Take Heart, Little One; The Worst is Yet to Come

by Camille Posted on December 3, 2009

On my way to school this morning, I burst into tears for no apparent reason.

Yeah, it was one of those days.

Interestingly enough, though, on my way home from school twelve hours later, I experienced a sudden bout of optimism.  I know, right?  That never happens.  Anyway, I did.  I had just finished a long day at school (of which there are two more before finals), I’d spent hours completing first drafts of two out of three research papers due next week (two thirds done with the first half—what percentage is that?), and I had an episode of Gossip Girl waiting at home for me.  I was feeling much more cheerful than I had been this morning.

I could literally feel a bounce in my step as I considered all the good things in my life. “This semester is nearly over, and I don’t even have too many pimples to show for the stress. I know it’s a little daunting now, but every semester about this time I get to feeling overwhelmed, and every semester, I make it through all right.  The key is to prioritise, take little steps.  You can do it—you’ve always done it!”

And then…I jinxed myself.  Out of the clear blue, with no motivation that I could distinguish, I just…turned grouchy again.  One minute I was thinking, “Take heart, old chap, things will be getting better soon, you can do it, you’ve always done it,” and my thought immediately following was, “AND YOU ALWAYS WILL.”  And snap! just like that, I was right back to my old familiar pessimism.  “Yeah, cheer up,” I sneered to myself, “the worst is yet to come.  This is only one semester in a looong line of semesters guaranteed to be as horrific as this one, if not worse. You’ve been a college student for so long, no wonder you have it down pat—you’ll NEVER BE FINISHED.  Graduate?  Ha!  That’s just a fairy tale.  You’ll never make it that far.  What’s more, you have dandruff. You’re weak.  WEAK.”

Oy vey with the negative self-talk, eh?

College Takes its TollUndoubtedly, I have cause to worry—school is very clearly taking its toll on me.

I guess there’s no real reason to tell you this.  It’s not like I experienced a sudden realisation that my negativity would be the death of me; I just quickly silenced the creepy bipolar voice inside my head and drove home.  I mean, what else could I have done, really?

Don’t worry, I’m not depressed—I’ll save that for spring semester, when I don’t have Christmas to look forward to.

But I really do have dandruff.  It’s horrible.

Posted in Canada, my edjumacation and me, quickies, woe is me | Tagged | 10 Comments

Holiday Hostessing

by Camille Posted on December 2, 2009

As you all know, my parents were in town over the weekend for a brief visit.  We had such a good time, and I find myself looking anxiously forward to the next time I have them come.  It was a blast.  The truth is, I really enjoy playing the role of Hostess.  I’m not sure why, inasmuch as I’m not really a gracious or caring person in my normal life, but when people come to visit me, I just thrive on trying to make their stay as perfect as possible.  Maybe it’s because I’ve always harbored a desire to open a bed and breakfast.  Maybe I just like showing off.  I don’t know the reason—I only know it’s true.

At any rate, though I am far from being a perfect hostess (it would take several more million dollars and an acreage with a farmhouse in upstate New York for me to fully embrace that role, Eddie Ross-Style), I do try to do my best.  I think I’ve picked up a few helpful hints over the past few years since I moved to Canada and became a travel destination for Arizona friends and family trying to escape the summer heat.  And, as per my motto, my blog would not be my blog if I failed to share good things with you through it.  So share I will…

Camille’s Low-to-Mid-budget and Time-Saving Tips for Holiday or Any Other Time Hostessing:

Night:

I like to ensure my guests have the best possible sleeping arrangements.  That way, when they wake up in the morning and I ask, “How did you sleep?” {as is polite hostessing protocol, by the way}, I don’t have to cringe and expect the worst.  Here’s what I do to make the most of our guest room arrangements:

1. Bedding—if you can splurge on anything, splurge on this. We have two guest beds (one Queen, one King) in two different bedrooms, and both of them are castoffs from various family members who upgraded.  They’re fine beds, but a bit old.  They’re certainly nothing fancy—they don’t even have headboards.  We bought memory foam toppers for them, which helps them feel a bit more cozy, and have invested in nice bedding for each of them (silky smooth sheets and huge fluffy duvets) to make our guests’ sleep as restful as possible.  Since the beds themselves were free, we could rationalise spending a little bit of money to fancy them up (and actually, I think it was Poor Kyle’s poor mother who bought the memory foam toppers, so score!).

Kirkland Brand Sheets

Even if you can only spare a couch or a fold-out bed, consider buying a $60 set of Kirkland™ brand sheets from Costco to make up a nice bed, instead of condemning your guests to the lumpy cushions and a stinky blanket.  Also, don’t forget to have one or two spare blankets laying aside, should your guests lean toward the chilly side.

2.  Room Decor—if you’re poor like me, don’t even bother with it. Yeah, it would be nice to have themed guest rooms that actually had window hangings and pictures on the walls, but most of the time they’re in there, my guests are sleeping, and wouldn’t be able to enjoy the prettiness even if it existed.  That’s why I say, if you only have $10 to spend, spend it on a pillow for the bed rather than a picture for the wall.

3.  Clock—it would be useful, and your guests would appreciate having one somewhere in the room. I have had complaints from numerous house guests that they never know what time it is, because I have been so sparse with the room decor.  I’m sorry, house guests.  I just assumed that you would use your cell phones for a clock and alarm clock.  I need to make this a priority before the next guest comes.

Ikea alarm clock

I plan on purchasing two of these dearies from Ikea™ next time I’m in one.  I’ve always liked them.

4.  Smell—thirty minutes before your guests arrive, spritz air freshener in their room. It will make them think highly of you.  I use Bath and Body Works™ Concentrated Room Sprays, because they smell SO lovely (not all chemically like the ones from the grocery store), and linger for hours.

Bath and Body Works Room SprayPlease, though, only buy these when they are on SUPER sale.  Five dollars for 1.5 ounces (regular price) is a horrible rip-off, and not low-budget at all.  I, myself, like to get these as gifts (thanks, sis!).  If you could arrange that, it would be ideal.

Conversely, you could just plug in an air freshener in their room during their stay, but if it’s too strong, that won’t be a favourable amenity to your guests.  My sister unplugged one last summer because it got on her nerves.  Sorry, sis.

5.  Light—have it. Obviously, the possibilities are kind of limitless when it comes to lighting. Me, I have just a normal overhead light (again, someday, farmhouse, chandeliers, awesomeness) and a nightstand lamp.  That way, my guests can turn off the light and climb in bed, and then read by lamplight if they need to, without getting out of the comfy bed I’ve prepared for them.

Some other little conveniences to consider: I TRY to have a little basket of goodies set up for my guests (don’t always get to this, though).  It includes hotel shampoo and conditioner, a tiny bottle of lotion, a water bottle, and maybe a little snack.  I set this on a stack of folded towels, and then my guests should be set for their ablutions, should they happen to forget anything.  Plus, who doesn’t love surprises in baskets after a long day of travel?  It’s just fun.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got for the sleeping arrangements.  Do you have any other ideas that I’ve never considered?  If so, please tell me—I am always looking for ways to be more impressive and amazing.  Wink, wink.  Also, stay tuned for more house guest tips: bathroom, kitchen, and miscellaneous.  It’s going to be a very guestful week here at Archives of Our Lives™.

Posted in do what I say, family, Overall Good Things, Travel | 13 Comments

I’m an Old Fart

by Camille Posted on November 29, 2009

Hi, guys.  I’m sorry it’s been a lifetime since I’ve posted.  It’s been a busy week.  Excuses, excuses.

Seriously, though.  For the last four days, I have lived my life like a person who never had a blog, had never heard of blogs.  I hate to admit it, but this little website hasn’t even crossed my mind this weekend.  Not even once.  In fact, I sort of don’t even know what to say now that I’m back…I mean, it feels like this is my very first blog post, the one where people are all like, “So yeah, I started this blog and I don’t know what to say but here I am and this is my first blog post the end.”

I had one of those once.

Anyway, this weekend has been a sort of coming-of-age time for me.  It is the first time in my life that I have actually felt quite close to what it must feel like to be a grown-up.

First, I had my parents in town (they’re still here, actually; they’ll be leaving later today).  It’s really strange to have one’s parents in town.  I have been the sole meal planner and executioner (I execute the meal plans, that is; although it could also sound like I execute my guests by virtue of my awful cooking), and that’s a lot of responsibility.  The first night, we made homemade pizza.  The next night we had a Chinese dinner, and tonight we had soup, salad, and rolls.  I’ve even tried my hand at a few breakfasts, but those have failed pretty consistently; I’m convinced I am so awful at making breakfasts because I hate being alive any time before noon.  At any rate, my parents are still alive, so at least I didn’t kill them off with my horrid cooking, or worse, no cooking at all.

Second, Poor Kyle and I paid off Tamra Camry, who is dead.  We still owed several years’ worth of payments on Tamra, but the bank was threatening to charge us for insurance because she’s not insured in Canada because she doesn’t actually run any more, so we decided to just bite the bullet and pay her off now, saving us money in the long run.  And delightful as it is to declare that we are debt free except for our house, it would be even more delightful if we didn’t have to pay several thousand dollars on a car that doesn’t drive.

You can read all about that fiasco here.

We do hope to fix Tamra someday—she deserves as much—but that day is not today.

And finally, I made my own pumpkin puree this week, and then proceeded to sneak it into every single meal I have subsequently prepared.  Nothing makes me feel more like a naggy old mother figure than sneaking vegetables into my husband’s dinner and acting all nonchalant about it.  “What, dear?  No, I don’t think this banana bread looks any oranger than usual.  Why do you ask?”

I’m an old fart, is what I’m saying.

And it’s ever so slightly unsettling.

Next thing I know, I’ll be wandering around the neighborhood in my bathrobe looking for my missing dentures and rounding up a gang of cronies to join my peanuckle league.

Posted in family, mondays suck, Overall Good Things, quickies | Tagged | 12 Comments

Mean Moms and Santa Do Not A Good Team Make

by Camille Posted on November 25, 2009

I put up my Christmas decorations today, and it reminded me that I don’t really like Christmas all that much in the first place.

I think I was poisoned by volunteering as Santa’s Little Helper for so many years in a row.

I have decided that I will tell our kids right from the beginning that Santa is a hoax.  It’s just not worth it to me.  Yes, I was enraptured with all things Santa when I was a kid, but that doesn’t mean I want my children to feel the same joy I felt.  What have they done to deserve it?  Nothing.  They don’t even exist yet—at least, not on this earth.  No Santa for them.  And they’ll eat their dadgum broccoli, too!

I’m preparing now to be a really mean mom later.  Can you tell?

I think the majority of my Scroogishness is caused by the timing of Christmas during the lousiest part of the semester.  If all goes according to plan, I will be well out of school by the time I ever give birth (gah!) to a child, so maybe by then I will have the ability to try harder to be a nice mom.

I can’t make any promises, though—it’s just a theory.

Christmas Tree Ornaments

The reason I bring this up now is because I spent many hours decorating my house for Christmas today, and it was exhausting.  I am sore from my head to my toes, because all that hauling of crap from basement to upstairs and unboxing and unpacking and up-and-down motion of putting ornaments on trees and positioning that dadgum star just right…it’s strenuous.  I feel strenned.  From the strain of it all.  To the point of no longer making sense (if, in fact, I ever made sense in the first place, which is doubtful).

Which means I’ll stop.

Now.

p.s.  It seems like I’m forgetting something…  Is it some sort of holiday today?  I am so out of touch up here in Canada—nobody tells me anything since I moved here, and TV doesn’t work and the internet doesn’t exist and phones freeze when they ring, so I have no way of knowing anything.  It isn’t easy living in a frozen tundra.

p.p.s.  My mother would rebuke me if she thought I really forgot about American Thanksgiving, and since she’s coming to visit me in two days and I don’t want to suffer through a harsh rebuking, I’d better say this: Happy American Thanksgiving.  We celebrated this holiday weeks ago (*yawn* Thanksgiving is so last month), so I don’t feel obligated to list off a whole slew of items I am thankful for.  After all, I only have so much thankfulness in my heart during any given season; I don’t believe in excessiveness.  But in the spirit of my former life, here are some thanks-inspired posts I have written in the past.  As for today?  I am thankful that Poor Kyle has finally learned to use just the right amount of Saran™ wrap to cover the leftovers; it used to be that he would use an entire yard of the stuff for a cereal-bowl amount of food.  That kind of excessive behaviour is unwelcome in my presence—like I said, I don’t believe in it.

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

Posted in It's All Good, looking back, Married Life, mediocrity, oh brother what next, woe is me | Tagged | 7 Comments

Chaos

by Camille Posted on November 23, 2009

Carnage1

Carnage2Method to the madness.  An organised mess.  Carnage.  Call it what you will—it is my reality.

As an aspiring writer (I hate those two words put together like that—they only reinforce the fact that I am not yet a professional writer), my mind is in utter chaos 99% of its waking hours.  This time of year (i.e. finals and research papers), that percentage increases to a full one hundred.

If you think the countertop where I’m writing a research paper is bad, you should see the innards of my brain—it’s disastrous.  I can’t keep anything straight; if I fail to write down a deadline I forget it altogether simply because my brain is incapable of retaining even one more piece of information on its own.  And it’s not even time for final exams yet!  This is just the term paper time!  I have a permanent nervous tick—two, in fact: one in my eyebrow and one in my right thigh.  It’s awful.  To make matters worse, I am out of DDP™ (that might account for the nervous tick, now that I think of it).  I have three research papers to write and each of them must be amazing. Already, I have put over ten hours into one (it sounds absurd, but it’s true: my professor is not joking when she says “research paper;” her requirements for my resources are insane, to the tune of “two of your resources must not be available within a 100-mile driving radius of the university campus; one of them must be an online source that is only available online; and one must be a source in print that is ONLY available in print and NOT online.  Also, close your eyes, stand on one leg, sing ‘Hello Dolly’ in French, and fake a sneeze.  Then document it in MLA format.”)

I’m not kidding—it’s nuts.

I don’t know what it is that compelled me to take these classes; whatever it is, it’s catching, because I’m registered for next semester, and it’s gonna be even worse.  I’d rather catch a bad case of the Swine Flu than have this disease, which I am diagnosing “College-for-No-Reason-itis.”  I recommend you steer clear of me, because it’s obviously contagious, and I wouldn’t wish its symptoms on my worst enemy {okay, maybe her [that little slut]; but certainly not my casual enemies}.

It’s dreadful.

My only consolation is at least I’m a good writer and I won that writing contest to prove it—oh, wait.  No I didn’t.

Dammit.

At any rate, in case you couldn’t tell, I’m getting closer to crunch-time for my classes, and this blog is suffering from the side effects.  I’m sorry, little blog.  I’ll try to keep you maintained on a regular basis, but that only means one measly post every weekday…I can’t promise anything by way of quality.

I’m sure you understand.

Posted in Cutting Back, failures, my edjumacation and me | Tagged | 10 Comments

Have You Ever Wondered…

by Camille Posted on November 23, 2009

GrossFoodImage from here.

Any time I eat something gross-looking, like an enormous burrito from Filibertos™, I worry that I might die before I fully digest it, and the coroner will make fun of me for my choice of meals during the stomach content part of the autopsy.

It kind of makes me never want to eat again.

Posted in introspection, It's All Good, mondays suck, oh brother what next, quickies | 8 Comments

Grounds for Divorce?

by Camille Posted on November 18, 2009

If Poor Kyle and I ever divorce, it will be caused by one of two things:

PK Teacups

1.  The fact that he shattered my dreams of Wedded Disneyland Bliss by refusing to ride Splash Mountain with me (who even does that?) and cuddling up with another girl the entire day, and I never payed for the therapy that would be necessary to overcome my grief of such a loss, or, more probably…

2.  The fact that I never learned how to keep quiet about his poor choice in music.

It’s not just that he likes country.  Really, it’s not the genre.  There are a lot of country musicians who are actually really amazing (Keith Urban, Kenny Chesney’s island songs…heck, even Rascal Flatts and Big & Rich are pretty good).  But for every one good country song, there are ten equally atrocious train wreck, sorry-excuses-for-music songs.

In my life, I need to be surrounded by music that says something…music that means something.  A pretty good indication of whether I will like a song is whether or not it will change my life.  It’s true.  I don’t waste my time listening to music unless it will change my life.  I stopped listening to local Canadian radio stations for this very reason—they could not offer me music beyond “Umbrella, brella, brella…” and “They call me Lisa!  They call me Jane!  That’s not my name! (clap clap clap clap) That’s not my name!” {What, you think I would validate those sorry excuses for music by actually learning and using their titles?  Ha!}  Now, I either listen to CBC talk radio or the French station; at least those help me get a little smarter, as opposed to the brain-deadening I was undergoing before.

And that is the sole reason I struggle with Poor Kyle’s music choices—not because of the twang, not because of the instrumental, not even because of the high incidence of cowboy paraphernalia gracing so much of his album art—but the lyrics.

Brad Paisley: “I would have to choose; If I hit that fishin’ hole today, she’d be packin’ all her things and she’d be gone by noon… Well I’m gonna miss her when I get home…”

Trace Adkins: “Honky tonk badonkadonk?”  What’s a badonkadonk?

But of all the annoying country music singers, there is one who I despise more than the rest: One Singer to Kill Them All.  And that person is…

TaylorSwift-01-bigTaylor Swift.  Image from here.

I realise I am putting myself in great peril by announcing my unpopular feelings toward Taylor Swift in front of the whole world.  However, this blog would not be my blog if I withheld from you, dear readers.  I always blog about subjects I feel passionately toward, and this is no different; I am passionate in my distaste for Taylor Swift’s lyrics.

Now.  Before I continue, I would like to note that she seems like a very nice person.  She is lovely, for sure, and I’ve heard that she is very genuinely sweet.  That’s fine.  I’m not saying I hate her as a human being, or even as a singer—I actually think she has a striking voice.  But her lyrics—her teeny-bopper-stereotypical-cliched-redundant-female-oppressing lyrics—make me want to claw my eardrums out with splintery toothpicks, if only to make them stop bouncing around in my brain.

See, I don’t think Taylor Swift gives herself enough credit.  Her songs portray her as a girl whose entire sense of being is wrapped up in whether or not a boy likes her at any given moment.  And that is a quality I cannot respect in a woman.

Here is a sample of some of her arguably most annoying lyrics:

…That I can’t even see anyone when he’s with me… [Why not, is his brilliance so bright it has blinded you?  That’s a pity.]

…He’s the song in the car I keep singing, don’t know why I do…  [Trust me—I’m wondering the same thing.  If you don’t know why you keep singing, maybe you should stop.]

…Drew walks by me, can he tell that I can’t breathe?…  [Not being able to breathe because of Drew?  I could see being breathless at the sight of the Grand Canyon, or God, but a pimply-faced teenage boy in your homeroom class who, for the record, doesn’t even know you exist?  That’s just silly.]

…Romeo, save me, I’ve been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come…  [That’s because he never will.  Save yourself.]

…But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts
She’s Cheer Captain and I’m on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time… [But will you really want to be with him after he’s ignored you all this time?]

It disgusts me, and it’s not just her lyrics, either—it’s the central theme in all her videos, too.  In the music video for her song “White Horse,” for example, she apologises to her cheating boyfriend for not being able to forgive him.  And then she spends three-quarters of the movie sitting on the floor weeping about it.

White Horse Image from here.

That was the last straw for me.

YOU’RE SORRY?  He’s the bastard who cheated on you; you have nothing to be sorry for!  Moreover, why are you sitting there SOBBING about it?  He’s obviously a jerk, and you have so much going for you!  You do not need him.  I repeat: YOU do NOT NEED HIM to be happy.

That’s the thing about Taylor Swift’s songs—they’re all about boys.  Nice boys, mean boys, dream boys, imaginary boys.  It’s a bit excessive.  Every time one of her songs comes on the satellite radio in Poor Kyle’s truck, I listen to the words and invariably come to the same conclusion: “This girl needs to learn who SHE is, aside from the influence of boys.”  For example: she talks about princesses in a lot of her songs, which is fine.  If she wants to be a princess (I can’t blame her), by all means, be a princess—but why does she talk about being a princess only in relation to the handsome young princes who she hopes will come rescue her and make all her dreams come true?  Doesn’t she know that she should make her OWN dreams come true?  That she has the power to do that all by herself?  Hasn’t anybody ever told her that?

No, obviously not.  Because according to Taylor swift, who sings, “Well, I’m only me when I’m with you,” she is only herself when she is with a boy.

I firmly believe that girls need to know who they are, apart from boys.  I know about being boy-crazy; I know about being a teenage girl (it wasn’t long ago I was one) who wishes that someone would just come along and hold my hand and make me happy.  I know that—I struggled with that from the age of twelve or thirteen to the time I was sixteen.  Luckily for me, I was able to eventually break free from those ridiculous notions of “Gee, if only I had a boyfriend, I would be happy,” and learned to think, “I am happy to be me, and any guy would be lucky to date me.”

It’s not that I don’t believe in love or romance.  It’s just that I know I can live without it.  I maintain that I am actually a better partner to my husband because of this belief.  Sure, sometimes I feel sad because of things he does (like consistently failing to place his dirty socks in the hamper), but my overarching happiness is up to me.  If he ever gets a hankering to be with a younger, lovelier woman, it would be his loss.  Not mine.  I might be sad for a long time, but I know that eventually, because I knew who I was before I ever even met him, I know I would still have my self to cling to.  He does not have the power to make me a sad person.  Only I have that power.

I cringe for girls who have not come to this realisation.  Many don’t achieve it in high school, but find it later in college.  That’s okay—however long it takes, as long as they do find it.  Some never realise it at all, which is the very saddest case.  Sometimes I wish there was a way of speaking to all the girls in the world and just implanting this knowledge straight from my brain into theirs.

And that’s why, when Taylor Swift sings, “I’m only me when I’m with you,” I change the radio to another station.  Poor Kyle hates when I do that, but I don’t know what else to do.

She might be the downfall of our marriage.

Sad.

Posted in It's All Good, Married Life, oh brother what next, self-actualisation, watch out or I'll blog about you, what I'm about | Tagged , | 29 Comments