The title is a quote from a former professor of mine in defense of his non-love of particular television shows. I thought it was very apropos of our favorite Thursday night activity, watching "The Office". Ever since I started watching that particular show, and others such as "Arrested Development" and "Scrubs" (I'm going to say it...possibly I have said it before...these shows are as the "triumvirate of awesome" unto me), I have appreciated the fact that I am intelligent enough to know whether something is funny or not. Laugh tracks have become grating and amateur, and seem to lend a mawkish air to the shows that are permeated by them. I have seen shows which I thought were wonderful ruined by all of the maniacal background mirth. Take "Sports Night", for instance. This is one of my very favorite shows. It was written by Aaron Sorkin (pre-dates The West Wing) and its quick humour, intelligent references, and Scrubs-like emotional blind-side punches make my heart happy. Not to mention Felicity Huffman, Peter Krause, Josh Charles, and even for a few episodes, the delightful William H. Macy!! It aired in about 1996, but only lasted for two seasons. I honestly think the reason for its short-lived run is that it really was ahead of its time with its intelligence and inability to be pegged into either comedy or drama. Unfortunately it has a laugh track, and so it feels unbearably forced when the actors are comedic. It is only when the show slips, or careens head-first, into its more dramatic moments, that it begins to feel natural. Don't mistake me, I love this show, but the laugh-track makes me ever so uncomfortable, and also wishful for the ability to prompt myself when to laugh.
Another Friday is upon us, and I could feel the celebratory mood in the air which was radiating from Denise. Thanks to her for spreading the weekend-is-almost-upon-us love!!
O.k., my heart is still racing from what just happened to me in between these paragraphs. I went down to put my laundry into the dryer (Ah, how I love our basement!!), came back up and shut the door. I then saw a movement by the fridge, thought it was a giant rat, let out a kind of squeak, and was only marginally relieved to realize it was the cat from downstairs, who had slipped unnoticed into our kitchen. I let it back downstairs, but he/she seemed hesitant to go. Well, who can blame the guy/gal? If I had to live with the constant screaming, bacon-cooking, dog/girl-friend abusing, Sunday morning sex-romps, swearing, smoking (the list does go on), I would try to escape as well. Maybe I'll kidnap the cat when we move, and call him/her a suitably gender non-specific name such as "Mittens" or "Billi Jo". I'll just run it by Denise first.
A thank-you to Braden for quitting Chapters and leaving me with a Friday night closing cash shift. I will be thinking of him fondly while I am working late this evening. Really, I will.
A big congratulations to Eric for the mission call to the Dominican Republic!! You will be an amazing missionary, and one can only hope there are lots of letters featuring digestion and dysentery.
A shout-out to my Dad who is alone this weekend. Wonder what project he will embark upon this time?...
An apology to Denise for stealing some of her blog components. Imitation is the sincerest from of flattery...
Keep dreaming. Keep laughing. And, for the love of Pete, Go to church.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
A post for Thursday
Something that I have mentioned before, but not for awhile is the fact that I love poetry. Now I know this makes me a bit of a nerd, but definitely a romantic nerd, wouldn't you say? I love it for its ability to make me crazy and moody and happy and in love with words.
This being poetry month, I have decided to make one day a week, we'll say Thursday, poetry day here on the good old Jenny-blog. I will include my own creations, and definitely verses that I adore by others.
So, here is one that I wrote recently, posted here, but removed the next morning. I think that enough time has passed to make it ok for me to see it in print. In the cosmos. Visible to all of you.
Enjoy. Or not. I am not the boss of you...yet...
The Knife
We talk constantly
(words flying nowhere and everywhere)
about change
but our familiar errors
and comfortable mistakes
always bring us back here
O.k.
I like my circles.
Maybe these slow persistent wounds
make me feel more alive
than I could have imagined-
even breathed-
before you handed me the knife
Everything about you is sharp-
The way your mind
slices through my heart
and your indifference
cuts me to the floor
Even your kindness proves
a mettle unforeseen
So while I approach that word
Change
with hesitant steps
You are sitting
in the warm and polished corner
of my mind.
the light from your eyes
dancing on the blade
JKO, 2008
This being poetry month, I have decided to make one day a week, we'll say Thursday, poetry day here on the good old Jenny-blog. I will include my own creations, and definitely verses that I adore by others.
So, here is one that I wrote recently, posted here, but removed the next morning. I think that enough time has passed to make it ok for me to see it in print. In the cosmos. Visible to all of you.
Enjoy. Or not. I am not the boss of you...yet...
The Knife
We talk constantly
(words flying nowhere and everywhere)
about change
but our familiar errors
and comfortable mistakes
always bring us back here
O.k.
I like my circles.
Maybe these slow persistent wounds
make me feel more alive
than I could have imagined-
even breathed-
before you handed me the knife
Everything about you is sharp-
The way your mind
slices through my heart
and your indifference
cuts me to the floor
Even your kindness proves
a mettle unforeseen
So while I approach that word
Change
with hesitant steps
You are sitting
in the warm and polished corner
of my mind.
the light from your eyes
dancing on the blade
JKO, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Despite all my rage...
Another Saturday morning, and another blogging sesh.
I was supposed to drive out to the lovely metropolis of Magrath this morning to return my car to its rightful owner for a few hours, but because of the heavy snowfall (a meteorological warning snow-fall, no less) I am sitting here like a rat in a cage. Oh, what exciting unpredictable weather we do enjoy in this part of the country. I would write more about it if strange weather was not to be expected at any given time. Seriously, people, this is just par for the course here in good ol' Southern Alberta. 20 - 30 cm in a weekend in April is so ridiculously normal that I am literally yawning while thinking about it.
Bored now.
The breaking news is that I am now officially headed to Ireland in a few weeks with a real live passport. For the last two weeks there were some tense moments where I thought that either I wouldn't be traveling, or that I would have to poke out the eyes of the gentleman who told me my passport qualified for simplified renewal. It didn't. For all of you who have not heard the story, it involves me trusting the guy at the Lethbridge Passport Office, two forty- dollar trips to Calgary, hatred for all government employees, a beautiful maiden in distress, and finally the promise of a spleet-new Passport that will be ready to pick up on...May 2nd. Oh, yeah. It also features me sitting in the Passport Office in Calgary in the midst of a blizzard, wearing shorts and flip-flops.
So, last night I went to "The Slice" for another concert. Wait, I'll back up. A couple of weeks ago, Ashley and I went to "The Slice" to see someone perform on a friend's recommendation. We had no idea who it would be, and when we ended up seeing Danny Michel, we were blown away by his talent and his music. I think we were also each hosed out of 20 dollars, but maybe the guy working that night who charged us 25 dollars to stay for the concert could tell we were easy targets. Maybe he also really needed the money. Anyway, we went last night to see Peter Katz, who I had heard, but not seen. Besides being ridiculously, adorably, heart-stoppingly good-looking, he was unbelievably talented. It was just him and the guitar, but he sang with such energy, conviction, and all-out passion for his music, that he wanted for absolutely nothing. I know I sound a little overly-dramatic, but he was so wonderful to listen to. He was one of those performers that is so much better live, his recordings are almost a disappointment. It was seriously the best five dollars I have ever spent. The real highlight of the performance was when he came out in front of the sound system (and 1 foot away from me!!!) and sang without a microphone. He got people to actually stop talking, and played one of his most beautiful songs called "Forgiveness". It brought such an intimate dimension to the song itself, and to the whole room. This was no small feat because most of the people were there to hear the next band, which looked pretty young and mildly obnoxious-hence, a youngish, mildly obnoxious crowd at the venue. However, once he got people to quiet down, the message of "Forgiveness" is powerful, and it came through so much more palpably with his quiet and sincere rendition. Although he was the opener, he played for a full 45 minutes, and those of us at the front table were ever so grateful. After he finished I went over to put myself on his mailing list, and talked to him briefly. I don't remember what I said, I think I just stuttered out words such as "amazing" and probably came off as pretty crazy.
A big and most heart-felt thank-you to Eric Garner for introducing us to the music of Peter Katz, and letting us know abut the concert. It absolutely started my life.
Well, I think I am going to take advantage of the snow-day, and do some serious cleaning and de-junking of my room. For the last couple of weeks, I have been wanting to incorporate a new theme in my life. Simplify. I think that this will be the perfect way to start.
Stay warm. Enjoy the exile. Go to church.
Jenny
I was supposed to drive out to the lovely metropolis of Magrath this morning to return my car to its rightful owner for a few hours, but because of the heavy snowfall (a meteorological warning snow-fall, no less) I am sitting here like a rat in a cage. Oh, what exciting unpredictable weather we do enjoy in this part of the country. I would write more about it if strange weather was not to be expected at any given time. Seriously, people, this is just par for the course here in good ol' Southern Alberta. 20 - 30 cm in a weekend in April is so ridiculously normal that I am literally yawning while thinking about it.
Bored now.
The breaking news is that I am now officially headed to Ireland in a few weeks with a real live passport. For the last two weeks there were some tense moments where I thought that either I wouldn't be traveling, or that I would have to poke out the eyes of the gentleman who told me my passport qualified for simplified renewal. It didn't. For all of you who have not heard the story, it involves me trusting the guy at the Lethbridge Passport Office, two forty- dollar trips to Calgary, hatred for all government employees, a beautiful maiden in distress, and finally the promise of a spleet-new Passport that will be ready to pick up on...May 2nd. Oh, yeah. It also features me sitting in the Passport Office in Calgary in the midst of a blizzard, wearing shorts and flip-flops.
So, last night I went to "The Slice" for another concert. Wait, I'll back up. A couple of weeks ago, Ashley and I went to "The Slice" to see someone perform on a friend's recommendation. We had no idea who it would be, and when we ended up seeing Danny Michel, we were blown away by his talent and his music. I think we were also each hosed out of 20 dollars, but maybe the guy working that night who charged us 25 dollars to stay for the concert could tell we were easy targets. Maybe he also really needed the money. Anyway, we went last night to see Peter Katz, who I had heard, but not seen. Besides being ridiculously, adorably, heart-stoppingly good-looking, he was unbelievably talented. It was just him and the guitar, but he sang with such energy, conviction, and all-out passion for his music, that he wanted for absolutely nothing. I know I sound a little overly-dramatic, but he was so wonderful to listen to. He was one of those performers that is so much better live, his recordings are almost a disappointment. It was seriously the best five dollars I have ever spent. The real highlight of the performance was when he came out in front of the sound system (and 1 foot away from me!!!) and sang without a microphone. He got people to actually stop talking, and played one of his most beautiful songs called "Forgiveness". It brought such an intimate dimension to the song itself, and to the whole room. This was no small feat because most of the people were there to hear the next band, which looked pretty young and mildly obnoxious-hence, a youngish, mildly obnoxious crowd at the venue. However, once he got people to quiet down, the message of "Forgiveness" is powerful, and it came through so much more palpably with his quiet and sincere rendition. Although he was the opener, he played for a full 45 minutes, and those of us at the front table were ever so grateful. After he finished I went over to put myself on his mailing list, and talked to him briefly. I don't remember what I said, I think I just stuttered out words such as "amazing" and probably came off as pretty crazy.
A big and most heart-felt thank-you to Eric Garner for introducing us to the music of Peter Katz, and letting us know abut the concert. It absolutely started my life.
Well, I think I am going to take advantage of the snow-day, and do some serious cleaning and de-junking of my room. For the last couple of weeks, I have been wanting to incorporate a new theme in my life. Simplify. I think that this will be the perfect way to start.
Stay warm. Enjoy the exile. Go to church.
Jenny
Saturday, April 12, 2008
I should only write in the mornings
Here is something you may not know about me:
1. I have terrible bowling technique. Imagine, if you will, me picking up a ball that is much too heavy for me, and while I try gracefully to launch it smoothly down the lane, end up doing a weird hop/skip, twisting myself (and my back in the process) strangely, only to end up dropping the ball onto the wood (I don't think they like it when you do that). This moment culminates in a weird leg sticking out behind me/contorted back/arms askew pose that I am sure embarrasses even those who are enjoying said sport with me. The real problem here (my absolute lack of athletic ability aside) is that the balls that are the right size for me to lift/throw effectively have holes too small for me to fit my sausage-like fingers into. I am at fault, or the makers of the bowling balls are: Either my fingers are just too fat, or the holes are just too small. I am now faced with a series of choices, all of them distasteful. I can:
a. bulk up so that I can easily lift the heavier balls
b. Try to find out how to lose weight in my fingers/get some weird finger liposuction
c. Design and have someone make the perfect Jenny bowling-ball.
All of these choices are either too time-consuming, too expensive, or require a dedication to the game which, frankly, I just do not possess. So, whenever I do venture to "the alley", I will continue to humiliate myself and others. Now, despite all this talk of terrible technique, I at least didn't embarrass myself score-wise last night bowling a 75 and then an 85. Take that, tiny finger-holes!
A happy Saturday to one and all!! I am up early, due to me falling asleep at 11:30 on the couch (hard to believe, isn't it?) and on the computer, blogging and commenting up a storm. I have a little confession to make. I may or may not have found an article that is written weekly by a former professor of mine (yes, he of delicious jeans fame) for the newspaper at the university he now teaches at in Texas. Yes, I am an internet stalker, but I have enjoyed his submissions so very much. They are just witty enough, just thoughtful enough and just pretentious enough to make me wish it was still the summer of 2004 and I was once again attending his short-story class. His last article focused on the negative effects of television, and his often ridiculed decision he made a year ago to not really watch. I left a comment about customers in the book store who worship a the shrine of the only living American deity: Ms. Oprah Winfrey herself.
I know that Oprah is just getting people to read again, but my problem is that they will only read what she tells them to. There are literally thousands of books in the store, and millions more in the world, some of them even well-written. There is nothing wrong with taking guidance from friends, reviews, recommendations, etc when searching for something to read. However, if you are only taking one person's advice, you are missing out on so many more amazing reading experiences. Oprah's opinion is just that: only one person's opinion.
Anyway, I made a comment on his article (much less ranty) to that effect.
The weather is so beautiful this weekend, that I have decided to have a picnic on Sunday. This is a real rite of spring/summer for me, because the first potato salad of the year is always a celebratory moment. It signals the beginning of walks, family gatherings, frisbee playing, shorts, flip-flops, the patio at Mocha Cabana, and all of the other magical aspects of spring and summer. Plus, I just make a fantastic potato salad.
Get out in the sunshine. Come to my picnic. Go to church.
Jenny
1. I have terrible bowling technique. Imagine, if you will, me picking up a ball that is much too heavy for me, and while I try gracefully to launch it smoothly down the lane, end up doing a weird hop/skip, twisting myself (and my back in the process) strangely, only to end up dropping the ball onto the wood (I don't think they like it when you do that). This moment culminates in a weird leg sticking out behind me/contorted back/arms askew pose that I am sure embarrasses even those who are enjoying said sport with me. The real problem here (my absolute lack of athletic ability aside) is that the balls that are the right size for me to lift/throw effectively have holes too small for me to fit my sausage-like fingers into. I am at fault, or the makers of the bowling balls are: Either my fingers are just too fat, or the holes are just too small. I am now faced with a series of choices, all of them distasteful. I can:
a. bulk up so that I can easily lift the heavier balls
b. Try to find out how to lose weight in my fingers/get some weird finger liposuction
c. Design and have someone make the perfect Jenny bowling-ball.
All of these choices are either too time-consuming, too expensive, or require a dedication to the game which, frankly, I just do not possess. So, whenever I do venture to "the alley", I will continue to humiliate myself and others. Now, despite all this talk of terrible technique, I at least didn't embarrass myself score-wise last night bowling a 75 and then an 85. Take that, tiny finger-holes!
A happy Saturday to one and all!! I am up early, due to me falling asleep at 11:30 on the couch (hard to believe, isn't it?) and on the computer, blogging and commenting up a storm. I have a little confession to make. I may or may not have found an article that is written weekly by a former professor of mine (yes, he of delicious jeans fame) for the newspaper at the university he now teaches at in Texas. Yes, I am an internet stalker, but I have enjoyed his submissions so very much. They are just witty enough, just thoughtful enough and just pretentious enough to make me wish it was still the summer of 2004 and I was once again attending his short-story class. His last article focused on the negative effects of television, and his often ridiculed decision he made a year ago to not really watch. I left a comment about customers in the book store who worship a the shrine of the only living American deity: Ms. Oprah Winfrey herself.
I know that Oprah is just getting people to read again, but my problem is that they will only read what she tells them to. There are literally thousands of books in the store, and millions more in the world, some of them even well-written. There is nothing wrong with taking guidance from friends, reviews, recommendations, etc when searching for something to read. However, if you are only taking one person's advice, you are missing out on so many more amazing reading experiences. Oprah's opinion is just that: only one person's opinion.
Anyway, I made a comment on his article (much less ranty) to that effect.
The weather is so beautiful this weekend, that I have decided to have a picnic on Sunday. This is a real rite of spring/summer for me, because the first potato salad of the year is always a celebratory moment. It signals the beginning of walks, family gatherings, frisbee playing, shorts, flip-flops, the patio at Mocha Cabana, and all of the other magical aspects of spring and summer. Plus, I just make a fantastic potato salad.
Get out in the sunshine. Come to my picnic. Go to church.
Jenny
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Not really anywhere...
...Just surrounded by dead chickens.
Yes, you read that right. I am (metaphorically) sitting in a room with dead fowl at my feet. Chickens that I, in only an attempt to love them, killed by strangulation. Any of you who have read "Of Mice and Men" will know the story which I am referring to. You just start off by touching the chicken. Oh, look! It didn't bite. Now, you move on to stroking said chicken, and finding that it is still relatively unskittish, you continue in this motion until you realize your hands are around its neck, and you have choked the life out of this fragile creature.
Creepiness aside, I have performed this dastardly act too many times in the last year. No, I am not a Satanist, or even someone who enjoys touching chickens. They are actually pretty disgusting. But, I have found myself approaching a situation, or a person with the goal of only being friendly, and ended up strangling them with enthusiasm and/or craziness. Let's examine the most current scenario, shall we? (*Warning: the following story will not shed a favorable light on the author, but y'all knew I was crazy already. So there. Judge away.) The scenario: Me, at the dance on Friday, confused by overtures of friendship from earlier in the day, going against all good sense/kicking the dead horse/losing my head/falling back into old patterns...you get my drift. The result: Becoming absolutely invisible on Sunday morning, not even worthy of a hello, and a drive home in a rage that goes against the lesson I learned from both my mother and Phil Connors: "Don't drive angry!" Although I didn't hit into a pole/drive off a cliff/cause any accidents, I was not a very safe driver. Also, I was mad at myself for not knowing when to quit.
If any of you out there who are reading this have any idea of how to help me, please let me know. Please save me from myself. I apparently can not be in charge of my own life, as I am making an absolute dog's dinner out of every situation I encounter/create.
Also, if you know of any good jobs out there for me...
Yes, you read that right. I am (metaphorically) sitting in a room with dead fowl at my feet. Chickens that I, in only an attempt to love them, killed by strangulation. Any of you who have read "Of Mice and Men" will know the story which I am referring to. You just start off by touching the chicken. Oh, look! It didn't bite. Now, you move on to stroking said chicken, and finding that it is still relatively unskittish, you continue in this motion until you realize your hands are around its neck, and you have choked the life out of this fragile creature.
Creepiness aside, I have performed this dastardly act too many times in the last year. No, I am not a Satanist, or even someone who enjoys touching chickens. They are actually pretty disgusting. But, I have found myself approaching a situation, or a person with the goal of only being friendly, and ended up strangling them with enthusiasm and/or craziness. Let's examine the most current scenario, shall we? (*Warning: the following story will not shed a favorable light on the author, but y'all knew I was crazy already. So there. Judge away.) The scenario: Me, at the dance on Friday, confused by overtures of friendship from earlier in the day, going against all good sense/kicking the dead horse/losing my head/falling back into old patterns...you get my drift. The result: Becoming absolutely invisible on Sunday morning, not even worthy of a hello, and a drive home in a rage that goes against the lesson I learned from both my mother and Phil Connors: "Don't drive angry!" Although I didn't hit into a pole/drive off a cliff/cause any accidents, I was not a very safe driver. Also, I was mad at myself for not knowing when to quit.
If any of you out there who are reading this have any idea of how to help me, please let me know. Please save me from myself. I apparently can not be in charge of my own life, as I am making an absolute dog's dinner out of every situation I encounter/create.
Also, if you know of any good jobs out there for me...
Thursday, April 03, 2008
"Come over to my house, I'll tend to you solo"
Everyone is a better blogger than me.
People are writing right and left, whilst I sit in my living room and merely stare at the computer from across the room, willing the words to transmit directly from my head to my blog site. O.k., actually, I have not written for the following reasons.
1. I am lazy. It is true. I plan on writing, I think of topics and funny stories, I even occasionally venture further than the Facebook while on the internet. But, still I don't write.
2. I was on holiday for 4 days. Yes, there was a computer where I was staying, but I was busy entertaining young boys (wait...), going to recitals, talking myself out of buying purses, sampling fine chocolate, and maintaining my 50% win ratio at Spit-in-the-Ditch (Seriously...Angels invented this game!!) If you have not already deduced the location, or if you do not already live there, I was on vacation in Edmonton. I went up for Adam's Grad recital (which was so wonderful!!!) and stayed for the Kerstin's chocolate, the Plaid Giraffe, card games and 4 of the coolest guys in the world.
3. Nothing overly exciting has been going on. I am still waiting to hear back from U of S, Work is pretty much the same, and I have forgotten how to socialize.
4. I have been consumed by the show "Bones" which I have been watching on DVD. O.k., I mostly watch this show for one angelic David Boreanaz, but I really like the minor characters, the chemistry between the leads, the sass from every character which prompts me to say "s-n-a-p-p-e-r-s" at least 5 times per episode, and really, Agent Seely Booth (the divine D.B.) is just too ridiculously good-looking.
5. I have been doing quite a bit of reading lately, and it has been wonderful. It reminds me of when I was in university, and reading everything I could get my hands on...well, everything but my text-books.
I hope you all have been having a great week. I am excited that it is Friday tomorrow, and I will even be attempting socialization again and attending a dance. Scary. I know. I can only pray they will play "Space Jam".
Or maybe "Cotton-Eye Joe".
People are writing right and left, whilst I sit in my living room and merely stare at the computer from across the room, willing the words to transmit directly from my head to my blog site. O.k., actually, I have not written for the following reasons.
1. I am lazy. It is true. I plan on writing, I think of topics and funny stories, I even occasionally venture further than the Facebook while on the internet. But, still I don't write.
2. I was on holiday for 4 days. Yes, there was a computer where I was staying, but I was busy entertaining young boys (wait...), going to recitals, talking myself out of buying purses, sampling fine chocolate, and maintaining my 50% win ratio at Spit-in-the-Ditch (Seriously...Angels invented this game!!) If you have not already deduced the location, or if you do not already live there, I was on vacation in Edmonton. I went up for Adam's Grad recital (which was so wonderful!!!) and stayed for the Kerstin's chocolate, the Plaid Giraffe, card games and 4 of the coolest guys in the world.
3. Nothing overly exciting has been going on. I am still waiting to hear back from U of S, Work is pretty much the same, and I have forgotten how to socialize.
4. I have been consumed by the show "Bones" which I have been watching on DVD. O.k., I mostly watch this show for one angelic David Boreanaz, but I really like the minor characters, the chemistry between the leads, the sass from every character which prompts me to say "s-n-a-p-p-e-r-s" at least 5 times per episode, and really, Agent Seely Booth (the divine D.B.) is just too ridiculously good-looking.
5. I have been doing quite a bit of reading lately, and it has been wonderful. It reminds me of when I was in university, and reading everything I could get my hands on...well, everything but my text-books.
I hope you all have been having a great week. I am excited that it is Friday tomorrow, and I will even be attempting socialization again and attending a dance. Scary. I know. I can only pray they will play "Space Jam".
Or maybe "Cotton-Eye Joe".
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