Lonita
Goodbye  
09 July 2009 @ 11:34 am
sounds like: MASH.S03E14.DVDRip.DivX-SFM
scattergories:  , ,
A long-time favourite local (Toronto) radio and club DJ committed suicide on Monday. The how is not public knowledge, and it really doesn't need to be. The why? That's anyone's guess. I could speculate, but won't. It's not my place. The why he's taken with him, and is no longer important.

I know there are folks who think that suicide is the ultimate coward's way out. I don't, never did, believe that. I don't have a grasp on suicide anymore, though when I was young I had my moments. As awful as life can seem at times, I guess I just can't imagine not being alive; and, I suppose I believe there are more people who could find another solution than do. Rather, I want them to find another solution - I hope for it.

I read somewhere recently, in regards to David Foster Wallace and Infinite Jest, though I can't recall in what context exactly, something regarding why people end things this way. It's got little to do with escape in the way one might assume it, but more to do with ending pain, with not wanting to hurt anymore - and this is the only way the person can contemplate (at that moment) not hurting.

In the case of the gentleman aforementioned, there was apparently no real indication that something was this amiss. No one seems to have realised he was in this much distress. I am sorry he felt that this was the only solution. His presence in the musical life of Southern Ontario will be much missed.

Rest in peace, Martin.

 
 
Lonita
The eyes have it  
08 July 2009 @ 08:45 am
sounds like: 1x18 - Dear Dad... Again
scattergories: 
So, I get home from work last night and try to read a bit, watch a little M*A*S*H, but find that my eye is still irritating me; or, rather, something in/on my eye is irritating me. I bathe it, I do the blink thing, and none of it helps, so off to the hospital emergency room I go. Which, fortunately for me, is about a five minute walk from here.

Many hours later - freezing (the emergency waiting area is like a freaking icebox), no sleep, no food, no caffeine (that part hurts the most), I am told that (thankfully) I do not have conjunctivitis (which I knew), but I do (ouch) have a corneal abrasion (sounds like a breakfast cereal or a bad band name). Go me!

It'll heal perfectly within three days, but it's a most annoying condition to put up with in the meantwixt.

· · ·

Quotation of the Day: "If I close my eyes my brain won't get any air." Frank Burns, M*A*S*H

 
 
Lonita
Bitch  
07 July 2009 @ 08:45 pm
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After hearing one of my workmates, for the umpteenth time, claim her bitch status, I am compelled to point out for all concerned, that doing such a thing in no way kindles for me any vision of your personal female power. Claiming to be a bitch does not make you strong, it makes you a bitch, and an impatience-making one at that.

I get the whole take-back-the-word concept, but I think this is one thing you don't need to take back. There's nothing flattering, augmenting, nor even amusing about it. Bitch is a harsh, ugly word that when applied to a female is meant to imply something harsh and ugly ... and that's the way it should remain.

Claiming to be a bitch makes me want to slap you with a rolled up newspaper.

 
 
Lonita
Pass the dutchie...  
07 July 2009 @ 07:34 pm
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So I'm walking under the rail overpass by my work when I get hit with the wall of pot stench that could only have come from the couple about 15 feet ahead of me who were, along with their reeking indulgence, pushing along their small child in a stroller.

Now. while I am not necessarily morally opposed to people and their herbalism, i must say that rockin' the ganja on a public street with your toddler in tow, is probably not the swiftest idea you ever had.

 
 
Lonita
It's all in the delivery  
06 July 2009 @ 01:57 am
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We deliver all manner of things at work - food being the largest percent of the delivery pie. We are no longer (legally) allowed to deliver alcohol or cigarettes (according to city bylaws), which seems to stun some folks. No matter how much you wheedle, we are not going to deliver cigarettes to you.

I think what others might classify as the oddest delivery request on record, is the woman who asked us to go to the reptile shop and pick up a box of mice for her. Live ones. You're not seeing the picture clearly, are you? She owns a very large snake that needed breakfast... She thought telling me that would freak me out. It did not. Snakes have to eat too.

I love the "working girls" who call up from their places of business (seemingly in the middle of their business), to ask us to go to the Love Shop/Stag Shop to pick up vibrators for them. Somehow they seem to feel that's going to shock me. It doesn't. It is, however, somewhat of a trauma for our more fundamentally religious drivers. Poor buggers.

It's what people forget in taxis that can be truly unbelievable. One woman even forgot her kid a couple of years ago. The funny part of that story was the driver didn't realise the kid was still in the car until the dispatcher called him and said, "Turn around." He was understandably surprised. Child was returned safely to mother.

It's normally more mundane things, the most common of which are cellphones. You'd think people would take better care of something they'd paid that much money for. We've had toys, umbrellas, cameras, various items of clothing, wallets, packs of gum, wedding reception gifts, a tin of coffee, oral antiseptic, keychains, groceries, baskets, bottles of alcohol, various amounts of money, purses, a goldfish (returned to the crying five year-old parent), and a hamster (now in the care of one of our dispatchers).

The human race needs to better babysit its belongings, methinks.

 
 
Lonita
McBreakfast  
05 July 2009 @ 08:58 pm
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Every once in a while my job actually yields a minor reward (other than my paycheque, which I feel could be vastly weightier than it is). This morning was one of those days, however small the reward.

We deliver a lot of food for people for places that don't have delivery service (like McDonald's) and even some that do when they're overloaded. Food orders are especially common right after the various social assistance cheques roll in (and I am not going to touch the moral questions regarding that) and on post-drunken Saturday and Sunday mornings because the previous night's bender really did you in. You can tell when the order is the breakfast version of the walk of shame outfit. Sometimes people who order the food give us the wrong address to deliver it to, and sometimes they either don't answer their doors or their phones. So, no food for them. It means that sometimes we benefit from the situation if the driver doesn't decide to keep the food himself or the restaurant can't reimburse him for the bill. (Some places will, like Tim Hortons if, for example, your driver mistakes the lg shortform for large as 19 and brings you 19 cups of tea. Don't get me wrong, I love tea, but that's too much of a trial even for my adoration to bear.)

Today it just happened to be several breakfast bagel sandwiches from McDonalds that we did try to deliver, but after six attempts to get them to answer the phone, we gave up. They actually did call looking for their munchies, but got bent out of shape when we told them that the person who answered the door at the address they gave us told our driver they didn't order anything.

Very handy for me, given that by the end of my overnight shift, I was starving.

 
 
Lonita
Godot finally showed  
05 July 2009 @ 08:31 am
scattergories: 
Infinite Jest - were the server up, thou wouldst see an image here

There it is. Barely out of the bookstore but still in its shipping wrapper.

Not having delved very far in as yet (owing to slow shipping), I am still already struck by the floating conversation ... the in and out, the ebb and flux. It puts me in mind of parts of the film version of Neil Simon's Brighton Beach Memoirs, where we do not hear all of the conversations we can see are going on, because we don't have to hear them. We hear only what we need to hear. We need to know there are people talking, but we don't need to be directly party to every morsel of text. This first part of IJ feels not entirely dissimilar. We need to know things are being said, and who is present to say them, but we don't necessarily need to know every last bit. It is also a natural thing, when oozing in and out of concentration, not to hear every word that's said in your dancespace; and, unlike any other book I've read in my life, this portion of the book reflects that - reflects intermittent hearing.

I have been highlighting like a demon, struck by words and phrases (and I feel like a Guess Who song saying that) ... words I know, words I don't and needed to look up, words I had to call my mother to define for me (because her French is fluent and mine is ... not) ... and wonderfully evocative bites of text like: "slept like a graven image", "rickety alphabet of exposed plumbing", "carbonated silence", "inclined together in soft conference"; and, as others have pointed out, "my chest bumps like a dryer with shoes in it".

They keep telling you to trust the author. I do.

 
 
Lonita
I shun the sun, or, Morpheus doesn't live here anymore  
03 July 2009 @ 03:30 am
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By no means am I sun person. If I'm out in it. I'm the one looking for the shade-giving device. However much I shun the (direct) sunlight, though, and however much of a night person I am, I am still sunlight's ravaged victim.

These nightshifts suit my taste to be up all night, since I normally don't go to bed until about 7 or so a.m. anyhow, but not finishing work until 7 means I don't get to bed until after 9, which means hours of fitful sleep and a complete lack of that nature-required serotonin provided by his majesty the bastard sun.

This lack of serotonin makes me depressed; the nagging depression makes me edgey and paranoid; the paranoia makes me worry about things I don't need to worry about, about things that don't matter in the grand scheme of it all.

It reminds me of this one bit from Henry Rollins' Boxed Life set, where he figures that someone ought to tell the very unhappy-sounding Brits that want him to come and perform in a rainstorm, that getting a gun and some vitamin C might chipper them up some. (The gun part aside, there's some pretty hilarious spoken word stuff on the Boxed Life set, even if you don't care for his music.)

 
 
Lonita
100 Words  
01 July 2009 @ 09:14 pm
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So, it's the first day of the month, and I haven't pushed one of my favourite writing project sites on you guys for a long time, so here it is.

You can say a lot in one hundred words. Give it a whirl. You won't regret it.

 
 
Lonita
Fracas of Faith  
01 July 2009 @ 06:48 pm
scattergories:  ,
As to whether the universe is evolved or designed intelligently, I have to go with the former. How we could stick the term 'intelligent design' to anything that is so awkward and fails as much as the human body, is beyond me.

I know there are some who feel that the explanations of science take away the sense of wonder and magic that some non-evolutionary theories provide, but I find the answers part of the magic. I am fascinated to know how and why things work, and do not feel I am losing out. Answers do not strip away the beauty, they are the beauty. Answers highlight our curiosity and ability. To live otherwise, to me, is to beg a life in fantasyland.

I went to Catholic school. The old joke related to this story is that the quickest way to turn someone into an atheist (even a passive one like myself) is to raise them Catholic. There was a nun who ended up being our chaplain for a couple of years. (Oddly, there were very few nuns teaching at that school; in fact, only two, and no priests.) One year during a religion class I recall her saying something along the lines of "why couldn't we simply believe/accept that God himself was responsible for evolution". What a simple and elegant answer that is. It would solve so many fracas of faith.

 
 
Lonita
Oh blessed blog with many viewers, may your words knock through the thick skulls of your readers  
01 July 2009 @ 11:09 am
sounds like: Haircut 100 - Ski Club (Bonus) | Powered by Last.fm
scattergories: 

Words That Changed Their Meanings - Neatorama

"How "ironic" came to be defined as "coincidence" is anybody's guess, but for our purposes, we like to refer to the following quote from the 1994 film Reality Bites. When Ethan Hawke's character is asked to define "ironic," he says, "It's when the actual meaning is the complete opposite of the literal meaning." Thank goodness for Hollywood."

You see, irony does not mean coincidence.

 
 
Lonita
The Log Driver's Waltz  
01 July 2009 @ 08:39 am
scattergories: 

And what would a Canada Day be without someone posting a little NFB action? Not any good holiday that I know.

This never fails to make me smile.

Have a fabulous day!

 
 
Lonita
The Kinder Army @ Work  
01 July 2009 @ 07:50 am
scattergories: 

Though, to be quite frank, I have no clue who that lady in the middle is. She's certainly of no Kinder universe that I understand.

 
 
Lonita
Sound and Fury  
29 June 2009 @ 09:14 pm
scattergories: 
My grandmother is losing her hearing. She's been losing it for years, but either can't or won't accept it. Who can blame her? It is not so easy a thing to come to terms with your once strong body failing on you. If you are 40 possibly you recall a vigour of 18 that's now on vacation and which you miss with creaking fondness. Remember the vigour of 40 when you're pushing your 82nd birthday.

The problem is made worse by her being an inattentive and somewhat scatterbrained person. She has always inflated volumes beyond the necessary, because the louder something is the less active her attention had to be. It's made being around her aurally painful at times.

She does not hear ticking clocks, nor realise that her incessant fidgeting produces sound.

I think the most frustrating part of it is not that she doesn't hear, nor that she doesn't turn her head when I speak, it's that blank look when I speak to her as she's facing me - as if I've said nothing at all. Sometimes she just turns her head and goes on with some other activity, and sometimes she just starts talking about something that has nothing to do with what I've said to her.

It would be a tad less frustrating if the rest of my head-in-the-sand family would actually admit that something's wrong, and if her doctor would stop telling her that nothing's amiss. When she has hearing tests she is paying attention, straining even, so she hears all the beeps.

 
 
Lonita
No Logo  
29 June 2009 @ 05:41 am
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No matter where I go, or what I look at, something in my surroundings will have been appropriated by branding of one kind or another. Hell, they even use crop circles to make brand logos. I also noticed when the last phone book came out, for example, that people were so desperate to use it for adspace/visibility, that a company name was stamped on the edges of the book itself.

hkad

Would it be in better taste if I obscured the phone number/address, or should we let Mr. Katz reap some ersatz advertising from me?

I have a long list of adjec(exple)tives at the ready that detail precisely what I think of this sort of rampant branding, so I've got to be honest and tell you that when I saw this article over at Jason Kottke's blog, that talked about the Metro Transit Authority in New York selling naming rights to subway stops, my anti-branding nerve twitched like a caffeine addict denied access to the only Tim Hortons in town.

In IJ (which I am sadly yet denied access to due to slow shipping) we have time designated by corporate sponsorship: years with names like "The Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment". Companies are so desperate to gain that extra inch of mindspace from consumers, that they buy time - literally. It might seem arbitrary and confusing, but so are the numerics of years really. They follow on from one number to the next numeric in line, but they are more or less an arbitrary choice started from an equally arbitrarily chosen point in human history.

This brand ubiquity, so dominating that not even the most avid troglodyte could escape from it, reminded me of Naomi Klein's No Logo, which, amongst so many other things, discusses the effects that this sort of globalisation has on human culture. It details, in specific, how some of the more well-known brands in the consumer world do not even make their own products anymore. These companies are merely names that buy the product from unnamed manufacturers; and, as the NY Times article says in regards to the subway stops, "Once upon a time, geographic relevance determined a station's name, but now, the authority says it is open to any naming agreements that can raise revenue for its transit system, including ones not directly tied to location."

Names no longer stand for anything but names.

I feel trapped by this globalisation of brand; I feel trapped in such a way that I cannot breath. Everything is being packaged, logoed, and shipped by a brand. (I once had to transcribe some conference speeches that dealt specifically with branding, and inspiring consumer confidence in a product by branding everything right down to the method of shipping.) I feel trapped by the idea that no matter what human creation comes to the fore, someone is going to brand it, corporatise it, turn it into some shiny Web 2.0 feature-pretty-fest that looks like community but is really just a thinly veiled attempt at homogeneity or population dumbdown. Remember, kids - a stupid populace is a controllable one.

If you're old enough you remember the plaid bondage-style gear that some of the old-skool punks would sport back in the day; stuff they picked up at junk shops, made themselves, stole, but in no fashion did they head down to the mall to purchase this gear from the local Wal-Mart. These days, you can. I saw a kid just a couple of weeks ago wearing what looked to be a very expensive pair of plaid trousers with punk slogans embroidered on them in shiny metallic lettering. Mommy did not knock that together for you during your early-80s Mohawk phase when you were heading out for a night's skanking to The Specials. (See, once upon a time 'skank' was a dance popular amongst those into ska and two-tone music. It was not synonymous with 'ho'. And damnit, I could skank in a pair of Docs right along with the best of 'em.)

Everything can be packaged, and is being packaged, even the things that would have once railed against it with the most force.

The over-branding, the globalisation, the pre-packaging of human culture, in some quarters at least, is helping to create a very incapable populace, one that may not be capable of choosing even the simplest things for itself without a little nudge from the outside. If you think I'm overreacting, take a look at this. It looks like help, but it's someone else making choices for you. You could so easily slip some extremely pointed suggestions into the answer queue on that one.

· · ·

Addendum: Can't decide if this is another one of those sites that merely looks like help, but is just another way to coddle a lazy populace, or if it might have some useful purpose. Must say that it smells an awful lot like a quiz show lifeline.

Addendum #2: Yet another site that might only look like help.

 
 
Lonita
Tremble For My Beloved  
27 June 2009 @ 07:16 pm
scattergories: 
Instructions:
1. Put your music on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

Read more... )

 
 
Lonita
Blow  
27 June 2009 @ 11:37 am
scattergories: 
Over the years I have grown to dislike air conditioning and central air, mainly because I find most folks like a constant temperature of something sub-arctic, and I find that to be most uncomfortable... and unnecessary.

Southern Ontario and summer being what they are, however - hot and humid - some kind of peace from the heaat is required.

Hence, the greatest invention known to man next to the cultivation of tea and indoor plumbing - the oscillating tower fan. I never oscillate it though. I fail to find sense in having the forgiving breeze blowing somewhere I aM NOT.

So, the summer hits, and I lose the ability to sleep a whole night through, then out comes the fan placed strategically so that Morpheus can take me happily to the land of Nod,

The odd thing? Even after the summer is over, I've got so used to the fan's white noise, that I have a litttle trouble sleeping without it.

 
 
Lonita
Infinite Summer  
26 June 2009 @ 05:33 am
scattergories: 
You know what there wasn't a single copy of in the entire city (that I could detect, at least)? David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. I had to special order the bugger, and it has not yet arrived. I am behind in keeping up with the Infinite Summer project; but, I am a fast and avid reader (and have an awful lot of empty time at work some nights), so I have no doubt that I can catch up readily enough.

I am prepared with several colours of sticky notes and flags, highlighters, micro-fine pens (micro-fines are the only way to go, my friends), a good notebook (though I'm an avid margin noter), and a selection of public places to read should my own apartment prove tiresome. Lugging around a book the size of a very sizey thing (it's about 1000 pages - I ordered paperback), is why I bought a new backpack, and will no doubt toughen up my flabby girly arms.

If you aren't already doing it, let me be your pusher. Join in. Read the book.

- - -

The Infinite Summer website has a raft of tasty links relevant to the project, the book, and reading the book.

 
 
Lonita
One of my quirks: Singing  
24 June 2009 @ 04:13 am
scattergories: 

Singing
It doesn't seem to matter what it is exactly, I'll sing along to it. I do try to curb it somewhat; but, apparently, it drives people dippy. I used to have a good singing voice, apparently, but I don't know anymore. I'm kind of afraid to open my mouth and find out.


Bathroom breaks
I drink a lot of teas, so I need to stop a lot more frequently than most folks seem to. That also probably drives people crazy. It's all right though, because a good stretch of the legs does wonders to help keep a healthy circulation.


Fidgeter
On the other hand, you can count on me for one good thing: I am not a fidgeter. I may do the odd unconscious thing now and then. Who doesn't? However, I don't tap, whistle, twiddle, twist, maim, fold, bend, spindle, mutilate, or otherwise.



plinky.com

 
 
Lonita
Zzz  
23 June 2009 @ 04:07 pm
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I swear, I do not know how it is I managed, as a young person, to go without as much sleep as I did without losing my mind or hating every second of it.

Now I hate going without sleep. Hate it. I hate the way I feel and hate having to fight tthrough it. I find it impossible to get any enjoyment out of anything when that tired, and my minimal patience is threadbare (or completely nonexistant).

Hell, I can't even spell.

 
 
Lonita
Writer's Block: Music for Thought  
22 June 2009 @ 11:53 pm
scattergories: 

When you have to study or get work done, what music (if any) do you put on to help you concentrate?


View other answers

You know, it's the oddest thing. I can't have music on when I study. I find it far too distracting. I can easily ignore speech - so TV and films are okay - but I cannot ignore a song. I can, however, study in public - at a coffee shop for example - with all that noise.

I cannot ignore music. It's impossible.

 
 
Lonita
Grandmother  
21 June 2009 @ 09:33 pm
scattergories:  ,
ma

My grandmother has too many bags. Why she doesn't just stuff all that into one bag is beyond me.

The conversation went something like this:

Ma: (looking at my LG Voyager) Is that a phone? Clara showed me some picture of her dog on her phone the other day.

Me: (showing her the photo I'd just taken on my phone without her knowing, not a moment before) I can take photos on my phone too. See? Isn't she cute?

Ma: Who? Oh, that witch.

 
 
Lonita
Writer's Block: Week in Review  
21 June 2009 @ 04:46 am
scattergories: 

What's the best thing that happened to you this past week?


View other answers

Probably the thing that happened just two minutes ago - I thought I'd lost about $70, but I just found it.

 
 
Lonita
start.io  
21 June 2009 @ 12:00 am
scattergories: 
start.io is a minimal fuss and muss site that provides you with a lightweight start/homepage for those who do not have the ability or inclination to use Facebook or a user-created website on a personal domain.

They provide some created themes and also give you the ability to heavily customise the css and set up categories.

Like a lot of Web 2.0 niche startups it might not last, but it's convenient and idiot-simple to set up.

Mine is here.

 
 
Lonita
Writer's Block: Everybody's Working for the Weekend  
20 June 2009 @ 09:18 pm
sounds like: Crosby Stills Nash Young - Woodstock
scattergories: 

Describe your ideal weekend.


View other answers

I don't think I've embraced the concept of weekend since I was in school; not even in my working life. That probably has a lot to do with my (current) days off not being on the traditional weekend days.

My ideal weekend would be like any other ideal day though: enough sleep; a good breakfast / a good cup of tea; a good wake-up movie / TV show; a warm breeze through my open windows; the oceanside in October when all the summer tourists are gone; a tramp through the woods on a foggy fall day; a fun art project; good friends; animated conversation; a pub patio at dusk; a late-night walk.