Keira-anne.com

…REACH OUT AND GRAB IT”

That saying has always left me with a sour taste in my mouth. It’s something we’ve all either heard or spouted at one time or another in our lives, but I don’t think it could be more impossible. Forgive my cynicism; allow me to explain.

While I believe a great deal of what we experience is well within our realm of choice and is most definitely something we are responsible for, many occurrences are entirely in the control of fate. It is out of our hands and something we have zero jurisdiction over.

Whether that’s something good or something bad is open to interpretation.

Photo: Mike Pedroncelli on Flickr

Just last week, I shared with you, my readers, my cautious excitement at the wonder I felt with the beginning of spring and something great I felt I was on the verge of. What thrilled me even more was the idea that it was beyond my control and completely a surprise. In a matter of seconds, that revelation came crashing down and left me feeling more floored than I imagined. Since then, I’ve felt discombobulated in a way I haven’t known in a long time; disconnected from myself and even from what feels like “home” to me.

So if I can’t actually choose the changes I want to see in my life, and fate had other plans, what is left for me? Round one knock-out.

What’s interesting isn’t that I’m feeling this way, but that I am not experiencing any anxiety over it. It’s highly unusual for anyone who’s feeling defeat. Most of you can probably relate on one level or another.

A change in my life is required. I need a new experience, a new focus. My gear stick has been stuck in neutral for, quite literally, years. Similar experiences, similar situations, similar choices I’ve made and all the same outcomes as before. Nothing changes and everything stays the same.

A holiday would be nice, but a bandaid only covers - it doesn’t heal. It would be easy for any of you to tell me that if I want something, I need to reach out and grab it. What anyone who has ever said that has failed to mention is the how. Ideals are only simply that: ideals.

It’s doubtful that you’ll enjoy tonight’s post unless you’re of the softer-skinned, lovely-scented, shiny hair variety, but that being said, both boys and girls alike may get a kick out of this. I want to jump around to three different places, so hang on - tight!

Appearance Modification Products

One thing I love about getting back to the Island is suburban shopping; in particular, cheaper shopping. It’s always easier to stock up on the goods a girl needs when in small towns.

First up, I grabbed Nivea’s new Summer Touch body lotion with sunless tanner and firming qualities. Being that I’m still in my 20s, firmness doesn’t concern me, but practicing safe sun does. The lotion promises a sunkissed appearance after five days. I’m on day two and already very impressed. I also snagged a cannister of Skintimate’s new “Lotionized” shave gel. Words cannot possibly express the softness said shave gel provides.

As you can see, I finally finished deciding between skincare products and settled on old faithful, Clinique. Already my skin is tingling in delight, so it’s rather clear I made a good choice.

Despite the rain, thunder and lightning outside my apartment window, summer is around the corner, and now is the time to stock up on footwear for sunny days. If you wait until June or July, I’m guessing you’ll be out of luck. Two pairs of flip flops, one pair black and one pair brown, $7.98 each. Score.

Hot summer nights require cool summer attire. With such a long hem and high neckline, I probably couldn’t have picked a less sexy nightgown, but I love the femininity it oozes. Plus, it’s ridiculously light and comfortable.

I like to call it my Jenny Gump gown.

A Journey Through Vogue

As I sat on the Coastal Renaissance on Friday evening, I found myself flipping through the May 2008 edition of Vogue magazine. For some reason, I especially enjoyed this month’s read; much more than most editions. Here were some highlights that either made me ooh, ahh or chuckle.

Which brings me to my third and final point for the evening…

Eating Well For My Body

Everyone who knows me knows I’m a Jugo Juice addict. In fact, I’ve already brought a couple friends over to the Dark Side. Grabbing a “Skinny Peach” juicie has become a daily habit of mine, so out of curiosity, I went to JJ’s website to look up the nutritional information. Oddly enough, everything but the sugar content was listed.

Photo: Little An on Flickr

Being that, as of late, my mom has become somewhat of a walking encyclopedia when it comes to nutritional information, I asked her to give it a shot and figure out the sugar content. We guesstimated somewhere between 18 and 20 grams of sugar per serving! Sick!

I know that natural sugars are necessary, but that is a huge sugar and carb load all at once. Bikini season will arrive before I even know it, so I think it’s time to cut down the JJ addiction to Saturdays, and only while running errands. (That being said, thank goodness Casey’s getting a haircut this weekend!) Drinking that each day while sitting on my rump at my desk is a bad, bad idea.

Sorry to break the news to you, ladies.

Okay, not entirely because I’m lazy. It’s very, very early on Monday morning and I’ve got a lot of work to do. While it’s true I haven’t posted since Friday, I was enjoying myself with a relaxing time at home with my family and Charley. They’re soul food, I tell you.

Anyways, check back tonight for what will should be an interesting and/or useful post (at least if you’re a gal). But for now, in an effort to keep you entertained, here is what I believe to be one of the best fight scenes in cinematic history.

As a little girl, Big Trouble In Little China was my favourite movie. As an adult lady, Big Trouble In Little China is still my favourite movie. Jack Burton has long been this girl’s hero. It must be his knife.

Now you tell me: what’s your favourite flick from the 80s?

Another Friday, another potential for adventure. In less than an hour, I’ll be bound for Horseshoe Bay to hop a ferry home for the weekend. I’m excited for time shopping with my mom and aunt, Juno, Chinese take-out from Quality Foods (yes, it’s a grocery store and yes, it’s the best Chinese take-out in the Comox Valley), cuddles and playtime with Charley, fresh air, relaxation, photo opportunities and whatever else the weekend brings my way. Two nights always seems to go too fast but at least it’s better than nothing.

Last night our Star Wars marathon officially came to an end with the destruction of the Death Star in Return of the Jedi. As a child, it was my favourite installment of the trilogy. As an adult, it’s clearly the worst. The Ewoks aren’t nearly as cute as I remembered them to be, and the movie as a whole was more than obviously made with mass marketing in mind. The magic of A New Hope was long gone. Return of the Jedi wasn’t even directed by George Lucas, so enough said.

While I’m soaking in the Island goodness, here are some things to keep your time occupied until we meet again:

Have a super Friday, everyone!

The day I never thought I’d see come has finally arrived.

I now call myself a fan of Star Wars.

Sunday was less-than-favourable for your humble narrator, so in an effort to cheer me up, one of my very best friends suggested we get tons of food to munch on and have a Star Wars marathon. Being that 9 times out of 10 he’s usually good at picking movies I’ll appreciate, I agreed and prepared to hunker down with Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Since then, we’ve subsequently slammed through Episodes II, III, IV and most of V.

Growing up, I never enjoyed the franchise beyond the adorability of the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi and the innocent, yet precocious, nature of R2-D2. The movies themselves, and most certainly the plot lines, had me totally confused and not in the slightest bit interested. However, now that I’ve seen all the films in sequential order and been very thoroughly educated on the ins and outs of the storyline, it all makes sense to me.

Star Wars is phenomenally entertaining.

Photo: Official Star Wars website courtesy of 20th Century Fox

I get it now. I understand what “The Force” is. The Jedi, the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire make sense to me. How the characters came to be is suddenly very clear; their objectives even more so.

There is, however, one tiny detail that doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to me (among other discrepancies).

“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”

This is the quote with which each of the films begins. But, um, hold on a sec - humans and extraterrestrial beings living among each other, flying spacecraft, travelling at the speed of light, droids - aren’t these all very futuristic concepts? A long time ago my ass.

But I digress. Really, I have no complaints.

Now the only question (and a question on which all of you can add your two cents) is: how appropriate would it be for me to purchase and wear this t-shirt? As much as I’m not a logo tee girl, I really, really want it.

I was running late this morning. I got up at the same time I usually do, but between showering and cleaning up last night’s Chinese leftovers, it was already ten minutes before eight by the time I left for work. My pace was quicker than usual because I didn’t want to be much later than the time I prefer starting at, being 8:00 a.m.

As I scurried up Howe, I rounded onto Dunsmuir and was suddenly hit with an incredibly beautiful realization.

It’s springtime.

Given the weather that British Columbia’s endured over the last week, there are many of you who’d argue with me. However, the broad cherry blossom trees at Dunsmuir and Hornby were plump with blooms. How I had failed to notice these tiny, pink buds on days prior escapes me, but they were there today.

Two days ago, I sent an e-mail to a friend who is experiencing certain grief at the moment. She’s a resilient woman but I felt encouragement was most definitely needed. In the e-mail, I told her that right now is a time of self-awareness. Not just for her or for myself, but for everyone, generally speaking. Most of us aren’t even conscious of that fact.

There’s something very different about this spring than any other I’ve experienced before. Sure, there is growth and change, but that comes with each day of every year. This time around, I am more aware of my surroundings, more aware of the people in my life and what they represent, more aware of my body. I feel almost as though I am on the precipice of something I’ve never before experienced.

Whatever the next 24 hours have in store for each of you, stop to admire the cherry blossoms in your own day. You’ll thank yourself for it.

I have a guilty pleasure. I love celebrity gossip sites, even though I know I shouldn’t. Why do I find candid photos of him, her and that guy interesting? I can’t explain, but that’s besides the point. Upon perusal of one of my regular haunts, The Superficial (enough said), I came across an article leading me to Newsweek.

Miami, Florida-based plastic surgeon, Dr. Michael Salzhauer, undertook the task of informing children about the plastic surgeries their moms and dads may be undergoing.

“Salzhauer got the idea for a book after noticing that women were coming into his office with their kids in tow. He says that mysterious doctor’s visits can be frightening for children. “Parents generally tend to go into this denial thing. They just try to ignore the kids’ questions completely.” But, he adds, children “fill in the blanks in their imagination” and then feel worse when they see “mommy with bandages,” he says. “With the tummy tucks, [the mothers] can’t lift anything. They’re in bed. The kids have questions.”

You have to see the excerpts from “My Beautiful Mommy” to believe them…

All photos courtesy of Big Tent Books on Newsweek

It’s an interesting endeavour, I must admit. Being one who spent years teaching pre-school, I see the validity in educating children. Adults have an incredible responsibility with regard to being open and honest with children, answering questions they may have and enlighten their malleable minds.

So where are the boundaries drawn? 2008 is an age of plastic surgery and appearance enhancement. And quite often, it goes way over the line. At what point do books like this stop teaching children about the reality of a situation and start teaching them what the world thinks to be “pretty” or “beautiful?”

What are your thoughts?

“Keep it together in the family
They’re a reminder of your history
Brothers and sisters they hold the key
To your heart and your soul
Don’t forget that your family is gold”
- Madonna Ciccone

In 1980, my mom and dad had a kid. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was rather that Eric Forman and Donna Pinciotti had a kid.

I was my daddy’s little princess; his pride and joy.

This is my favourite photo of him and I.

Several years later, they had my brother, Trevor. It’s funny how, the older I get, the more difficult it is to remember such times. When I look at old pictures, the reminiscing comes easily. I can recall the games we used to play, the chocolate cakes that would be smushed on our faces at birthdays, the big paper maps we used to draw for his race cars and endless hours of building Lego houses while arguing whose structure was more deserving of the better pieces.

For some reason, I never could convince him to play Barbie with me.

We were, essentially, the nuclear family. By today’s standards, a family doesn’t consist of “mom, dad, two kids and a pet.” In my own standards, family doesn’t even mean people to whom you’re related by blood.

Throughout my teens, I lost a good portion of my blood-related family, including my Oma, Opa, paternal grandparents and my father. I’ve always had a few members of family on my father’s side, but truth be told, there was never a time in which any of us have been close with them, and it’s been well over a decade since contact was made.

As it stands today, my blood family is myself, my mom, my brother (who once was my little bro but is now most definitely my big brother) and my aunt. And in truth, my aunt is more of a surrogate mother herself than simply my mom’s sister.

Fortunately for all of us, the beauty doesn’t stop there. As I mentioned earlier, it isn’t relation by blood that defines someone as your family. Since long before I was in my mother’s womb, I was blessed with two phenomenal people who were not only my parents’ best friends, but as of December 2, 1980, also became two of my biggest cheerleaders. Jim, Dianne and their daughters have been more of a family to all of us than I could even ask for.

When I asked my mom for a blog post idea, she suggested I look at photos and perhaps an idea will spring up. With one quick look at my family set on Flickr, I decided to share with all of you what my family is. They aren’t necessarily the people who share my blood. They are the people who give love, support, encourage, forgive, understand, stand by and who allow me to return it all to them.

Yes, they are my mom, my aunt and my brother; however, they are also my friends and the people who have stood by me through all life has brought me. And what’s better, they are the people who will continue to stand by me through all that life has to bring.

Saturday, for all intensive purposes, is over. It’s 8:33 p.m. and I have nothing else planned. If asked for a word to describe the day, I think I’d pick “quaint.” Before she left for Whistler, I met Amy on South Granville around noon and, after a quick peek inside Chapters, we made our way to Caffe Barney for a scrumptious brunch.

I chose the lox and cream cheese on a bagel. It was divinity. For some reason, I’ve been really, really loving salad over the last little while, and even the scraps of greens with dressing on my plate were beyond delicious.

I was bitten with the baking bug, so Amy suggested we whip up some chocolate and cinnamon flavoured zucchini muffins. I am crazy about anything cinnamon! After a quick ingredient and tulip stop at Meinhardt Fine Foods, we made our way to Amy’s apartment only to be greeted by Peanut.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon wrapped up in peppermint tea, reminiscing, girl talk, photo albums, shredded zucchini, chocolate chips, laughter, “Mellow,” YouTube and finally enjoying the fantastic muffins we made together.

Thank you for the wonderful escape today, my friend.

…from everyone’s favourite blonde narcissist.

For those of you who have never commented on my blog before, there is a procedure set up for doing so. Whenever someone is a first-time commenter, whatever they write is immediately dumped into my “awaiting moderation” folder until I have the chance to review the comment. As I sat at my desk this morning, an e-mail notification popped up in my Gmail that there was one comment awaiting moderation. This comment, in turn, referred me to a newly minted blog.

I encourage you all to check out said blog here.

I have to say in all honesty that, despite the intent and content, it’s actually very well written.

Thanks for the publicity, Stanley.

A side note to those of you who may be pondering the idea of creating blogs such as Stanley’s open letter to your humble narrator: remember how, just a moment ago, I mentioned that all new comment contributions to my site are dumped into a moderation folder? The beauty in that is the fact that all IP addresses and a whole cluster of other information is also recorded. Because while you could state that you “stumbled upon” which ever blog you decide to target, the information attached to your IP address is proof enough that you visited the object of your obsession by way of Facebook. And, being that my Facebook profile is entirely private, I suppose this means that Stanley is a “friend” of mine.

Nice, hey?

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In the spirit of all things non-Carrie Bradshaw, today was day two of Army & Navy’s annual shoe sale. Fortunately, Rebecca and I were finally able to make it down there today and scoop up some fine finds for summertime.

Army & Navy’s shoe sale continues now until April 27, 2008 at all Army & Navy locations in British Columbia and Alberta.