The following things fell out of my cleavage when I took off my corset last night:

• Feathers
• Eyelashes
• Lip gloss
• Fortunes
• An iPhone
• Glitter
• Streamers
• Candy
• A bottle cap
• Glue

It was a good night.

bash him good, admiral

*sigh* and I really wanted that career in politics, too

How many operas do you have to see before you can no longer claim to be an opera neophyte? Last night I saw my 4th opera – am I an expert yet? People advertise themselves as experts in other fields for far fewer accomplishments; I’d say I’m almost ready to call myself a friggin’ opera guru at this point.

Nixon in China was .. different. I arrived at the theatre early and got to hear the presentation by Assistant Stage Director Stephen Drover, which was really cool – he gave us the low down on the staging of the opera and shared valuable information that really made a difference in how I saw the performance. I attended the presentation with Kelsey of The Anthology, and we both agreed that had we not known some of what Stephen shared, we’d have been a little lost.

Nixon in China was vastly different from the other three operas I’ve seen (Carmen, Rigoletto and Salome), and not just because it had more than one word in the title. For starters, the opera is sung in English (the others were in French, Italian and German, respectively). While it’s not the only opera (that I’ve seen) that debuted in the 20th century (1987; Salome was first performed in 1905), it’s the only one that requires amplification of the singer’s voices (something that is usually taboo in the opera world). Nixon in China also uses a lot of “visual trickery” to achieve effects, and relies on a surprising amount of projected action to convey the message. It’s not a BAD thing, but it definitely isn’t the norm and as such was unusual to see.

Also, this was the first opera I’ve attended in which I did not have my laptop. That was weird.

I’m actually a little unsure of how I feel about Nixon in China. When you break the production down into basic elements, each piece was fantastic – the performances were great; I adored Thomas Hammons’ portrayal of Henry Kissinger (which SHOULD be good; he originated the role) and Robert Orth made a convincing and at times hilarious Nixon. The set was fantastic – once I got over the weirdness of seeing special effects in an opera, I really enjoyed it and loved looking for things Stephen pointed out in his presentation. The ballet within the opera – a neat twist on Shakespeare’s favourite plot device – was beautiful; the dancers were graceful and lithe and utterly despicable because of it. The pieces that make up the whole were great.

And yet, my waffling persists. If I liked the performances and the sets and the theme, why can’t I commit to liking the opera as a whole? I’m just not sure how I feel about it. For starters, it was really, really long. Three acts, seven scenes, two full intermissions – we got out of the theatre just a hair past 11pm after a 7:30 start. I found the singing in English much more distracting than I would have thought – with surtitles and another language, I can quickly read the line then lose myself in the singing. In English, I found myself paying much more attention to WHAT was being sung/said instead of HOW. Because I did know what they were singing, it felt very “sing-talking” to me; something that usually bugs me about musicals. I was physically uncomfortable for most of the performance – while I know this has nothing whatsoever to do with the opera itself, it DID affect my enjoyment: one or more women around me were DRENCHED in strong perfume and I could smell it all night long, giving me a terrible headache; the woman seated directly in front of me fidgeted in her seat for the whole thing, blocking my view of the stage every few seconds. These things are unfortunate, and even my louder-than-necessary and extremely pointed remarks during the intermission (which probably mortified my poor seatmate – I’m sure Kelsey thinks I’m an utter lunatic who does nothing but talk about how smelly people are, and I’m afraid she might be right) did little to make me feel better. It just wasn’t my night, it seems, and the end result is almost 800 words to describe how I’m not sure if I could truly say that I liked Nixon in China or not.

Which, true to my nature, makes me feel terrible for saying. I am a horrible person!

If nothing else though, Nixon in China made me learn. I went home and instead of going to bed to prepare for my equally-busy Friday, I stayed up until after midnight reading the Wiki entries on the opera, Nixon’s visit to China, Chairman Mao, the Revolution, Kissinger, and Madame Mao and her contributions to/destruction of Chinese arts. I like learning. Learning is good.

This may be the first post I’ve written that does not include pop culture references or genitalia.

I am very much afraid that Ed and I are the yuppie equivalent of rural white trash. We live in a condo and don’t have a yard, but if we DID, it would be covered in vehicles and refrigerators and oil drums full of holes because we were shooting at them while drunk on Coors Light in a non-ironic way.

I’m slowly getting used to living under the all-seeing thumb of a strata, but it’s definitely an adjustment. On one hand, it’s good to see that the building actually gets things done – it seems that each week there’s a new notice in the elevator about improvements to security or new amenities being installed. On the other hand, it is sometimes a giant, inconvenient pain in the ass.

Next week they’re going to be power washing the parkade and have asked that everyone remove their vehicles for the day. This is a fairly benign request, and while it may cause some juggling and the McDonald’s parking to be suspiciously full for the day, it’s not that big a deal.

.. unless you’re the yuppie equivalent of rural white trash, as Ed and I are.

Sure, we only have one car. That can be moved wherever, whenever (we’re meant to be together; my boobs are small lalala). But what about the three scooters and three bicycles we have? That’s seven goddamn modes of transportation I have to magically move out of the parkade and put somewhere else while they wash all the grime and dust out of our car hole. I can only ride one thing at a time, so that takes care of Lola and Ed’s scooter – if it’s not raining – but what about the other five? This is very annoying.

I’m fully aware that this is a ridiculous problem to have – oh poor me, I have too many toys and nowhere to put them – but I’m surprised that someone didn’t think that MAYBE it might be a problem for 55 family units to remove all vehicles and bicycles for a day. Most people may only have one car and a couple of bikes, tops – but there’s at least one other family in our building with two motorcycles in addition to the family car. Maybe Ed and I shouldn’t collect vehicles like other people collect headboard notches – but a life without seven different transportation options (8 if you include transit) is not a life I want to be living.

Hey, relatively new girl – if you’ve somehow managed to miss all FOUR of the training sessions I held on Excellent Technical Topic Number 76, you don’t GET to have a “bone to pick” with me. You can give me a nice reminder that you still need the training, or email me asking when the next session will be, or even ask your supervisor who can submit the request to me on your behalf – but ambushing me in the kitchen when I’m getting my caffeine first thing in the morning and demanding I acknowledge your picked bone is WAY out of line and you suck so many balls it’s surprising you don’t choke.

I am frazzled. I almost hate taking multiple days off work because everything seems to be in such disarray when I return, negating any relaxing I might have done during my time off. Today was an excellent example of why I should never leave the office – for someone that everyone else tends to overlook unless they need something (“Kimli just makes things pretty!”), I sure am important when I’m not around.

Today marks another milestone in the Life of Kimli – while it isn’t official until I receive confirmation, I have officially dropped out of college. This completes my Educational Trifecta of Awesome:

• Didn’t graduate high school
• Graduated one college
• Dropped out of another

Yeah! I am a whirlwind of inaction!

In other news, I may have accidentally gotten Shan pregnant. Sorry ‘bout that, Shan.

It’s too soon to say for sure, but I think I may have escaped the weekend in Victoria utterly free from emotional trauma. Score!

We got home last night and spent a leisurely evening doing absolutely nothing. Unsure of how long we were to be at my mother’s beck and call, we had taken today off as well – and after sleeping in until 11am (and waking up with a 22lb cat lying across my face as though I were the most comfortable of pillows), there is an entire Monday of freedom ahead. Naturally, the day won’t be exciting – I’m planning on doing the errands I couldn’t do this past weekend, and then getting some groceries – but I will enjoy it because a day off is a wonderful thing. I wouldn’t even put pants on, if I didn’t think I’d get kicked out of Safeway otherwise.

Hey, you should buy some Smuttons. All proceeds go towards my having ridiculous adventures, the aftermaths of which I will inevitably post here.

I am excited about buying bread later today, so clearly I NEED to have some ridiculous adventures and SOON before I turn into my worst nightmare.

i love you hipstamatic

The following things are not relaxing at all:

• Listening to my mother yell at the cat because he’s scratching on the couch
• The follow-up conversations in which she attempts to engage the cat in a debate about why he feels the need to scratch the couch
• .. using baby talk
• And repeating herself over and over and over and over and over and over because the cat is not answering one way or another about why he is scratching on the couch
• Taking a relaxing hot bath with mom yelling at me every two minutes to make sure I’m not dead
• Unsalted potato chips
• Putting eyedrops in someone else’s eye

i'm *trying*

Mom is a compulsive shopper, and will buy anything if it’s a great deal. This was very handy when I lived in the city – I didn’t buy toilet paper, toothpaste or dish soap until I was in my mid-20s, because I would simply go home and raid the mighty stores of mom and dad. She doesn’t have as much room these days to store a warehouse worth of paper goods – god help us if she ever gets a Costco membership – but she is likely set for tissue paper and potato chips for life.

It’s not just household goods, either. She was very excited to show me the 3 or 4 shirts she was wearing to keep warm – “only $6!” – and the many, many hoodies and weird-coloured capri pants bought for 95% off because very few people can pull off teal and peach without looking like a festive Easter leper.

Every time I come home, I have to make room in my vehicle because mom likes to give me things that she finds on sale. I’ve recieved untold numbers of no-name bath sets (and the male equivilent for Ed, random shaving kits); enough to perfume most of Hastings St. This trip is no different – so far, she’s given us:

a frying pan (it’s very deep)
a knife (we each had to give her a quarter in exchange for the knife, for good luck)
a rather nice fuzzy couch blanket thing
a bed-in-a-bag set (for a bed size we don’t have, but I will find a use for it)

I don’t have the heart to tell her we don’t need this stuff, because she collects it in between visits and she does mean well. I’m glad I’m not on my scooter this time, though – she gave me a frying pan LAST time too, and it looked very weird coming out the side of my saddle bag.

It just wouldn’t be a trip home if I didn’t come back with a carfull of weird stuff.

Except for the terrifying glimpse into the, like, totally rad you know? world of the Scientists of Tomorrow, I am cautiously optimistic about this trip. Mom’s place is warm and dry, and she somehow acquired a sofabed from somewhere meaning that Ed and I don’t have to sleep head-to-toe on the Plywood Bench of Uncomfortable Times. I don’t know where the sofabed came from, but it doesn’t smell like Hobo Juices so I will not look into the mystery any further. Sometimes it’s downright enjoyable to remain blissfully ignorant.

Another treat is in store for us tomorrow morning – it turns out mom’s surgery isn’t until noon, meaning I don’t have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to make my way over to the Eyeball Clinic at the hospital. It’s a small thing, but one I will gladly accept with legs splayed wide open on the mysterious yet comfortable sofabed.

It’s been two hours, and I have most of my sanity left.

I have a boner for crime and crafts!

The Vancouver Police Museum is offering a series of Forensic Workshops for adults, and I am SO GOING. The sessions are $12 per person, and held on Tuesday nights starting on March 16th. The topics announced so far are:

Forensic Pathology: How autopsies are performed and how information can be gathered from a body to determine cause of death or solve a crime

Blood Splatter: Bloodstain Pattern Analysis (with experiments!)

Ballistics: Analysis of bullets, impacts, and trajectories

There are two sessions each Tuesday night, one at 6:30 and one at 8. I’ve bought tickets for Ed and I for next Tuesday’s early session, and I am so excited! I LOVE forensics, and have been known to use my extensive crime-causing skills to try to solve the crime that I inevitably had a hand in. Tickets are available online only – go get yours now, as the sessions will fill up quickly!

If dead bodies and arterial spray aren’t your bag, consider an evening at the Museum of Vancouver. Their DIY Night was wildly popular, and they’re doing it again on April 9th. Tickets are available online or at the door, but if you’re determined to go I suggest you snap your ticket up early and don’t decide to wander in late like Miranda and I did last time – we barely got our hands on crafting supplies; such was the demand. I’ve already bought my ticket – see you there!

If that’s too far away for your liking, the MOV will be showing Handmade Nation on Friday March 19th at 7pm. Got Craft is doing a mini craft fair, and Miranda and I will be on hand selling our various fabulous/filthy things. It should be a blast!

There are a lot of awesome things going on in this city – why not get outside and experience some of them? There’s a time and place for sitting on your ass and watching TV night after night, and it comes when you’re in your 80’s. Support local fun before it’s too late!