(haven’t figured out how to upload stuff from an old blog…but don’t want to lose the old blog entries. So, I’m just gonna cut and paste until I get a clue.)
In a world where I have made avoidance of practical activity a full-time job, getting started on a blog is a bit of a miracle. It involves computers, it involves some level of public attention (okay, the potential of public attention), and it needs time. Yowsa. There are myriad other complications…but such is the world. So, for now, I post this as a beginning, a staking of claim on the new frontier.
The general idea is that I have become known for my mock-epic mini-essays I email to family members to describe the latest crisis in my life…the four hour drive back from the cottage that involved vomit, urine and MacDonald’s…the nine hour drive to Montreal that involved urine, MacDonald’s and $1.45/litre gas…the day I decided to see if I could change the washer on the faucet without turning off the water to the house (seriously, how was I supposed to know that water pressure has that much kick to it? Or that it could take Mississauga Water thirty minutes to get to the house and fifteen trying to figure out how to turn off the water?).
If you have a sense of humour, they’re funny essays, man, really! If you don’t, you walk away with a sense that I really think that every moment of life is a drama and that I have no coping skills to speak of. Basically, my sense of humour, my emails reflect one of my favourite moments in film: the beginning of Romancing the Stone, when Kathleen Turner’s narration tells you that it’s a scene from one of her books. The heroine is facing down the man who (memory failing, quote not exact!) “murdered my parents, raped my sister, burned the family farm…and stole my bible.” Now, I understand that there are people who would be mighty unhappy to have their bible stolen…and that it can have a lot of meaning and importance to them, but bibles are replaceable, yes? The severity of the list…followed by the suppressed sob in Turner’s voice as she wails, “and stole my bible!” puts me out every time. It’s funny. It’s the person who just got off the Titanic onto a lifeboat and panics because she can’t find her purse and that is just as bad as the boat slowly sinking behind her. It’s not that having your bible stolen or your purse lost aren’t bad things in and of themselves…it’s context. I like context. I like blowing up the little things and pretending that they are just as heart-stopping and melodramatic as the big things. That to me, is funny. It’s juxtaposition, it’s contrast, it’s contradiction…if only Ty hadn’t left the house just know, I could have my “I’m not just funny–I’m professionally funny” partner explain to me why it’s funny. (And he’s being ironic, people…not arrogant).
I should probably also mention that when I was a teenager my mom would give me her stacks of old magazines to read and I would read Cosmopolitan cover to cover and giggle. It was funny! Bolding, italics, underlining everywhere you looked! Every moment of a girl’s life an opportunity for romance!, love!, fabulous sex!, a really amazing job promotion! It was the best…all that breathy intake of air in order to make lung-space for a really good squeal of excitement. Wow, I’ve been influenced by Helen Gurley Brown. The mind boggles…
So, this will be a blog filled with ellipses, dashes, asides, parentheses, tangents, and really, really profound thoughts. Heck, I haven’t even begun on why I think gay marriage is okay, there’s nothing wrong with common-law relationships, boys should get their ears pierced if they want, and I think teenagers should have their bedrooms whatever damned colour they want. (Seriously, if one more person explains to me that they knew someone who let their kid paint their bedroom black but they insisted that they use blackboard paint…it’s porous, people! You’ll have to prime it over and over again! That’s not a better idea! Let them use black! Let them use shiny black! Let Marilyn Manson come over and help them paint…)