Pathetic Fallacy

I woke up to a dark, shadowy room. No one is with me; I am alone. I hear thunder in the distance. No rain, no sign of lightning, just the thunder. My dog hides in the washroom, stressed about the noise she cannot source or control. It is distant and muffled. The storm approaches but has not arrived.

I stir. I prepare myself for the day, knowing it will come at me just like any other day, and the electricity flickers as the storm nears. In the distance dogs bark, experiencing the same stress my own pet experiences at this time.

It begins to drizzle. I watch the patch of rain fall moderately on the world, then pass on and leave us in its moistened wake. I try to let my dog outside but she refuses.

The sun rises further behind the thick, dark clouds. Birds attempt the sing but are dumbed by the thump of fat, dense droplets of water. The rain intensifies. It is loud, full of pressure, tenseness and fear. Water fills the sky in my window and I watch it with reverence.

The rain falls harder still. It falls with purpose and power, pummelling the roof with vigour and ever anger. The clouds darken. It is as if the sky is falling in around me and I can do nothing but watch hopelessly, helplessly from the confines of my room--my own little slice of reality.

Then lightning flashes with insane electricity. Its crazed light fills the whole skyline, flashing like strobe. I listen with attentive ears for the deep rumble of thunder that is certain to follow. It does, with long, mellow vibrations that shake me from within. it is moving. I want to shut my senses off and feel it move me no more, but I don't. I can't. It surrounds me in scientific ways I cannot describe.

I stare out the window at the rain. It still falls heavily. I can always close my curtain and sit back on my bed; I can pretend the rain isn't there, but I don't. I watch it, compelled by its persistence, and a feeling of something even bigger coming that I cannot shake. I watch, I wait, and somehow I know. It will come.

Finally it does. A great cracking thunder that seems to split the sky in two goes on and on. It cracks viciously like a whip, followed by a boom of such depth and force it intimidates. My dog is sent into hysterics. It is long and it is loud, so loud I want to lock myself in a room forever and always just to escape it, but I don't...I can't. I force myself to let the rain fall heavily before me and the thunder envelop me as I stare, exposed, feeling it rattle me from all angles and electrify my every nerve.

The thunder stops. It ends quietly, sorrowfully, and leaves me feeling empty and homeless. The rain continues as it was for a long time. Eventually it slows, stops, picks up drizzling now and then.

A distant rumble echoes its predecessors. Sometimes the lights dim. At times even a great, painful crash can be heard from the clouds far away. The rain trickles on in the aftermath of the storm. I stare out the window no longer. I am now left to my own devices in my slice of reality. I still hear the rain, I still feel the thunder, I know the storm is not entirely over. It never will be. Its effects can never be undone or ignored. The storm is a scar, a permanent, prominent memory. It is hard, harder than I can explain, to turn away from. But I must continue preparing for the day, because I know it will come at me just like every other day.

Clint

Here he is!

Looking...crazy

My brother Court.

<3

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I woke up this morning with thoughts of our performance last night dancing in my head, as usual. Honestly, when this is over, I'm really going to need to immerse myself in my job or something because if I don't I know I'll end up mopey and depressed. I digress.

I woke up and went into the kitchen, again, as usual, and as I took my pill out of the container I noticed a pair of white shoes at the doorway that most certainly didn't belong to anyone who lives here. My first thought was, "Simon slept over last night?" but then that didn't make sense, because I was in the car that dropped Simon off at his place yesterday and his white shoes don't have black laces like these ones do. Then I thought a thought I was excited and thrilled and nervous to think. Could it be? Is it really?

I went into the living room to test my hypothesis. There they were on the couch, those two long, thin limbs that seem to go on for miles in a pair of nice-looking dark wash jeans. White socks encased the slender feet. I moved closer and peered over the arm of the couch, and who should I see, but my blonde-haired, blue-eyed, scruffy-faced, handsome long-lost brother! Clint is here! I was so excited I started crying. He's not actually long-lost, but he lives in Calgary and I haven't seen him in a long, long, long time. He's here now! I was smiling so big I couldn't believe it! I wanted to hug him but he was passed out and I didn't want to interrupt his sleep. He's like me, so I know how he would feel about his sleep being interrupted. I'm so stoked! I can't wait until he wakes up so I can squeeze him extra tight and tell him I love him.

And looka-looka, my uncle Andy just pulled up, so now I have to go greet him as well! I'm so excited! I'll explain why everyone is here later, ghosts. For now, I must be the hostess with the mostess!

Big News in the Andromeda Galaxy

Oh my GOSH ghosts! You won't believe it. I had my first real live nap today! For realsies! I can never nap. I am just unable to force myself back asleep unless it's night time. Not today, though! It was fabulous. I'm really excited about it!

I was sitting on my porch with Clara reading Fitness magazine and getting some fresh air and sunshine and all-around loveliness. I decided to take a pillow from one of the wicker chairs to rest my head so I could lay down and sun my legs. It was astonishingly comfortable. As I read on, what I can remember is my magazine gradually coming toward my face as I relaxed in the heat and then I guess I fell asleep! It was awesome. I was so warm and comfortable and, well, exhausted that this nap brought me extreme pleasure. Not only that, but I love sleeping, so it was like extra sleep time which is also awesome, and the novelty of my first nap made it sort of exhilarating in an unconscious sort of way. I dreamt about the musical, of course. Last night I dreamt about people in the musical. It has taken over my life on every level of consciousness.

Anyway, when I woke up, Clara was still on the porch panting away in the shade and the sun had moved behind the house so that only half of me was in the light. My left hand had hung over the porch step and was tingling with excess blood. I looked at my legs and I have a crazy tan line from my dress. It's pretty crazy. When I finally went in the house I went to the washroom and when I looked in the mirror the ink from my magazine had melted onto my face! I had backwards writing all over me. I looked so silly I actually laughed out loud. So I'd say my first nap was a huge success. Maybe I'll try it again sometime! For now I am inhaling the fumes of/drinking Grand Marnier to soothe my poor sick throat. It really helps. Wish me luck on my performance tonight!

A Graphic Letter

Dear Sick,

I have a few words to share with you, and if it offends you to hear, I still won't apologise because I feel strongly about this and you deserve to hear it from the horse's mouth.

You were not a part of my life until very recently. Ever since that fateful day you have been relentless, cruel and inconsiderate beyond belief. I was entirely healthy before you disturbed my peace and turned my world upside down. You took away my comfort, my sleep and most importantly my voice, which I need more than anything right now as I am in "Beauty and the Beast"--a musical which, as can be expected, requires me to perform numerous vocal feats.

Perhaps I was asking for you to come, what with my burning the candle at both ends. I was stressed--about the musical, about school, about relationships--my entire life was a mess. I was sleep-deprived, over-exerted mentally and physically and turning to no one for help. Perhaps it was my own exploitation of self that invited you in to worsen my situation tenfold. Perhaps it was my own ignorance that didn't take the necessary precautions when I should have seen it coming. Perhaps I would have become sick in any case.

Regardless of why, the fact is that you are still present and appear to have no intention of leaving. You still plague my mornings with a nasal cavity so plugged I am forced to mouth-breathe, my days with painful coughs that rattle my insides, my evenings with the practical vomiting of phlegm the size and shape of slugs and my nights with endless restlessness. I have consumed more OTC drugs than food this week and quite frankly I'm tired of tasting like medicine all the time. I can't even sleep unless I down a dollop of Buckley's (which stings my raw throat, by the way) and a side of Gravol.

The way I was coughing the other night, I think if I was any younger I would have thought I was dying. Hunched over my bedroom garbage can, eyes watering with the pain and effort, gobs of slime slowly working their way up my esophagus with every hacking, torturous cough, my ears ringing with the great lengths my jaw went to to open wider than I thought possible. It was awful.

And you are to blame.

You did this to me, you are doing this to me, and it appears that you are going to continue doing this to me. Sick, you are heartless and tyrannic! How could you prey on someone so in need of her health? I curse you. I commission you to end this. You have compromised my dignity, stolen my instrument and condemned me to watery liquids. What more do you want from me?

You know more than you let on. Force me to endure this no longer. I have worked too long and too hard to lose my voice. Please, leave me forever and always, I beg of you. You can't make things any worse.

Desperately yours,

Callie.

GLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I dedicate this post to Chris Colfer, who is amazing. His voice is so unique and beautiful. It is rich and pure and riveting, full of the passion and life all singers aspire to convey in their music. He has such control, every note sung with precision and emotion. I could just listen to him always. While some think it is weird that he has the range of a woman, I think it's incredible, hugely impressive and is helping break down the barriers of this and other gender-biased areas. His voice absolutely blows me away and I hope you ghosts enjoy him as much as I do.

Celebrating Callie Year-Round!

So I was just doing the usual time-waste here in the blogsosphere when I hit "Next Blog" and came across this loveliness: Celebrating Christmas Year-Round. Uh...seriously? Like, seriously? I am positively blown away. In case you'd rather not make your retinas explode at the distasteful setup of that blog, I will describe it as a Christmas Blogger theme gone horribly, horribly and seemingly permanently wrong. Red and white stripes, doily-esque accents, Holly--the whole nine yards. I even ventured to read a post which was utterly painful: every few WORDS there were CAPITALS to ACCENTUATE her POINTS, which were RATHER UNINTERESTING. Also, they had nothing to do with Christmas, which leads me to believe that this woman actually enjoys her abuse of a strictly seasonal theme and the torture that it is for everyone else.

I'm not saying my posts are any more interesting, but I only use capitals if I'm yelling. This is why we have italics. Oh, wait, her entire post is in italics, so she can't use those either. That also bothers me--the overuse or entire use of italics. It looks like the words are trying to escape my reading them, or in this case, perhaps they are trying to excape the nauseating prison they were born into. I don't want to feel rushed, I want to enjoy the writing. At the very least, it looks silly.

I don't want to seem mean or rude, but really, go look at that blog and tell me you don't want it removed from the public eye and your unfortunately photographic memory for all time. It makes the rest of us look bad.

But wow. Christmas? All year? I didn't know people liked it that much. Plus, wouldn't celebrating it all the time take away from the fun of when it actually happens? Sometimes I am so confused by other people I wonder how I even interact with them.

THINGS I HATE

Ha, ha, ha. Zac shared this with my brother on facebook and I decided everyone needed to see it. I wish more people were like this guy

Mind the language, though. If you or someone you're with doesn't want to hear swearing I suggest you don't watch it.

Oh! And also check out his video "Bipolar Weather Sandwiches".

Man this guy knows how to bitch.

Treat Your Musical Genitals

OK, so I've already shared this on facebook, but I feel the need to post it here too in order to ensure that everyone can experience the eargasm it shall inevitably give you. Supposing you're into electronic music and remixes, that is. It is so awesome. It is the remix of MGMT's "Electric Feel", and it outshines the original on so many levels. I don't even listen to the original any more because this is so very superior. It's all in the bass, ghosts. Bass is the backbone of music. Bass is what makes girls shake their booties.

And this song deserves to be on my list of the best songs I know.

Saturday and Sunday

Some good pictures of Saturday's rehearsal--see all of them on my facebook album "Hit the Stage! Finally!"

Zac, me, Jean

A Crew Member, Zac and Andrew looking at Jean

Just thought I'd share with you the end of our sound check on Sunday at rehearsal.

Clipper

Grocery store flower purchase

So many effing tomatoes! So effing cheap!

Flowers in the compost

I have a curious memory.

I don't want to say that I have a really great memory, because for things in the short-term such as remembering where I put my glasses or to put the garbage out or a blog I wanted to write I tend to have a rather terrible memory. You might even say I'm forgetful. However, when it comes to remembering things like dreams or random childhood moments or stubbing my toe on a rock int he dark so hard it bled rather a lot, I am more than able. Perhaps it is an indication of what I value, or perhaps I am just on the wagon, that is, the wagon of crazy.

For example, I can vividly remember certain dreams, such as the one where I am the only person who knows that the world has been taken over and during the day we are vegetables doing evil factory work and by night we return to our normal lives, thinking we had a regular day. Then they know I know and make me choose between killing myself or killing my loved ones, and then I am in a grocery store and I have to choose between saving parents or children and the evil people just end up putting me through all this ethically disturbing crap. I remember not only the gist of the dream, but little things, like that our supervisor in the factory was wearing a red and white and pink floral shirt and that I was sitting next to a Korean man with eighties glasses.

Then I physically see my water bottle in the freezer this morning and I still forget to bring it to rehearsal because I close the freezer to grab something else first.

The challenges of my life.

Oh, and this is "Ghosts and Stuff" by Deadmau5. It's awesome. Sorry the thing is too big, I didn't check the sizing.

You Are a Radar Detector!

Wow! Hello blogosphere! I miss you. I feel so bad about not blogging, but I can't help it. It's musical mania these days. However, rehearsal tonight was cancelled, so I have no excuse. Here are some pictures of musical mania:

Poster! Pretty snazzy I'd say.
Cast and orchestra for the cover of Collingwood Life magazine

Now there is a face you can love.

Shirt!

Chyeah.

I like the orchestra shirts the best because they say orchestra, and that is a mammoth and triumphant word, especially compared to cast or crew.

Anyway, this crazy musical business is why I haven't been blogging. When I'm not rehearsing I'm attempting to retain what is left of my social life/relationship, and that is proving harder than you might imagine. Oh, for those who don't know, I play Babette the slutty feather duster. It's mucho fun.

We have rehearsal until 9pm tomorrow and every day until two days before the show, although not all are until 9pm. Madness. And we're on the stage for the first time tomorrow! Exciting! We were supposed to be on stage tonight but there were some issues with the set which is why it was cancelled. I am going to be depressed when this is over. I won't go on though, I'm sure this is uninteresting. I don't have anything else to say besides.

I decided that Timbaland is really dumb-looking, particularly when singing/rapping, which is most of the time.

Oh! And listen, listen, listen to Darwin Deez. The first time I heard "Radar Detector" I knew I had found love all over again. Watch the music video for that song too. It is magnificent in excelsius (have I used that description before?). Also I have been digging the synthesized beats of Ke$ha, "Take it Off" in particular, as well as the ever-ridiculous but strangely addictive Black Eyed Peas "Imma Be".

Oh blogosphere, again I will say: I miss you. I will probably turn to you in my time of post-musical despair. For now, I bid thee farewell. Have an unusually fun Thursday, ghosts. Unusually fun Thursdays are what it's all about.