Keira-anne.com

“Hair that twirls on finger tips so gently, baby; Hands that rest on jutting hips repenting.”
- Madonna

(Gratuitous hot shot)

Photo: duanestorey on Flickr

Not too long ago, I wrote about all the things I love about being a girl and all the things that I believe make me, in particular, “girlie.” To re-cap them would be redundant, but it’s a subject I’d like to expand on while branching out into a tangent of all things womanly. There is a small part of me that some would conclude to be “sexist.”

Quelle horreur!

Hear me out with this one…what some might view as “sexist” or “chauvenistic,” I view as fulfulling my role(s) - and right(s) - as a woman. While I am in complete agreement with the idea that women should have equal rights as men in terms of careers, education, voting rights and the like, I think that it’s important to recognize the ways in which men and woman are different. And further, I believe there’s great value in respecting those differences.

It has long been a lament of countless women around the world that men are always completely “thoughtless” in constantly leaving toilet seats up. While, like any woman, I find sitting in the bowl when it’s 2:00 a.m. and I’m in a sleepy stupor to be rather disgusting, I also think it’s completely unfair for us to expect men to put the seat down for us after they pee. After all, do they expect us to lift the seat up for them when we’re done our business? Certainly not. Double standard.

Photo: harholruf113 on Flickr

What about areas of the home other than the bathroom? Just as I wouldn’t want a man to frost my cupcakes or separate my darks from lights, I can’t imagine he’d want me to change the oil filter in his car or clean the gutters on the house. I’m not saying a man can’t play “Betty Crocker,” nor am I saying that chicas can’t bust out their inner “Mike Holmes,” but why would we want to all the time? Though men and women are fully more than capable - and have the right - to take on a variety of roles in life, all sexes aside, men and women are men and women for very good reasons.

Think about it…40 years ago, it was easier to keep the peace between dudes and chicks. Women kept the house clean, made sure a hot dinner was on the table every night, ensured that the kids were taken to school and that they did their homework, all the while looking fabulous in heels and pearl necklaces (pun perhaps intended). At the time time, men had the responsiblity of going to work, earning the family’s keep, making ultimate household decisions and was the all-around protector and provider for his family.

The men made the bacon and the women fried it up. It was a team effort. I feel it’s no longer that way.

Photo: sublime cowgirl - tanja stark on Flickr

I could go out on a politically correct limb here and say that “I don’t care who makes the bacon and who fries it, as long as someone’s doing each job,” but that would be a lie. I do care. Perhaps it’s naive of me, but I have never fully understood why so many handfuls of women are dead-set on defying the traditional roles of women - roles that are still very prevalent in cultures and communities around the world. What’s so wrong with taking care of the household or doing the laundry? Are tasks such as these simply menial? If that’s true, then is earning the family’s primary income something that puts the man in absolute power above the woman? I think the answer to both of these questions is “no.”

The bottom line, and what it all comes down to, is respect. Respect for the roles, responsibilities and obligations of men and women, respectively. No task is more important than another, nor is it any less. I’d like to think that, were these roles held in the esteem they deserve, we’d all be living in a North American society that is both more functional and fluid.

Let the backlash begin…

The Full Throttle Slopestyle Competition is coming very soon (this weekend, in fact) to Mount Washington. Come out to watch skiiers and boarders strut their best stuff on the slopes. Skiiers, your day is Saturday, while the snowboarders take over shredding duties on Sunday. Whether you’re riding, two-planking or just hanging out to take in the sights, I’m pretty sure it promises to be a fun and exciting weekend.

If I’m a little m.i.a. (?) over the next several days, it’s no doubt for very good reason. The fourth annual Northern Voice conference invades Vancouver, kicking off with a launch dinner tomorrow night at a “secret” location, followed by Moosecamp on Friday and the actual conference on Saturday. Click the moose for more information.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I found myself the quintessential and all-too-necessary little black dress last night. How I never discovered Bebe sooner is completely beyond me. Stay tuned tomorrow for dollface pictures of your humble narrator shimmied into the satin sleeve.

P.S. I am so addicted to Jugo Juice

Anyone who truly knows me knows that ‘Big Trouble In Little China‘ is my favourite movie of all time. My first taste of the John Carpenter-helmed classic was way back when it was released in 1986; I was age 5 on the verge of turning 6. It was love at first sight and Kurt Russell’s all-American truck driver, Jack Burton, became my instant hero. I’ve gone through two copies of the movie on VHS and I’m currently on my second copy of the DVD. I’ve seen the movie well over 200 times and can easily quote the movie in its entirety - probably backwards too.

A few years ago I came across an extensive fansite called The Wing Kong Exchange. Basically, it blows my mind. The site’s author, Josh Horowitz, created a series of clips remaking the movie but with South Park characters. Unfortunately, it appears as though he stopped at his third installment, but here are the ones created and finished. Visit the site to e-mail Josh and kick his butt (politely!) into finishing off this fantastic series he’s started.

It’s just too bad he couldn’t write Butters into the script.

If there’s one thing you can never have too much of, and one thing I don’t get enough of, it’s hugs. I made this statement on Friday afternoon, en route to the ferry, to my friend Susan. In fact, one major selling point to going home to my mom’s so often is the fact that hugs are in abundance there. In a city that can often be cold in more ways than one, this girl doesn’t get nearly the number of hugs she needs.

Photo: Sarah606 on Flickr

Several years ago, I read a book by Gary Chapman titled ‘The Five Love Languages.’ In it, Mr. Chapman outlines what he believes are the fives ways in which people give and receive their feelings of love towards another. He concluded that everyone falls into at least one, most often two, and in some cases a bit of all five categories. After burning through the pages of his book, I came to the realization that my love languages are ‘Words Of Affirmation’ and ‘Physical Touch,’ the latter being my primary language.

“Physical touch is very important. In a crisis situation, a hug can communicate an immense amount of love for that person. A person whose primary love language is physical touch would much rather have you hold them and be silent than offer any advice.”

It is that very reason that I love to give hugs to the people I love as much as I love to receive them. That being said, not receiving hugs or some sort of physical touch when needed is often self-internalized as rejection. However, don’t get me wrong; I am not writing this out of an experience of rejection. My reason for writing this is simply that I believe that, no matter a person’s love language, everyone could use more hugs.

Photo: Breathe Culture on Flickr

I’m most certainly not referring to the one-armed camp counselor hug, the awkward and frozen “three pats on the back and let me go” kind of hug or even the grab and squeeeeeeeeze to death. I believe more people should be less afraid to wrap their arms around someone, to show them that they care and not just through an e-mail or through words. A warm hug to a wounded soul is like chicken soup and 80s movies to the flu. Sometimes it’s just what the doctor ordered, and even better when it’s unexpectedly on the menu.

Let’s start a hugging revolution. Who’s with me?

It’s always amazing the difference a day makes. True, my knee is more purple and more sensitive to the touch, but the dull ache from the inside has subsided and yesterday’s events have started to fade from my memory a little bit.

First off, I want to thank all of you who wished me well through comments, e-mails and even blog posts. You have all been so encouraging, and it’s good to know that there are people who love and re-instill faith. Can’t nobody get me down!

Secondly, the Ski For MS was a huge success this year, and all donations in, the event raised over $21,000. I’m beyond disappointed that I wasn’t able to participate, but I thank all of you who helped out to support this excellent cause.

All that being said, I believe a hot bath and more episodes of South Park are calling my name.

This is my knee at 7:13 p.m. This is only the tip of the iceberg that I crashed into all week.

I’ve had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week which ended with today - a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Let me preface this by saying that I know full well that there are more people than I could count whose day-to-day circumstances are far worse than my own, but we all have days and weeks that go down in the Shithole Hall of Fame, and this was one of them for me.

Work was hard this week - very hard. I won’t get into the nitty gritty of it because, professionally speaking, I don’t think that it’s appropriate to do so. Aside from red wine, hot baths and hours of South Park, one of the only things that got me through the week was knowing that I’d be riding at my favourite mountain all weekend, in particular for the Ski For MS fundraiser on Sunday.

Today was my first day riding on my new set-up. My friend Jared tied my boots - tight! For whatever reason, carving was a near-impossibility. I tried chalking it up to the icy snow and new board, but I was simply getting frustrated. It was raining f-words.

You skiers are damn bullies. Between the middle-aged woman who was constantly scraping over my board in the lift line to the snow sprays behind two planks and a final cumulation of some woman actually “stabbing” the deck of my board with her pole, I’d had enough. I finally called a name to her face; she kept skiing past.

My lunch was cold, I thrashed my knee so badly that I can hardly walk on it (and am thus completely disappointed that I can’t participate tomorrow and I feel like I’ve let people down), my second $20 ski lock in two days got cut and stolen but for some reason my board wasn’t snagged and on and on and on.

I continuously got frustrated as the day continued, and I feel entirely discouraged. Part of me says “Why do I have to be good at snowboarding? Why don’t I just stick to things I know and am good at, such as dinner parties, baking cookies and…eating hot dogs?”

Although, blinking through tears as I drove down the mountain parkway, I realized that I’m not quite as cynical as I’d like to believe. Perhaps today was so horrible to divert me from riding tomorrow. Maybe it was divine intervention. Maybe if I had gone up, I would’ve snapped my leg and given myself a wicked bad concussion.

I’m signing off for now…time to ice the knee.

The last four days of my life, professionally speaking, have been hell. I have had zero time for anything or anyone. I promise to blog something exciting and thrilling very soon, but that may have to wait until tonight or even tomorrow after a day on the mountain.

In the meantime, check out Kanye West’s Grammy performance of “Stronger” with French duo Daft Punk followed by a rewritten version of “Hey Mama.”

Enjoy…talk amongst yourselves. Love-love.

O’ winter, how I love thee. You bring frosted trees and peppermint mochas, twinkling lights and UGG boots, kitten-soft sweaters and days spent shredding in powder.

You also bring warm comfort food, which translates into the dreaded “winter weight.”

I stood in the mirror the other day in not much more than my skivvies and realized that I was soft in some places and had more curve than I’d like to in others. It is, of course, only natural. Between Christmas treats, turkey dinners and whipped cream on everything, it makes sense to put on the polar bear mass.

Bikini season tends to arrive sooner than anyone really realizes, and it’s not too soon to get ready. Believe me, things were looking a hell of a lot better last July.

Unfortunately for me, refined sugar is my nemesis and it’s what I need to give up. The following addictions will no longer be a part of my daily intake in the immediate (or distant) future:

Small sacrifice, big pay-off.

On work days, my morning routine is rather specific. I arrive at the office at 8:00 a.m., give or take a few minutes. I start by checking my e-mail and calendar to see what, if anything, is happening that day. Sometimes there is application material to prepare, sometimes not.

Somewhere in the window between 8:45 a.m. and 9:30 a.m., I walk to my favourite Starbucks location. The girls there all know me by drink and name and are the friendliest part of my mornings. En route, it’s inevitably necessary always to pass through the southwest corner of Robson and Hornby streets. On that corner stands a man.

This man, in his dark ballcap and orange smock, lies in wait for me each and every morning. The pocket of his smock is filled with copies of a cheap daily, his hand clutching a copy to wave in my face. We’ve done this “dance” for more than two years now and he’s not willing to let go.

Photo: Saxifrage on Flickr

It began the summer that three separate dailies decided to begin publishing in Vancouver, hocking their rags on street corners by way of people in aprons with stacks of papers to get rid of. The man was stationed on the northwest corner of Burrard and Nelson, so avoiding him on my way to work was easier.

In the beginning, I politely declined a copy. Before long, it became a game for him, and frustrated at the fact that he’d still ask me to take a copy each morning, I dropped the kindness routine and turned to ignoring. Knowing full well I didn’t want a copy, he’d proceed to quickly flutter a copy inches from my nose without saying a word as I walked by simply to irritate.

And now, as I walk the unavoidable path to Starbucks each morning, the game continues. He was re-stationed to my coffee route. Please tell me I’m not the only one that the 24Hours people have a hit out on…

All your finger-crossing worked! Miraculously, last weekend I came across an ad on Vancouver’s Kijiji site, selling a full, brand-new Forum set - boots, bindings and board. Everything was in the size I needed, so naturally I thought it was too good to be true. However, I e-mailed the seller anyways, and after a bit of back and forth, I agreed to meet her in a coffee shop in Kits this afternoon. As I sat waiting and sipping my chamomile tea, I flipped open my horoscope for the week:

Venus, Jupiter, and Pluto are visiting your cosmic money house. They may not bring money your way, but whatever you truly want and need in order to feel happy and secure may very well show up now. It’s a good time to open the gates and let your imagination and vision fly. Education, promotion, business, and exchange perk up.

I’m not much of one for horoscopes, but reading that made me instantly confident that this deal would work out. I met with the girl, tried on the boots and inspected the gear, and $500 later (the set retails for $800) was making my way back downtown, a board underarm. Sweet deal? I think so…