Whew.

My friend is finally finished her six months overseas and is on her way home.

I'm not a big one for prayers, but it seems to me that a small "thank you" directed to the skies mightn't be remiss...

My goodness.

I do believe I'm getting soft in my old age.
I very nearly became a bit misty-eyed during Heroes this evening.

I always knew there was something more to HRG.
Still find "Claire Bear" a creepy nickname, though.

Nothin' personal...

I've been neglectful. Mostly had nothing to say, but likely primarily due to a virus which has recently crawled into my lungs and has taken up residence.

I'm antsy, achy and irritable. And sick of coughing.

But most of all, I'm frustrated, becasue I was starting to hit my stride with a piece of trash I'm working on, and I can barely stand to be at a computer for more than five or 10 minutes.

Which makes my goal of finishing 15,000 words for the end of February a little challenging.

Freaky.

Went for a short walk with a friend and her dog this evening and while I was mostly well-protected from the very icy cold (even down to polar fleece long underwear -- so sexy), I came home with a numb face. An hour later, I had a seriously nasty chill going on.

So I decided to take a long, hot bath with a trashy book... And noticed that my nail beds were purple.

Apparently this is common for cold exposure, but still, it was a tad alarming. Usually I just get cold and can't warm up, covering in goose pimples, etc... but the purple nails thing was decidedly strange.

Fortunately, they've gone back to normal and I can rule out any serious health issues.

Now am back to enjoying my alarming ability to generate electricity (how I hate thee, stupid dry air) -- water, walls, light fixtures, my boyfriend... it all gives me nasty shocks. Except chocolate.

Chocolate still loves me. Fortunately.

Small tokens...

There are times when the world seems unnnecessarily harsh or hateful. Whether it's the banks chasing you down for overdue student loan (or credit card) payments, the apathy of others in your chosen career or even the monstrous words that come from your own mouth (or fingertips, in some cases), sometimes the universe lets up just enough to say, "Hey, it's nothing personal lately. Sometimes things just fuck up. It's not long term, and you will be forgiven in time."

So when you have a night of good company, tasty beverages and six hours that seem like one, you're forced to be grateful.

Because for all the bad and miserable, you always get a few brief moments of comfort.

Or your cabbie gives you extra receipts for your taxes.

Whichever.

Anyway, as much as I'm feeling a little downtrodden by things lately -- my temper hasn't been as forgiving as of late -- I received a good evening. For which I am grateful.

Now if all the other facets of my life were as forgiving, perhaps I might eventually be OK. And that'd be grand indeed.

The trouble with weddings...

If you are in a committed relationship and living with your partner, attending a wedding can be a precarious thing indeed.

You see, I've no wish to be married. Ever.

Chalk it up to a lifetime of watching most marriages fail spectacularly, or in other cases, last with longtime resentments and/or eventual estrangement -- regardless of living arrangements.

It adds up to the same thing -- in most (though will concede not all) cases, the final result is unhappiness. Don't get me wrong. I will happily rejoice in a loved one's engagement and nuptial ceremony. I share their delight, their optimism and their hope.

But it is not for me.

The only thing I can see marrying for are the presents -- and when you've lived with someone for a decade, what do you really need? Nothing. (OK, I love money. Cheques would be lovely.) But we don't need china, or silver or anything of that household nonsense.

I don't ever see myself changing my name. I've been me my whole life... why would I want to be someoone else? And why on earth would I ever take on a husband's name? I'm not part of "his" family anymore than I was before. I haven't left my own behind. A name is one of the few things you have your whole life. And while many are happy to become Mrs. Whatsisname and await that moment their whole lives, I am not one of them.

I'm a firm agnostic. So no religious rites, ceremonies or figureheads are wanted or needed. Wedding dress? Nay, thanks. I do not wish to be clad in white and looking virginal (ha!) so that I may be presented. I do not need to announce to friends and family that I love my partner. I don't need a piece of paper to outline our commitment.

As a common-law couple, we're legally bound in the eyes of the law, so benefits and shared property are a non-issue.

And frankly, the rates of divorce amongst common-law couples are astronomically higher than almost every other group.

So you can imagine my chagrin when Chris suddenly begins chatting about our ceremony, or that perhaps I might like to have a party and invite all my friends and family. (My response: Why would I need a wedding for that?)

He wants marriage. I do not. He wants a church, white dresses and all the usual trappings and fripperies. I do not.

I like the fact that we don't need marriage to be happy. We're here simply because we want to be.

And that's just the way it is.
But it may become a contentious issue in the future, I suspect. Or sooner.

Eek.

You'd best learn from the butterflies...

Even in the natural world, women have about had it with men.

According to this story posted on Yahoo! News, there's a bacteria running amok in the butterfly world.

It changes male butterflies into female, allows female butterflies to reproduce on their own and even makes females a lot sluttier. And in many cases, kills the male butterflies right off.

So while this is good news for the few remaining butterflies (lots of cooch), it has a wonderfully ominous suggestion that even in the natural world, it's possible to do without menfolk.

Somewhere there's an angry female scientist toying with the bacteria to see if it can be adapted to mammals...

Just a weird week...

After running around last week like a chicken with its head cut off, this week's pace has slowed considerably... only to thrust some weirdness into my week.

The first was an adieu to someone I had known only a short time -- and the circumstances were less than ideal, what with said person deciding to shit all over me in a half-assed, overtly generalized email. End result? They lost my respect, my high-esteem and left a giant toxic smear... I haven't decoded why. While I'll admit some responsibility (I do love me a good torpedo to sink any floundering friendship -- so healthy), the entire proceding left a sour taste in my mouth. Perhaps because I feel that when issues arise, they should be discussed before the judge fires off the verdict and sentencing in one go.

But whatever. Pick up. Move on.

Tomorrow I must attend a viewing -- a funereal pre-cursor. Funeral on Thursday. Then I have Friday off, and attend a wedding on Saturday.

It's going to keep me on my toes. I dislike funerals (as most do), but am reasonably sure that there is not even going to be a wake -- the one function of funerals that I decree as helpful. Celebrate the memory, toast the deceased and drink away the sorrows.

Funnily enough, though, that never works with me. Alcohol strips down most of my walls, and I'm usually left strangely vulnerable with things I might normally repress or ignore. (Were I a more demonstrative type, I would gush all over my friends with proclamations of love and adoration. Instead I giggle, and say horrible but funny things.) Drinking is the quickest way for me to access grief and loss. Because suddenly they're there, and all my coping mechanisms are dancing outside, far beyond my reach. As are any internal censors.

Funerals are hard for me -- regardless of how well I know the deceased. Invariably you see those you love in pain... even those total strangers. It leaves a horrible aching imprint, all of that grief does. And I have one day in which to drop that pained vibe of hurt and don my party happy cap.

I shall get whiplash if I'm not careful.

And I feel very odd about my new dress.

It's a black, classic styled dress with a long, asymetric hemline. There will be heels and many accessories. But somehow I can't fight the fear that the dress looks awful on me. Even in heels, which I almost never don.

If I could get away with my favourite jeans, I'd be a happy gal.

Either way, the next few days will be more than a little awkward. I'm looking forward to Sunday.

Shitfaced....

Uhhh.... yeah.
That's me.