rerun, rerunt, rerun the baby, the fanciest cat

So this little baby kitty died yesterday.
I use the term "baby" lightly as he was 14 and half I think?
Rerun was born when I was in grade 8, he and his twin sister, Cactus were both breech and I had to pull them out of their mama cat. Gross!
The mama cat was such a sweet little one who then disappeared when they were a week old and so we bottle-fed Rerun and Cactus and I insisted on keeping both of them. Obviously. Classic Meredith.



oh man oh man oh man. Guys.
I felt bad because we were having impromptu taco night at our place last night and we had lots of people over and I started hysterically crying. Cool moves.
I also kicked out my friend so I could hysterically cry for awhile before trekking to the bar for Hallowe'en. Still having some issues with water coming out of my face but getting it under control.

I went as a fancy lumberjack to the bar last night, I threw together a costume real quick with the puffiest face ever. It was pretty jokes.
I yelled at several people for not liking my costume and told people I was sad a lot. Winning moves, I got.
I flirted with this guy who had whiskers drawn on but he wasn't dressed like a cat he was dressed like a bunny. a playboy bunny apparently but he was wearing far too many clothes for that.

Ughh. ugh. 
Rerun was honestly the best cat. He was so sweet and calm-natured. And the only cat that got along alright with all of the other three (who want nothing to do with each other). Also the best because he was affectionate without being toooo sucky.
He's definitely my mum's favourite, too. Which is heart-breaking because now who is going to sit on her arm while she tries to write?


rerun and cactus are twins.


obviously.

The funniest to me was that he hated being walked by and would sit in the middle of the road and yowl at you when you walked past and then swipe and your legs. Ha! So dumb!

Also, my baby cousin called him the "fancy cat". I have no idea why! Probably because he was ginger? Adorable, though.



this is the last picture I took of him, I guess.

I knew when I saw him in August that he was not doing too well as he was very skinny and sickly.

Oh, sigh, guys. Oh sigh.

Rerun was totally my favourite. You know how you can't choose favourites with your children? You can with cats. And Rerun and Adventure Cat are my favourites.

I'm going to miss that little huge baby guy so much.

I mean, Christmas is coming. Which is amazing. And I can officially get the fuck into the holiday spirit and go to town on gearing up for the holidays.
So I feel completely bananas today. Coupled with some other drama shit in my life which is ups and downs and then I just feel so..... too much. Too much today.

Plus I still need a job like WHOA. really, really whoa.
fuck.

quiet time

So I definitely know that I need time alone. I know this.
Just sometimes everything gets a bit overwhelming and I run out of time and I'm in such a good mood that I forget that in order to stay in a good mood I need time by myself. I need to chill the eff out and lie around on the floor a bit and read a book and stuff.

I'm kind of at the end of my line tonight and even knowing that I was on the verge of just randomly weeping, I almost went out tonight. I didn't though. I came home at 11 and didn't go out afterwards. I watched a tiny bit of internet TV and read some the 100s of unreads in my google reader. I ate some frozen berries and remembered to drink some water for once.


Two jobs today was too many for me. My legs feel bruised in the bones from the concrete floors and I'm stressed out by how ridiculous huge corporations are and how poorly employees get treated a lot of the time. Same old, same old.


One of my very favourite co-workers, from both the ACC and the dome, is a funny lady in her 50s whose daughters work with us and is very kind and gets the cakes for people on their birthdays, but she also swears like a sailor and thinks my jokes are pretty funny.
She told me about how she used to sell pot and go to concerts and stuff. She laughs at my babe stories.

Anyway, she just found out that she has cancer all over her body. Like all over. Real bad.
Right after she was diagnosed she asked to work with me most days at ACC. I don't really know why, to be honest. Maybe because I'm good at pretending everything is fine. Last time I saw her it was the day before her appointment where they were going to decide her treatment course and tell her her chances and all that. As she was leaving, I said "I'll talk to you soon, let me know how it goes" and she burst into tears.

I saw her daughter at the dome but I haven't seen her, she's not working now that she's in treatment, I guess. I've avoided her daughter because I don't want to have to ask how it's going because it can't be good.
Our bosses and co-workers got her a private box at the Jays' game this weekend and I knew that she was up there but I didn't go up to say hi.
I couldn't.


My mum is a single parent (obviously) and back in 1983 maternity leave wasn't was it is now and Mum put me (tiny baby) in daycare. She didn't mean for me to go to Bev's house as Bev wasn't that similar of a type of person plus she smoked but Mum was waiting on a space at another place so I went to Bev's. But then I was happy there, so I stayed. I went to Bev's and my brother went to Bev's. I went to Bev's until I didn't need childcare anymore. And even after I went back to visit. Basically we were family.
She died of lung cancer when I was in 12th grade. But I started distancing myself from her a long time before she actually died. I loved her so, so much.
She had three large sons but no daughters and I was the closest she had.
I was a mess at the funeral and I spoke to her pastor and she told me Bev had talked about me to her. Broke my heart.

Anyway, so this situation has shades of Bev to it and I'm not in the mood for this sort of sadness then extra sadness. It's just hard, ya know..


I wonder if my one of my favourite poets, Bob Hicok, will be very angry if I write out one of his poems on here. I recommend reading it out loud quietly to yourself to feel the almost-rhymes and how it runs smooth-like and nice, and maybe it'll be a bit soothing.


Talk more of the dream of your hips
on a clothesline, of plugging your hair
into light sockets.
Talk more of your mother's last cigarette
curling the white smoke of popes
outside the hospital, of holding it to her lips,
how she passed you
the final drag, the filter wet, disgusting,
essential.
Talk more of stopping short
of Nags Head, dead pelicans on the bridge,
your car door open, the dome light broken,
trees and trees beyond your vision, the chanting
of frogs, the world reduced
to blindness and throb, of knowing the sound
would eat you if you stayed.
Talk more of Duane on the second floor
burned by sterno, no heat in the apartment,
who played backgammon with you on the roof,
who shot arrows at the river, who named kaleidoscopes
after presidents, who pierced your ears
and licked the blood.
Talk more of going away from things
and coming to things,
of touching the yo-yo in your pocket
during the sales meeting, of killing slugs
with beer, of folding sheets, of moving sprinklers,
of tip-toeing away from beds with sex
dripping down your legs, of knowing the sky is closer,
of living under water, of dragging anvils,
of decapitating yourself with wine, of eloping
with highways, of that scar
under your chin, the one from a buttercup,
the one you touch when the sound
you need to make is everything that can't be said.

-Bob Hicok


Hmm. I meant to be asleep an hour ago. One more day of working and then I am freespirit freetimes all the time. I'm going to need to go for a picnic. Just reminding.

still am not good at visiting

Here are some photos I bit from my cousin's flickr. Pictures of me, you're welcome!



Sometimes I sit sort of paralyzed at the thought of writing (not blog-writing, writing-writing) and cycle through social media/google reader windows until I've used up all the time that I felt I could possibly get involved in actually writing something.

I will use any excuse to avoid actually writing. My favourite one is how I don't know what the characters' names will be so I can't go about writing them until I know what they'd be called and so I look at baby name sites on the internet for about an hour.



I feel like this year will be really great. A lot of things have felt really shitty lately and I've felt stagnant and safe and resistant to actually trying things.
I'm planning on getting things moving.

For the past while when people would ask about my career I would tell them "it's in the shitter".
I feel like my attitude has followed this statement a bit and then even possibly my work habits/audition habits/planning habits/dreaming habits have all been affected by negativity.




Not to get all woo-woo on you here, but I think that having a positive attitude can go a long way. Expecting great things and going out looking for them can be really worthwhile.
Expecting shittiness kind of brings it in some ways, it seems.



Anyhow -- I'm looking forward a bit to the home-body-ness of wintertime. I'm going to work to avoid the depression that generally comes my way in the feb/mar/apr and instead spend hours reading and reading and writing and writing and walking far places and learning new crafts and skills and booking big gigs.



My mum and I watched An Education tonight. We debated watching Precious, but determined that would be too much for an evening following an afternoon of funeral and wake-drinking.

It was quite a lovely movie. I generally love Peter Sarsgaard (ever since Freak City) and now I very much want Carey Mulligan to be my best friend.


(not from my cousin's flickr set)

Could someone please get her to come to Toronto and hang out with me?
So delightful to watch and appealing. She reminds me a bit of Audrey Tatou in her appeal, but I think I might like her even more (?!).
I think it goes without saying that I am dreadfully jealous of her and want to be just like her.

Or be an equally great me.
Yes, that's it.

when the first cup of coffee tastes like washing up

I am the worst at visiting with people this visit. I keep expecting to get better at it/feel like it but then more days pass and I still feel like hibernating at my mum's house.



One of my mum's best friends (a woman I've known since I was born, basically) died just before Christmas and so Mum's been feeling pretty sad and tired. I've been holding back tears since I got off the plane for various reasons (none of them particularly big, just a combination of things) and instead of crying it out I've been bottling it all up, turning it into bad moods. I'm a bit nervous of the memorial service tomorrow as I will probably either cry inappropriate amounts or I will be in the worst mood ever.
Good, supportive daughter that I am!



It's strange being acutely aware of one's shortcomings. One day I will be a good friend and family member, with proper listening abilities and loving advice (but only when actually needed)...



You know what's awesome? When you try to explain to someone that you don't want any advice and then they just keep giving you advice.
Not giving advice is probably almost as good of a skill as giving good advice.



I know a lot of people who think they are good at giving advice, but I disagree. I frequently wonder if I am one of those people. Sometimes I certainly am.




My friend and her baby were pretty beautiful on her wedding day. Perfect, really.



Man, I love that girl. I'm so pleased to be able to be in town for her wedding. Her twin sister got married last year and I wasn't in town for it. I was in Toronto because I had a short film in TIFF and it felt like I needed to be there. When I saw the photos from the wedding I felt a bit devastated. It didn't make sense at all that I'd missed it. I mean, I'd been in this girl's life - her family, almost - since we were in kindergarten...



Anyhow. I was very, very pleased to make it to this wedding. It was small and lovely and I knew most people and never see them.
And I held that baby for so, so long while it slept in my arms. Then she woke up and I held her with her back to me so she could calmly watch all the going ons. Lovely tiny thing, that.

Only cried a tiny bit and I don't think anyone noticed. I probably don't always come off as the biggest sap in person, but I always, always am.

c'est l'halloween, HEY, c'est l'halloween!

haha! bg for cobrasnake


care of Mir


care of Sass



Anyway.
My Hallowe'en story started off by making costumes all afternoon with Deer and his bandmate - sewing fun and leather for their sexy viking costumes. I like the idea of sewing parties. Any productive group activity is kind of a good idea. It gave me a chance to hang out with this cute girl outside of extremepartytown/showtime - where you never get a good idea of what someone is actually like. And I quite liked her.

Then I went to work (boooooo).

Then I went and threw on my Christmas Elf gear and visited Garth at her Hallowe'en dance party night (it was at the base of my street, how could I resist?)


We had a mini-convo and breif gab and I remember how I like how she talks.
On my way in, I held the door open for Gumbi who was having a hell of a time getting through..

Then I booked it over to Dakota where some good old boys from Saskatoon were having a hoedown. One of my old MCDA cohorts met up with me there and we danced and swayed a bit, got the party started.

I then booked it over the loft party that Deer and his fellow Foxfirians were playing at. And way more of my friends than I expected were there! Favourite thing when that happens! Favourite!
It was BLOODY PACKED in the loft and sweaty and dirty and I was druuuunk already... it was a great show, huge crowed but I had to leave part way through the set, felt bad in retrospect but at the time I was just not in a mood to be pushed about.



(last photo there stolen from Norm Wong - costume I helped make, give you an idea of the partypartyparty)

We partied mostly in the alley after that, Mir and Sass came to add some girl dramz and cleavage.



My friend went as a pervert. How fitting.




They kept serving and we kept drinking. And drinking some more. The toilet was broken, I fixed it a few times. Day-saver, I know. I mostly liked hanging out in the alley though. Best party locale.
Were out until 6:30, so hungry but didn't go for food because I'm trying so hard not to eat before bed every day.

A bit too drunk going home, but I didn't ride my bike and I talked Deer out of trying to ride me doublies (not a euphemism, gosh). He was pretty bent set on it, 20 drinks will do that to a guy.

Morning after:

remnants of blood spatter

dark sunglasses and trenchcoats over just-tights

salutes
[[HAHAHAH my friend Shambers (pictured above, not in costume) went as Spencer Pratt. Just picture it. Perfect. ]]

left-over ocean make-up

tired faces

fuzzy braids and a whole lot of Sneaky Dee's breakfasts (at 3 p.m.).

sitting at brunch I suddenly realized I had to go to work basically right then. It's funny how partying all the time feels like it can go on forever and everandeverandeverandevver.


It can't.

Went to work again (on time, even) and did as little as possible.

Then hit up another Hallowe'en (/birthday) party afterward. I didn't have time to put together a new costume, so I just reused my elfin masterpiece. It seemed to go alright.
I was very, very lazy at the party, took no pictures and mostly sat in the corner with my one friend making jokes only we found funny. It was a really great time, actually.
Sometimes I'm just not in the mood to meet people/chitchat/smalltalk/be entertaining. And sometimes it's great to sit around eating food and commenting on costumes.

The past couple of years I haven't even really gone out for Hallowe'en. Just not gotten around to it, I think maybe it should always fall on the weekend. Then we will all party til dawn again.




Did y'all hear about the Lil Wayne is dead hoax?? I know I did, thanks Facebook. Luckily I also spread it around. It's too bad about how many good jokes there were if he had died the best of which was, obviously, "HE NEVER GOT TO BECOME BIG WAYNE!"

But remember, death isn't funny, dudes.
PEACE YO.

Heath Ledger

Okay.
I'm tired of people dying now.
If JTT offs himself this week, I'll lose it.

Seriously Heath Ledger, seriously?

Breaks my heart.

I saw him on Oprah a couple of years ago talking about Brokeback Moutain and about his new baby. His then-partner, Michelle Williams and the baby were both on and as well and he looked at them (seriously so sweetly) and said "I'm falling deeper in love with both of my girls every day".
I remember thinking that those two had my dream life.

I am only going to like people who are already dead. This is ridiculous.
I hate when people die. It should be reversible. It seems untrue and unfair.

sorry

Dear Brad Renfro,

Tashauna had a bigger crush on you than I did in the sixth grade but now I think she has kids and maybe a husband or at least boyfriend and probably a job and never thinks of me or of you. Once I made her a booklet about you but she just thought it was weird. I told her she could have you if I could have JTT. JTT is still alive, so I guess I got the better end of that deal.
I wonder if she heard about you actually.

I remember reading about how when you were younger you'd give fan-girls that you met your hotel number. In case they wanted to come by. Not that their mothers (accompanying them to stalk you) would let them.
I remember reading about how you stole a yacht but except you didn't realize that the owners were actually still on it. Asleep inside. I wish I'd been there.

Ghost World is my favourite movie, and you were perfect in it, just spot on.
And I saw you, unexpectedly, on a repeat of Law and Order, one night. I was surprised by how much I liked you, still. How familiar you seemed. Probably only because of grade six.

We girls all liked your accent. You seemed different to me from the other heartthrobs. Stronger somehow, but also sadder. Lacking parents, and mouthing off, and refusing to be cheesy for interviews on your idea of a great date or what you look for in a girl. Though JTT took up virtually all of my wall (and ceiling) space, I snuck up a few pictures of you.

This business is hard. I wonder if you liked it.

Anyhow. Thank you, I appreciated your work and was always interested in seeing what you'd do next. And, of course, planned on marrying you sometime.
I guess that's not really possible anymore.

Love,

Meredith R. Mistletoe