Inability

Well this is painfully embarassing.

I've been reading a lot about transmedia on a blog that a friend of mine writes called Silverstring Media. He posted recently about ARGs that are short stories and their possibilities. (PS, if I'm mangling the details horribly, then I'm sorry...but really HE'S writing about it, not me...and apparently I'm a very slowwwwww learner) In this post he linked to a sample of a transmedia experience by a group called NoMimesMedia which offers a small interaction...almost like a preview or demonstration of their transmedium. (Awesome word...if it's real then that's even better!)

This demonstration is supposed to take 10 minutes to accomplish.

It took me 41 minutes.

41

Sigh. It would appear that I am slightly behind when it comes to this level of technology...or social media...or whatever fancy word I could use to describe my inability to follow the prompts and interact with this story.

The amazing part was how angry being this incapable made me.

I actually had to contact the author of Silverstring Media and ask for his help with this 10 minute story.

*cough*

Fantastic.


Senti MENTAL ity

I love Christmas.

And by love Christmas, I mean LOVE Christmas.

I base my entire calendar year around this particular holiday, and last through the remaining 6 days by floating on the ecstasy that 'was' Christmas.

On January 1st, I start to get excited about Christmas again.

I have some pretty big goals for the traditions I would like to start for my family, some plans that are still in their growth stage, but most importantly of all: I will make Christmas happy for my family.

I have been thinking about this recently, thinking about why I love Christmas so much, why I NEED it to be a happy and love filled time of year, and this is what I have come up with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was a child, my parents had very little in the way of material possessions. We were dirt poor. And yet, my parents would scrimp and save every year to make sure that we could celebrate Christmas as a family. We would have a big Christmas Eve dinner with the extended family every year (I got to stuff the turkey :D) that would start around 3pm on the 24th. We would all gather together, talk, laugh, eat, by the real Christmas tree that we had picked out and cut down as a family.  These beautiful trees that smelled like Christmas, that had survived the trip home - tied pathetically to the roof of the car - only to be screwed to a base, tied to the ceiling, and painstakingly decorated.

Dad would climb into the attic and pull down the rubbermaid of Christmas decorations. He would string the lights around the tree, after he plugged it in and pulled out every bulb to see if the damn thing would start working again. Brother and I would put the garland and beads around the tree as Mom started unpacking the delicate ornaments, a new one to be purchased and added to our collection every year.

Brother and I would take turns taking these ornaments and hanging them on the tree, trying to distrubute them evenly. After all the glass and tinkers were placed on the tree, Mom would break open the tin of silver candy canes, split them evenly between Brother and I, and then let us go nuts placing them.

The first three or four would be placed gently on the tree, then after that it was a mad toss-fest during which we would throw the canes one at a time onto the tree in hopes that they would hang themselves.

Dad would put the blanket under the tree, and when everything was done, Mom would climb on top of a chair while Dad held her up, and she would put the Angel - that she had handmade many years prior - on top of the tree.

Every.  Damn.  Year.

And then it stopped.


And it hurt.


I didn't (and to this day, still don't) understand why she started hating Christmas. But I do know what happened. The box would be brought down, and then abandoned. Brother and I would try and decorate the tree as quickly as possible, just so it was done. Mistletoe was no longer hung. Dinner was no longer made.

Christmas became a time for stepping lightly around each other.

Brother and I tried to make it happy for each other, but every year there would be some selfish drama from other parts of the family, and then tears, and then it was awkward and over.

After some reflection I have determined that Christmas is so important to me now, because I want to give my kids the happiness that I once had...

and then I NEVER WANT TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM THEM.



Despite the depressing nature of this post, I am still PUMPED OFF MY FACE about Christmas. I will be sending Christmas cards out again this year, with pictures of my kids in them...again lol!

Because everyone wants pictures of my children.

:D



FacePalm...I mean Book...

I use Facebook.

And by 'use' I mean occassionally update my status, read through the home page, comment on friends' updates, and post pictures of my children.

Because everyone wants to see pictures of my children.

Now, I have 'friends' on my facebook who use it more often than I, but what I really find interesting is the next generation. The younger facebook users. People who update several times a day, from their phone or watch or God-knows-what-they're-using-now.

The people who, as mentioned here (by a very talented writer-friend of mine), have dozens of fake siblings, pretend parents, and are afianced or married to their friends.



This is an interesting social situation. No longer are emails considered the 'norm'. No longer are phone calls just for talking, for lasting more than 2 hours of unimportant bonding. Now, emails are for business or school, the phone for immediate plans...or even better, for telling someone to access their facebook.

*ring ring*

"Dude. Go on Facebook right now and check out _____ status."

It is a very interesting age for me. My cell phone barely functions, and yet 12 year olds have cell phones (O_o) that can access the internet whensoever they choose.

Status updates about the personal details of your life, (Yeah, we broke up, and here are the intimate details of how and why) the uneventful details of your life, (Just made pb&j sandwich! Woo! Food!) and the worst of all: the spelling.

Now, I do not claim to be some genius at the English language. My grammar is quite foul, and I will occassionally make deadly mistakes like spelling a lot "alot", putting the 'a' in definitely, or, overuse, of, the, comma,. BUT! I pride myself in spelling most words correctly, and not having my friends fix my mistakes as a comment on my status.


EXAMPLES:
If this is you, then I'm sorry. No offense...

dieing = dying

"i should of video taped to show you its how he did and it and your reation" = I should have video taped it to show you it's(?) how he did and it and your reaction

"making, crosants, pizza, progese, & bacon," = making (no comma) croissants, pizza, perogies, & bacon (no comma)

deffiently = definitely

ment = meant

nuthing = nothing

"just to get threw the day" = just to get through the day

dumpt = dumped



NOW it is quite possible that this is just how people talk to each other now. A sort of 'familiar' slang, as if to say "I am so comfortable being your friend that I can forgo spelling and grammar in our conversations because I know that you will know *exactly* what I am saying to you." It is quite possible that I am not in on this newest fad, as it is something that only applies to the generation after me.

Like backwards smiley faces...                       :( :) :D :S   = ): (: D: S:
                                                                                       weirdos



For allll yur saks,, i reely hop so.

Dish Fridays

The options today were super-serious-wah-my-life post


oooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr


Another comic!


A Depiction of My Awesome Laziness

FRIDAY

SATURDAY

SUNDAY

MONDAY

TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

THURSDAY

FRIDAY





Boyfriend is home for most of Friday.

Fridays are also garbage and recycling pick-up....

Just saying.

Why I'm Not An Artist

I still didn't get any more sleep, and now my hand hurts.



Tired = irrational.

Super Drizzle Returns

Look at the time stamps here...

I haven't seen this bugger in over a week.

Posted - took the girls to the park - returned home time to see him scamper across my floor back down into his mouse hole.

Bastard.

Well, the giant snap trap is back out and baited.

Back to the waiting game.

Super Drizzle!

So I have mentioned in past posts: Magical Mouse Fairy and Fruity Whirls that I have a house guest, a mouse that we've named Drizzle.

 

So here's what has been happening with Drizzle:

These pictures were taken of Drizzle around the first time we noticed that we had a mouse. He was very very cocky, and photogenic apparently. I am not afraid of mice by any means, and so I said to Boyfriend "He can stay, as long as he doesn't eat my food or poop everywhere."

So of course, he ate my food and started pooping everywhere.

So unfortunately I had to make the call that he was to be trapped and removed from our family.

I brought it up to Landlord who then provided a snap trap and a glue trap for his capture.

I really didn't want to use the glue trap since they just get stuck there and then have to starve to death... so I baited and set the snap trap, hoping for a quick and painless death.



Holy F-! It's a cake.

 Boyfriend and I were sitting down after lunch one day and we heard a SNAP! Of course, we assumed that we had captured him and went to inspect. Oh, the trap had caught him alright. Right around the neck like it's supposed to....but it didn't break his neck. Oh no, Drizzle has a neck of steel. So he squeaked pathetically for a while, tossing and turning, until he pulled the trap off his neck and then ran away.

So, I mentioned this to Landlord while he was fixing the door in the hopes that he would get a bigger snap trap, but he was fairly insistant about the use and effectiveness of the glue trap.

Well, I set it up and late on night while lying in bed, I heard the angry squeaking of my little buddy who had glued his little feet to the trap. It was upsetting, but I decided to try and sleep it off and deal with it in the morning.

Lo and behold, the next morning the trap was empty. He appeared to have peed on his paws to dissolve the glue, pulled the trap to the fridge, wrapped his back feet under the fridge, and pulled his hairy little butt out of the trap.

Pretty much exactly like this. Those stains look like that person's mouse peed on themselves as well...
And Drizzle left a little patch of fur on the roof too!

It's been a while since I've seen Drizzle...

Landlord says he's caught two mice in his apartment (below mine) and so I have to assume that Drizzle is no longer with us.

R.I.P. You Furry Little Bastard

Glue trap picture shared through here.

School...The Bully

Pretty much since I was 9 years old I've hated school.

I loved going to see the people. I had quite a few friends in high school. I even considered myself popular. (Now as a side note, NOT one of the 'popular kids'. No stereotypical prep for me...I couldn't afford that type of image :P) There were a couple of teachers that I looked forward to seeing as well, or the occassional class that I found super interesting, or required little of me.

But as a whole, school sucked the pop's nose.

I've been doing a lot of self-discovery and reflection this past calendar year (2010's been a great year for me) I have come to the conclusion that my hatred for school was developed after years of having a poor support system, that allowed me to fail myself and build the MOST INTENSE defense mechanisms.

Parents that were not interested in helping or supporting me; teachers that couldn't be bothered to give you the time of day, let alone make you feel good about asking questions; the competition with my peers to do equal or better than them. All of it combined to destroy my will to succeed.

It's easy to fail if you never try.

It's easier to fail because you never tried, than to try and still fail.

And that became my mantra throughout school.

"I could have done better, but I didn't try."

This helped me to just scrape by through my entire elementary and highschool career.

Now this matters to me.

After working through these issues with Boyfriend (yes, he's the bomb-diggity) I came to the realization that I want to succeed at College.




Now, this sucks for a variety reasons.

• I've never formed proper study habits.

• I have no confidence in myself, or my ability to be a student.

• I have no Mommy or Daddy to post my good grades on the fridge for me.

• And EVERY TIME THERE IS A HINT THAT I MAY DO, OR RECIEVE LESS THAN PERFECT all of my defense mechanisms pop back to the front in an effort to protect my fragile ego, and I want to give up and move on.

Because, at the end of the day, if I try my damndest (sp? wtf?) at College - and I fail - I am just not good enough.

But if I don't try....well then maybe I could have done it, I just chose not to.










For the record, I am still trying. I just wanted to share my internal struggles.

Poor S.O.B

I don't have a TV connection at my house, but on rare occassions I will watch a few shows at my dad's or at Boyfriend's Mom's house.

Recently, while Boyfriend and Boyfriend's Mom's Boyfriend were working on the car, I was watching a little TV to pass the time before Boyfriend's Mom got home and we could chat.

I saw this lovely commercial, that made my stomach turn a little.

Lovely Commercial

That's a YouTube link btw...

Well, the general message that I got from this commercial is that, it doesn't matter that her boyfriend, Dave, was exhausted from staying up all night trying to find them the best deal for travelling. That point is missed entirely. But because he was so tired, he 'slept in' (which implies that they don't live together, otherwise how did she wake up without waking him up) and she went on the trip without him.

That is lame, but in the end what *really* bothers me is that she found someone else.

That morning.

In a foreign country.

So the moral of the story is: if you don't really like your boyfriend, you can find whatever excuse you want, book a trip without him (because really...she's not going to let him sleep in if she bought two tickets), hop on a plane to a different country, and f*** the next thing that walks by.

Have fun Mandy and Dante.

Oh, and get tested.

Pros and Cons of the Reward System

So I'm half-trying to potty train my two year old.

By half-trying, I mean that a while ago I purchased a training potty for her. Since then she would sit on the potty (fully clothed) while I sat on MY potty, then she would try and pee before bath time, and then she got bored and stopped using it entirely.

I was/am completely fine with how this was going. When I bought the training potty she was not even 18 months old, but I had just found out I was pregnant with #2 and thought that it may be a good time to get her interested in things that would make my life easier.

Nowwwwwwww things are different. I would say that - on average - I am changing about 12 diapers a day. Don't get me wrong, I realize that a lot of people change around this many; perhaps mom's with 2, 3 or even more children still in diapers; mom's of multiples as well; but let's be honest....this is all about me.

I am determined that I will not force my kids into it. I will encourage, I will try to excite, but I will not force, and I will not discipline. Fear is not my idea of a proper tool to teach with.

So I realised about a month ago that Shake'n'Bake was become very versed in the things that her under-diaper-area does. This prompted me (an hour prior to my last court date) to purchase a cute little book that was another of a four book series about hygiene, and proper habits. She had already owned another one, (Pig Takes a Bath) and this book (Duck Goes Potty) was pictured on the back.

I LOVED the style that Pig Takes a Bath was written in. Short sentences, repetitive words, great messages. Shake'n'Bake was already "reading" this book by herself, since every page started with 'Little Pig...' and then she was able to remember the rest based on the pictures.

My thought was:
Pig Takes a Bath = Memory & Hygiene Lessons...therefore... Duck Goes Potty = Memory & Potty Lessons

Perfect.

I got the book and we spent a few days reading it. And rereading it. Over and over again.

So I started calling her Duck, like in the book, in reference to potty stuff. And she would laugh and laugh. She had one morning of pantlessness in which she peed on the potty almost every time, but she didn't really get into it.

So I decided to try the reward system.

NEVER in MY HOUSE will food be used as a reward.

My parents used food as a reward for me and my brother...ice cream if we were good while we were out, cookies if we behaved here, pizza if you did well with so and so; and at the end of the day, the only thing I learned was that if I do well at something, that I should reward myself with junkier food because I deserve it.

Junk food reward = fat.

I also became an emotional eater. It doesn't matter how you feel, because junk food gives me a sense of "ya did good kid".

So I hit up the local Dollar Store and bought a massive package of motivational stickers.

Shake'n'Bake now equates peeing on the potty with getting a sticker.

It is working FANTASTICALLY!

She's peeing on the potty minimum once a day right now.

And it's only backfired once: yesterday she peed on the potty, was given and then promptly lost her sticker. She was tired because it was almost bedtime, and cried that she had no sticker, so she tried to pee on the potty again in order to get another sticker.

She made a few faces and then announced "There's no more pee in me."
I gave her a bum label that I had.

I can't be rewarding emptiness, or encouraging her to pee every thirty seconds to buff up her sticker collection after all.

So the moral of this intensely long story issssssss:

The Reward System has bugs in it, but used properly I believe that it is a powerful and effective tool.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving, and remember to pee on the potty!

There's Fungus Among Us

I've been feeling super inspired lately. So I figured I might as well fill the Blog-Wagon, if you will, before my inspiration goes back into hibernation.


Back in December of 2009 I developed some form of skin rash.

It appeared on the back of my hand.

I was already pregnant at this point...had lived in my apartment for a month...hadn't started working my new job yet...it just appeared.

I scrubbed, and disinfected, and moisturized the living hell out of this thing.

It got so dry that it would crack and bleed at work
(super awful because I worked around food and no one wants a stranger's blood all up in their dinner)



Then it moved.



It crawled up my hand and started demolishing my pinky.

It crawled around my hand and started causing my inner wrist to bleed.

Did I mention it was ITCHY AS HELL?


The back of my hand started to heal...on its own...


All of this happened around April I'd say. The back of my hand appeared scarred where - what I now fondly called "The Fungus" - had been.

The base of my wrist started to heal in and around June....it was gone before Splat was born.


The only remaining culprit is my pinky.


Somehow, the Fungus on my pinky is the worst one of all.

Not only is it super itchy, and painful, (it has itched sooooo badly that I have chewed on my finger for relief) but it develops puss nodules that explode into gooey rawness and burnnnnnn.

I went to the doctor last month for a variety of things, but I made sure to mention this while I was there.

It was diagnosed as eczema.

O_o

Uhhhhh huhhhhhh



So my Fungus, aka Eczema, was prescribed a steroid cream (hydrocortisone) that is supposed to kill it.

I tried to get a good picture...
it's so irritating that the crumbs beside my laptop are more easily seen than Super Fungus.

It's not working!


The puss nodules have returned!


My finger feels like it's on fire!!!

ARGH!

Leave your sympathies below. :D

Life - Part 1: Education

So this morning I discovered an awesome blog written by a friend of mine.

http://jenngoldsmith.blogspot.com/2010/10/tonight-my-friend-texted-me-to-let-me.html

By ‘discovered’ I mean she let me know that she writes one, so I read it...and then followed.

(PS EVERYONE wants you to follow their blog)

hint hint

So I read this particular post (see link), and it reminded me of how when I started writing this blog, I had high goals for myself for writing the occasional piece of substance.

Something more than lolz if you will.

So her post touches on an article that was written by a friend of hers about using others for your own motivation, and the offensiveness of the situation because life is all perspective.

(This is a horrible synopsis...seriously, if you haven’t read her post yet just read it.)

But life IS all perspective.

It is very easy to stand in your own shoes and judge yourself as better (or worse) than those around you.

And most of the time, you’re probably wrong.

Education

I think that one of the easiest ways to judge someone incorrectly is their education.

Has this person gone to University? College? Have they started an apprenticeship? Gotten a Masters? Maybe they went straight to the workplace after high school. MAYBE they never finished high school.

And so, who decides that the path that they chose makes them BETTER than someone else? Perhaps this is the best that this person could do with their situation, or maybe this is just what they wanted to do with their life.

When I was attending a college to get a high school credit (I had graduated when I was supposed to, I just didn’t take biology (because I hate science) in high school, and it was a prerequisite for the college program I’m in) I ran across two brothers who were in the program to get their high school diplomas.

The oldest had dropped out of GRADE 8 to go out and work to help support his family after his dad left. The youngest made it all the way to Grade 10 before he dropped out so he could start working and contributing as well.

There were a variety of people in this program. People who had fallen into drugs, ex-prostitutes, single parents, the occasional jailee; but at the end of the day, all of these people were in school WILLINGLY to try and get their diplomas.

I find it difficult to judge people for that now.

Now who could read the mind of the red-headed girl next door
Or the taxi driver that just dropped you off
Or the classmate that you ignore
Don't assume everything on the surface is what you see
Cause that classmate just lost her mother
And that taxi driver's got a PHD
I’m so tired of the fear
That weighs us down with wrong assumptions
Of broken hearts, a natural function

Amanda Marshall – Everybody’s Got A Story

Maybe it’s because when I graduated high school, they called out my name after this person who had graduated with LOADS of honours and awards, and was awarded a full scholarship to the university of their choosing. When they called me up I was sent off as ‘entering the workplace’.

And it sounded crappy.

“Entering the workplace” meant a couple of things then.

You couldn’t get into school, or you didn’t care enough to try.

Either way it was a pretty embarrassing statement, and I felt like a doofus.

I ended up taking my first year of Carpentry Apprenticeship after that.

I had the highest mark in my class. Graduated valedictorian.

I was SNUBBED by almost everyone I talked to about it because an apprenticeship is socially considered below College, which is socially considered below University.

I have a friend who’s grandparents will only help fund her University education. No help for College.

The stigma is SO bad that it is still shameful for me to say that now I am attending College (albeit online (somehow worse than in person)) because it is not a University program.

Well, I think that I will wrap up today’s rant there.

Sorry for filling your mind with my ramblings, but let’s be honest...

You should expect it by now.

Fruity Whirls

Sorry for the delay between posts.

I've been trying to rock an "every three days maximum" thing here, and this past week has been hectic.

And the points that haven't been hectic have been filled with me sleeping.

Or crocheting.

Or vomiting.

So here I am, enjoying a bowl of Fruity Whirls Breakfast Cereal; and I have determined that I should be writing something into my blog so that people are aware that I am not dead.

I am not dead!

I came close though.

I developed mastitis. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's an infection of milk ducts.

Causes some nasty things: chills, fever, dizziness, exhaustion, swollen and tender ducts.

It's a big pile of suck.

I misdiagnosed it as 'Nasty-Cold-Boyfriend's-Mom's-Boyfriend-Brought-Back-From-Europe'.

So this sickness came and went about six or seven times over a longggg span. It was nasty brutal, and if it wasn't for Boyfriend being super awesome and taking care of me, I would have died.

I also enjoyed writing a Midterm for College during all of this loveliness.

Since that time, Drizzle has caught himself in a mouse trap (poor guy), and then Houdini'd himself out; Landlord has replaced the front door (woooooo!); and in my excitment over potty training Shake'n'Bake, I managed to clog the only toilet in my house and be banned from pooping for over a day while my poor Landlord was elbow-deep in dukey, trying to unclog it.

Hopefully I will be able to come up with something funny and enjoyable for you to read within the next three days. Cross your fingers!