Blue rubber bands always reminds me of my great grandmother. You know, those thick ones the colour of Cookie Monster if he had spent too much time downing cookies in the sun? The ones usually found around vegetables, good for keeping together numerous stalks that would otherwise run amok in the crisper drawer. The kind that sometimes gather a fancy bunch of cellophane-wrapped flowers taken to a birthday or a funeral.

I see them in a small glass dish, a repurposed ashtray, on a ledge near the window in front of the kitchen sink. A glass dish that also held torn and worn twist ties of assorted sizes and colours. There were probably other rubber bands in there too, the boring beige ones and the cheap almost-clear ones that you know are going to break the second you try to stretch them. But I mostly remember the blue ones. I have always considered them to be the best ones.

Sometimes she would cut them from their captives, with kitchen scissors that were formerly pruning shears. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I suppose it was quite contrary in a place where many things had multiple uses and lives. It would drive me crazy even as a child to later find some of those that had been snipped and separated now knotted into make-shift rubber bands once again.

I think she had to sometimes cut the rubber bands because of her hands. I can see them manipulating asparagus, her gnarled brown fingers creating contrast with the blue of the rubber band and the green of the stalks. She always seemed to be holding some sort of plant life, her busy hands never belying the arthritis that made them misshapen. Just like those cut lengths of blue elastic that became rubber bands once again, despite being an imperfect version of what they once were they could still serve their purpose.

There were so many rubber bands because there was so much cooking to do for all the family that was always coming to her house. The stream of people was constant. I don't remember the house having fewer than five people in it at a time throughout my childhood. During holiday get-togethers adults would spill out of the kitchen and fill all the rooms of the upper level and the children would be relegated to the unfinished basement. But after she died, the people stopped coming. It obviously wasn't because the food was not there. It was because my great grandmother was a blue rubber band. And although I would not quite say we are running amok in the crisper drawer, I feel we have all fallen in to our own individual grooves. There is nothing strong keeping us together anymore.

Sometimes when I go over to that house and sit in the kitchen I see my great grandmother standing at the sink reaching up to that shelf and into that old ashtray. It sparkles in the sun and her face is bright and smiling. I think although we miss the way things were, we are both ok with the way things are. Sometimes things separate. And not everyone can be a blue rubber band to bring it all together.

I feel like you should know
that things are not as good as they used to be.
But that they are not as bad as they could be.
But they almost never are, are they?

Things are different.
Things have shifted.
Things are missed.
Things are left unsaid.

Give it time, because it's all you need.
Since you left everything else behind.
It must be true.
Since you left everything else behind.

I think I've got the hang of this.
It has taken a while, but I think I've got it.
I almost went extinct,
pretending change was not happening.

Adaptations, survival.
I would rather be in the ground.
Fossilizing. Mineralizing.
I would rather be a remnant.

I am currently looking for a change of scenery employment-wise and I always find it challenging. I am not normally one to tout any skills I have or achiements made. The closest I get to boasting is when I get a new addition to my electronics collection. By the way, did I tell you I got a PlayBook? Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is that for someone who thinks nothing special of herself, it is hard to put across why I might be a good candidate for a job. I understand that a bit of embellishment is the norm and everyone does it, but it is still not for me.

I also detest lies of any degree. Even if I know I can spin something in a way that would be advantageous for me, the thought of the horrendous shame I would feel were someone to find out I lied outweighs any potential gains. Some people have gone far in their lives with lies and do not seem to be affected by any negative repercussions. It is not how I choose to live my life and I would like to say I believe that karma will take care of these people in the end, but I don't. I digress.....

Even though I work in retail and have seen some people work verbal magic when they think no one will notice, I have never believed in bull-shitting. I would find it awkward and would come across as insincere if I even thought about it. I interview a lot of people and the purpose of an interview is to see how much a person embellished their resume; not whether they embellished it, but how much. I guess I lose out by not making myself look like the best thing since sliced bread, but if I do end up getting a new job I suppose it will be thanks to a bit of integrity.

I was tidying up my deviantART gallery and it got me feeling nostalgic to the nth degree. There were photos of my best friend from the last years of high school, comments from someone who I was quite close to, comments from someone I will miss every day for the rest of my life and other random reminders of my life from that many years ago.

I learned last year that even though things make me feel a yearning for the past, it is not always healthy to pursue an attempt to relive what once was. Things were the way they were at the time they were like that for any number of reasons, and it is unlikely that such things can be recreated to a point where it would be fulfilling. I have to keep that in mind as I fight the urge to try and make it all happen again. Perhaps reconnecting with a person I have not spoken with for over five years might be a good thing, but more likely we have not already reconnected because there is nothing to reconnect and perhaps nothing to reconnect with. Those people we were may no longer exist. That person I was friends with is someone else with different interests, or that person is the same and it is I who have become changed.

I admit I have trouble letting go of the past and am finding it more of a challenge each year. I don't know if it is the people, the experiences, the emotions I long for but I can't help but long to recreate what was. Despite all that I have just said, I believe so much in second chances that I give them freely to others and make them for myself all the time. So far this has only backfired once and I would rather not reopen that wound at the moment. I have noticed it is almost always me who reintiates communication with people. Very rarely do I get the satisfaction of it being the other way around. I suppose there is probably at least one reason for that.

In my opinion, you are part of my past by my choice as well as your own. I didn't have to, but I chose to have you as part of my life. For whatever reason, that may have stopped happening. As much as I love the past, I realise it has passed. I also have a terrible memory. So let me know if you want to take advantage of that and are interested in a second chance at starting something that once was and could become something else.

With that, I leave you with something I found this evening:

Let's get moving just keep moving along the dotted line was crossed out of time for a change everything ends of the earth wind water fire consumes village of the damned if I know this is not an exit ahead of the pack a day out here lies get you nowhere I'd rather be yourself indulgence is for the wicked never rest of the day off the record your message after the tone of voice with me young man and wife the former tenants died in a tragic Comedy Network presents under the tree of knowledge is freedom from debt to society has rules that must be followed never lead poisoning was the downfall of the Roman Empire Strikes Back in fifteen minutes of fame and fortune five hundreed miles away from ordinary world vision of the future is friendly and outgoing calls only the lonely but not alone or with a friend of the family first thing's first of all that I survey the playing field of dreams are wishes that our hearts make do with this is the end

I hope those of you who celebrate something during December have had a wonderful time of it. For most, now is where the relaxation part of the month comes in, and also the enjoying of any gifts one happened to receive. There are good times with the family members who you have managed not to kill yet and hopefully tasty leftovers in the fridge. Now we have a whole new year to look forward to so that we can do it all again in 12 months.

This time of the year can bring out the best in us, as it is meant to, but it can also certainly bring out the worst in us as well. Working where I do, I get to see both. Today was a terrible day. I will not bore you with details, but suffice it to say there was a melding of problems in both work and personal lives that resulted in a day I am finding hard to top as unpleasant. Luckily I was able to maintain dignity; I did not have any emotional outbursts and my feet came nowhere near my mouth.

Right now I am sitting on my couch alone [except for the cat] in a silent house with nothing pressing except for maybe making turkey soup. I have twelve hours before I have to get up and get ready for work again and I think that is enough time to let emotions brought on by what happened today dissipate. I find that it is days like this where the smallest things, good or bad, are magnified and promote a greater reaction than they otherwise would. This means that overreactions on my part are not just possible but probable and I am trying to make sure that an innocent person does not bear the brunt of my bad day. Easier said than done, but it is almost time for resolutions.....

Watch yourself in the mirror do something you do every day without thinking about it and see what you look like. For example, today I watched myself clean my glasses. I looked ridiculous. Now I know not to clean my glasses in public.

Alternatively, watch someone else do something you do every day without thinking about it and see what they look like. For example, the other day I watched a girl on the bus sing along to the song she was listening to on her iPod. She looked ridiculous. Now I know not to sing along to songs I am listening to on my iPod.

Work was stressful tonight. Our new boss does not think that we can do anything to his standards and I haven't quite decided if I am interested in changing that perception or not. But then again, why wouldn't I want to feel not good enough forty more hours a week?

I am ashamed to say I have not yet procured the new Cars album. I am less ashamed to say that I am getting closer to finishing Dracula. I think I will read Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet next.

I bought a couple of things on the Plan Canada website in honour of my sister's birthday yesterday. She was pretty stoked, just like the stove. hehehe


I suppose it is time to head to bed.



I miss you.

I watched Thor last week, The Hangover Part 2 last night and Water for Elephants tonight. They were all enjoyable in their own rights. I almost went to see Something Borrowed yesterday, but luckily I got out of that one. I saw Water for Elephants with a recently freed former coworker. It was nice to see her. We watched it because we are in a book club and Water for Elephants was the last book we read. She did not read it, but came to watch the movie anyway. The book was much better. She volunteers for Amnesty International and had to run a table at a documentary showing so she had to jet soon after the movie. I envy that she is actually attempting to make a difference.

It feels like the days as of late are long sessions of waiting, one after the other. I wait for something to happen at work, I wait for someone to come around, I wait for the courage to make myself happy, I wait for other people to do things first because that courage will never come. I told myself this year would be different and that I would move on, but it has not turned out so. In fact that same gut-wrenching anxiety I was glad to get rid of years ago is back so if anything I have regressed.

Someone favourited a piece of writing I have on my deviantart page the other day and having almost forgotten that I used to write I went and reread it out of curiosity. Then I reread most of the writing I had up. It makes me want to write again, but that which inspired me no longer exists in the form it once did. I chalk a lot of it up to youth angst, and because it was me who wrote the words about experiences I had they still stir up the feelings that had me write them in the first place. Where ever my muse is, I would like it back. Feeling something, no matter how negative, is perhaps still better than feeling nothing at all.

Yesterday Rob had to get a new phone. He broke his contract with Rogers [and now owes them a ridiculous amount of money] but got a great deal with Virgin. The woman helping him was so good she almost talked me in to leaving Rogers as well, but I decided that owing hundreds of dollars to two wireless companies was probably not the best idea. Instead I called Rogers today to see what they could do for me, and the fantastic guy on the phone ended up getting me a bit more than what I currently have for $30 less a month. Awesomesauce! It makes me feel a bit better about spending over $40 at Michael's today.

Anyone know where to get some Archer? Netflix does not have it.

There is a Vancouver woman trying to raise funds to make a video about Japanese Canadian and Japanese American internment from the points of view of a few women who experienced it. I would love to do something like this with my grandmother, and I think it is a wonderful cause.

http://kck.st/gtdTjO