Keira-anne.com

This evening, out of sheer and absolute boredom, I decided to play around with Photoshop for the first time. It’s a totally new application to me, and suffice to say, I’m quite the novice. Feel free to click here to check out what I’ve begun, aside from the photo you see to the right. It’s really nothing spectacular, but a lot of fun to play around with. I’m especially proud of the simple way I manipulated Emily’s picture.

In other news, my weekend included (in no particular order):
- tea and French pastries at Farfalla with Rebecca, John and Rod
- a BBQ at Brock’s with wonderful people
- dog walking
- dog bathing
- witnessing, both visually and audibly, a repulsive act of sex between G-Unit and Bootyclicious in the alley between Cordova and Powell
- Army & Navy shopping with Uncle Merle
- $1 pizza
- beer
- dinner at Incendio with Brent, Nathan, Ken, Andrew and Ryan
- drinks with Brent, Nathan, Ken, Andrew and Ryan
- Amélie
- photographs
- playing with the dogs
- car wash
- tanning
- learning that not all the construction workers in this building wear underpants under their jogging pants
- sunshine

WARNING: This post may contain some or all of the following: graphic language, graphic images, nudity, course language, satire, degradation, shallow thoughts, shallow ideas, stuff my mom will raise an eyebrow at, stuff anyone would raise an eyebrow at, lingerie, skin, jokes of a narcissistic nature, debasement, low standards, high standards, humour, debauchery and a plethora of obscene material to shake a stick at…or whatever it is you want to shake. Or maybe none of any of that.

Slightly less than six weeks ago, I made the monumental decision to give up chocolate and excess sugars. For any that know me, you would know that this was an undertaking of monumental proportions. However, my near-addiction to chocolate was getting out of hand. Some days would include an Eatmore bar and two packs of Cadbury’s Mini Eggs. Anyone would be a fool not to know that such a habit is certainly not good for the blood sugar level, and most certainly not good for the waist.

To say that giving up such foods has reaped a benefit would be an understatement.

Shedding the sugar equated to shedding the belly fat.

Secondly, slightly less than two weeks ago, I very conciously made the decision to become a hypocrite - to a degree. For long I have been a huge advocate for SPF and practicing safe sun. Don’t get me wrong - I still believe that it is important to take precaution outside, and I will still lobby for safe sun practices. However, on the flip side of the dime, I started tanning. I started slathering my skin with accelerator and laid under hot UV lights to crisp my skin. Keep in mind that my skin is naturally pale and delicate, and I wasn’t convinced that it would work in the slightest. I was wrong.

I’m getting a lovely glow.

I have scheduled an appointment for a boob job next week.

It’s a work in progress.

Nope, that’s not a nipple. You aren’t that lucky.

Just kidding about the boob job. What do you take me for? You think I can afford boobs with these student loans?

First and foremost, I want to draw your attention to this article and strongly urge you to read it thoroughly. We as Canadians have both a right and a responsibility to educate ourselves, as well as act accordingly. I have written to each of Prime Minister Stephen Harper, the Minister of National Defence, Gordon O’Connor, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Peter G. MacKay. Feel free to let myself and other readers of this blog know what, if any, action you took in this regard.

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In other, less pressing news, dogsitting will apparently continue for a little over another week. Though truth be told, I don’t mind one bit. I continue to have fun with these monkeys, and they’re still the best part of my day. The following is a 55-second video I recorded of the boys doing a little wrestling when they thought no one was watching.

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Last, and certainly most least, I have started watching yet another television series. This time I’m tackling HBO’s “Big Love,” starring Bill Paxton, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Chloë Sevigny, Ginnifer Goodwin and the legendary Harry Dean Stanton. The show follows a home improvement store owner (Paxton) living in Salt Lake City with his three wives (Tripplehorn, Sevigny and Goodwin). I haven’t yet decided if this show is supposed to be a drama, a comedy, a satire (to a degree) or a combination of all three. I am currently six episodes into the first season, and it wasn’t until the fourth or fifth that I decided I’d watch the entire first season. The character development in this series was excrutiatingly slow, and I feel as though many of them, even at this point, are still fairly 1-dimensional. In theory, an HBO-produced show about a polygamist and his wives should have been highly interesting and entertaining. Unfortunately, I think they fell short of the mark on this one.

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Post Edit

Vanessa, through her blog, reminded me of a beautiful poem I had recently forgotten about until now. I had to share it.

“I Carry Your Heart” by E. E. Cummings

If I had something deep and profound that I wanted to say, I would do so. Today I have no opinionated commentary to make, nor do I have something encouraging that I want to share.

I have struggled through most of my double-digit life with baseless timidity. For more than half of my years, I have fought against feelings of self-doubt and a lack of feeling self-assured. No doubt to me that to feel such a way is frustrating to say the least because, deep down, I know that these anxieties are as I just stated – baseless.

Times come and go in my life in which I find that the irrational part of my female mind completely takes over. The fact that I’m female does largely have to do with this, because I do believe that women are much less logical thinkers than men in many ways. Argue me to the death on that point if you will, but it’s a belief that I hold on to quite strongly. Not to say that women aren’t capable of logic – they are. And me, in particular? Absolutely - though I will freely admit that it takes me much more time to get to that place of rationality.

Continuing on with my earlier point, feeling this way causes a lot of aggravation. I know that, truth be told, I am a fantastic woman with many wonderful qualities and a lot to offer to my family, friends and loved ones. The logical part of my brain tells me so, and I don’t doubt that. Therefore, when these times in my life rear their ugly heads and attack, I’m really not sure how to handle it. The anxiety causes me a lot of stress and a lot of upset. I constantly question myself “what’s wrong with me?” or “what is it about me that isn’t good enough?” when, really, I should be finding ways to exhort myself (in a non-narcissistic way, of course).

I’m not sure what the point of writing this is. I don’t feel like I’ve relieved myself of anything or gotten something off of my chest. And really, there’s nothing to say about something such as this. There isn’t a pat answer or a solution to what quandaries consume me. Encouraging reminders are everywhere, yes, but they don’t actually accomplish much in the grand scheme of things. This is just me and this is just where I’m at.

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While we’re on such a cheery topic, I’d just like to say that my iPod Shuffle (yes, the really old model) is finally biting the dust after more than a year. Its battery will no longer hold a charge beyond an hour or two, rather than the usual 12+ hours. Does anyone love me enough to buy me a 1G iPod Nano? Please? Someone?

“I hope you know that people all over this country are thinking about you and asking God to provide comfort for all who have been affected. It’s impossible to make sense of such violence and suffering. Those whose lives were taken did nothing to deserve their fate. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now they are gone, and they leave behind grieving families and grieving classmates and a grieving nation.”

I read this quote from George W. Bush today. He was speaking in regards to the utterly horrific tragedy that befell Virginia Tech University yesterday. I find it to be an interesting choice of words from the same man who leads a nation that spends billions upon billions of dollars every single week on a war being waged for, in my opinion, purely “political” reasons. I am curious to know if Mr. Bush would use the same words to show respect, comfort and encouragement to the countless Iraqi people who have lost fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, children, friends, grandparents, brothers, sisters and cousins in the despicable bloodshed in the Middle East.

Am I missing something? Did those that have died senselessly in Iraq do something to deserve their fate? Is it possible to make sense of such violence and suffering? I am utterly sickened by Mr. Bush’s hypocrisy. It is, in fact, enraging.

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All seriousness aside (but not forgotten), I find music to be one of the most inspiring encouragers in my life. Nothing excites me more than a new and fantastic record. This past weekend I discovered a classic: “The Colour of Spring” by Talk Talk. I have been listening to it incessantly, and the lead song, “Happiness Is Easy,” is easily the sexiest song, instrumentally speaking, that I’ve heard since Simply Red released “Sunrise” in 2003. If you haven’t had a chance to hear this, do so now. It was originally released in 1986, so you may have a difficult time tracking it down unless you’re ordering online.

In addition to a new record, I’ve also discovered a new-to-me television program. From HBO, the company that brought such classics as Sex and the City and Rome, came Weeds. Mary-Louise Parker plays a suburban wife who suddenly finds herself a widow and mere inches away from poverty. In desperation, she becomes the neighbourhood’s friendly marijuana dealer, with customers from husbands and wives to city councillors and teachers. If you don’t feel like renting it, you could always do some more online shopping.

Today I went to work. Because it was Friday, not only was I permitted to wear jeans, but there is also an unspoken understanding that it is okay to feel a general sense of slack. That being the case, work, though long, was a breeze today. I thought it wasn’t bad for a Friday, the 13th of the month no less. Not that I am superstitious by any means.

I came home at lunch to walk the boys and spend some quality play time with them, as I do every day. And as always, they were ecstatic to see me. The three of us proceeded to go down the elevator, the boys on short leashes. The steel door pushed sideways on ground level, only to reveal a rather large and obviously muscular dog that I believed to be a breed of mastiff. This dog was not muzzled nor on a leash, and instantly bound for Benji and Casey. Being the protective woman that I am, I had no choice but to scoop them up and run for the front door; there wasn’t even enough time to cast a stern look at the woman who was obviously unable to compete with the strength of her own canine.

As if that wasn’t enough, the building manager was outside overseeing the unloading of building supplies from a truck in the back alley. As we got closer, he yelled over to me and said “make sure you clean up after your dogs.” I held up my fist with plastic bags wadded up inside and retorted “that’s what these are for.” Despite the condescending nature of his comment, I remained good spirited.

“Well, your dog just shit behind you!”

I was confused as I didn’t see either of them squat, and I’m sure that look of confusion must’ve been conveyed through my expression, only to be followed by an “oh.”

“Why don’t you touch it? It’s probably still warm!” This comment astounded me to the point where all I could do was stare incredulously at him. I turned around, scooped the poop as I would normally do and allowed the boys to continue wandering the courtyard. In the meantime, the crew finished up their work; however, the building manager planted foot at the front door, arms folded across his bulging belly, and watched us. I haven’t been that belittled in a long time.

Needless to say, the concierge got an earful that afternoon when I returned after work. Thankfully, I received a sympathetic and understanding ear.

Did my day end there? No, not so much.

After work I knew I had a few errands to run in the downtown core, so I loaded into the car and took off. Would you believe it took a solid hour to do so? I’m convinced that the Province of British Columbia has, countless times, issued drivers’ licences to complete fucknuts. Nobody knows how to drive in this city.

After all of that, I figured that I deserved a little bit of comfort food. Comfort food for me, today, translated into McDonald’s. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally pulled into the drive-thru at the Main Street location. I ordered my usual two cheeseburgers (no pickles), fries and a Diet Coke. Finally something good in my day…something to look forward to.

I got home and laid everything out on the counter. I open the bag only to find a damned double cheeseburger. Only one. WHO THE HELL EATS TWO MEAT PATTIES AT ONE TIME? It was the nasiest thing I ever attempted to eat. I peeled one patty off, finished the burger as-was and grumbled my way over to the computer.

I think the only thing that can save me now is a hot bath, candles, Mozart and an early night’s sleep, curled up with les chiens.

Love me.

I’ve got nothing of any interest to share with you, that is. Also, I am on a Mac computer and, for some reason, Blogger shows up a bit differently, so I’m not able to edit my posts to the full extent that I normally might.

We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

My trip home on the weekend was eventful, yet relaxing. Since I have nothing of significance to tell you, I’ll fill you in on my trip. And you will read it because you are equally as bored as I am. Otherwise you wouldn’t be surfing the internet to find a blog as unimportant as my own. As I posted earlier, Rebecca and I had a wonderful Friday at Mt. Washington. The day only continued as a good one because it was the first time in a long time that, in the evening, I could just relax, wear my pajamas, drink beer, snooze on the couch and not have to talk to anyone if I didn’t want to. I spent the day on Saturday with my aunt, during which we window-shopped, ate almonds and drank Diet Pepsi. That evening I met my friend Lauren for some much needed one-on-one time with more Diet Pepsi at Boston Pizza.

Still with me? I thought so. On Sunday, my eager anticipation drew me to the mountain again, despite Rebecca’s ominous forecast of icy slopes and zero visibility. She gets a gold star for being on the nose. After one icy run from the top of the Sunrise Quad (and two bruised knees which I attained by gaining speed, hitting an ice rut and planting both knees first onto the ice at full speed), we headed back down the mountain. The remainder of Sunday turned out to be somewhat of a bummer of a day, so I proceeded almost immediately to suck back cans of Pacific Pilsner. Four cans (and 2.5 glasses of Firesteed Oregonian pinot noir) later, I had a lovely buzz on. I ate through our Easter dinner despite my anti-social tendency, skipped dessert and went to bed.

Monday saw me heading back to the city to begin house/dog-sitting for a friend. Two dogs that I dearly love that bring me so much joy just to look at them. Two dogs that are quite the handful on one’s own to take care of while working a full-time job. However, it’s all worth it just to play with them and hold them and fall asleep beside them. It’s an interesting adjustment, however, when you suddenly need to schedule your entire day around the dogs’ eating, sleeping, bathroom and playing routines. There is no rest time after work because they need and deserve attention as soon as I walk through the door. I told my friend Greg last night that I’m beginning to understand what it’s like to be a parent. He laughed at me and said that “dogs are not children.” I suppose he’s right. But it’s a good practice in self-discipline.

Since you’ve made it this far, why not keep reading? I have two more things of which to inform you that are of equal insignificance as the above babble:

1. Today is Day 24 of being chocolate and excessive-sugar free - I feel like a smoker who has kicked the habit; and

2. Remember how I had resolved at New Year’s to quit swearing? That went out the window. Just thought you should know.

That is all for now. Surely you feel more fulfilled after having spent precious moments on reading all of that.

Normally I’m not such a big fan of such fromage, but Lauren posted it on my Facebook and I can’t begin to tell you how true this rings for me sometimes.

Girls
are like apples
on trees. The best ones
are at the top of the tree.
The boys don’t want to reach
for the good ones because they
are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they get the rotten apples
from the ground that aren’t as good,
but easy. So the apples up top think
something’s wrong with them when, in
reality, they’re amazing. They just
have to wait for the right boy to
come along, the one who’s
brave enough to
climb all
the way
to the top
of the tree.

Rebecca and I spent another beautiful day at Mt. Washington. The sun wasn’t really shining, but the air was warm and the snow was soft. Perfect spring conditions for riding. As with any personal endeavor, practice and persistence pay off, and my riding skills are improving all the time. It’s really great for me to have a hobby; something to invest my time and efforts in. I think it gives me a little bit of sanity in my otherwise busy existence. I spent most of my time working on my carving skills. I’ve now most definitely got the mechanics of the toe edge switch down-pat - now it’s only a matter of perfection. I’m hoping that Rebecca and I will get one more day in this weekend before I head back to the Mainland. Sunday would be divine. Excuse the pun.

On a side note, I’ve started reading a mammoth of a book but it’s a fantastic education. If you feel so inclined, check out The Great War for Civilisation: The Conquest of the Middle East by Robert Fisk. For those of you who are not familiar with Fisk, he’s one of the world’s most respected and foremost foreign correspondents and journalists. With a career that has spanned several decades, Fisk examines the political and religious events that have shaped the Middle East of today. It’s a Middle East that few have any idea of the realities of. I can’t summarize the book much beyond that as I am only about 75 pages in, but it’s well-worth mentioning. Visit Robert Fisk’s website for more information.

I bought new skin care products today. I have been listening to Free Bird incessantly. Sheri Moon Zombie is my heroine du jour. I am obsessed with Bumble and Bumble products. I can’t convey how much I am looking forward to going to Mt. Washington with Rebecca this weekend. I cannot stop drinking pinot noir for the life of me. Ever since purchasing a pro account on Flickr, I take my camera everywhere with me. I will miss him all month. I am convinced that one day soon, everyone will recognize the genius that is Big Trouble In Little China. I am further convinced that Band of Brothers is one of, if not the very, best mini series of all time. That being said, I still miss the OC. I’m running out of things to say in this blog. Goodnight.