I was surprised to find that so many of you were interested in the nicknames list. Thanks to those who shared some nicknames of their own. You guys crack me up. (Especially you, Buttmunch. You’re a laugh riot.)
Anyway, since you’re all into it and shit, here are a few more of the things I’ve been called over the years that I didn’t mention last time:
Jonks (My dad calls me this now and then. No idea why or where it came from.)
Jenny Bo (or just Bo)
But moving on…
It’s Saturday morning and a very dark and damp and warm and humid Saturday morning indeed. I woke up fairly early, and fairly happy. I’m starting to relax into my new apartment. This may have something to do with the fact that I went to sleep last night in all white pyjamas and all white bedding. There’s just something about white. (Don’t I know it!)
I’m the sort of person who bumbles around a lot (see nicknames above). I spill things on myself, bump into things, get dirty and sweat profusely when confronted with an awkward or upsetting situation of any kind. So white isn’t really a good look for me. But so what, right? I’m taking a new tack. White is nice. And waking up in it is nice. So I’m gonna go for it and damn the sweat stains. Damn them straight to hell.
The last couple of weeks have been almost exclusively about the apartment. I don’t want to have lived here for six months by the time I actually figure out how I want it to look, so I’ve been trying a lot of things, moving furniture around, hanging pictures and curtain rods (and taking them down again to rehang elsewhere). I tore a big fat chunk out of my wall thanks to a little ladder mishap and therefore have had to make a few different trips to the hardware store for polyfil, etc., but all in all, I think I’m finally getting there. I still have both my eyes, but that’s not surprising seeing as how I left the staple gun in Vancouver.
I feel handy. I like it. Living with D made me a bit complacent about this sort of thing. At our old place, there were many things I COULD have done myself, but just naturally got into the habit of asking him to do. He’s got that whole Engineer thing going for him, after all. And he looks so good with a hammer.
Anyway, I’m doing it all myself now. It’s good. I feel capable. (And ridiculously strong. I am ridiculously strong for a girl my age and size. You’d have to see it to believe it, but I’ve got some serious pipes. I swear!)
I loved my apartment in Vancouver, but I’m aiming for something really different this time around. Last time, I went for a classic-contemporary, urban, man-friendly sort of feel. And I liked it a lot. Here, I’m going more boho, more girly. Lots more colour (in the living room, at least).
What else? What else?
Well, I’ve spent my morning drinking coffee and listening to sad sad songs on my ipod.
I know this sort of music doesn’t appeal to everyone. I just like it. I like sad, unproduced, folky sort of songs by singer songwriters. I just do. I don’t know why. I like other stuff too. When it comes to music, I like everything. EVERYTHING. Pop, rap, country. I like it all. But this sort of thing – the folky, boo-hoo sort of stuff – is what I fall back on most.
It’s good in the background. I’ve been reading with it on all morning.
I’m getting a real déjà vu right now. I’ve written all this stuff before, haven’t I? I can’t be bothered to check, but if I have I’m sorry. That happens sometimes. Don’t stop reading, okay?
Speaking of reading, I know I haven’t been updating the booklog much. It’s not that I haven’t been reading. I have. Mostly, though, I’ve just been re-reading and I don’t want the log to become redundant, so I haven’t been keeping it up. Why reread, you ask? I don’t know, it’s just something I always do, especially if I really liked a book in the first place. (I hate it when those home-organization people on TV force you to get rid of books – sacrilege!) I rewatch movies too. Sometimes, when the credits roll, I have an immediate urge to begin the movie again, right away. I suppress this when I’m around normal people if I can. I guess I reread because I’m trying to see if my opinion of something stands up. Like, maybe I only liked something because I read or watched it at the right moment, under the right conditions the first time around. If I reread I can figure out if something is ultimately good or if it was just good for me at a particular time because of my particular circumstances. This seems like a valuable thing to know.
So. Rereading. This week, I reread Stephen King’s On Writing, a book that competes in my mind with Anne Lammot’s Bird By Bird for the position of Best Book About Writing Ever. In organizing my books I realized I had two copies of it, which is what prompted me to take a second look. And it was So Good. Funny, because I don’t actually like Stephen King’s novels. (For more on why, see my July 15th post entitled God, I Am So Mentally Challenged.) But even if you similarly don’t like his novels, if you’re interested in writing, you’ll like this book and you’ll probably end up liking him, Stephen, too. He’s a likable guy. Not what you’d expect at all. Anyway. I reread it and then mailed off my second copy as a gift to a wanna-be writer friend in another city. Sharing is caring and all that.
Now, a big surprise: I was actually invited to two different parties tonight. (I feel so special.) I’m going to the one I was invited to first. It’s a housewarming kegger hosted by a guy who lived on my dorm floor in first year at Queen’s. Like me, he happened to decide to go back to school at UofT this year, and happened to take an apartment just a few blocks from mine. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a kegger. It’ll be fun though, I’m sure. The invite said something about how we all need to recapture our undergrad youth (hence the kegs). I don’t know, though. It might be better to look forward, rather than back. I do enough of that already.
Craiger is coming to town for the party too. He’s picking me up in the afternoon and we’re gonna go on one of our pseudo dates, 1999 style. Can’t escape the past, I guess.