crazy for feelings

I think I suffered a massive panic attack at my desk today.

"Heart attack!!" also crossed my mind. 

Something you should know before worrying: I'm prone to melodrama. Clearly it's the best idea to immediately self-diagnose a confusing chest-pain/anxiety-feeling as something way more serious than it probably is. Remember this very important equation: I have an internet connection = I am a medical expert.

Maths!

So, no panic/heart attack. Really, it's likely a combination of PMS, exhaustion and post-superbowl heartburn (even the salad contained Fritos!). The perfect storm.

It's an angry cocktail, especially mixed with my mini life-crisis episodes of late. I can usually handle/dismiss my internal crazy:

"I'm so aimless. Yay, this is the best thing ever!!! What am I DOING with my life? Am I happy? Let's move to Oregon? No, Peru. LET'S GO DANCING! I should be going to yoga again. Do you think it's an ulcer? I miss my sister. OMG, let's craft! I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR." 

Same day here, people. Same day.

I'm not trying to date you, so it's pretty safe to bring my full crazy to the table.

(I'm also prone to exaggeration. So please still be my friend. I'm normal. Sort of. And nice. Don't leave.)

But yeah, I can laugh at myself. Really well. Self-deprecation is kinda my shtick. Otherwise, I'd never survive, err, me. I can also (mostly) brush away those fleeting desires to do impulsive (annnnd probably destructive) things. Because that's what adults are supposed to do, right? 

Today, though, I let the crazy own me a bit. I felt sad and/or panicked and/or confused. You know, because of the lady business and the heart-stopping greasy food and the sleep-deprivation. 

I'll be fine. Somehow hubby is actually being super-duper, even though I'm an exasperating human. He's NOT rolling his eyes (he should be). Instead he picked up Indian take-out (great for heartburn, of course) and we watched a movie of my picking (Enchanted!). "Everyone has a right to feel sad sometimes." Cute, yeah? I don't deserve sympathy. I'm usually 95% responsible for my own repeated unravelings. I'll generously only place 5% of the blame on genetics: the women in my family are nuts. In a good way. The very, very best way. Like me, right?

(Ugh. "Unraveling" is so over-the-top. Sheesh.)

OK, so why am I at all desirable and how did I actually manage to snag and marry a non-creep? These big purple bruises on my emotional makeup are pretty rare these days and I'm usually a glass-half-full kinda girl (full! overflowing!). I'll probably be there again tomorrow. Probably I should wear something ridiculous so that the work-nerds harass me. Because that's a pretty fun time.

High highs, low (infrequent) lows. I guess I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Thrills!

I already feel so much better. Thanks, blog. 

---

P.S. if you managed to actually feel sorry for me somehow (don't), I'd like to point out that this was my weekend:

leaving las vegas... but not entirely

I popped my Vegas cherry this month.

And this wasn't a deflowering of the goin'-steady-promise-ring-back-of-your-Dad's-station-wagon variety. This was a hardcore-group-orgy-girl-on-girl-on-pizza-guy-porn de-virgination (not literally, mom, not literally). In my mind, I'm a jump-in-the-deep-end kinda girl. But, truthfully, these days, age and bruise-memory typically steer me towards wading in gradually. There was no room for wading. We went all-the-way Vegas (it was consensual).

Sure, yes, it was a work trip. CES, in fact. And we worked hard. Full days on our feet, smiling through the hangovers, shaking hands with shaky hands.

 

Proof.

I lost weight from replacing sleep and food with Red Bull (who AM I!?). Something I couldn't  manage to accomplish by eating salads and practicing yoga FOR A WHOLE YEAR. Is being healthy overrated?

(Full disclosure: my yoga/salad routine was intermittent and littered with burrito break-downs and way too much curry. Plus, I don't even like Red Bull.)

And... I gained back every pound in Utah a week later (next blog, peoples!). Back on salads.

So, well, here's the problem: this other facet of me was born (or better yet, re-born, born-again) in this strange, sleepless city. The dormant can't-stop-dancing party girl of my early 20s came alive again. Was I happy to see her? I'm still not sure. She's complicating my life back in the real world. She saw a poster on Pinterest this week that said "DO EPIC SHIT". She liked it. She adopted it as her mantra for 2012. Hubby reacted with a Marge Simpson-esque grunt. He is not amused. He prefers the adult me better, maybe. But will he ever understand unless he experiences it for himself? It's not really his bag. Yet, i didn't think it was mine either.

My overactive imagination has me wondering: was that the REAL me? Is the rest of this just pretending? Panic attack! It's true that I feel like an overgrown child most days. That I'm playing dress-up. I shared these concerns with Alex and he said, exasperatingly,  that I'm having a quarter-life crisis. That perked me up 'cause it means I'm living FOREVER!!! (Or, until I'm 132, to be precise.)

OK, so, it's like this dude I saw on Dr. Phil last week (I was at the gym, OK? Don't judge.). He had infantilism or a "baby fetish", as in he liked to wear diapers and be spoon fed and sleep in an over-sized crib (all "non-sexual" of course. riiiight...). But when the good Doctor asked him if it was hard to keep up the baby act, he said that sitting there in adult clothes sans diaper was the acting part. That the real him was the baby. OK, a severe comparison, maybe. But what if Vegas-me IS me??? Or at least a tiny part of me?

Melodrama. Obvi.

Really, maybe I just need more dancing in my life. And maybe "DO EPIC SHIT" doesn't have to mean base-jumping or quitting my job to pursue a career as an R&B back-up dancer (I WANT TO SOOOO BAD) or moving to Morocco or getting Nicki Minaj bum implants. Maybe it just means being that jump-in-the-deep-end girl that I imagine myself to be. Maybe it's just going out-out more. And wearing my purple sequined hat or my "fashion turban" no matter how many new nicknames I might acquire at work. And drinking extra dirty martinis past midnight on a Thursday. Check, check and check. "Epic 2012" is off to a good start. Getting the Mister on board is my next feat.

I'm committing a big Vegas no-no. I'm not leaving it all behind. What happens in Vegas... follows you home and moves into your house and stays a while? Epic.

Clearly my experience can't quite be explained in words or photos, but I'll give it the good Vegas try. Enjoy.

 

[ Gah. I need to go home. ]

Keep Calm.

So you know I love playing dress-up, hey?

But I also like being prepared. Like, planning Halloween costumes in the Spring (OMG, IT'S AUGUST AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M BEING!!!!! AHHH!).

Ahem. So yeah, my commitment to attend Fake Prom Goes To War went forgotten for a few weeks, until I realized this Monday that I need a costume for this Friday! Uh-oh. I take costumes very seriously. With only 3 days to spare (and a pretty packed week), I'm scrambling to find awesomeness in my tickle trunk (um, Rubbermaid costume bin) and my fruitful, high-yielding closet.

My pops was in the air force for 30 years + and I'm sure he'd have some awesome artifacts hanging about. But he's in Ottawa. I didn't plan this right.

It's in my blood on both sides, actually:

Grandma (Dad's side)


Popsy. (Mom's side)

So, I should have this in the bag.... But what version of wartime-chic should I emulate? Pin-up babe? Sexy fighter pilot? Wizard of Oz Soldier Monkey? War nurse? Mourning war widow?


If money and time were no object (which they are) these are some awesome options:

army-green corset, elizabeth and james $255


Think Sgt. Pepper. Alexander McQueen $1335 (*gulp*)

Ammo. Biko $69

Plane-jumpin' pants. marlene birger $100



Waiting for the baby boom. ModCloth.com


Serious hardware. ash $170

Recognition. ModCloth $17


Sea Legs. Biko $75

Alas, I am (nearly) penniless and just about out of closet room anyway. So I'll make do with what I have...

Ophelie military inspired chapeau. A must.



J.Crew cargo pants. OK, obvious?



Or, Club Monaco Fleur de Lis skirt. A Stretch?



Distressed Wilfred bustier top. Good, solid wartime underthings.



Vintage chain brooch ("war decoration"):





Biko Kaleidoscope (spyglass!) necklace. Not as perfect at Corrine's anchor or bullet necklaces, but it'll do.

OK, I can do this, right? It'll be a bit of a hodge-podge hybrid, but totally doable with just my closet. Just need to top it all off with some good temp tattoos (I heart mom!), maybe a dash of camo and a good dose of discipline.

Summertimes.

 

I must be in a good mood.

Either that, or I've broken the seal.

Whatever. Two blogs in one week? I'm making up for my silent treatment, maybe.

The blooms are blooming and our basement is flooding every second day. Must be spring (or dare I say... summer?)! Finally. Wet basements aside, I'm punch-drunk on sunshine and am happy-happy to have bike-season back.

I decided I've had enough with winter. Forever. But without winters, there wouldn't be springs, and I'd be awfully sad about that. Catch 22.

So, now that chirping birds and emerging freckles and cotton maxi dresses are here to stay (for 4 or 5 months at least) I'm getting out in the world again. While last summer, my social life and exploration was forced upon me by my blogTO gig, this year I'm making a conscious effort to get outside.

My ice-cream and sweat-pants phase is over. The "break up" with the band is now at the "let's be friends" stage, and I like it. It's a good place. I've fallen out of love with this bandwife thing. I wish I could be a normal fan. Because I still would be, you know. The biggest.

Maybe the warm weather is getting to my head. While I had resolved to attend fewer shows to keep more of an arm's length with this whole band business, I couldn't turn down music in the sunshine. I attended their latest gig - an outdoor show celebrating the Parks Canada Centennial - but as a support to Alex and to mess around with my camera some more. Right. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I did mange to get some decent shots out of the day (to further corroborate my motives):

Also, I'm regaining my drinking legs (much like sea legs but boozier). This may or may not be a good thing, but it appears to be a necessity in my line of work: I roll with the boys and I need to be one of them. They like social functions that pretend to be work.

The summer is looking good for my social health. That is: if I can actually swing tag-along trips to many of the band's shows (they're hitting the summer festival circuit), plan a few girl-only weekends, and man-up for work socials. I've been relying on the safety of my little cocoon for too long. Alex likes to keep me there, but it's distracting for both of us to spend so much time closed off together from the world. As much as we like it.


So, hi. I'm available. Ready. Willing. Invite me out again, because I'm saying yes-yes-yes these days. And I won't even be close to being the first to dive into a cab.
 

Hop, Skip and a Fall.

I STILL can't tell you my news. Especially since potential-news item #1 fell through (another possible TV crafting gig). Some day. Number two is a bit more likely. Say...90%. But still.

 [ this is me, unusually quiet. yep, OK, a bit smug, too. sorry, lip = zipped. ]

I've been fairly productive this week, despite Alex's attempts to thwart any activity that does not involve him + coffee. But even he has taken his time "off" more seriously lately. He has a lot of idle time between gigs/shooting/touring these days and has taken to a little man-work around the house. Of course, since we're skating the line between "OK" and "dead-broke-and-homeless", he's being pretty crafty about coming up with "found object" renos. Our neighbour left behind a bunch of wood when she moved and Alex has been using it to fix up our "garage" (the space that previously would NOT have held a car, and now would maybe fit a Mini), and to add a little privacy to our back deck:

 [ Julie is our little orphan while her "mom" is in Uganda. Really, she's more like a cat. ]

[ He also found old paint in our basement and decided to paint another red wall in the kitchen. ]

[ Dudley did not understand the concept of "wet paint". If our dog has a pinkish hue to him next time you see him, this is why. ]

And, he hung the "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman" poster that he bought me for my birthday. I looooove it so, so much. It's actually an expression of mine: "I'm so attack-of-the-50-foot-woman in these heels." Sometimes I really do feel quite gigantic. In heels I am easily 6'1". OK, yeah, a far cry from 50 feet, but whatevs.

I've been buzzing across the city working on blogTO gigs, too. Bars and chocolateries and fashion boutiques! Lots of new posts should be up soon! 

I'm also finally getting work done on my little pet business. I've created a simple splash-page website, a Twitter account, and a Flickr gallery. I still need to get a ton of new items up in the shop, but I do have a whole weekend to myself, so productivity will definitely increase exponentially.

Also, I had some good news that canceled out some bad news yesterday. I found out that due to an address error (caused by my accountant), I have been missing notices that I owe the government a lot of money. Because I've been missing them, the interest has been incurring. Anyway, I was SUPER bummed, because the money that I would have spent on a laptop (necessary for my maybe-new-job) was now getting gulped up by the tax man. Then: as Alex puts it, "the Universe provides". And it did. Well, maybe one little star in the universe. Joey stopped by to indefinitely lend me her old Powerbook, which is in perfectly fine condition for my purposes. *whew* Saved! I just had to replace the power cord. But $40 is definitely better than $1000. Thanks, lady!

What else, what else? Oh, have I mentioned how much I love-love Fall and all of its fashion wonder?? I will try to forget that I don't actually have a fall wardrobe budget and will be crafty about retooling my current fall wardrobe with some nips and tucks here and there. 

[ Ahhh, tights! Yay! (photo via styletips101.com) ]

Oops, I'm so not being great about Sweet Thing updates, am I? Not much is really happening now, except more chat about the next single/video. Which (sorry) I can't divulge. But, if you do live in Vancouver, you can catch them this Saturday at a FREE show. They're playing for a Joe Fresh store opening party (w/ Divine Brown, Mariana's Trench and Stereos!) Gah, fashion and Sweet Thing? I want to BE there!! Obvs, I'm holding down the fort here, though.  *pout*

Speaking of Joe, I wantsies:

(This is for Alex's benefit - he gets a Joe shopping spree prior to the show, and I am hoping I get a little "present" from it. Hint, hint. Pretty please!!)

I'll close this by sharing a link to another Gelaskins mention (on mashable.com) featuring none other than yours truly + mister. This wedding photo is honestly famous now, I think:

Ta-ta!

xo,

Your Yoko

p.s. I am thankful for my lovely Thanksgiving dinners (x2) and all of the amazing company: Owen, Johnny, Shemeena, Vivek, Sheila, Jess, Katherine, Billy, Tracy, and of course, Alex!