www.myheritage,com

A Million Little Pieces of a Blog Entry

I literally have had a million things a day race through my mind: things that are interesting and thoughtful and perhaps have the possibility to change a small part of the world. So I think to myself all the time "I am definitely going to blog about this". But here I am at 1:50 in the morning, winding down from a long shift at the restaurant, sitting at my computer with nothing to say. I almost feel like the drive to be perfect or to have the 'perfect entry' is stopping me from saying anything at all.

Here were some of the things I wanted to tell you about, but now can't be bothered to get into:
1. I think I'm going to be a canadian bobsledder. At 22 years of age, I don't think there's any other way I'm going to make it into the Olympics. There's a girl who goes to U of T, got recruited to the bobsled team in OCTOBER, and is now in Turin. I need this hook up! I mean, I've got nice strong legs. I could push a sled 50 meters and hop in. I could take the bumping around. This is the Olympic mentality!
(just in care you think my reasons aren't legit, I have a friend named Adam Say who is pictured below, who wants to be an Olympic speedskater just so that he can wear the skintight wind cutting body suit that highlights his weiner. So there)


2. Our kitchen counter (which I am excited about because it's from Ikea) is elevated off the floor by little legs so that the cupboards don't scrape the tile when we open them. Underneath the counter, therefore, there is a 2-inch high dark space that we like to call "THE OUBLIETTE" (the name, of course, taken from the movie "Labrinyth" with Davie Bowie, where there is an Oubliette for prisoners -or a 'hole of forgetting'- with the only entrance in the ceiling. Fine. Oubliette at 83 Borden comes into play because I obviously have bad housekeeping karma, and instead of putting my dust into a dust bin, I sweep it into the Oubliette. The Oubliette is now filthy, smelly, and poofs big piles of dust into the air whenever we move our kitchen rug. Our house therefore, is never really clean, and the next person who moves in and dares to shift those Ikea counters around is going to have to deal with the wrath of David Bowie from the 1980s.

Well, with those pearls of wisdom, I officially sign off for the night. Who knows? Maybe I'll be smarter and less awkward tomorrow.

You Learn Something New Every Day

It's funny - I don't think that adults like to be bad at things. When you're a kid, you are learning something new virtually every day. Over my childhood career, I took lessons in piano, gymnastics, singing, dance, figure skating, soccer, swimming, track and field - and I was horrible at all of them when I started out. This didn't bother me. But getting an adult to try a new sport is almost impossible; we like to be good at things as soon as we begin them and are likely to quit something if we experience frustration with it.

I wonder what we're so scared of. I have decided to take up new skills - not being in school has made me feel as though I need to coordinate my own learning, even if it is less academic in nature. It's been a long time since I've been brave enough to take up a new sport or learn a new skill, so this year, my goal is to learn how to do 5 new things. So far (and remember, it is only February!) I've learned how to knit. In fact, my first project is done: I knit a small blue and white scarf for Steve's stuffed monkey Fat Guts:

Now, I'm starting to read up on web design. I have rudimentary HTML knowledge (enough to tweak this page to my liking, for example), but I'd like to become more comfortable with writing CSS (cascading style sheet) code, instead of simple HTML tags. After that, I want to learn how to garden, how to cook (properly), how to play squash and how to run properly - it would be great to train for a 5K. I want to learn how to do calligraphy and how to snowboard (maybe next winter). In short, I don't want to stop learning. I have such a huge capacity for new skils and experiences - all I have to do is be prepared to suck at first. If I'm okay with my own total mediocracy, the only thing I can do is improve. I just keep reminding myself, if a four-year-old can keep on getting back up after he falls off his bike, I certainly can too.

Toronto

Toronto, a lot of the time, makes me sad. Although it's promoted as a model city and an international point of comparison, my short trip home from work, which takes me west on Queen Street and north on Bathurst, gives me a lot to be sad for. I see people who are cold and unhappy. I see people throwing garbage into the streets. I see grafitti and neglect and sidewalks that are crumbling into the gutter and the skeletons of bicycles that have had their seats and tires stolen, and faded signs for concerts covering more faded signs for concerts, plastered onto windows. I have become almost blissfully ignorant, carefully donning my headphones as I leave my safe, tree-lined street each day. But today, I took the headphones off and tried to absorb some of the environment around me. I noticed for the first time the thead-bare seats of the streetcar, and wondered how many people had sat on them this week, this month. I wondered what their stories were, and who cared about them. I watched traffic race by me. I don't think they notice me, watching them in their cars. Sometimes I wonder, if it were 50 below outside and blizzarding and I was standing waiting for the street car, would someone in Toronto offer to stop and drive me where I needed to go? If I were driving in Toronto, I would probably be stopping all too often. This is my best and my worst quality.

I saw homeless people. In fact, I saw a homeless man deep in conversation with a well-dressed business man. The homeless man was perched on top of a garbage can, wrapped in shards of material and torn clothing. He had a small dog with mangy hair and bits of a garbage bag tied around his feet like shoes. The business man was talking with him about the weather. They were both laughing, which I found incredibly humane. I wanted to see what they were laughing about.

I saw a couple try to board the streetcar that I was travelling on. The man looked like he hadn't showered in years, and the woman was shaking and muttering to herself. After trying to convince the driver that they were part of the "Homeless Ride for Free" program and obviously being denied a ride, the woman started to scream obscenities at the driver, really foul things. This made me sad. I didn't even know how to look at her. I find that I have been keeping my eyes down more now that I've moved here. I think that cities probably aren't for me. I don't like the crowds. I don't like how impersonal a block of buildings can feel. I don't like the transience. It's important for me to feel like I belong, but I'm not sure if anyone really belongs in Toronto, or if we are all just passing through it on our way to something more personal. The city is full of people but nothing familiar to me.

Billy Joel wrote love song to a city called "New York State of Mind", and it ended up being one of the most empathetic and emotional songs that was never written for another person. I wish I could feel my feet on the ground here, could find beauty in the chaos, patterns in the traffic, feelings in the small places that haven't been covered in posters of Telus Bunnies. I might wear my headphones again tomorrow. Hopefully soon, I can start looking for signs of spring, and stop writing about the sadness of the dirty, cold street corners. How do people survive without beauty around them? Without feeling like they're known and understood? A city girl at heart, I certainly am not. Give me crickets and uneventful country life any day.

A Personal History of Valentine's Day

Today is, by far, my favorite holiday of the year. I am, by definition, a lover - a romantic, sappy, wimpy, love-lover. I decided in high school that if I was going to be remembered for anything in my life, it would be for loving people completely. This holiday, therefore, plays to all of my sensitivities and secret desires to be adored, and has thus drove every boyfriend I've ever had totally crazy.

I've had valentines in my life since grade four, when Ross Adams wrote me a card and put it in the shoe box on my desk. On everyone else's card, he wrote "From Ross", but on mine, he wrote "Love Ross!". The front had a picture of Moose from the Archie comics on it, scratching his head and thinking in a little thought bubble, "I like you so much, I'm confused!" I remember blushing when I pulled it out among the 28 other Valentines, comparing it to the ones he gave my friends. I don't think that Ross and I ever actually exchanged more than a few words in the entire time we knew each other, but I taped that Valentine to the inside of my desk and kept it there for the rest of the year. My love affair with Valentine's Day had begun.

I dated boys in junior high and high school, and only spent one Valentine's day not 'with' someone, which I spent fitfully hoping that my best friend Adam would show up at my house with tulips and declare his undying love for me (this never happened, although I had dreampt about it for years). Otherwise, I would be happily embroiled in the drama of a teenaged relationship, exchanging carefully chosen Valentines that didn't actually say the word "love" in them (I didn't want to seem too desperate)

In university, I spent three Valentine's Days with a boyfriend who was so busy with his commerce midterms that he didn't even bother to leave Goodes Hall for food, much less to celebrate with me. The first year, this caused a fight so brutal that it almost ended our relationship; for the two years after that, we pretty much pretended that the day didn't exist. I think I was always disappointed, but never knew how to tell him so. It was hard to spend the day on campus, watching boys walking around with bunches of flowers in their hands and girls clutching little stuffed animals holding stuffed hearts in their stufffed hands. I felt like I wasn't special enough for him to want to put forth the effort on, but now I've come to realize that different people express themselves in different ways. I may love valentine's day, but most guys I know are terrified of it and feel a huge amount of pressure to live up to the expectations of their girlfriends. This year, I'm trying not to have expectations. Steve and I didn't really celebrate last year (I think I wrote him a card and took him out to dinner at Woodenheads) and hopefully this year, we can just spend time together. Isn't that the most important thing, anyway?

Anyway, for those of you who are interested, here are a few telling facts about Valentine's Day that I dug up from various sources last night, while unable to sleep :)

-There are 120 single men (i.e., never married, widowed or divorced) who are in their 20s for every 100 single women of the same ages

-The Canadian median ages at first marriage for women and men are 25.1 and 27.4 respectively, in 2004. The age for women and men were almost 5 years lower in the year that I was born (1983), where people got married at 21 and 23, respectively.

- In order of popularity, Valentine's Day cards are given to: teachers, children, mothers, wives, sweethearts, Koko the gorilla

- The expression "wearing your heart on your sleeve" comes from a Valentine's Day party tradition. Young women would write their names on slips of paper to be drawn by young men. A man would then wear a woman's name on his sleeve to claim her as his valentine

- About 15% of women in the US send themselves flowers on Valentines

- In the Middle Ages, they also believed that the first unmarried person of the opposite sex you met on the morning of St Valentine's Day, would become your spouse.

- In the Middle Ages, they also believed that the first unmarried person of the opposite sex you met on the morning of St Valentine's Day, would become your spouse.

- About 78% of Valentine's Day cards are purchased by women



Even if you're not with a special person today (and especially if you are!), take the time to tell someone that you love them. Send an online Valentine to your parents, your brother, your dog, or your best friend from university - there's someting about the spirit of this day that is still amazing, despite all of commercial hoopla that we all love to complain about.

-B

My Thoughts On Bettys

Snowboarders are undeniably very, very cool. When the snowboarders are girls, they're out of this world. I'll admit it - I'm totally useless on a snowboard and therefore jealous of anyone who can even make it down the bunny run without falling on their bum. The coolest girl in my high school was named Audrea - she had handwriting like a mom, so she always used to write us notes to get out of class for doctor's appointments. She was also a snowboarder, and seemed to carry her coolness around her without even trying. I was very, very jealous of Audrea.

Today, the US women devoured the competition, literally, in the half-pipe event, placing 1st, 2nd and 4th. The gold medal winner was a 17-year-old california poster girl named Hannah Tekes; blond, freckled and tearing up the half pipe. I'm such a loser that I could barely stand to watch it. But then (because I was watching NBC) Hannah gave an interview, and you'll never believe what came out of her mouth:

"Oh my god, that was wicked! I came here and the whole week has been totally chill, and then I just like had an awesome run and was way relaxed and, like, into my groove, y'know? That was, like, the most incredible rush. And my mom is here and she's like, beside herself and I'm just like totally out of it. Chill"

And then I was marginally less jealous. Becuase when she's 21 and retired from snowboarding with busted knees, who's going to teach her how to read?

Okay, that was mean. Hannah - I'm happy for you, genuinely. I just can't believe how stereotypical you are. I've learned two things from psychology this week: stereotypes exist for a reason, and there are no jokes in the unconscience (which I'll get to later).

It's 4:24am and I'm watching Olympic reruns. I don't know what else to say :D
-Bri

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?)

How Well Do You Know Your Boyfriend?

The idea that it's possible to know someone, *really* know someone, is immensely attactive to me. I'm not the biggest fan in the world of Dr. Phil, but I found this survey on his website and I think it has a lot of merit. It's important to explore and understand the person that you love. So here, in 'public' and live online, I'm gonna see how well I know Steve. I hope, for my sake, that when he looks this one over, he'll be able to tell me that the answer is "pretty well"

* * * * * * * * *

Answer the following questions as honestly as you can. Remember that you need to do this without consulting your partner. The point is to assess how aware of your partner you are now. Make this an honest appraisal.


I can name my partner's three best friends.
Ummm ... I think so! His HLP is Paul, who lives in Liverpool. His alternate HLP is Adam Say, who worked at Walkhome with us. As for #3? I would probably say it's Jamie, a really good friend of his from Thunder Bay.

I know what accomplishments my partner is most proud of.
Steve is proud of a lot of things. The three that come to mind right away are finishing his master's degree (and the awesome thesis that he wrote), beating cancer twice, and landing the senior peer advisor position for S.O.A.R at Queen's

I can identify the happiest time in my partner's life.
I'd be stupid to say that he was happiest when he fell in love with me ;). Probably when the Blue Jays won the world series, when he convocated from Queen's, and seeing Pearl Jam play the first notes of their show in Thunder Bay

I know what my partner considers to be his or her greatest losses in life.
The death of his dad's father, for sure. Perhaps the loss of a beloved left kidney, although this remains to be seen - he seems not to mind too much. I think he misses his old dog Chief, too.

I can describe what my partner considers to be his or her greatest area of difficulty in interacting with each of his parents.
Ummm - I think so. I think that both of his parents have a pretty definite idea of what track their son should be on, and it's hard for him to get them to understand that he's really happy doing what he's doing, which isn't much, right now. He needs a break, and I think that's the hardest thing for them to realize.

I know what will be probably be playing on the radio when my partner is driving somewhere.
Pearl Jam! The Who! Bruce Springsteen! NEXT

I can name the relatives that my partner would most likely try to avoid at a family reunion.
Hahahaha. All of his family are wonderful people. I don't think he actively doesn't like any of them. He's probably closer to some than others though (his dad's mom is a little bit wackers, but that's all I can think of!)

I can describe the most traumatic event that occurred in my partner's childhood.
I would say his Wilm's Tumor, definitely

My partner has clearly identified for me what he or she wants in life.Steve has clearly identified to me that he doesn't know yet what he wants in life, except that he wants to be happy and financially comfortable -- both of which are great aspirations

I can identify the obstacles that my partner believes are preventing his or her getting what he or she wants.
Money and opportunity, at the moment

I know which of my partner's physical features he or she is least happy about.
I'm pretty sure that I do.

I can recall the very first impressions I had of my partner.He was wearing shorts and a red shirt and standing behing the walkhome kiosk. I walked in from the Bagot Street doors and I can remember the whole moment in slow motion. He was tanned and I remember looking at him smiling and being totally overcome with lust - like, pure desire. He's a good looking guy! After talking for a few hours, I was hooked. I went home that night and wrote in my journal about this perfect guy I had met. I had no idea that I would be dating him almost two years later!

I know what section of the Sunday newspaper my partner is likely to turn to first.
SPORTS!

I can describe, in some detail, the home environment in which my partner was raised.
Small town, comfortable house, only child, really caring parents, stable childhood, lots of good friends, a bit geeky but still totally likeable, lots of family around.

I know what makes my partner laugh.
Hopefully I do. But if not, the "I'm Rick James, Bitch" sketch or the Rock Lobster song (with his nerdy dance moves to go with it) never fails to make him bust a gut

I know what my partner's parents would probably say is the thing about my partner that they are most proud of.
Probably his education - my boyfriend is smart beyond belief and I know his parents are really proud of him for that. I also secretly thinks that his mom is thrilled that he's so musical, since she is too.

I can describe two or three decisions my partner made before we met that my partner now regrets — and my partner can do the same about me.
Ummm, I don't think he has a lot of regrets, but I can think of one or two. Does Steve know mine? I have NO idea.

I know which part of a restaurant menu my partner is likely to look at first.
Steve's systematic. He'll read the menu from the appetizers through to the main courses. The first thing he probably looks at is the beer!

I can quote three things my partner says to me that he or she says to no one else in this world.
1. Monkey Monkey Monkey!
2. HEED!
3. Bri-crane, bri-crane
4. It's so hard being Bri Johnson ;)
*NOTE* - I hate all of these sayings. Seriously.

I am thoroughly familiar with my partner's religious beliefs.
I think I know enough to have a fair idea of where he stands on most issues

So - how did I do?

On Gratitude, Again

I'm waiting for the ferry - since it's the end of the holiday, there's a three-sailing wait for cars and a full berth of walk ons, myself included. Since it's so busy, I'm curled up in the corner of the sunny waiting room with my computer, trying to pass the time.

I read through my diary, like the whole thing, last night. A lot of what I've been thinking and feeling lately has been really negative and I was thinking that being unhappy is a really toxic way to be living. I'm sick of waking up at 6:30 every morning and not feeling good - not feeling good about my job or my current situation or my body or whatever. It does nothing but bring me down. So I'm going to try to get back into the habit of looking for and expressing gratitude. I need to come home every night with five things that I am thankful for. Whether or not my day was good or awful, whether or not I find a new job or meet more people in Toronto, looking for things to be thankful for will essentially turn my attitude around; instead of looking for and expecting the negative, I want to focus on the positive. If all I can do every day from now until next september is be thankful for 5 things that I have, that will be enough. If the only prayer I give is thanks, that will be enough.

Today, I'm thankful for the energy to clean, make beds and get organized -- it's not often that you wake up in the morning and feel ready to tackle your literal and proverbial mess. I'm thankful for my mom, who is resiliant and perceptive and strong; she keeps on getting up when she gets knocked down and is an inspiration to me. I am thankful for my little dog Waldo, who curls up at my neck at 6 in the morning, keeping me warm. I'm thankful that I can sleep with my window open, breathing fresh fresh fresh air all night long. Finally, I'm thankful for a beautiful day for a ferry ride. The sun is low over the ocean and the wind feels crisp but not cold, and I am looking forward to finding a window seat and indulging in a good book for the hour-and-a-half trip to Victoria.

It was easier than I thought. I will keep my eyes open for these thankful moments from now on.

Everything that's Already Been Said About Brokeback Mountain

A film like Brokeback Mountain comes along once every couple of years; cinematography that conquers both the Rocky Mountains and the slightest movement of the eyes, acting that makes me forget that I'm seeing Jake so-and-so from the cover of GQ magazine, directing that assumes the intelligence of its audience. I usually go to the movies for the popcorn, but today, I was too busy enjoying one of the most honest and complicated love stories I think someone has ever been brave enough to put on film. I know a lot has been said about this movie and I'm sure it's far more interesting and complete than my own thoughts. But I really want to say this: I like the idea that gay men are no longer being represented on film by characters like Jack from 'Will and Grace', or Queen Eye for the Straight Guy. I like that 'gay' can still mean 'masculine'. I like the idea that a story can be told about a closeted love affair between two cowboys without making any crude jokes about homosexuality. I like that no matter what sexual orientation we tend towards, there is something real and visceral and primitive about falling in love. It didn't matter to me that it was two men onscreen - the passion was evident; I felt it in my toes. Everyone knows what it's like to be stupid-in-love with someone, in that dizzy, frantic, overwhelming way. The fact that two straight actors could create the same intensity on screen was incredible.

You know what's kind of embarrassing to say? The intimate scenes were awkward to watch, at first. Honestly, I don't think anyone expected them to be so brutally stripped down. There was nothing 'sexy' about it - they weren't romantic, there was no swelling music cutting away to an elegant silhouette of two lovers - it was a man, in his most animal form, taking another man. I could hear people in the audience shuffle in their seats and whisper to each other when Jake Gyllenhaal (who played Lone Ranger Jack Twist) fumbled to undo his belt, and bent over in front of Heath Ledger. Presenting himself - it felt like it was too intimate an act for us to be witnessing. I felt like I was being disrespectful. I felt like I needed swelling music and elegant silhouettes. It occurred to me at some point that the same scene between a man and a woman may not have even captured my attention. We've become totally desensitized to man/woman sex. It's still more common to see a romance between two women onscreen than a male/male one. Consider that it's perfectly acceptable for two girls to kiss each other sloppily while dancing on the stage at AJ's Hanger, but if two men engage in the same act, it's 'gay'. A male/male relationship is essentially one of the last taboos, and I applaud the movie for creating something real for us to understand and be a part of. It doesn't hurt that the movie was filmed in Calgary, my hometown. The first half of the movie was filmed entirely in the mountains, and it took my breath away to remember how beautiful it was there (apparently, during the filming of the Fourth of July scenes in Fort McLeod the crew would get the extras pumped up by telling them to act like the Calgary Flames had just won the Stanley Cup!)

All in all, I was better off for having gone to the movies today; I don't know very many films I've seen that I can honestly say that for. And if I can't sum it up with the right words, perhaps the movie's director, Ang Lee, might have put it best:

"In overwhelmingly perceiving Brokeback Mountain as a revolutionary gay love story, the breathless critical apparatus overlooks the nuances that make this as basic and relatable a romance as Romeo and Juliet. Ang Lee has not made a movie about men and men, or men and women--he has made a movie about souls"

Mom with no make-up on :)

Christmas 2005 031, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

My new Christmas hoodie

Christmas 2005 051, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

Waldo and I, reunited

Christmas 2005 011, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

My baba and gido at the dinner table

Christmas 2005 057, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

Cindee's new bangles

Christmas 2005 034, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

My new Christmas fleece (and a funny face)

Christmas 2005 047, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

christmas on the couch

Christmas 2005 044, originally uploaded by heybreezy.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Sometimes, it takes a call from someone who's known you for a long time to make you feel like things have fallen back into their place. I had been having a rough go at it today. After two rounds in the guilt trip ring with my dad and an argumentative and unproductive night on the phone with Steve, I was feeling as though another mediocre Christmas was almost ready to be put into the history books. It might remain so, however, I got an unexpected phone call from someone who knew me and loved me way back when, and an hour later (which passed while my dog patiently waited to be taken out to the bathroom, and ended up peeing on the carpet) I felt like there was someone who really believed in me the way I wanted to be believed in. Someone who thought that I was kind and warm and together and a fighter and a survivor. And it felt good to be believed in tonight, when so many little things had gone wrong. To that person - Thank you. You brought Christmas a little closer back to where it belonged.

Merry Christmas, Baby

It's 11:30 on Christmas Eve and I don't feel inspired to write anything particularly memorable -- I'm still jet lagged today, and am trying to shake off the 2:00am fog as I get myself wound down and ready for bed. I will say that I don't know what I was expecting from Christmas this year, and therefore am totally unsure of whether or not I'll be satisfied or disappointed. I don't know even if it would be fair to be disappointed with Christmas. Perhaps my ideal - Carols and ice skating and big family gatherings and cookie baking, belongs to someone else's life. My reality, today, consisted of going over to Karen's apartment a few floors above us (my mom's best friend), having a glass of champagne and relaxing with them as they exchanged gifts. Tomorrow, my brother and his girlfriend are coming over in the afternoon and we're going to exchange gifts and have a nice dinner together. At some point, I'll make my way over to Victoria to see my dad and my sisters, who are having Christmas together tomorrow morning.

Maybe I still feel the sting of being a divorced kid. Holidays are always a touchy time of year; no matter which parent you spend Christmas with, you know the other one is spending it by themselves, and you feel sad for them. Wherever you are, you feel like you're not entirely at home. Even now, at 22, I'm getting guilt trips from my grandparents for not spending Christmas day with my dad. So part of me glorifies the traditional 2 parents, 2 kids, big tree, stuffed stockings type of Christmas. When I hear about my friends having wonderful celebrations, I feel sad for myself. And that's not what Christmas is all about.

For tomorrow, I only wish that everyone I love, whether I can be with them or not, find peace and happiness for themselves. I wish to be happy where I am. I wish to let go of all of my guilt. I hope for the maturity to understand that even though my family doesn't have money for gifts (even though we all buy one for each other so that no one goes without), that we love each other and are good to each other on a very special day.

My mom just peeked into the room and said, "I wish that I had money so that I could buy you and Regan and everyone I loved things that I saw and wanted them to have". And I told her that there's an infinite number of 'things' out there - like, there's no limit to the material excess that we can indulge in. Sure, there's a lot of things out there that I would love to own, but in the end, 'things' can't make my life better. What's more important to me is the act of giving; the idea that someone has put thought and effort and time into selecting a gift. With this, the gift becomes inconsequential to the giving itself. The key then, when you're in a situation of relative poverty, is to find a way to give thought and effort and time, without adding more 'things' to our life. I don't have the answer, really. But it's more important to give of ourselves, to be open with eachother, to be compassionate and loving and trusting, than to give anything from a store. There may not be much under the tree for me this Christmas, but I have more to give and have received more from my mom and brother than any one of my wealthier friends. I hope that everyone I know can be so lucky.

Merry, merry Christmas, blog world.

Let There Be Light

Hopefully, I won't offend anyone today when I wish them a merry solstice. People have been upset lately with Merry Christmas, which I tend to throw out as sort of a general good tidings thing, only to have people take it personally that I didn't also wish them a happy kwanza (no offense to those who celebrate it). Back to the point: yes, as my housemate pointed out to me while we were eating breakfast and watching sports centre at 6:45 this morning, today is the shortest day of the year (not that we could tell - in our little underground lair, it's dark enough to always be night time). We are at the one polar opposite (forgive the pun) of our astronomical trip around the sun.

In earlier generations (we're talking 30,000 years ago) Solstice was celebrated as the rebirth of the sun, after a long six months of diminishing light. It's interesting to learn that Christmas, or "Christ's Mass" (which is supposed to honour the birth of Christ) was chosen arbitrarily as December 25th when in fact, modern religious scholars have no real idea when his date of birth actually was (although some place it near the beginning of February). December was chosen, in part because it coincided with already existing celebrations for the solstice and the rebirth of the eternal sun. On the roman calendar, the solstice fell on december 25th instead of the 21st - making it a perfect choice. So there you go - Christmas time is not only a chance for us to reflect on humanity/goodwill/religion, etc, but directly connected to the fact that from here, it all gets brighter.

Happy Solstice! Take advantage of that extra time in the dark to cuddle up with a special someone under a big, warm, blanket, turn off the TV, and celebrate in your own horizontally creative way :D

The Domestic Toddler

As I write this, I currently have a four-year-old vacuuming the living room, with the two-year-old toddling behind him, dragging the vacuum cleaner. I'm telling you, this is a fantastic idea for an afternoon activity. Maybe after nap, I can teach them how to arrange the shoes and coats before unloading the diswasher.

I'm going to be a great mom, by the way. Put those kids to work!

10 Steps to a Meaningful Christmas

It's easy to get lost in what's wrong with Christmas. Here's a great article that I came across today to help us find what's really important at this time of year (and I'll save my "don't change the christmas tree to a holiday tree" rant for a later time)

10 steps to a meaningful Christmas

1 Decline all invitations to unimportant parties. You will not miss the room temperature eggnog or the loud co-worker who corners you under the mistletoe. Vow to stay home instead and roast marshmallows with the kids, watch "It's a Wonderful Life", and read "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" out loud.

2 Avoid giving extravagant or generic gifts. Opt for a gift from the heart. Your hairdresser will appreciate homemade cookies as much as an imported box of chocolates. A friend who loves to read will prefer a beautifully wrapped book to an impersonal gift certificate.

3 Schedule a day for yourself - browse in a bookstore, go to an afternoon movie, or enjoy a decadent pedicure.

4 Do something for someone you don't know. Volunteer at a food bank, deliver a basket of goodies to the local fire department, or arrange to read to a senior.
5 Make an anonymous donation to a worthy organization (and don't tell a soul). Many religions consider an anonymous gift to be a divine act.

6 Make an event out of gift-wrapping. Gather all your supplies, play Christmas music, drink apple cider, and get creative. Allow children to participate aim for perfectly charming rather than perfect.

7 Send beautiful cards with photos and a handwritten message instead of a gift to loved ones far away.

8 Fill Christmas stockings with joy - invite family members to drop a special note into each other's stocking.

9 Let everyone contribute to the Christmas meal don't say no when your sister-in-law offers to make the stuffing.

10 Recommit to a focus on the true meaning of Christmas and avoid cynics.

happy holidays and merry christmas everyone

To a Stepmother at Christmas Time

How old was I when I met her – five? six? I was sitting on the floor of the living room in my Dad’s “river house”-the tiny 2-bedroom condo on the bank of the Bow river that he rented when he and my mom split up-this I remember. Sometimes when the river was swollen, water would seep across the lawn and flood the kitchen and living room, and my brother and I wouldn’t be able to jump on the trampoline outside, which was our favorite thing to do. I must have been about 6. She was probably about 26 or 27. My dad was having a party and wanted to introduce me to her, I remember them walking into the living room together. It was very simple, “Brianna, this is Heather”. He didn’t explain that he was in love with her or how they had met or the hundreds of ways she was going to shape me into the person I am today. Just an introduction, and then he left her with me.

Heather didn’t have a lot of experience with kids – in fact, she later confessed to me that I was the first kid she ever really got to know. But instead of asking me where I went to school or what my favorite colour was, she looked at me, started laughing, and threw a blanket over my head. I started laughing too. It took me another three weeks to figure out that she was dad’s girlfriend, and probably a year after that to understand exactly what this meant. In the meantime, we welcomed her into our peculiar, disjointed little family.

Heather was my step-mom for the next 15 years. She taught me about alcohol, took me to see dirty movies (by accident) when I was far too young for them, encouraged me to take major fashion risks, and never, not once, lost faith in me. Faith in my ability to figure it out. No matter what, I felt that Heather was always on my side, that she ‘got’ me. Example: when I was about ten, I started to feel really anxious about my life. I was mad at my mom, mad at my teacher, mad at my soccer coach, and mad at myself. I was awkward and lanky and not at all cool, and bewildered by how my life was changing. Instead of lecturing me, Heather decided that we should go for a drive. She drove me an hour out of Calgary into the countryside, steered the Jeep into a cornfield, and parked. Then, she told me to scream as loud as I wanted, say whatever I wanted, and get as mad as I could at whoever upset me. At first I was reluctant, but them we started to scream together. I got out of the car and yelled at the top of my lungs, “I f***ing hate you. I hate everything. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop”. I remember pulling corn stalks out of the ground and throwing them, whipping them against the dirt. I remember crying harder than I had ever cried before, or since. I had so much sadness inside of me that no one had ever been able to release before that cornfield. Somehow, Heather knew.

She had two children with my dad – the complete and absolute loves of my life, Jessica and Hannah, a family again for me. This year though, after years and years of fighting and uncertainity, my dad and Heather decided to divorce. It was probably best for everyone, but I feel like my heart has been ripped into pieces and scattered across the country. She’s living in Calgary with the girls now and I miss them terribly. My family now consists of my mom, living alone in Coquitlam, my brother, living with his girlfriend in North Van, my dad, living alone in Victoria and my sisters and step-mom (ex-step-mom?) living in Calgary. I don’t know how to reconcile this and sometimes I think it’s ruining me. All I want is to be home, to have one place that is home, to be together, for people to love each other. It was sobering for me, a moment when I finally felt as though I had grown up, when I realized that I’m too small to make this happen. I’ve been trying for so long to foster this love and I just can’t find it. People just keep breaking off. I don’t know how much more of me there is to give before I’ve loved as much as I can, and finally need something back.

View from Balcony

View from Balcony
Originally uploaded by just bri.

The view from the hotel I stayed at last week in the US Virgin Islands, working as a nanny for my employers in toronto

Ritz Carlton Swimming Pool

Ritz Carlton Swimming Pool
Originally uploaded by just bri.

St. John, USVI

St. John, USVI
Originally uploaded by just bri.

St.. John was the tiniest, most incredible island I've ever seen. It was too beautiful for words. 3/4 of the island is protected forests, so it's really untouched

Trunk Bay

Trunk Bay
Originally uploaded by just bri.

Trunk Bay on St. John was a paradise beach - the water was so blue and clear, little seashells scattered everywhere and the sand was white white white.

Ocean Girls

Ocean Girls
Originally uploaded by just bri.

Me and the little munchkin that I look after

Iguana

Iguana
Originally uploaded by just bri.

The iguana were everywhere! This picture was taken in the restaurant - there were about 6 others behind this guy, but he was the friendliest

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Relax, relax. I'm not as materialistic as you might think. On the contrary, it took me almost three weeks to come up with a list of things that I want for myself. It's not that I'm hard to shop for - I could spend hours in the Eaton Centre looking at shoes and jewelry and other female necessities- it's more that I don't know if I want anything badly enough to ask for it specifically. Regardless, my mom asked for a list, and a list my mom shall recieve. This way, she can pick and choose, and I can have a reference to come back to when I get a nice, fat, christmas bonus from my employer (which, honestly, isn't going to happen).

I am a material girl. Go ahead and say it. But indulge me, this once.

1. Hardcover editions of my Favorite Classics:
A Little Princess
The Secret Garden
Little Women
A Little Prince
Charlotte's Web
Anne of Green Gables
Tuck Everlasting
Heidi
Old Yeller
Little House in the Big Woods
*each of these books in intensely special to me for different reasons. I would love to eventually have a library of all my dearest books that I can read and reread as many times as I want

2. A pair of Frye Cowboy Boots, like these ones from Victoria's Secret



3. DVDs
Desperate Housewives Season 1
24 Season 2
Shakespeare in Love
Sleepless in Seattle

4. A nice, warm sweater from the Gap, AmEagle, RWCo, etc

Okay, so the cowboy boots are a stretch ... but could you image strutting down the street in a pair of Fryes? Where I come from (calgary ... yahooooo!), that'd make you TOP DOG. I guess I'll keep dreaming for that big christmas bonus!

In the meantime - thanks, y'all, for putting up with my list :D

Now I Can Die in Peace

The last time I was on a vacation, I was 10 years old and my mom, brother, step-dad and I all went to Mexico and spent two weeks in a resort. The memories that I have vary from awful (I was stung by a jelly fish, my mom and gord fought a lot, I had to wear dorky 1980's hand me downs) to amazing (who doesn't love to boogie board in mexico!). Now, in 10 days, I will be going on my first vacation in 12 years, and I almost don't know what to expect. The family I nanny for is taking me with them down to the US Virgin Islands for 8 days, where I will be responsible for child care, diapers, baths, reading "good night moon" and trying to find kid-friendly food at the Ritz Carlton, where the menu is written entirely in French. I can't wait. I'm going to be worked to death, not paid a cent for it, and happy as a proverbial clam. I always used to be so jealous of friends who went away with their families at Christmas time - now, I get to join the ranks - even if I'm just the paid help.

It's been a long week folks, and it's only a few more hours until I'm done work and I get to see "rent" with my amazing boyfriend and our amazing pal Ginny -- a great way to end a hell of a day (too boring to talk about, but crazy, believe me). Have a wonderful and safe weekend, and I'm sure you'll hear from me tomorrow, Steve and I are celebrating our one year anniversary with an honest to goodness, dress up, butterflies in the tummy date. Saturday night (not to mention my vacation!) couldn't come soon enough.