Do you take risks?
Over the weekend, I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine about risk taking. It started out with a suggestion and ended up with a question I couldn’t answer. This is how it played out:
“Chanel, let’s go skydiving.”
“Hmm, let me think about this one .. [tick tock tick tock] .. Um, no?”
“What! C’mon! Why?”
“Oh I don’t know, I like living?”
“Psh, you’re so boring. You never take risks.”
“I do so take risks!”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
(Ten seconds go by)
“Damn.”
For days, I couldn’t get that conversation out of my head. It baffled me, because I couldn’t think of any legitimate examples of risk taking in my life. I have some theories which I will share on here when I can collect my thoughts and lay them out coherently, but in the meantime, I’m curious:
Do you think you take risks? If so, in what way?
Live from Motel 6 in Wells, NV! (Yeah, I had no idea where that was either until we stopped here)
34°F, sunny and windy = Absolutely fabulous
Las Vegas = Fabulous
Smoking indoors = Not fabulous
Getting deathly sick from 20 minutes in a smoky casino because you come from a place where indoor smoking is pretty much totally non-existent and from the caveman era = Definitely not fabulous
Taking 2oz of XanGo every two hours until you fall asleep and then waking up the next morning feeling 90% better = Priceless (And yes, fabulous too!)
… And just for the record, “Wells” is pronounced here as “Wales”, so if you try to type it into the GPS based on how it sounds when the locals pronounce it, you’re going to have a bit of trouble.
Pictures and videos to come!
Are your children playing with Lucifer’s testicles?
I sure hope not!
This easter, make sure your children are safe.
Danger is lurking everywhere; in the grass, in the trees, and especially in your childrens’ easter baskets. So err on the side of caution. Clear the area before you let your children go out and play, check their baskets for hidden dangers, and for the love of all things, keep them away from Lucifer’s testicles!
(Or at the very least, make sure they don’t accidentally eat them.)
Have a happy easter everyone!
Critical thinking
I wish I had something grand and profound to write here, but alas, I do not. Perhaps this is what happens to a person when they spontaneously disappear off the face of the earth, bury themselves in work, spend every evening punishing their feet and still manage to watch three complete seasons of Hannah Montana, like crazy picture talkin’ pseudo blogger with a blank mind say whaaaaa?
Oh sweet nibblets.
In any case, I’ve included faux-polaroids of Winkers to make this post, well, post-able. Doesn’t he looks so very grinning middle-aged mexican missing a sombrero in the second picture? And so very dumbfounded in the first? He’s such a trickster, Winkey is. Do you see that mess in the left side of each photo? HE DID THAT. And then he pulled cute faces to distract me. Smart cookie, he is.
(Much thanks to Ev’Yan for introducing me to Poladroid!)
As time goes by
Today the best friend and I met up for lunch at Finch’s Tea & Coffee House on Pender Street. I ordered the veggie sandwich on multigrain with potato nutmeg soup and masala chai tea. She ordered the avocado sandwich on a baguette with chamomile tea. The food was superb, and the atmosphere, lovely.
In less than a week, I leave for California. I return to home shortly after the 21st. She leaves for Mexico on the 20th, and arrives home early next year. We barely get to see each other as it is, and as it often happens, our vacation times tend to narrowly miss each other. This Christmas is no exception.
Her and I have been friends for over thirteen years now. Between then and now, time has taken us all over the place; different schools, different lifestyles, different goals, and different tastes in nearly everything—but despite that, we’ve always remained the bestest of friends.
Today, I’m thankful for soulmates.
A not so merry christmas photo
If only I could describe to you the picture of chaos that was going on before, during, and after the shooting of this photo. I’ve mentioned Winkey’s affinity for public displays of aggressiveness towards other dogs before, but this was truly the first time his antics have taken place against the backdrop of, “FREE DOG PHOTO WITH SANTA WITH DONATION TO ANIMAL SHELTER!”
Even Santa was a little afraid, and that overweight dude slides himself down chimneys every year.
Lazy and ridiculous
Here’s a definition of lazy and ridiculous for you: sharing a light bulb between two lamps because there are no more unused light bulbs in the house, and you haven’t gotten around to buying more.
(Brother enters bedroom, sits on bed)
“Hey, I need you to tell me what chocolates you want. The orders need to be in by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure. Just hold on a sec…”
(Chanel walks over to desk, unscrews light bulb from—)
“—What are you doing?”
“Getting us light so I can see”
(Brother gives me crazy looks, doubts my sanity)
“Okay then…”
That’s right, folks. Twice a day, I unscrew light bulbs. I unscrew the light bulb from the lamp on my bedside table (used for reading, the night before) and screw it into the lamp on my desk when I need to work. Then, 12 hours later, I unscrew the light bulb from desk lamp and screw it back into the lamp on my bedside table when I want to read. The next morning, the routine repeats itself.
And you thought you were bad.
The open road
We must go beyond textbooks, go out into the bypaths and untrodden depths of the wilderness and travel and explore and tell the world the glories of our journey.
John Hope Franklin
Sometimes I feel like I have my toes curled around the edge of the universe.
Very encouraging
As we were driving to Salt Lake City, somewhere between Eastern and Western Oregon on either the I-82 E or the I-84 E (too specific, I know), we ran into a particular stretch of consecutive highway exits with the most bizarre (not to mention, creepy) names.
First there was the exit to Coffin Road. Next came Poverty Flat. Following that, Old Emmigrant Road. But my personal favorite? The exit to Deadman’s Pass with the gigantic sign next to it saying—and I kid you not—”DRIVE SAFELY!”
Just one of the many reasons I love road trips: you never know what you’ll see.
Toto, I don’t think we’re in Vancouver anymore
At a KFC drive thru around 8pm somewhere in eastern Oregon:
“Welcome to KFC, what can I get for you tonight?”
“Can I have a veggie chicken burger?”
“A what?”
“Veggie chicken burger?”
“You mean the ten piece?”
“No, the VEGGIE. CHICKEN. BURGER.”
“The ten piece, right?”
“NO. It’s a burger with a vegetarian chicken patty in it..”
“Do you want thighs or strips?”
“I want the VEGETARIAN. CHICKEN. BURGER.”
(A lady, presumably his supervisor, comes on)
“How can I help you, madam?”
“Do you have the vegetarian chicken burger?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Click.
Unsure of whether or not the lady in the talking box at KFC actually hung up on us, we drive forward to the window, hoping that maybe they can understand us a bit better if we talk to them face to face, and here is what happens:
“So you wanted the 10 piece, right?”
“Umm, no. We wanted the vegetarian chicken burger.”
“Thighs or strips?”
“No no no—its a BURGER made with a vegetarian imitation chicken patty… It’s not actually meat. They sell them in Canada…”
(Guy looks utterly confused, like, vege-whaaaat?)
“Let me… go ask my manager.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we have those things here.”
And we’re supposed to be good at hockey
From the front page of The Vancouver Sun:
The Canucks are the longest-running melodrama in our city. In 37 years, they’ve never won a Stanley Cup and have been to the finals only twice. Yet we, the fans, have never lost the faith. Forever Faithful—The Canucks Movie pays tribute to us, their diehard boosters.
Iain MacIntyre
I’m no hockey fan or sports genius, but even I know enough to realize that playing for thirty seven years and never once winning is a little sad, and not in the boo hoo kind of way, but more in the “wow, this hockey team is an embarrassment to our city” kind of way.
Of elections, conventions, and republicans
Early tomorrow morning we’re off to Salt Lake City, Utah to attend the 6th annual XanGo Convention. Some of you may recall that I went last year and it was an absolute blast—and also like last year, that invitation to stalk me down still stands.
This year we’re driving down instead of flying. This is what my mother had to say about that:
Me: “You know, tonight is election night and tomorrow morning we’re going to be driving through a Republican state to get to an even more Republican state…”
My mother: “Oh no! If Obama wins, there will be violence on the road!”
And she was totally serious. Aren’t Canadians cute?
Meanwhile, I’m curious: Who do you think will win the 2008 U.S. Presidential election tonight, and why?
Point, missed.
The scene: It’s family time. I’m showing my father my iPhone, while my brother is showing my mother his PSP. He’s customized it to have the exact same kind of interface as the iPhone. It does a lot of the same things an iPhone does. My brother and my mother are currently surfing the internet on it.
My mother: “Bring up her blog. What did she write on that thing now?”
My brother, pretending to read out loud: “I hate my life. I hate my mom. I’m really sorry I got an iPhone, because Denzil’s PSP is just so much cooler. This will be my last post here. Save the flies. I hate my life. The birds are dying. I’m going to kill myself now.”
My mother: “… DID SHE REALLY WRITE ‘I HATE MY MOM’?!!”
Two steps forward, one step back
On a good day, the pattern of my life can be described in only six words: Two steps forward, one step back. On a bad day? It’s those words, only in reverse.
Today is feeling like a two steps forward kind of day.
How is your day going?
Armageddon!
My father may be one of the few people on this earth to find the whole worldwide recession slash stock market crash combination amusing. Every day, without fail, he will turn on the TV when he has a free moment just to see how bad things have gotten since he last checked, and when the dow drops fifty million points and another bank goes bankrupt, he yells out the news to whomever is in the house at the time, following it up with, “the armageddon! it’s the armageddon!”
He is having way too much fun with this.
And how are you doing?
Things that are still hard for me to do:
- Answering emails, replying messages and returning phone calls within 72 hours
- Letting different areas of my life intermingle (personal, business, etc.)
- Being upfront with people and not sugarcoating how I really feel
- Going to bed before midnight
Things that are getting easier for me to do:
- Spending money on clothing
- Losing weight instead of gaining it. (Now at 130lbs, without even trying at all!)
- Putting pride aside in matters of relationships
- Letting go of my perfectionist tendencies where it doesn’t count
Things that are, surprisingly enough, no longer an issue:
- Talking on the phone with people I don’t know
- Eating less, eating slower, eating earlier and eating more often
- Running errands in the neighborhood and/or walking the dog without wearing a “proper” bra
- Drinking lots of water and taking my vitamins daily
They call me smart, but really, I’m just a little brilliant
Some people waste time, and other spend time wondering where they wasted it.
In a series of universally-correct, astoundingly astute observations of myself in my natural habitat, I have formally come to the conclusion that I would get so much more done if I did not have:
- A website to write in.
- A tumblr to do everything in.
- A twitter account to update.
- A facebook account to lurk in.
- A flickr account to post in.
So really, it’s not at all my fault that I’m an easily-distracted procrastinator. It’s the internet’s fault.
That feels so much better.
Women are confusing? SAY IT AIN’T SO!
It has been said that women are confusing creatures. Personally, I have no idea why anyone would say such a thing—I mean, when have women ever been known for anything but being crystal clear and speaking what’s really on their minds?
So, in order to bust this myth, I decided to observe the only woman in my life who wouldn’t kill me if I quoted her on the The Internets. Below are some of the following requests made by my lovely mother in the last 24 hours:
“Get me that thing in my purse.”
“Bring me that paper from my desk.”
“Can you get me my book for me?”
“Did you do that thing I told you to do?”
(She doesn’t like wasting adjectives, you see.)
The obligatory “going on vacation, wish you were coming!” post
Today I leave for Hope, British Columbia to attend a 10 day conference in the middle of nowhere. I’ve been going since I was three and unlike all my other trips, this one is uniquely different in the way that it is the closest I ever come to camping. Or the wilderness. Or a combination of both.
(Of course, I’m staying in a trailer, not a tent, and I’ll probably bring those hot pair of heels I picked up in California, but the lack of a hotel, city and internet and the possibility of bears and mountain lions makes this trip camping in the wilderness, Chanel-style.)
Despite the obvious setbacks of being in a location where there is no internet, I am terribly excited about leaving. We’re even bringing the boat up, and while I can assure you there will be no waketubing, I will sit on the bow, dangle my feet in the water and try not to tan. And it will be lovely.
Have double the fun for me, internet!
Simply lovely
For the past week or so, I have woken up to bright sunny days, clear blue skies, warm weather and a perfect summer breeze. It’s hard to come up with the right words to explain just how lovely it is to be outside under the shade, a gentle breeze tussling my hair and tickling my skin while I sip tea and relax to sounds of my favorite old records and the dull hum of distant traffic. Nothing can accurately describe the experience, suffice to say I would glad live this moment a million times through.
It’s remarkably easy to live a busy life.
It’s remarkably less easy to slow down, unwind and just be.
No distractions. No phones. No work. No people. No problems. No drama. No worries. Nothing to do. Nothing to say. Nothing to be. I enjoy a good day filled with productivity as much as the next workaholic, but sometimes the soul just craves a solitude that only comes from leaving the world and creating a whole new one for just you and yourself.
Just you and yourself.
Try it sometime.
And this is why I take public transit everywhere
On the way home from Surrey tonight (DON’T EVEN SAY A WORD), a girl sitting across from me on the Skytrain started a conversation with me. It began with a comment about a fighting couple that had just gotten off and ended with the story of how she had just broken up with her boyfriend of twelve years.
They have two kids together. She always paid for things like groceries and utilities. He always paid for things like the TV and the barbecue. Guess who got what.
Breakups are always so messy. The Dividing Of The Stuff makes it all that much harder.
But damn, 12 years? And two kids?
It kind of made me realize, shit, the things we go through for happiness.
This will probably get us shot
The other day a good friend and I were talking about terrorists, because you know, that subject totally comes up in all my conversations. RIGHT UP THERE WITH THE RISING COST OF OIL PRICES.
Brainwashing aside, don’t these guys ever question the situation they’ve found themselves in? Forget about the blowing up and killing part - they’re promised a certain number of virgins in the next life for “martyrdom”… Aren’t you going to ask for photos first?
After all, you may never know who you’re going to get…
Male friend:
Personally, I’d need to see their pictures firstMale friend:
Maybe like a myspaceChanel:
I wonder what would happen if one of them asked?Male friend:
Terrorist: “May I view a picture of one of my virgins before I strap these bombs on my back?”Chanel:
Muhammad: “Yes, you may” … *hands over a picture*Chanel:
Terrorist: “WTF DUDE, THAT’S MY SISTER!”
For the things you wanted to say
As seen scrawled into the back of a stall door in the ladies washroom at a rest stop off the I-5 North:
TRUE LOVE WAITS
For what?
A confirmation number
I love reading the things people write on the walls in the stalls of bathrooms.
At first glance, most bathroom graffiti typically looks like trash—you know, the usual suspects of “JESSICA WUZ HERE” and “JT+BS FOR EVA”—and if you take it for face value, it’s nothing more than that. But if you really think about it, everything written on those walls has a story behind them. People do everything for a reason, even if they don’t consciously know the reason for it at the time.
Whenever I read the things people write on walls, I simply can’t help but wonder about the author’s life: Are JT and BS still together? What’s Jessica doing now? … And when you read particularly chilling words like “I can’t take this anymore”… Are you still hanging in there?
It’s such an odd thought, looking over a cluttered wall and knowing that many, many people have been exactly where you are, and of all those people, some of them felt particularly impressed to write something on the walls surrounding them. They’re each strangers to the next, all going through different things in life, some coming in, some going out… But the one thing these strangers all have in common is the wall. They wrote on the wall.
We’re not all that far apart from each other as may we think.
What’s the most memorable thing you’ve ever seen on a bathroom wall?
Remember when you asked me not to blog about this?
You know you’ve reached a certain point in your career as a pseudo-blogger when your friends start asking you not to blog about certain things:
The tail-end of a lengthy discussion on those who live life superficially vs. those who don’t (also known as CHANEL, YOU THINK TOO MUCH):
The Friend says: (10:37:11 PM)
You drive me crazyThe Friend says: (10:37:20 PM)
And this is just MSNThe Friend says: (10:37:30 PM)
… Please don’t write a blog on this :P
With more and more of my offline friends, family and acquaintances finding this website (which, admittedly, isn’t hard; all you need to do is google me), the subject of my online writings have never come up more often. Specifically, the question of “You’re not going to blog about this, are you?”
To those offline friends, family and acquaintances, and maybe our mailman: I am on the hunt for my next project and new material. Lock your doors. Maybe even close your windows. But be especially careful what you say or do around me, because you never know—it might just end up on here.
The best kind of April Fool’s joke
This just came in the mail today:
Check out the issue date.
More comic relief from my brother
Talking about a piece of gum that dropped on the floor:
“I’m going to go wash this.”
“Don’t wash it! It will only turn sticky.”
“I washed a cookie I dropped on the floor once…”
“Denzil, washing doesn’t help everything.”
“I know… that’s why I don’t take baths anymore.”
Looking good, March!
The month isn’t even over yet, but it’s already quite apparent that March has been the month of doing things I thought I could never do. First it was the 5K run in 36 minutes and 49 seconds. Next it was the dance competition (and bringing home my first ever trophies!) I told everyone I couldn’t “wouldn’t” do. And today? Today I ran twenty minutes. Straight. WITHOUT STOPPING OR WANTING TO DIE.
You probably won’t understand the significance of this, and that’s okay. But I do. I remember the girl who couldn’t make it halfway around the track without dying - but tonight I was the girl who ran a total of 68 minutes, running 10, 15, 20, and 10 minutes straight with 1 minute breaks in between. I did it.
If I keep this up, I could actually achieve world domination before I turn twenty-five.
Now, if only I could take my driver’s test…
Someone you never talk to is now in a relationship with someone you’ve never heard of
Abstract thought of the hour: Facebook is incredibly creepy and stalker-like when it comes to publishing information about your friends’ every online (and in some cases, offline) move.
And while we’re on that topic: Has anyone ever noticed that Facebook’s feeds are a new breed of passive gossip? I’m reminded of one of the first things anyone ever told me about Facebook mere hours after I joined:
When a couple breaks up, Facebook knows about it before they do.
What is the strangest thing you’ve ever learned (intentionally or not) about any of your friends through a social networking site like Facebook?
It’s moments like these that make me proud to have him as a brother
9:30 pm, over instant noodles I just cooked for the two of us:
Me: “Denzil… Do you ever wish your butt was bigger?”
My brother: “Do you ever wish your butt was *smaller*?”
Sunshine: Now back in style!
From the front page of The Vancouver Sun’s Weekend Review:
Sunshine is making a comeback.
I know precisely when it went out of style, too—In fact, I believe it was somewhere between “snow”, “sunsets at 4pm” and “hell”. No joke. I’m more than ready for summer.
