The more you don't know

I had to take a grade five level math test today, and I'm pretty sure I failed it.

It was one of the most in-depth job interviews I have ever had, and at the end of a very, very long-winded interview, there was a math test and a data entry exam. Yikes! Neither of these two things are my strong suit, however, at least for data entry I have acquired a way of typing that works reasonably fast for me, albeit ridiculous. I won't say what the job interview is for in this open web world, but I will say that it was a part-time job that really shouldn't need this much of a screening test.

Anyway, the math test was full of questions that I probably haven't seen since about grade five. There were a lot of questions on finding percentages and dividing ticket sales, and bla bla bla, however the one that stumped me for the longest was this:

2 adult tickets and a child's ticket cost 49$ total, 2 child tickets and one adult cost 44$ total. What is the cost for the individual child and adult tickets?

This question must have taken me 12 minutes out of the 20 minute exam. Why? Because I was trying desperately to remember the formula/ cross-division/ thingy thing that I would have used to figure this out in grade five, and my mind was a blank. I'm sure there is a way to substitute with a's and b's, and do an algebraic equation of some kind, but I could not for the life of me remember. I will note that I eventually figured out the answer, and I will say what it is at the bottom in case anyone is dying to figure it out on their own, oh I know you are! My system of figuring it out, however, consisted of trial and error, substituting different numbers in and then adjusting up or down depending on my results. (Not exactly the most efficient system, but whatever works.)

Anyway, what this whole math test got me thinking was that I actually used to know how to answer this question, but I will bet you that I memorized and regurgitated the formula for my math tests, and then away it went forever. I have been noticing as of late just how many things this is true for in my life! Definitely the majority of my University studies were conducted this way. It makes me a little bit sad. It is a system of success that I was able to use in order to achieve good grades and "succeed" through most of my life, however, I have nothing to show for it now! I'm not saying I want my brain to be absolutely packed with useless information, and I don't disagree that these things fall into the "use it or lose it"  category of things that I have not used. That said, I am mourning the chances that I had to "learn" interesting things in the past, that I instead "replicated and regurgitated."

Another side of this coin is a phenomenon I have noticed in myself: Feeling like there are things that I should know that I don't, and instead of owning up to it, pretending that I know them. A very regular example of this is movies. There have been times (specifically when I am in a group of film-buff people, or directors, or another group that makes me very nervous) when someone starts to talk about a famous movie that I have not seen, and instead of saying I haven't seen it and being the odd one out, I agree and pretend I know exactly what they're talking about, laugh about the "really funny part at the end" and try really hard to remember the actor's name that played the guy with the weird haircut, that I actually have no idea who in hell he could possibly be. I am sure I'm not the only one who has done this. Right??

So why have I done that? Nerves, feelings of insecurity, an unsafe group of people, many reasons! However, I am actually preventing myself from learning through this intelligent group of people that I'm with. If they're film buffs, instead, I could find out their insight on a film, which ones to see, which to avoid, find out interesting background information, and about that particular director, actually learn. I think it's time that I admit that I know nothing. The more I learn, the more I realize that I actually do not know, and therefore, instead of trying so hard to prove that I know something, I am going to do the opposite. Admit that I know nothing. (That way when I do actually know something, it will be surprising and fun!)

I now have a new goal: I want to learn. Really learn. How do I do that? I ask a shit load of question, even if it means looking stupid. I came up with a list of things that I (very judging-ly) feel that I should know by now, given I am what people might refer to as an "adult." My goal is to learn how to do them:
-make an omelet that doesn't end up gooy in the middle or way over-cooked. (actually, learn how to cook a lot of things, like chicken, fish, and turkey without over-cooking the shit out of it! Maybe I should change this one to cooking classes in general. I want to cook things well!)
- fold a fitted sheet. It's time.
- play the drums (I've been saying I wanted to learn for years, so what am I waiting for?)
- finish actually reading the 1/6 of Shakespeare plays I haven't read. I avoid them, but really, I'm a Classical actor, that's just wrong.
- lift weights properly. 'nuff said
- wash the windows. How do you get inside? how?
-  sew.
- keep my receipts mainly organized so that it doesn't take me 5 hours to sort them come spring
- use tools. I mean, I guess it depends on what you're using them for, but all those little handy projects they might be good for around the house. Like fixing things... and stuff... yup. Specific.

That's the list for now, but really, I want to be open for whatever learning experiences might come my way. Here we go!!!

Oh. And the answer is adult: 18$, child: 13$, just in case you wanted to know!

Love and kindness all.

Potty humour at its' best

Alright, I realize this is a ridiculous topic, not the most literary or philosophical discussion I have posed, but I've been babysitting all week and this is where my head is at:

Today I did something I have never done before: I farted REALLY loud in front of a stranger in public. I didn't exactly do it on purpose, I just wasn't thinking about it. I had been babysitting a 14 month old all day, and just one of the great thing about babies is that you can just burp and fart all you want around them, because no one cares!

Anyway, I was wearing my ipod head phones and listening to some classic Nora Jones hits, and I just let 'er rip without noticing, that is until the woman standing next to me almost jumped out of her skin, she was so shocked. It was in that moment that I realized what had just happened. I stared straight ahead, as did she, and we both stood as stiff as corpses until our subway car came, which seemed like an eternity. It's funny how we both felt the absolute necessity to pretend like nothing had happened, knowing perfectly well that the other knew perfectly well what had just occurred. Why is that? I mean, I will always find farts hilarious, and if I had looked at the woman's face, I probably would have started laughing hysterically, but no, we were not allowed to laugh in this circumstance, we had to stare straight ahead.

I can recall several hilarious farting circumstances in the last few years of my life. Being an actor, there is a lot of movement and voice work that challenges the ability to keep in gas, and sometimes it slips out. One of the most hilarious moments I have ever witnessed was with an instructor in a workshop I was taking. He was doing a leg stretch, and right in the middle of it, a little teeny fart popped out, and shocked him, so he said "ooops!" and continued on with the class. I, however, could not continue on. No matter what I did, I could not stop replaying it in my head, and one of my classmates was uncontrollably giggling across the room, so whenever I caught her eye I lost it, and I continued to giggle until I had to excuse myself from the room. I also had a one on one session with a voice teacher I was taking some classes with, and in the middle of doing a very low-breath squat, a big fart came right out. Again, I pretended that it did not happen, but based on her face, I could tell that of course she noticed! She was probably trying desperately not to laugh, for all I know.

So my question is, why are farts so darn funny? Is it the element of surprise? You never know when they might suddenly appear? Is it the noise that they make? Is that noise funny just in itself, and the fact that we make that noise from our bodies makes it even funnier?

Whatever the case, today I didn't find my fart funny. Today, I was terrified that this stranger was going to think I was some weird, gross person who farts really loud in public. Now, I did fart really loud in public, but why would she think I was weird and gross? In fact, in my experience, as I have mentioned, I find other people's farts to be hilarious, so in retrospect, maybe she was really just trying not to laugh, but if she did laugh, it could have been an amazing moment.

I declare, let us all embrace the humour of our farts! If they slip out, let us embrace their hilarity, and allow others to do the same!!

Love and kindness all.

Such a poser

This last week I decided it would be fun to explore the Ottawa University campus, as I have never been there before. When I got there, I decided the game would be to fit in as much as I could. To blend in, if you will. I got on a bus that said it would take me there, and was on my way.

I could tell which stop to get off at mostly based on the amount of young people wearing backpacks who decided it was time to exit. I followed. A 20-something man with a green backpack was right in front of me, so I followed him off of the bus, through a tunnel and into a building on campus. It turned out to be the education building. Cool, I thought. I could totally pass as an education student.

Turns out it was harder to blend in to a place I had never been than I thought. I wandered around the building trying to find something interesting to do without looking like I didn't know where I was going, but I couldn't find ANYTHING but a little hallway with a lot of couches that people were studying on, and being REALLY quiet. I put my backpack down on one of the couches and pretended to be looking for something in my backpack, as I glanced around to look for a staircase, or SOMETHING interesting. Couldn't see a thing. I got up and left. Pshhh, education was boring.

I walked into the next building, which was the university center. Here we go! First off they were having a poster sale, which just brought me right back to my university days. Scouring through posters, trying to decide on one new one for my room, which I would hate by the following year and throw away anyway. Buying three other posters that were mediocre but on SALE for my family members as part of their Christmas presents for the following year, which they would eventually throw away as well. Then there was a display of a ton of clubs trying to advertise for their particular activity. A lot of flyers were pushed in my face, and then one very sweet lady asked me if I would like her flyer, which was refreshing. She was part of the meditation club, and they had a free meditation class happening later on. I gladly took one, and decided I would stop by later. As I wandered through hallways, I was stopped by a young man trying to survey University students. My plan to blend was working too well! I was tempted to go along with it, but right away I felt guilty and told him I didn't actually go there. He looked very confused, and just kind of stumbled off backwards. I think he thought I was lying to avoid him. Ah well.

As I made my way into the next building I saw some students wandering into a class room and I was feeling adventurous so I followed them in. They were heading into a class that had already started and was showing a film in mandarin. (I think...) It was interesting! From what I gathered, it was about a young girl who was forced into smuggling some kind of drugs by a group of scary-looking men. Why a language course (I'm assuming that's what it was) would choose to show this movie, is beyond me. I snuck out before the movie was over, and continued on my way. I quickly found the library and INSTANTLY started to look up Canadian playwrights, and off I went. I ended up reading "The Clockmaker" by Stephen Massicotte, a playwright I love, and found it to be quite an interesting tale. I tried to get onto the wireless internet, however, it required a student number and password. For a few minutes I glanced around the room and saw one new person just logging on, I thought maybe if I walked behind them I could try to see it, haha, but that seemed ridiculous so I gave up.

It was time for the meditation class after all. I made my way back to the center, and wandered up to the 3rd floor looking for 301, and could not find it for the life of me. I circled the floor three times, and finally asked some girls if they knew. They told me to circle the floor and look. I circled AGAIN, because I wanted them to feel they had been useful in their advice, and then gave them a shrug as I made my way down to the first floor. Maybe it had been 103 instead, I thought, and looked for 103. It was locked. Alright, I give up.

In my experience, if something doesn't quite work out, there is usually something much more interesting to come. And it did. As I wandered outside once more, I started to hear a bunch of dogs bark, and was way too curious to pass it up. I found a tiny winter festival happening behind one of the buildings with a dog sled and festivities going on, and french canadian AWFUL pop music blasting. It was GREAT!

I got in a line up, because it seemed like the thing to do, and as I made my way to the front some girl at the desk asked me what year I was in, I spouted out "first year, arts." She didn't bat an eye (of course) ticked off her list and handed me a pile of coupons. I got into the next line and in a few minutes had a free beavertail and snow-maple lollipop in hand, and was next up for a ride in the dogsleds! 

The dog sled ride was lame. Just once in a circle around a small park (and I've had some pretty awesome dog sled rides before, so it just seemed silly!) Anyway, it was still hilarious!

I devoured the beavertail, and decided that after a successful day as a fake student, I was done. I found my way onto a bus, and headed off, feeling just a tiny bit mischievous, and with a little cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on my mitts.

Love and kindness all.

Harry Met Sally Theorizing

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Today I wanted to wander aimlessly. Sometimes I just get that way. The way my day worked out, however, was that I only had a few hours to do so. I decided to allow myself to spend the hour and a half that I had to kill in Ottawa by hopping on a bus and seeing where it took me, and going into some random place.  I knew what direction I was heading, so it wasn’t as awesome as it sounds, but I didn’t know what to expect. I took a bus South into old Ottawa, and got off at a random stop, and wandered into a pub called “Patty’s Pub.” It was lovely.

I sat at a table right next to a fire, had a tea, and a really sweet server who told me all about how she wanted to be an actor someday, but right now she was a journalist, haha. I ordered the only think on the menu that I have never tried in my little life, which was a potato pancake dish that was special to this particular pub. They called it “Boxty” and I had the one with salmon, sundried tomatoes and some kind of sauce on it. It was delightful. And huge.

As I allowed my very full stomach to digest, and sipped on some tea, I couldn’t help but start to notice the interesting conversation of the two people sitting behind me. It was a man and a woman, who I immediately assumed were a couple when I walked in, but now were discussing what the man should do to confront his wife about how much money she is spending regularly. I found myself instantly shocked, not because of the conversation, but the relationship. I was puzzled by how blunt they were with each other, how fearlessly they would question each other, and knowing that they were not a couple. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, until the gentleman slipped out “you know, they live right near mom.” Oh! They were brother and sister!

This realization was interesting to me on a few levels. Number one: I never had a brother, and it is a relationship that I have never fully understood. Number two: Why is it that I assume women and men can only have candid and real conversations when they are a couple, or siblings? This made me reflect on my friendships with men. I think on some level I have always bought into the whole “When Harry Met Sally” reasoning that women and men can’t really be friends because the sex stuff always gets in the way, except that I agree with Harry’s alteration to this rule, which was that when both parties are in serious relationships it can also work. I would have to say one party in a serious relationship does it as well (and, of course, if one of them is gay, it also works.) I know this because as soon as I find out a man is in a relationship, I find myself instantly feeling more at ease with them. I am allowed to be friendly without them taking it to mean something else. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule that have developed through the years, but the majority of cases do follow it.

I think what it really boils down to is this: I am so afraid of giving someone the wrong impression (ie: leading them on in some way) that I put up a subconscious (and sometimes conscious) wall. The funny thing about this is that I sometimes do it before I even have a chance to decide if I might actually be possibly interested in someone. It's also a pretty good barrier for me, to keep me from developing feelings for someone in case they turn out to only be interested in being friends.

Now, I have a new goal. My new goal is to break this rule, and allow my friendships to blossom with the men in my life without assuming that they will want to sleep with me, or that it has to go anywhere near that direction. Also, if it does, and I am not interested, it’s not the end of the world to say “I think we’re more buddy material than dating material.” On the other hand, if it does, and I am the party interested, and the other party is not, I will live. It requires a lot more bravery to go with the flow, and have a friendship without planning where it is going, but I think I am ready to do it.                                                    

"I'll have what she's having"

Love and kindness all.

The bald soprano

Warning that this post may fall into the TOO MUCH INFORMATION category, so I suggest you stop reading if you might become uncomfortable. You are fully warned.

Before starting my little adventure in Ottawa, I didn't get a chance to get my regular bikini sugaring done at my usual place. I didn't really care all that much, until I saw that there was only one dressing room, and we would all be changing together, at which point I began to feel a little self conscious, so I figured I would just find a place in Ottawa. I set out researching places and came across one that was not too far from where I was staying that seemed to get good online reviews and booked an appointment.

I found my way down there without getting lost (woowhoo!) and waited in the very pretty waiting room for my turn. When I went in the room it looked a little bit different, but not alarmingly so, a paper-covered table in the middle of the room with a towel on it was waiting for me. As a little Korean woman ushered me in, she asked me to get undressed and cover myself with the towel. Now, usually I get a little pair of paper underwear to put on as well, but I didn't see any, so I asked her if I should keep my underwear on. "No, no, all off" She answered. Okay, this was going to be different!

I waited on the table with a little towel covering everything important. The little Korean woman came back in and got to work, and I started chattering as to distract myself from guessing when the pain would start. First off, I have to say, thank god I'm not that shy, 'cause she was lifting my legs up and poking around all over the place. As I babbled about the show I was doing and what kinds of things I want to do while I'm here, I didn't notice that she had taken off a little bit more than a usual bikini... and I paused my babble to try to figure out how to ask what exactly was going on... at the exact same time, she suddenly realized it too. "Oh no" she said. Not exactly the best thing to hear... "I started to do a brazillian" Well that makes a lot more sense. "Do you want me to finish it up or just do the bikini on the other side?" It was a pretty funny question given that one way would leave me completely lopsided, and so I figured it was better to just let her finish the thing.

Overall, there's really the same kind of pain no matter what kind of wax/sugaring you get, it just lasts a little longer, the more you get taken off! Luckily (very luckily) my lady was ridiculously quick and had been doing it for 15 years, so she knew exactly what she was doing. That is key. The other very funny moment came when she asked me "Do you want me to do underneath?" I had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, what?" "Under, you know, under" I was still puzzled "your bum?" Oh, now I got it. "No, nope, I'm good! Thanks anyway" I was very quick to pipe out.

A little special cream later and I was done! It wasn't as bad as I would have expected, but we'll see how I am doing a little later on today... Have to say though ladies, I dunno why you do it! I feel like a prepubescent girl. I don't think I'll be doing the full monty again. I'll stick with my little bikini waxes, thank you!

The way home was also a really interesting adventure. I ran into a person I knew and was happily chatting as a man from the back of the bus walked in between us, looked me in the eye and said "You smell bad, take a shower" and moved to the front of the bus and sat down. I didn't know what to respond with so I said "Oh, okay." And watched as he told the man next to him that I smelled bad and waved his hand in front of his nose.

I have to admit that for about thirty seconds I wondered if maybe I did smell. As some of you might recall from a previous post about deodorant, I am a little self conscious about smells. I knew I put on deodorant just before I left so that couldn't be it. Perhaps he could smell the cream or something? For those thirty seconds I was sure that everyone at the front of the bus was looking at me, and thinking I smelled bad. It was a paranoia I haven't felt probably since middle school. Gosh, it is such a horrible feeling to think everyone is making fun of you! Anyway, it was just a very crazy man, I soon discovered as everyone around him in turn moved seats as far away from him as they could get, and with every move, he would point his middle finger at them until they saw it.

When I had reached my stop, I could see from my peripheral that he was pointing his middle finger at me the entire time I waited for the bus to stop, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him know I had seen it, until I was on the sidewalk safely off the bus, as which point I flashed him a giant grin, in a "Kill em with kindness" fashion.

Oh, just a regular day in good ol' Ottawa!

Love and Kindness all.

Get Lost

 I had an adventure this week in the city of Ottawa trying to get around on their bus system. Being a city I don't know at all, it proved to be a bit difficult.

I am going to preface this story by stating that in retrospect, trying my first bus outing here in a snow storm in the dark was probably not the best of plans... especially without a map. Lesson learned.

So I began my journey by heading onto the Ottawa transit site and using the directions to figure out which bus I needed to take to meet a friend downtown. I was doing well, copied down the details of the trip, but I have to say it is pretty ridiculous that the site verbally describes all of the details instead of showing you a map with the instructions... at the time I thought I would be fine, but knowing how visual I am with these kind of things, I should have seen the flaw in the plan.

I headed out the door, dressed very warm, directions and bus fare in hand, and proceeded to walk in the wrong direction, right away. Luckily, I ran into a very nice man who showed me the street I was trying to find. Okay, back on track. I got to the street and turned right, as per my instructions, and proceeded to head down the street, looking for the next one. After about five blocks I still hadn't seen the street name, so I started to get nervous. I asked one man on the street but he wasn't sure exactly where it was, and suggested I head into the hospital to ask. And so I did, and the nice man at the counter told me I had walked right by it.

I headed back from whence I came and realized that when my instructions had said "turn right" (via Ottawa transit site) they had meant walk across the street and follow the same street that has just turned into another name and veers slightly to the right. Maybe I should write for Ottawa transit ;)

Okay, back on track, I reached the intersection I was looking for, found a bus stop with the right bus number on it, and we were in business. I put on my ipod and listened to a little Hall and Oats for musical inspiration as I waited, and to keep my mind off of how cold it was getting. (I seem to have lost my cold temperature tolerance. Hopefully I get it back very soon.)

I had been waiting for about 15 minutes at this point, which is weird since the bus was due 10 minutes previous (said Ottawa transit.) I saw a few go by in the opposite direction and thought that maybe they would be looping around somewhere and end up here? Ten more minutes later along came a bus. I hopped on, and started looking for the stops I had listed to keep track of. After about 5 stops I realized that none of these stops were on my list... uh oh. I decided the best move would be to get off the bus while I tried to figure it out, so I hopped off.

I got out my list of directions and was trying to make sense of it when I saw a cab coming, completely copped out, and flagged it down.

Within about 30 seconds the cabbie could tell I wasn't from around here. I told him where I was headed and he asked if I was trying to take a bus? I told him I was. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't, because you were standing on the wrong side of the street." Yup. Good thing I got off of that bus.

My cabbie was super sweet and started to explain how Ottawa is laid out. He told me exactly what to say to a cabbie if I needed to take a cab home at some point, and which part of the city I was staying in, and then he played tour guide and showed me a few sites. So really, I paid for a cab ride and a tour all in one. Pretty good deal.

He found where I was headed, a little cupcake shop in the heart of the tourist district, and went on his way. I had a lovely little visit with a friend and then he walked me to a bus stop, pointed me in the right direction, told me where to get off and even gave me a bus ticket. Spoiled. I got on the bus feeling confident and relaxed and enjoyed the view.

About 20 minutes later I knew I was near the area I needed to get off, so I started to pay attention. I didn't hear the stop intersection I was waiting for, but I thought a few of the stops looked familiar, and then everything started to look the same. A couple of stops later I heard a stop name called that I remembered being further down the road from where I was, so I had gone too far. I pulled the chord for the next stop, and calmed down... until the bus veered down a winding street and turned around two corners onto what looked like a back lane, and finally stopped at the next stop. Shit.

If you haven't figured it out already, I am not the greatest at orienting myself in terms of directions. I am pretty sure I am geographically dyslexic. I got off of the bus and tried to run as quickly as I could back in the direction the bus had gone before I forgot which way it was. About half way there I reached an intersection and had no idea which way it was. I didn't want to stand around so I just picked one, and managed to find a way (miraculously) back to one of the streets I was looking for. I just had no idea which direction I should be heading to find the cross-street.

I started walking until I found someone waiting at a bus stop, but he didn't know either. I decided to keep going in the direction I was going and hopefully a land mark would tip me off. I suddenly remembered I had passed a hospital on the way there, and sure enough, in another block, there was that beautiful "H" sign pointing in the direction I was heading. Thank you!!! I had to walk another 5 blocks before I got to the stop I was supposed to get off at. I had really veered off of the path. In any case, I found it, refrained from kissing it as to not re-live any tongue-sticking christmas story plot lines, and from there it was a piece of cake.

It took me a little while to thaw, but the positive side? I was so exhausted I fell asleep the minute my head touched the pillow.

Whew. So, first thing on the to do list the next day? BUY A MAP!

Love and Kindness all.

Dear Someone: PART 2

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I am going to describe to you the most exciting moment of my week this week.

I should preface this by saying that it was not necessarily the most ENJOYABLE moment, although it was quite enjoyable, but I had quite a few lovely and enjoyable moments with friends and family over the holiday, so there is no way to choose the MOST enjoyable.

Anyway, the most EXCITING moment of my week was when I stopped back home and found a strange package in the mail.  It said “Molly’s Meats" as the return addy on the package, and it came from Glasgow.

I eagerly opened it up to find a book inside. A Children’s book. I didn’t look very much at the cover, but instead moved on to opening it and looking for a letter or evidence for who it could possibly be from. On the front page someone had written something At first glance I couldn’t figure out what it said, I saw it was addressed to me, and that at the bottom it said “What a Gorgeous letter” with the word gorgeous underlined. I was really confused.

I picked up the envelope again and scanned it. Glasgow. Then I looked at the cover of the book and realized that it was a book by Emma Thompson, it was her latest Nanny Mcfee book. Holy shit. It was from Emma Thompson.

I stood up and started to pace a little bit while I slowly FREAKED OUT. Then I sat back down to look at the book.

I opened the front cover again and deciphered what HER HANDWRITING had said:

"For (life adventurer) with loving and grateful thanks from your faithful
servant, Emma Thompson.
PS what a GORGEOUS letter"

As some of you may recall, I wrote my first fan letter ever to Emma Thompson back in November even though I didn’t really expect her to read it. I thought it would be worth it just to send out the positive energy of how much she means to me as a person and an artist.

It’s amazing to me that no matter how many famous people I meet, I will always feel like celebrities (especially really talented ones) are not real people. They are like fantastical fairy creatures that live in a far away land and do not come into contact with humans. Well folks, I have crossed the human/ fairy barrier and made contact!!!

I am so touched by the gesture. I am so happy she has read my words. It means so much to think that somehow I might have made her day just as she has made mine so many times.

I wanna write a whole bunch of letters now….

Love and Kindness all.