Happy New Year!

May you be well and truly kissed tonight. Always an auspicious start to a new year.

I will do my part to make sure as many people get kissed as possible. It's the least I can do.



I'm piggybacking on your wireless wave.

The holidays, the holidays. My eyes are so big and round right now. So caught in the headlights of boxing week sales. The never ending line up of people, all with questions, and in a hurry, and returns and exchanges and post over indulgence impatience and snappishness. It does take it out of a girl, though I maintained my good humour right up until the end of today. Where I just got tired. I snapped at my baby brother. Not without good reason, mind you, but without good timing. It did not take long to get unmad, though. It's just not good for the two of us to be angry at each other. We're each others' favorites. I'm excited to get a full night's sleep tonight.

I had the sweetest birthday. Oh, did I. In case you were wondering how it went, after all that mentioning. My dear friend PJ took me to the Canucks/Oilers game, and though we lost it was so so fun. I drank draft beer through a straw, and bounced around in my jersey, (purchased at a playoff game during the Canucks/Leafs series in '94..you, know, the good year), and yelled and made friends with everyone around us. And a lovely looking man in front of me made friends with me, and then called me the next day for a date. So that was nice, though should be mentioned not useful in any long term sense. Then we went and drank like fishes and more and more friends came, and Chris claims I got screechy, but I say boisterous. Anyway, it was delicious, that's for sure. Much birthday satisfaction.

Christmas was much the same, in terms of being satisfying. Though for different reasons. We went for Chinese food with some friends and family and another nice Jewish family we know also happened to be at the same Chinese restaurant. I love Jews on Christmas. Eatin' Chinese and waking up late and getting the day off but without stress. Also was the first night of Chanukah, which I am quietly celebrating by myself in my new little pad, with the menorah my stepfather gave me the year we were alone together in Los Angeles. The menorah itself it a bit worse for wear, not to mention the many moves it's been through since leaving stateside, and the candles are dollar store birthday candles, silver and fast burning. Chanukah lasts about three minutes. They are covered in this weird silver paint and sputter and crackle in a fire hazard kind of way, but I am very comforted by the entire moment. I have a nice photo of both my dads together, years ago, and I have it near the menorah. My guys.

I had an epiphany two nights ago. Maybe three. Yes, Christmas eve I had it. I was trying to figure out why I've been feeling so good and happy lately. It's because I'm not mad anymore. At anyone. I'm just free of anger. I mean, cut me off in traffic or be rude to me at the till and you could still make the little hairs on the back of my neck get prickly, followed by tone also getting prickly. I mean, no stale anger. Nothing leftover, carried over, strung through. Like, I'm over whatever came before, and it's ok now. I want to talk about this more, about how I think it's due almost entirely for the change in my relationship with my bio dad. It just feels very, very good, and I feel remarkably healed, and so very loving of him. And loved by him. So...I like the way things are.

By the way, if you ARE my bio dad, call me, because I'm not somewhere with a landline anymore and my cell phone is really expensive long distance and I don't have the internet at home so my email is going back to erratic.

If you are NOT my bio dad...um...you can call me, too, I guess, but I don't mean it the same way. For him it's, like, call me now, for you it's, like, call me whenever. Right?



Getting all fidgety.

Oooooooo....I'm so excited....it's my birthday! I love my birthday. Oooooooooo....I wonder what's gonna happen!

I'm going to solicit happy birthday greetings from every person I see. At least everyone I help at Banana Republic.

God, I love my birthday. I love that you can tell anyone it's your birthday and they will cheerfully and sincerely say, "Oh! Happy birthday!" What a day!


Dr. Rock and the Millenium Cats

I remember when I used to think that you couldn't really start living until you had figured life out. That you could not proceed forward until you had all the questions answered. Where on earth did I get that idea? Anyway, I'm happy to realize that the whole life thing is like this and that getting used to it and enjoying as much as you can along the way is probably going to behoove you.

I got away from myself in my head during that sentence, but hopefully my awkward little jumble of words conveyed my thoughts a little.

Just thinkin' on things.



I almost didn't write anything. I've been contemplating writing something every night for many nights. Then I log in, then I log out. Some weird thing about thinking I have nothing to say. Which may, indeed, be true. But it may not be. I may find I have something to say if I just keep punching. And, if only for my darling friend Graham Clark, (you may remember his name from an earlier post's title...), who has just begun to read my blog, and wants to know how often I write...I was tempted to say never, but it seems like I should try for at least once a week. Maybe more. Maybe if I write more, I'll have more to say. That's usually how it works. Keeps the muscles limber. The writing muscles. As opposed to other muscles, which do not get limber from writing, but rather stiff from sitting or sore from typing. But we all have our crosses to bear. (Ah, me.)

Banana Republic has turned out to be awfully pleasant. I actually enjoy my work day. I know that's a good thing, but it's very strange. Especially in light of the fact that the last go round with them, 2001, was such misery. I am different now, but they are, too. Nobody bothers me, which I like. That's the thing about joe jobs that generally gets me down. People bothering me. I like to know what my job is, then do it. If you let me do that, then I am a hardworking little drone. I spent a lot of time singing along to the Banana CD today, which ought to say something about my enjoyment level. It also says something about knowing all the words due to listening to the same CD over and over and over and over and over and over and over all day every day. For a month at a time. A premade Gap, Inc. CD. You will hear the very same CD playing right now in any Banana Republic in the world. Weird.

It does sort of sicken me to be an active part of the consumerist machine, a cog, if you will. It disturbs me and makes me need to stop listening to the part of my brain devoted to my values for several hours each day. On the other hand, sometimes in the course of my day I make people very happy, so that's nice. I do look forward, though, to the time when I can be part of something that makes a difference in the world. I wonder sometimes if comedy does that. I mean, I know that making people laugh is really important. It's so healthy for people to laugh, especially at themselves, so hopefully that's where my work can take people. But does my work have a social conscience? I'd like it to, or, at the very least, to be able to use it to further causes in which I believe.

Hm. I like the idea of my comedy making people laugh at themselves. I wonder how I can work a joke about vagina fat into socially conscious material. Vagina fat is the new funniest thing I have come up with. I mean, I didn't invent vagina fat, for crying out loud, but I do have it, and I think the phrase is hysterical. It sure produces hysterical laughter when you bring it up at a dinner table. I'm having t-shirts made. On the back they say "ask me about my...", and on the front they say, "...vagina fat", and there's an arrow pointing towards...drum roll...my vagina!! My mother will hate them, but I will laugh my ass off all day every day when I wear it. Plus, I'm going to put it on a tshirt that looks good on me. That way I'll wear it. Maybe just a shirt. Not a tshirt per se. (I love using "per se". Why? I sound like I have thought through what I am saying, or something. Plus, I don't think I, or anyone for that matter, ever use it quite right.)

Okay, Graham, this one's for you. Kiss kiss.

I'm happy.



Especially for Anonymous, (But you can read it, too.)

I got this fortune in a cookie today:

"You are capable, creative, energetic and generous. Prove it."

I think that pretty much says it all, don't you?



Tiny, melting snowmen - a Vancouver winter

It snows, it snows. For some reason it seems out of place to me, unexpected. I don't know what I thought the winter would be like, but probably I was thinking there wasn't even going to be a winter. Working out the logistics of working somewhere well heated where looking nice is paramount, and commuting trying to avoid the chill, the mud soaked pantlegs, hat hair, frizz.

Got a bus pass today, feel like royalty. Love not looking for change all the time, know that at least for this month, I can get up and go anytime. Finding the pace of commuting rather pleasant, if not the early mornings. Like the time on the bus, listening to my ipod, breathing deep to maintain patience. Trying to get a better bead on the timing of things, as have found that if I'm not running late, then it is much easier to keep a level head and a self satisfied smirk.

Am I making sense? I don't feel like I'm making too much sense lately.

Need to get this move over and done with, have taken my sweet ass time, though for good reasons.

Have been thinking a lot about the trip to Toronto. I think as much as it ignited something, it scared me, too. Siobhan said it best when she quoted Ross Geller (David Schwimmer, in real life) and said, "Nobody likes change". It's kind of true. I mean, it's kind of how I feel about flying. I like being at another destination, but I don't like getting there. I like the other side of change, the growth, the lesson, whatever form it takes, but I find the actual changing to be quite upleasant. Committing full time to standup scares me. I love it so much, what if I never get anywhere with it?

I am having a bit of an artist's think, it seems. Wondering if I can do all the things I want without compromising any of them. What compromises am I willing to make? Mostly, where do I want being a standup comic to lead? I love the Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls, (we had the most amazing trip to Bellingham this past weekend, by the way.), I don't want to give that up, but where is it taking me? Where do I want it to take me? Anywhere? Can it just be what it is and can I keep it and love it for that? If I do that, what bites does is take out of my standup?

Honestly, it just occurred to me that it feels quite luxurious to be contemplating these questions. Very first world issues.

What if I never leave Vancouver for the rest of my life? What if I leave and never come back? If my brother moves to Toronto, can it be far behind for me? I hate being apart from my brother. He took a short job in Toronto and so won't be back until late December. I'm keeping my fingers crossed he makes it home for my birthday, Dec. 21st. That's all I really want for my birthday. My brother around.