Category: ragdoll rambles

New Year’s Revolutions 2010

I’m a bit late with my New Year’s Revolutions for 2010. Usually, I write them the day before the year actually starts so I can step directly onto the right foot before the countdown begins.

To review: New Year’s Revolutions 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009

Where I feel I ended up depends on how we look at the year that just passed. There’s a line in a Raconteurs song that I adore that goes, “It’s been a wasted, worried year.” And that’s kind of how I feel about 2009 in general. I spent a lot of it upset, irritated, frustrated, ill and almost dead. But despite the negatives, I managed to tackle quite a few of the things on my list for last year: I kept the weight off (saved in the regard by the almost-dead episode this summer); have been exercising regularly (swimming, among other things); have lived a less cluttered life; brought my lunch A LOT; kept the budget in check (and this with massive renovations going on); bought less (with some huge exceptions); and have desperately tried to use what I have (again, with some exceptions).

Not bad, I’d say, for a wasted, worried year.

But my big question is where to go next. What to put on the list for this year? What have I learned and where did these revolutions get me?

1. I am hopelessly addicted to television and movies
Every year I put ‘watch less television’ on the list. Every year I manage NOT to accomplish this goal. It needs drastic measures, like cutting off the cable or throwing out the television. Neither are rational responses. Limiting myself to certain shows has helped. Giving up time wasters has helped too, but the structure of my modern life, and the state of my health, makes it far too easy to spend far too many hours baked out watching bad television. And I try to dress it up all the time by saying that time spent watching a movie isn’t wasted time. It’s artful. It’s cultural. It’s important. The 10 Revolution: Try to watch less. But don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t happen. Give up the crap. And go to bed earlier to read.

2. I am hopelessly addicted to being miserable at the big “W”
One night, after a particularly rotten, awful week, my RRHB and I were talking about how we aren’t the kind of people who find it easy to just go out and “do a job” and come home. You know those “people”: happy to not be defined by the job, content to get your paycheque and carry on, excited by the prospect of stability and nonplussed about the politics, etc. Wouldn’t life just be easier if we were one of those magical, happy people. Being “Zen” didn’t cut it. In fact, I’d say that I’m far less content now than I was even a year ago. The 10 Revolution: Make small changes to my outlook so I can make good decisions about where I want to go next and what it is I’d like to be doing. Be more positive. Take things less personally. Plan for better options. Take more deep breaths. The answer isn’t for me to become a better person; it’s for me to accept the kind of person I already am, right?

3. Cleanse. Be Strong. Cleanse Again. Breath. And Stretch.
Despite the really shitty health year I’ve had (starting it off on prednisone; ending up down one organ), I’m actually healthier than I’ve been in ages. Restorative yoga, a good, healthy diet, regular exercise, calmer disease — these are all goals I’ve had for the last five years. I finally feel like I’ve gotten somewhere. It’s an interesting feeling, that’s for sure. The 10 Revolution: Keep at it. Cleanse more often. Cleanse properly. Keep swimming. Keep sweating. Keep up with the yoga. It’s all going in the right direction.

4. Take a really, really long, relaxing vacation or two.
With no blackberry, Twitter, Facebook, email, computer, television or anything other than good company and a few good books. The 10 Revolution: Turn off the digital life more often so I can enjoy the real life, but perhaps blog a bit more consistently.

5. Be kinder to the people I love.
This one is self-explanatory. The 10 Revolution: Remember that the choices I’ve made are always the right ones and act like I believe this. Maybe a little of this includes being kinder to myself — but that sounds cheesy.

There you have it. These are my lofty aspirations for 2010. Trust me when I say I have concrete goals too — but these are tucked safely away in another list, written in pencil in a place where I’ll be able to consult them frequently.

Feeling A Little More Like Myself

This weekend has flown by. We’ve finally got chairs for our dining room, a bookshelf for the living room, and a menu for our three days of holiday entertaining. All the shopping (for our families) is done and I’ve got a new pair of winter boots that don’t leak. It was non-stop yesterday and that compounded with a terrible night’s sleep means I’m a little groggy today as I finish up editing my latest Classic Start.

We went to see The Constantines on Friday night for their 10th anniversary show. We had a grand old time. I did a lot of yelling and shouting. And dancing. And singing along. There was a moment where I thought it would be a fantastically fun idea to dive into the mosh pit as if I were in my early 20s again. A moment of teasing and an insistence on crowd surfing happened, and I changed my mind. On the first week of January, it’ll have been five years since I was let go from Alliance Atlantis, and listening to the Cons made me think of that time again. I listened non-stop to Shine a Light record the summer before they “reorganized” me out of a job. I played it loud and obnoxiously at work when I was there late, frustrated by the lack of support I received, frustrated by the bad management, leaving work tired, angry and upset most days. It was no way to live. But I’m a sensitive girl, and the whole experience left its mark. It’s funny — there’s an element of karma to the fact that the woman who made all of our lives so miserable was herself out of a job a couple of years later and I’ve certainly moved on to a better place.

Perspective isn’t really something that can be taught. It’s like a simple shift in point of view in a narrative — you know that it’ll tell the story better but you’re so wrapped up in the writing you can’t separate yourself from it. I’m a goal setter but that doesn’t necessarily make me a goal getter. I’m not big at risks. I’ve always been afraid to take a leap without having something holding me up. For the most part, that’s my RRHB. He has the most reassuring shoulders. I can always find him in the crowd.

And so I’ve been contemplating what’s next. This year has been so difficult, the one year anniversary of losing my mother, the appendix nightmare, the lack of a proper vacation — it’s all taken its toll. I’m finding myself rushed and irritable, frustrated by the lack of momentum in my life, but always recognizing that every inch equals a decision. Perhaps I should have entered the mosh pit — age and tragic hip be damned. But I had just as much fun from the sidelines surrounded by friends, and remembering that even if I’m lonely most days, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me. I should be brave enough for it not to matter. I should know what’s really important.

The Sunday Papers, TRH TV & Jersey Shore

We slept in this morning, and I’ve decided that today will not be a complete waste, as was yesterday. The work week was exceptionally long, with sales conference and a general sense of wariness on my part, and so we went out on Friday night with friends for much-needed release. Of course, in my semi-non-drinking state, the three pints that I had rendered me utterly useless almost all day yesterday. And so I watched Jersey Shore online after Zesty sent a funny note about it last week. Good grief. It’s hard not to judge these people. And I suppose that’s the point — the strange obsession that we have with “reality” television seems to be ruining entertainment, as Vanity Fair pointed out in its December issue — as we spend hours (as I did) following the lives of vapid, self-involved, idiotic wastes of earthly space from a fairly protected sense of being morally better than they are.

As everyone starts to follow the Copenhagen conference (the Globe had extensive coverage of global warming in this weekend’s Focus section), a huge discrepancy between where pop culture seems to be headed and the real issues facing our society today. In short, I kind of feel like the environment just doesn’t matter to the masses. I’m sure I’m making ridiculous generalizations, and shouldn’t just use the vapid, ridiculous “characters” from Jersey Shore as my test subjects, but I was honestly disgusted by their lack of awareness, the amount of garbage they produced on screen (all those disposable cups!), and the kinds of things that caused an emotional reaction (feeling “outcasted” and fighting in bars). The men use bucketfuls of product on their hair and the girls who claim they’re “all natural” (in that they aren’t augmented) while piling on ridiculous amounts of make-up and wearing next to nothing.

Maybe I’m just trying to attach a sense of righteousness where it doesn’t belong. The stereotypical muscle-bound meat heads and the girls who love them seem to be partying their way into a z-level fame. These kids can’t aspire to much or else they wouldn’t be on the show in the first place and I often wonder if these shows aren’t meant to depress the viewership as much as appeal to it. How can you not feel defeated about the state of feminism when you watch young girls come up into a house of strangers, allow themselves to be filmed jumping half-naked into a jacuzzi, and pull off their underwear while the three other women in the house call them “skanks” and “whores.” In the same breath, two of the four women in the house then go on to cheat on their significant others while being so drunk they can’t remember what happened, one girl gets “sloppy” (which none of the men appreciate?) on the first night, and the last girl, nicknamed “Sweetheart” leads one roommate on only to make-out minutes later with another fellow from the house. Where’s the dividing line between skank and whore? The determination lies solely with whomever shouts the loudest?

I shouldn’t have watched it. The comedic value of it all was lost on me. Or maybe I’m just too serious these days. Feeling a little lost and neglected in terms of my own life and far too hungover yesterday to contemplate anything more intellectual. But when and how did society fall so far and how do you think these kids are going to feel about themselves when they gain some perspective? Some of them are simply old enough to know better — a man on the cusp of his 30s who is still chasing tail and judging his success in life by how many women are entrapped by his abs should be ashamed of himself. The idea of instant gratification is taken to the nth degrees by this snippet of American life. These kids don’t really want to work (their room and board is paid for by working a shift or two a couple of times a week in a t-shirt shop), their values are family-orientated in a way (they’re mainly Italian-American) when it suits them, there’s no discussion of safe sex, common decency seems non-existent, and sexism on both counts gets confused with sexual attraction in ways that make me feel far, far older than my years.

And the whole time I’m watched, mindful of being entirely the wrong demographic, I kept thinking: we’re wasting the earth’s precious resources on this sh*t. And no one seems to care. I wonder how ironic Pauly D’s Cadillac tattoos will be in however many years when there’s no more gas and there’s nothing left to power their beloved cars. Do you think he’ll even understand the irony?

TRH Movie – New Moon

Oh, be ready to throw the tomatoes at me, yes, I spent hard-earned money to go see New Moon for our Undeath Match. Luckily, I was accompanied by someone (Rachel) who both saw the cheese potential (so bad it’s good) and has a similar penchant for some good, old girlie fun. But, wow, is this film ever bad.

Like, really, really bad.

Shame on you EW for giving it a B+. And shame on all you CinemaScore peeps for coming out of the film and handing over an average of A-.

For anyone living under a rock, a soppy teenage girl (Bella Swan, what a stupid name) is abandoned by her mother (awesome role model there) who got remarried and shipped her off to Forks, WA to be reared by her silent but sturdy father (town sheriff, natch), falls in love with a “smoldering” perma-teenage vampire (Edward Cullen). They swoon. They stare into one another’s eyes. And by the end of Twilight, they were actually an honest to goodness couple — chaste even by Mormon standards — but a couple nonetheless. Enter New Moon and all the horrible metaphors that title implies.

Open Scene: It’s Bella’s birthday. Of course, no one’s allowed to give her presents (because teenage girls just HATE stuff), and no one listens to her. Yawn. There’s a party at the Cullen Manor and she gets a paper cut. Oh, the blood! It’s so hard for the vampires to resist. Why? Because they’re vampires, that’s what they do, they suck the blood. Yawn. Edward decides that it’s over, for Bella’s own good. Because Bella, for the love of Pete, has no mind of her own. He leaves. She dies inside and suffers from an almost life-ending depression coupled with sweat-stained, sheet-scrunching nightmares.

Enter buffed up buddy Jacob who glides in with the cheesiest wig to end all wigs and abs to rival Tim Riggins. He’s the only one who can pull Bella out of her post-Edward coma. They build motorcycles together because she needs to live on the “edge.” Why? Oh, because that’s when Spectral Edward shows up to tell her what to do. Again, why? Because Bella has no brain nor mind of her own. Quadruple yawn. Oh, and Jacob’s a werewolf. Did I forget to mention that? Because all of her boyfriends are supernatural. She’s just that special.

Jake and Bella bond. He wants more but there’s a treaty in play, blah vampires versus werewolves, blah de blah. Edward moan, groan, moan. And I’m already tired of recapping the plot so let me just cut to a list of why this movie sucked so much I would have walked out if I was there by myself:

1. Why can’t teenagers have fun? Even a little? Why are they always pouting and acting all angrily and not doing anything remotely like regular kids?

2. Seriously, shut up Edward.

3. Bella stands in a meadow (even though a terrible red-headed vampire named Victoria is hunting her) alone as a dread-locked vamp says, “I’m going to kill you, okay?” She sort of shrugs and doesn’t move. Let’s repeat that, she does NOT MOVE. She just waits for Edward to come and save her but because he’s convinced being together would put her in too much danger, he’s nowhere to be found. Wha? Run little girl, run. Fight, kick, scream, just do something other than pout cross-eyed at the damn man.

4. Again, even when he’s not on screen I want Edward to shut up. Spectral Edward should have a sock shoved in his fog-inducing ass.

5. What happened to quality role models for girls? Where’s Judy Blume when you need her? Where’s Nancy Drew or Andie or Jo? Bella mopes around because of a boy, abandons her friends, who don’t even say WTF when she decides to start talking to them again, abandons both school and her parents to run off at the very slight chance she’ll even see Edward, and only acts when it relates to a boy (Edward or Jacob). She is consistently needing to be saved. She never, ever saves herself. And when they both say, “oh we can’t be together because you might get hurt or I might hurt you,” she curls up into a little ball and does a fat lot of nothing.

6. So, the whole wolf pack runs around with no shirts and cut-off pants. But when they change, what happens to the pants? The werewolves aren’t wearing them and they’re not flopping around anywhere on the ground. They magically disappear and then magically appear when they turn back. Those are some magical pants. Who cares about continuity when you have Taylor Lautner’s abs?

7. Shut up Edward.

8. If Bella’s dad’s supposed to be a cop, and a good cop at that, how come he never notices a) her boyfriends all have freaky eyes and often walk around all the time without shirts and b) that they’re supernatural? Hasn’t he lived in Forks his entire life and isn’t one of his closest friends a Native American?

9. The first movie sucked, but at least there was a cheese factor that made it kind of hilarious. That first moment when Edward sparkles, priceless. Here, they’re all dour and angry — pushing and pulling each other with no payoff.

10. The whole Team This or Team That is just dumb. Even though Edward got his ass kicked by the strange Michael Sheen headed cult thingy, Bella’s so obviously in love with him (and if you’ve read the spoilers and/or the books) you know what happens. In fact, it doesn’t matter what happens because it’s all filler anyway — it’s a road block in between the happy ending. The story’s been told a million times. However, IF I were to pick a side (and no serious, book-loving, 30-something woman has any right to even be talking about this), I’d have to go with Jacob. I know he has no chance but, let’s face it, Edward got his pasty-emo handed right back to him in that (SPOILER) battle toward the end, and rightly so. The werewolves, as goofy as they are running around the forest in basically their underwear, can truly fight. That was the best part of the film, actually. The wolves battling it out and ripping the heads of the vampires. Pretty, pretty awesome. But don’t tell Kimberly I said that.

11. SHUT UP, Edward.

I’ve been reading Twilight and I doubt I’ll review it here — what can I possibly say. Everyone knows the writing is horrible. It’s akin to the worst stuff I’ve ever read in some of the worst creative writing classes I’ve attended. She tells way more than she shows, Meyer has never met a useless, moronic detail she didn’t like, and, other than the setting, which I quite like, she breaks taboos that undermine the merit (if any) of her work. The struggle to be good, to be in love, all that good, juicy teenage stuff makes for good ingredients but what she cooks up couldn’t be any more contrived if she tried. And yet, she’s sold millions and millions of books. Let’s just hope she’s using some of her royalties for good and re-planting some of the trees she’s destroyed over the years. It’s like Stephen King pointed out, at least J.K. Rowling can write, you know?

Where Does The Time Go?

There’s a line in one of my (currently) favourite songs by The Raconteurs: “It’s been a wasted, worried year.” Kind of fitting, I think, for the last twelve or fourteen months. Usually it’s my birthday that sends me into a fit of introspection — but as I’m well passed my birthday and it was hell bent on almost-killing me this year, I’ve been spending the last few weeks thinking about what on earth I’m doing with my life. Ever since my mom died just over a year ago, it’s as if my life was physically holding me back — if that makes any sense. For every step I’d take forward, my own body would push me back, culminating in the “episode” from the summer with my appendix.

Like bits of shrapnel left behind, all of the stuff that’s happened over the last year has finally started to work its way out. At least I feel that way. I feel lighter, and not just because I’ve lost a bunch of weight, but also because the sheer force of all that came down to rest upon my shoulders wasn’t terrible. It was awful, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t wish this year on my worst enemy, but it’s taught me a lot, and if you can take those lessons and move them into a more positive space, then it’s not a complete mess, right?

Oh, how I wish that things turned out differently. I wish that a lot. But there are so many parts to my life that I don’t control, and now that the disease seems back in remission for what feels like the umpteenth time, maybe what I need to do now is appreciate how much feeling healthy contributes to a better outlook on life. Yesterday, I walked halfway home and met my RRHB along the way (he was driving). I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t grumpy. I wasn’t exhausted. The day hadn’t pulled the life out of me teeth first. And it’s easy to be mad at life. It’s easy to hate your job, your station, your advantages, your disadvantages, your face, your legs, your grey hair, but it’s another to stop for a moment, plugged into the iPod, enjoying the crisp air and the onset of my most-hated season, winter.

Anyway. I’m going to try to post more often. But holy crap, life is busy at the moment.

Book Camp Vancouver

Over the past few days, I’ve been trying to synthesize my thoughts about Book Camp Vancouver into some cohesive post that captures everything that happened over the couple of days. Beyond the networking and the bookish talking, I met some really great people who seem to be just as passionate about dealing with the issues within our industry and moving forward. As a friend tweeted, we just want people to read books and figure everything else out as we go along. In my case, I don’t care where or how people are reading books, just that they are reading. In short order here are the talking points (some from my own session on Content Would be King and some that arose from others) that have consumed me in the wee hours of the morning as my body stubbornly refuses to adjust to West Coast time:

1. As an industry on the whole we need to start separating our selling tools, our B2B assets from the messages we’re sending out D2C. We can’t keep using the same messaging for both and expecting the consumer to be thrilled. The audiences are different. These differences are crucial to creating content both around authors and books. We need to imagine strategy and technique to talk to both camps effectively and accurately.

2. Everyone is so panicked about losing traditional book sales and the impending ebook revolution that they’re focusing all their energy in the wrong direction. We shouldn’t be sitting up complaining that the physical book is disappearing. Let’s move beyond the fear and decide to push in the direction of having our content available cross-platform. This isn’t revolutionary; it’s just common sense. In my session, when a woman held up a notebook and proclaimed her deep love and affection for the format, I held up my blackberry. It’s not one or the other. I read books, ebooks, web content, web books, and once we can figure out a way to have all of these devices talk to each other, we’ll be golden. From commute to bedtime, you’ll be able to enjoy the same content — just because we want more options doesn’t mean we want the book to go away. This is a common misconception that just means we do more and more arguing and defending one position against the other. How about we meet in the middle and find a solution?

3. The internet/online/digital is not marketing’s slushpile. It’s not something you should be doing just because you think you have to but because you think it has value. It also can’t be an afterthought. It has to have clean, concise and effective strategy behind it. It’s another argument I can’t believe we’re all still having. It’s cache (cash) — not cache (cash-shay). Traditional marketing has the cache; big full-page ads in the Globe and Mail are incredible, but they don’t have the cache — the sticky power of the internet to hold on to every bit of information that gets posted. We need to push the power of the cache and keep driving as much content as possible. Eventually we’ll get to conversion, which is what everyone wants.

4. We have a problem with revenue, not audience. This was revolutionary with me; it’s almost as if it freed my mind to accept the fact that the seismic shift needs to encompass new business models.

5. More and more the truly brilliant people I come into contact with, whether they work at the chain or for an independent bookstore, whether they’re readers, bloggers or writers, whether they’re in the press or starting up an online business, are open to saying good-bye, and in shocking ways, to the way things have always been done. Some of the most interesting conversations I had weren’t just about what wasn’t working but about what we can do within the confines of the business itself.

There’s so much more that I’m sure I’ll be talking about as the days go by and my brain keeps mulling over and over how to truly move forward in a way that gets everyone paid. Holler back your thoughts and let me know if I’m truly crazy or if you think, like I do, that we can get there too.

Holy Crap

Time seems to be escaping me on so many levels. It’s like a balloon with a leak — all of a sudden it’s completely deflated and you don’t really know what happened. So, here’s a rundown of me over the last little while:

1. I saw Whip It and it was 100 kinds of awesome: sweet when it needed to be, subversive enough to make the cynic in me satisfied and exactly the kind of film I needed to see with my girlfriends. I’m sad that it failed so miserably at the box office. I’d recommend it. Fame, on the other hand, insulted me as a human being. And considering the kind of movies that I watch on a regular basis, that’s really saying something.

2. I’m heading to Vancouver tomorrow for a whirlwind vacation of sorts that includes: participating in Vancouver Book Camp, visiting my cousins who have just had a baby, hopping over to the island and staying with my aunt and uncle and squeezing in some time with a pal who lives in the city. Vacation sounds AS busy as my life. Wha?

3. Six minutes to go until I leave work and go swimming. Can I finish two blog posts and all my other work by then? Probably not.

4. It was minus 4 with the windchill this morning. That sucked balls.

5. I need new books to read. Anyone have suggestions?

Monday Rambles

The best part about Word on the Street, for me anyway, is talking to avid readers about the books they’ve read and then giving them recommendations. One of the books I was talking about to anyone who’d listen yesterday was Colum McCann’s Let the Great World Spin. My favourite part of the day was pitching the book to a couple while a fellow was listening (I wasn’t even talking to him!) who said, “Sold! I wouldn’t have picked up that book based on the cover but you’ve got me now.” He walked away with my favourite book of the season under his arm.

For the most part, I have convinced myself that I’m not a “marketing” person. When I first started my career, while I was finishing up my schooling, I worked in circulation. I hated it. In fact, I would even go so far as to say I despised it. For years I tried to get into magazine editorial and no one would give me a job. Not even an assistant’s job. Nothing. And so I gave up. I found writing work elsewhere (on the web) and have always been a little disappointed in myself for not knowing how to find that work in any other way.

I’m rambling, I know.

There were things that I loved about being a content producer (back in the day). But I’ve only ever wanted to write about what I want to write about. But that sits in direct conflict with one of the goals I’ve set out for myself — which is make a living by my pen (me and Aphra Behn; natch). The thing is, I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. I’m too old to start a whole new career, too young to give up on finding fulfillment at work, and too tired to put much effort into the whole freelance racket. And let’s face it, I’m too shy and also too insecure to be any good at pitching.

But here’s the rub — once a year I love (at Word on the Street) being in “marketing.” Most of the time I’ll deny the designation. I have a love/hate relationship with the term. I’ve never wanted to have much to do with the idea of it as a career. It’s tangential to working with books online. The companies aren’t big enough to have digital departments proper (here in Canada anyway) and there are marketing elements to what we do online. If you want to do online and be in books, you have to at least accept the fact that you will also be in marketing.

For me, however, it’s always been about the words. Until I’m forced into a crowd and made to stand up and shout. And once a year I discover that I absolutely adore talking to strangers about books. I love being asked what I’ve read and what I thought. I love finding kindred spirits in terms of reading habits. And I get over my whole-hearted fear of crowds and people and talking in public and all the normal insecurities that have me generally communicating by written instead of spoken words.

I don’t know what the point of this post really is beyond a couple of observations. I sat down at home on Saturday and wrote for the first time in months. I felt like myself. And then I felt angry that I had committments that took me away from those words I wrote. I finished two articles that I adored writing for ExperienceTO and wondered, again, if I shouldn’t just take the plunge and try to make a living solely from my pen.

These last few month have seen me be so utterly conflicted about so many different elements in my life. I guess I’m just waiting for the universe to show up and give me a little direction. What say you Astrology Zone?

Tuesday That Feels Like Monday

When the day starts off out of the ordinary, like when your RRHB breaks his car key and you need to take a cab to find him only to discover you’ve left your phone at home and have no idea where he’s parked, you’re already tired even before you begin. Then you have to run for the streetcar, which you hate taking because you can’t read (it makes you car sick), but decide to take the long way round on the subway even if it’ll make you late just so you can squeeze in 10 minutes of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin because it’s a really good book that you should have read more of yesteday instead of watching every episode of ‘Til Debt Do Us Part. So now you’re overtired and overstimulated because the MANY hours of TV yesterday afternoon kept you up all night and you haven’t been able to do yoga since the whole appendix nightmare, which means that you’re behind in just about every aspect of your life because you lost a whole month to the sickness and when you’re this out of sorts where do you even start in terms of trying to get caught up?

Quick Update

After the mess of appendicitis, I’m heading up north for my final week of recovery. I’m excited to go back to work on Monday, even just for the short week that I have planned, if only because after all of this, I just need some part of my life back. I don’t need my ass back and am quite happy it’s disappeared, but my life, well, I honestly miss it, even the crappy parts.