Tuesday, 27 September 2011

secret/confession: i am a hoarder and i hate moving house.

i like to collect things. i read a lot of books, i wear a lot of clothes (not at once... different outfits on different days), i wear different earrings every day of the week.

people may understand this in different ways. perhaps they assume i am commitment-phobic, thusly needing many options. perhaps they think i have embraced variety as the spice of life, like they say. maybe they just think i'm a nutter and there is no method or rhythm to my madness.

people can think what they like. any way you spin it i own a lot of things.

do you know why this is?? i'll tell you why, mother 'uckers: i work at a thrift store and i'm compulsive. that's the long and short of it. do i really need earwarmers made from rabbit (sorry ellie)? one earring that is over 20cm long made from feathers? a ceramic teddybear piggybank? a terminator 2 action figure? 12 different kinds of perfume? do i really truly need over 20 tshirts? actually, my good friend phill owns 3 tshirts and i do not find him to be any less rad, so i at least know the answer to that one: nope.

i'm moving house, and because the househunting did not go according to plan i have a month to sleepover at mikaela, annica, lisa, amy and charlie's house. so the amount of possesions really has to drop down to zero. or like, minus zero, if you can imagine such a number. to live out of one bag again, like the month when i first arrived in whistler, scares the bejeeesus out of me. almost as much as the prospect of not having adult sleepovers with a certain boy i know...

so moving is traumatic on a few different counts. what i do have to remember is that i got here with one suitcase and a guitar, and it's going to be ok.

packing has found me re-discovering all sorts of treasures i'd forgotten i owned. i have pieces of clothing that are fierce favorites for maybe a month, and then they fall to the back of the drawer and i forget them... and then i have to decide what makes the final cut. how you decide that is beyond me, it's like choosing your favorite family member.

here's the biggest secret of all, children: the only way to pack when you have to throw out lots of stuff as you go is to get drunk and blast hiphop. it makes you care way less, and make instantaneous decisions. i found it out last time i moved. it works a charm.

the flipside of this sad sad story is that i get to live with my swedish loves for a whole month, which is enough time to get sick of mika before she ABANDONS ME for australia, of all places. unbelievable. so rude. the betrayal!! the angst!! i've got hurt feelings.

i will miss her even more than i will miss all the stuff i don't keep when i move, and that, dear readers, is saying something. but it's a story for another time.

a wierd place to leave this, but i have some drunk packing to do.

Sunday, 25 September 2011

treasure: breakfasting like a boss

brought to you by cap'n crunch, david's tea's pumpkin chai and a soundtrack of GirlTalk, City and Colour and Citizen Cope.

it is not raining.

like a boss, i tell ya.

Saturday, 24 September 2011

secret: testing testing: re-use-it centre blogging

originally, when i began this blog, i was intending to write about the thrift store where i work. it didn't end up coming together as i was seduced by the confessional nature of a personal blog. so i just went with that. but it's on the table, a blog for whistler community services society and the re-use-it centre in particular. so i thought i'd give it a test run here. practice makes perfect, after all.

i am a child of secondhand clothing. despite being the oldest child of three, my wardrobe was always a kingdom of hand-me-downs from older cousins, or family friends. i loved the worn-in, the pre-loved. i hated breaking in new shoes on the first day back at school. as i got a little older it was more of a statement, a rifling through of our "dress up" box which was really just mum and dad's old clothes. as a teenager in the country town where i grew up i moved pretty quickly past the brands and the replicas of each other. it was a lot to do with not being able to afford these brands, but i like to think i was attempting individuality.

my circle of friends in highschool was pretty like-minded, so we hit up thrift stores in town when we could. a lot of the time i lacked the patience to sort through all the racks and find the treasure that i'm sure was hiding there.

that skill came later when i moved to melbourne and studying arts at uni was all about thrift store chic. a statement of recycling (but only appropriate when accessorized properly) as fashion. the vintage and consignment stores where everything had already been carefully picked through by someone with an 'eye'; someone far wiser than me, undoubtedly.

just barely scraping through the poser-chic of university, i discovered my thrift store love had extended to secondhand books, mostly. i love books. i would live in a library if i could.

my favorite secondhand experience at this stage was the camberwell market. you paid a fee to rotary, who ran the market in a big carpark in camberwell every sunday, and filled up your spot with any and everything you had to sell. it was a haven of haggling, of the thrill of last minute bargains when everyone was keen to sell a few more bits and pieces before the end of the day.

i had a stall myself just before i left melbourne, to rid myself of clothes, books and shoes. it is hard to get rid of things you love, but it is harder still when you realize that maybe nobody else wants to buy it from you!

arriving in whistler, i had full intentions of checking out the thrift store in town. before i could wander down there as a customer, i found an ad. in the careers section of the Pique. the rest is history.

it's been a wild ride. it's confronting, the sheer quantity of stuff that gets brought to us everyday. literal piles upon piles to sort through, in a never-ending cycle. it ranges from whole bags of odd socks to new items, still tagged from where they were bought. there is so many treasures to be found. being behind the scenes does afford you first look at everything, but it also means there are days when the bag that someone had mixed up in their car on the way down to Function is actual garbage, donated at the busiest time of day and left under a pile of other bags for a few days in the warm weather.

everything balances out.

setting out to blog about the re-use-it centre, i have plenty to say, plenty to share, and plenty to show. thrift store shopping is not just for the trend-setters; items that would be snapped up for vintage stores in the city sit on the racks here sometimes for weeks. thrift stores help those on a low-income, young families, seasonal folk outfitting their homes away from home...

i love the whistler i know, and i want to share the things that happen to our little crew down at the store, as well as paint a picture for you all of the wider contribution made to our community here by any donations or shopping you do at re-use-it centre. it is our community, whether you're visiting for a week or you were born here. life is happening here!

stay tuned as i start up a re-use-it centre blog. i'd love your feedback and support.

treasure: Friday night= forgetting sarah marshall

fall makes me curl in on myself. in the foetal position.

friday night finds me with a phone full of text message invites to things with close friends whom i love (you'll find outpourings of that love in previous posts; do not doubt the love), options for drinks and movies and even a lovely boy offering to cook for me.

my night tonight, being a friday, has the following components:
1) perogis (three cheese) and broccoli (they balance each other out)
2) a cocktail that i just invented with organic apple juice, club soda and fireball
3) a skype with stu comprising mainly of chatter about how awesome it will be when he visits in january (if you want to know how awesome, the answer is: very awesome)
4) nobody else in the house
5) forgetting sarah marshall on tv.

and i just realized that i may as well be blogging about my sock choices on different days of the week.


Friday, 23 September 2011

secret: always amused by the whistler ski rat

we're just moving out of our place in the next week (another story all together where we're moving to... because we uh... don't gots a place) but our landlord is having a little trouble renting the house, so i've kindly offered to show people through.

this afternoon two young canadians came through earlier than i was expecting them and they reminded me of a phenomenon i find hilarious here in whistler- the teenage ski rat.

when i say teenager i guess they could be in their early 20s, but all signs point to youth when you're pimply with all the visual markings of ski rat- long hair, baggy toque, long sweater (the warmer re-incarnation of the tall tee), tight jeans that mysteriously are still baggy around the ass, hi-top sneakers... and just generally the vibe of it, y'know?

if you are a ski-rat you must regulary use the words 'dude' and 'totally'. you must find it hilarious to speak only in quotes from movies such as step brothers, anchorman: the legend of ron burgundy, or basically anything with will ferrell in it, except that one serious movie he did. and bewitched. don't quote bewitched.

the more quotes you can remember the cooler you are. the ultimate is not to exchange any words that aren't movie quotes for an entire night. coupled with smoking a little weed, this is the ultimate in ski rat social interaction... it's a code, and a culture.

i don't get it, but i reserve the right to remain amused by all things ski-rat.

i often wonder what sort of men they grow into.

the flip side is they're a lot politer than you'd think. and honestly, making a life (carefully read: not a living, a life) out of skiing isn't such a crazy notion after all. and a few of these ski rats probably end up mega-famous and ultra rad... and the rest get real jobs and stuff.

and that's all i have to say about that, for now.

treasure: whistler's rainy days


every year it comes and every year i struggle through it, only to forget the struggle on the flipside, and by that i mean, when the POW gets here.

and then it comes back again and WAH-BAM! Fall.

it is a struggle to keep balance. everyone feels it, everyone i speak with is working through the rain and the grumpy. all i really want is chocolate biscuits and cuddles. last Fall i did sober october. this year i am aiming for sober october plus strength training with the lovely lisa twice a week. plus i've cut wheat out again, on account of the whole... you know... intolerance.

it's an undertaking, but i shall at least try.

things to do in Whistler when it rains:

1) bond with strangers by discussing the shitty weather
2) obsessively check the weather forecast with hopes of either a sunny day or snow on the mtn
3) watch art of flight and that's it that's all a lot of times, and try and figure out if you can afford heli-boarding in alaska by mortgaging your spleen
4) spend a lot of time online looking at outerwear, reading board reviews, wishing you were a billionaire
5) jigsaw puzzles. they sell them at reuseit, but cannot guarantee that all the pieces are enclosed. do not get mad. do not ask for your money back. do not ask for the manager when the cashier will not give you your money back.
6) alcohol
7) go to vancouver and see bands
8) watch entire, 7 season tv shows.
9) thrift store shopping!
10) making high-stakes bets about when the mtn will open
11) pot luck dinners, thanksgiving dinners, other kinds of dinners.
12) meet a nice boy or girl
13) eat out at all the fancy places doing shoulder season specials. favorites include the rimrock and kypriakis.
14) start a blog
15) work out and get epic muscles in time for the mtn to open.

i think 15 is enough to keep you all busy.

good luck

Friday, 16 September 2011

secret: someone like you.

"Someone Like You"

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a girl and you're married now.

I heard that your dreams came true.

Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

You know how the time flies

Only yesterday it was the time of our lives

We were born and raised

In a summer haze

Bound by the surprise of our glory days

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me it isn't over, yeah.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Nothing compares

No worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes

They are memories made.

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love

But sometimes it hurts instead.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I beg"I'll remember", you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.


who knows what makes me think it's different this time, but so help me god it feels like it.

it's interesting to think about all the others i've loved before and left behind. is that what life equates to? love and un-love, and this history that feels less and less real the further you get from it?

i've changed so much since past loves that the relationships feel like a book i read that i remember bits of, where other bits blur and fade. as i suppose they're supposed to. my first relationship made me feel angry, and the second one made me feel guilty, but these things too get less crisp with time. it's all part of being alive, i guess.

i don't want to sing praises, i just want to say that i am grateful in all kinds of small ways for this gorgeous boy who takes nothing away from any of the parts of my life that i love. my biggest fear has always been the parts that get taken away. i am fiercely certain that if i cannot stay myself i will have un-done all the good that whistler has done me. i am not prepared to be anything less than awesome.

mostly, but then sometimes i trip over things that aren't even there. nobody, after all, is a perfect specimen.

"Do, or Do Not. There is no try" : Yoda.

treasure: the golden ones

i love to write, but i never end up putting pen to paper when i'm happiest. is it some sort of flaw that i only aim to capture happiness after the fact?

i am in love. so much love. my time in whistler just gets more and more golden with each passing day. i have the kinds of friends and family here that would make others jealous. i've never been so happy, or so alive. i'm even happy at home on my own tonight with a cup of tea listening to dubstep remixes of songs i like while i blog... (hah, self-reflexive much?).

these people, with whom i text every day, who leave flowers to greet me when i arrive home, who i will live with, love, laugh with, drink eat sleep and breathe with, these people are the golden ones. the ones that all end up at my house for an unplanned bbq, and stay to have Mortal Kombat battles. they are my Whistler.

i am afraid, for i have a lot to lose in the next 6 months. but i am not so afraid that i will stop throwing myself right into the middle of my life, as my life is happening now, and i guess that's really what whistler has taught me. to grab things and love them to little bits while they're up for grabbing and loving.

whistler can get ugly, it can ruin you, or it can be the best time you ever had in your life. i want to talk about these days when i am old. i want to see all these people again, and reminisce about a different time. maybe soon we will all be responsible and committed to things. but we will always have the joyous memory of labor day, laying on a balcony covered with mattresses, drawing on each other with markers and facepaint, so pleased with the cleverness of us, ze Family, who got it right and beautiful for one day, and spent that day together.

i want my life to be a motley collection of "remember that time when" 's.

that is all i ask.

poem challenge: i've words

I've words,
I've plenty. You're just a button
I like to push sometimes- you're no less for it, but
I reassure myself that
am the pusher of the button, and
Shall not be pushed.

Blatantly I stretch to bullshit- you don't
Understand the words I've made, and you
Smile your charmed smile, and I
Become something less (read: consumed),
Just a little less than what you can hold in your hand.

I'm embittered, and for tonight the effort of shininess
Displaced by a poet half a world away, for,
If we make feelings just inklings,
Nothing ever shall be done
Nothing shall ever be done.

You fool, you've put a something in the way of a gap
You've chosen wrong
You should not have gone home.

Unless home had been
What you made me. And what have you made of me?