Google Wants to Break Up With Me

Well… maybe.

I mean, we’ve had such a good relationship so far, and now….

Well.

Let’s just say I’m worried.

Today I’m in Ottawa, having taken a 6pm flight from Halifax, and I’ll be here for a few days before taking a train to Toronto.

Before my flight, though, I had to finish up packing, shower (By the way, if you’re going to be travelling, SHOWER BEFORE HAND. Sincerely, Someone Who May End Up Sitting Next To You In The Future), and I managed to finish that a little after 3.

I did Siobhan’s dishes since I had the time, and then looked up the best route to take to get to the Halifax Airport.

I put Siobhan’s street as the ‘from’ and got the address of Halifax’s Airport, clicked for the best route via busses since it would be cheaper, and…

Sorry, we don’t have transit schedule data for a trip from Siobhan’s Address, Halifax, NS to Bell Blvd, Enfield, NS B2T 1K2 at the time and date you specified.

Get driving directions from Siobhan’s Address, Halifax, NS toBell Blvd, Enfield, NS B2T 1K2.

… Sorry, what?

Google, what are you saying? There’s a bus route FROM Halifax Airport, I know that because I checked it out when I first got here, and now you’re saying there isn’t?

Wait.

Google…

…Are you Lying to me?

How…

How could you?

Google is a horrible Liar

Reversing the to/from did nothing as well, Google playing dumb with me (like THAT would work, really…), and I was getting frustrated.

I did get help from a different source, and took the bus part way there, but I still had to call a cab for the rest of the trip.

But really… How did I get to this point?

Is Google angry at me for some reason? Have we lost that spark that was once between us?

You know there are problems when lies are brought into a relationship…

Especially bold-faced OBVIOUS lies like that.

Anyone want to offer relationship advice?

...Because I'm not giving this up.

…Because I’m not giving this up, Google. You can learn to love me as much as I love you, right? Right.

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Sisters, Not Twins Though…

This past Easter Weekend my family came to Ottawa.

This was nice, as it meant that I wouldn’t have to make the treacherous journey myself to Toronto.

There was a great deal of walking (not as much as one would think though), we went to the Museum of Civilization (GO THERE! Especially if you have kids. Not specifically kid-oriented, but a lot of things for them to touch, look at, all that stuff), ordered too much food on more than one occasion, and, among other things, they helped me start packing up.

Some may be reading this, checking the date, wondering why I am packing up now rather than later, closer to when the actual school term ends, and I’m going to have to say it’s because there’ll be less crap to pack up at the end of the year this way.

Three bins of stuff, a couple of boxes, a shelving unit that they brought down part way through the school year, and some other things, and my room is much sparser, but likely will be much easier to pack up in May.

See? I’m not just crazy here.

The packing was done on Sunday, with much cleaning and failed organization on my part (and cleaning on the family’s part, I admit), and at one point, nearing the end of the moving-stuff-to-car phase, Mom and I were in my room, and Lexy was in the kitchen…

I heard the Yeti, my only female roommate come in and say “Hi!” to Lexy.

In my mind, this was a normal thing. The Yeti is being friendly. Ok.

I walked out of my room and into the kitchen, and said Hi myself.

“WHOA!”

The Yeti had apparently thought that my sister was me. I at first thought that her startled yell was over the bins in the kitchen… but no. It was the startlement of saying Hi to someone, getting a response, and then having the person you thought you just said Hi to come into the room. And say Hi back again.

I still giggle over it… I think I take too much pleasure in people mistaking me for Lexy and Lexy for me, and us for twins…

we really aren’t.

There is more than a one year gap between Lexy’s and my own age. More than 3, in fact.

So it’s funny that I look that old, and Lexy looks that young, and we look that much like each other despite such a gap…

And we sound pretty much the same as well.

I mentioned that I probably take too much pleasure in us being mistaken for each other?

That extends to the phone.

So it is totally understandable that the Yeti thought my sister was me, and despite me having some colour in my hair, and Lexy’s hair being shorter than my own…

To show, here are two pictures of My sister and I side by side

Lexy: Left & Me: Right

This is over last summer, taken at Grundy Park (where I worked).

Me: Left & Lexy: Right

This is a slightly more recent picture, before I got colour in my hair.

So yeah, entirely understandable…

But still makes me giggle.

Another highlight of this weekend was Blueberry pie.

We had some…

and I have the leftovers 😀

Pie is delicious.

Hope you all had a wonderful Easter!

Video Vendredi – Russel Howard Comedy

My Dad sends out an e-mail to the family and also to some friends every week. Often on fridays, sometimes on other days of the week, but they are all funny.

He sends out 5 or 6 pictures. They could be Rage comics, unfortunate pictures that you can’t help but laugh at, cartoons parodies, costumes people have used on their pets… They are always hilarious, and the message that goes with them are usually messages to the family about what’s for dinner, that he’ll be going to the grocery store, and since I’ve been in Ottawa rather than back home in Toronto, I’ve been killed by mentions of the delicious home made food that I’ll NOT be having.

One consistent message is always this though, and I hope today’s Video Vendredi helps this along.

“Cheer up!”

I know it’s long, but hilarious, and as a bonus to make sure you cheer up, here’s one from 2008.

Sometimes You Need a Break. Dealing with Stress.

Slightly more serious post than my other ones, but this one is something I think a good number of students (at least university/college students) may find important.

I am going to get this out of the way and say I don’t do stress well.

Or rather, I stress well, I don’t DEAL with stress well. Here’s how I think of my stress dealings:

I bottle it up, store it away since its so unpleasant to deal with. Later, when I once again get stressed, I bottle that up too, even as the aftershocks of the feeling shake up the last bottle of stress.

Unlike real life, the tremors of stress stay with me, though I ignore it, and so it slowly shakes the second, and eventually third, fourth, fifth bottles up as well, building up pressure that I also ignore (as I am so very good at it) until the bottles I use start having trouble containing it.

I feel like, at least right now, the bottles I use are plastic. Later, if I keep doing this, the bottles may be made of glass. I don’t know.

When, eventually, the bottles fizz and explode so that I have stress colouring everything, making everything sticky and gross and makes me feel like doing nothing else but clean up and throw away the stress, I do so. It is, after all, hard to focus on anything else when you have sticky, gross stress all over you.

I ignore everything else, I have trouble concentrating, I have this overwhelming urge to do nothing, to go do something else that will make me feel better, like maybe watch comedy skits, or watch shows I know I like and episodes I know are funny, or read something totally random, or something else entirely.

I’ve been working on this example and been trying to self-analyze in a realistic, objective way, and I know that I need to work on a better way of dealing with stress than bottling it up and storing it away.

The reason I say I believe my bottles to be plastic right now, is because when the bottles explode from stress overload, broken plastic doesn’t hurt or cut nearly as deeply as glass.

Wow, that sounded a bit dark, huh?

I’m just trying to say that this tendency of mine to put away stress could develop into a worse problem, or could cause me to ignore something important because it happens to be stressful.

To help counteract that, I’m doing a number of things.

I don’t quite bend over backwards to do it, but close enough

I’m trying to schedule myself better (made a schedule for the week, having classes, study times, break times, etc…). Hopefully by having something steady and schedule like in my life, I’ll have something to hold ono.

Yoga, once a week. Similar to the schedule, by having yoga, it’s consistent and, unlike the schedule, something physical. If I need to do something more exerting, I can get onto one of the exercise machines and go on for an hour.

Phone conversation with Mom at least once a week. I am used to having a support system on hand. I don’t like talking about stress to friends, because I don’t like making my friends

My family has more personality than this and my three roommates combined

feel uncomfortable. It isn’t like I’m going to be able to talk to my roommates after all. I hardly ever see them, and even if I did, I don’t particularly like them. As such, my support system is my family. I need to be able to talk with them. So I’m making sure that at least once a week, there will be a conversation. To just talk. About nothing in particular. About things happening at home, things happening in Ottawa, allowing Mom to complain about her school while I can talk about how wonderful it is to be skating. I think it’s helping. No guarantee though. Midterms are stressful.

Writing. I know it isn’t the best thing, but writing here, on a blog, is almost surprisingly stress-releasing. Even if I don’t talk about stress. To be able to put my thoughts out to an invisible crowd, it’s nice. I also still write fiction for my own, and fanfiction because I enjoy getting reviews. It helps that most reviews are positive and are very encouraging and you can’t feel useless when you get an enthusiastic review for one of your ideas. Hell, I have a number of people who review regularly for my story ‘It’s Green‘ (Harry Potter Fanfiction and yes I linked to my own story) and I can go on for endless replies in conversation with these people who I only know because they like something I’ve written enough to contact me. How awesome is that?

By the way, Mom doesn’t like that I write fanfiction, but it’s a stress reliever for me. I enjoy writing. I didn’t do NaNoWriMo this year because I promised I wouldn’t, but writing is one of my hobbies. I’m not giving it up. I’m glad my Mom understands that. Or at least I believe she does.

Aaah, stress, you give me such issues!

Boy do I need to work on this, and I believe that this IS helping, but i’s hard to be objective in things such as these. I’ve been thinking on this for so long that I could be imagining everything, and I’m sure that some invisible person out there reading this is thinking I am imagining everything, or explaining it unrealistically, or SOMETHING, but this is as close to the ‘truth’ of the matter as I can get to.

It’s very hard being objective when dealing with yourself.

I think that’s one reason why self-portraits are so hard to do. You try to make it better because you’re vain (don’t try to deny it) and want to look pretty.

Or cool, if you aren’t quite ready to admit that you think you’re pretty.

But, as I said before, I don’t do (dealing with) stress well.

But, because I’ve been able to recognize it well enough… I am also going to recognize that I need a break.

Not a full one, more like slowing down to a jog from a sprint, but a break none the less.

Next semester, my hesitant plan is to take a break from school, move back to Toronto, and (with the permission of uOttawa) take a course while in Toronto so that I’m not totally removed from doing class work.

It will be one semester, and a break from full-time class. This will be me working to get used to stress of university, while having my support system with me.

I don’t know if I would have done better having taken the first year off, but this is what I’m doing now.

I wish I had  my own time machine, to go back to the beginning of the school year, maybe then I could have done a better job, but since I don’t, I’m giving myself a chance to breathe.

 

Did I Do It In My Sleep?

I am very confused. I haven’t really looked at my phone for a while (not really since I woke up, and that was looking for the snooze area of the screen), and I just realized something…

My background is different.

I do not understand this…

Especially since it is in the same style as my other backdrop (what it was before), and it requires the pressing of a good numbe of buttons to change things.

I will explain.

I downloaded a free app by Apofiss. Link to his/her deviantart page

It means that I can choose from a number of his/her artworks for my background, and it’s adorable.

What I had before was this

 

What I have now is this

I know that they are both cute…. but I don’t remember changing anything.

At all.

And to change the settings, you must press and hold the screen on my smartphone, choose live wallpapers, scroll down to the app and choose it, and then hit settings (on screen), and then scroll to the picture that you want.

It’s something that you would remember, correct?

And I don’t.

Now, I occasionally have sleeping problems.

And I don’t ONLY mean that I have trouble sleeping.

I talk in my sleep.

I walk in my sleep.

Occasionally I do other odd things in my sleep.

While I don’t remember doing such things myself, I have had a number of conversations with Lexy about how I shouted/conversed in my sleep.

She has told me of one night when I shouted out something about giving me my cup back.

Last time I was home, she and I and the rest of the family had a laugh about the fact that she woke up to me talking about something, and when she tried to tell me that she was sleeping, and couldn’t this wait until the morning? I snapped back “SHUT UP!” before falling silent myself.

One summer when Lexy was working in a park, whether this was her Ranger year or the following year I don’t remember, but the family went up to visit and stay in the park/neighboring park, and the place we were at was more of a lodge than a campsite, with a building with one larger bed and one bunk bed.

Emma and I had the bunk bed, and I managed to gain the top. The parents got the large bed.

This is important to the story. This isn’t just me lording to the internet blogging community that so and so many years ago, I won the top bunk from my sister.

But Mom told me one morning that I had slept walked… and then slept smacked her to wakefulness.

I had (according to her) crawled down the ladder, blankets trailing after me, walked across the little room to the large bed, and started patting down (read: smacking) that side of teh bed–the side she was on–muttering to myself that Emma had said that it was there, why would she say it was there, but she said it was there.

She told me to go back to bed when she realized what had happened, and I climbed back into the bunk and went back to non-walkin-or-talking sleep.

At rangers (ranger camp for 17 year olds, check it out), it was theorized that I was sleep walking, as I always had dirt in my bed no matter how careful I was of brushing all dirt from myself, and pretty much proven when one of the girls who slept in the room right by one of the doors saw me standing by the door, just ‘looking’ out the window.

It was later proven again when my roommate herself was bugged by me getting up, turning on the light, sitting on my bed for a bit, and then going to the bathroom and back before turning off the light and going back to bed. All without responding to her.

Always fun, but part of me thinks that perhaps I was just tired. Awake, aware, grumpy, but tired.

So I know that I have weird sleeping habits/patterns/whatever you want to call them, I’m just wondering if now I have gained some sort of sleeping technological understanding, and a wish for white fluffy kittens.

I don’t know.

I don’t even know why I’m really posting this, other than to show just how baffled I am at this… would you call it a turn of events? My last two posts were about disruptions in sleep…

I guess this is also to share with Lexy that weird sleeping habits are not restricted to Toronto or the woods… And now I’ve apparently (possibly?) upgraded to understanding how my phone works even in sleep.

Thoughts?

*Bonus* I also had this one up for a while

*edit* It could also be a glitch in the app. Just a possibility. Didn’t want to rule that one out.

Sleepy Ponderings 2… ANGER

The guy called again..

Last night… or rather this morning. For those confused, read this small blurb

Same, frigging number… what the hell???

AND… where the hell is he calling from?

I think he’s stupid as hell, but at the same time, I’m not going to give out his number… but where the hell has an area code of (250)???

AND… I was looking at the call log of my phone… looks like he tried calling about 5 days ago.

How many times can you call the same wrong number?

And why do you have to do it so early?

This morning he called me TWICE.

At TOTALLY different times.

ONCE at 2am…

ANOTHER time at 4am.

WHAT THE HELL?

I am absolutely baffled.

I just looked up where area code (250) is…

British Columbia. 

British frigging Columbia

This makes no sense to me.

WHO is he trying to call? He called five days ago once, yesterday twice, this morning twice

And I have a Toronto area code.

Is he trying to call someone in Toronto?

And not realizing at all that he’s missing by about 5-6 hours away?

Since I’m in frigging Ottawa?

Toronto OR Ottawa, frigging long way away

This is just BAFFLING to me. Even if I knew specifically what city in BC he was in, the difference is still huge! And he called five times.

How can you cal the same wrong number so many times?

And at totally ridiculous times???

I don’t understand this…

My frustrations at being woken up at such ridiculous times knows no bounds, and my anger early this morning at my phone going off was immense and soul crushing.

WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AT 2 AM??? 4AM? SERIOUSLY?

This anger was translated from my frustrations last night, resolved as I finally went to bed, and dug up again as Placebo’s ‘Pure Morning’ (funny, now that I think on it) rang out and warring states of my mind groggily woke up.

One part says I should just hang up.

The other says no… pick it up.

It might be important.

For those who have read my other posts, you may guess I’ll be referring to Insanity and Sanity.

Well I have to mention now that IF I had listened to Sanity, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.

I wouldn’t have had that moment of “Oh shit, it’s the guy from yesterday” calm before the storm thought, before he said the EXACT SAME THING he said before. But at that early a time, any angry rants had to muddle through the thick screen of shouldn’t-I-be-asleep-right-now? fog. People have joked about fog before, talking about how it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I remember a Scooby-doo episode where he cut out a fog cookie from the air and ate it.

This fog, at that time, was too thick for that. You would need an axe to even dent this fog. And the conversation was done too quickly for such actions to be taken my inner rant maker, my inner angry child.

“…Hello?”

“Oh, um, I think I have the wrong number”

“… Yes, you do. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, uh–“

*click*

And so I hung up and spent a good couple of minutes being angry at myself for not yelling at him. Then the fog of tiredness came up and knocked me out with it’s solidness.

Two hours later, Pure Morning started twanging and then drumming me to wakefulness, and this time I listened to Sanity’s first bit of advice, and hung up immediately.

I now recognize the assholes number.

Of course, this being the second call that early in the morning, Sanity was now agreeing with Insanity, ignoring the niceties that you should observe when on the phone, and was urging me to pick up the phone and ask why, exactly, he was calling ANYONE at that time of the day, and then swear at him until HE was the one to hang up.

The next time he calls, IF he calls (hope he doesn’t for the most part), I hope I’m aware enough to ask who the hell he keeps trying to call.

Oh, and one other obvious question.

Confessing my Skating Guilt….

So, this past weekend I went with a couple of my friends down to the canal to go skating. It was fun, and brought back memories even as I saw huge changes to what I remember.

We went at night, so there was skating snow everywhere on the ice, and it reminded me fondly of when my parents used to get REALLY angry and concerned for me when I was a child.

See, I had the habit of deciding to sit down and play with the snow. During the busy day-time hours, in the middle of the canal.

I don’t remember this being because I was tired or anything, just that I wanted to try making a snowman or something. Sometimes a snow angel.

Nevermind the blades of horrible child-death that were whooshing around my tiny form.

I was a kid. I was brought there by my parents.

No harm could come to me.

I was invincible. No harm could come from sitting in the middle of this.

The area’s I remember for having booths for hot chocolate and beavertails still had those odd little buildings on the ice, but they now have this even larger building thing for changing into skates and whatnot. They also had a building to rent skates, knee pads and whatever else you may need as a tourist.

When I was little I think I asked just about every year how the buildings managed to stay there when the ice melted.

I had never been there during the not-frozen-over years, and thought that the buildings were maybe stuck to the side of the canal.

Or maybe the canal was frozen over all the time.

Or maybe the buildings had huuuuge basement parts that went down to the bottom of the canal, so that the buildings weren’t floating on the canal, they were sicking out of it.

I don’t think I ever believed my parents when they said that they brought the buildings onto the ice, they didn’t stay there year-round.

Now, of course, I know that they use some sort of Ottawarrian ice magic to put the buildings on the ice as soon as they have forced the ice to be thick enough to support them.

But when I went with my friends, it was about 8:30pm or so, and so significantly less busy.

It was darker than this, but about as busy

Meghan, a native Ottawarrior, I thought she would be closer to my level skating-wize, as she had the opportunity to go skating on the canal every day should she want to. It didn’t matter that she’s from Kanata. Turns out that she’s more of a rusty skater than anything, and I”m fine with that. A lot of my friends are at this stage in Toronto, and so I’m used to skating around them and working with their pace to do huge loops around them to be able to go as quickly as I want, get as much exercise as I want, and still be able to keep up a conversation.

Eleanor, I admit that until this past winter break I thought she would be at the same level as Meghan is actually at. This past winter break she got a job to teach children how to skate. When we went skating, I saw that she doesn’t look as comfortable skating as I thought she would, but she’s good at skating. She definitely doesn’t look as comfortable skating as I do.

I’m going to pause on that here, and mention for the sake of people who don’t know me that I have been playing hockey since I was 5. Lets round that up to 6 though, because I was signed up for playing hockey when I didn’t know how to skate.

Then, up until I was about 10 or 11 I did skating lessons, and Hockey Skills classes where they taught me how to skate better than all the other kids my age group, and do it while having a stick in my hand and doing my best to carry a puck, aim, keep it away from all the boys in the class (I was pretty much the only girl, but that was no difference to the fact that I was on a boys team), and NOT fall down.

I still fell down a lot, but I had Hockey equipment on.

My mom, confidence boosting as she is, has mentioned numerous times that she can’t believe how ‘graceful’ on the ice I am. I’m fine with that. I take it to mean that she can’t believe how awesome on the ice I am.

I’m not being overconfident. I know that there are people out there who are better at skating, who are better at playing hockey than me. Hell, I still have problems raising the puck when playing (shooting the puck so that it lifts off the ice).

But it’s not arrogance to say that I’m a more than decent player, or more than decent at skating.

Meghan can skate. Eleanor is a decent skater.

Melissa, the other friend who was with us when skating, is not a good skater.

She does that shuffle down the ice, looking stiff and uncomfortable as she stares at the toes of her skates and hopes she doesn’t fall down.

I really don’t like skating with her.

I really like her, she’s a great friend, has a great sense of humour, and I feel really bad about thinking this, but I really don’t ever want to go skating with her.

Again, I mean.

I’m a horrible person.

She hasn’t gone skating for like 3 years, and after skating with her for 30 minutes I’m thinking she sucks and I don’t want to skate with her.

I’m thinking that she needs to get a chair to help her skate.

I’m thinking that I really don’t want to ever go skating with her again.

I suck.

GUILT!

I feel like I wouldn’t have thought these things if she hadn’t been as bad a skater as she was, and made it seem like we should have at least one of us skating right next to her.

I feel like she wasn’t having fun at all either.

I also feel like if I hadn’t been as enthusiastic about skating as I was, she would have felt better about saying that she didn’t want to skate anymore.

I SUCK!

What kind of friend thinks this stuff up and then posts it on a blog???

I just needed to mention it to SOMEONE, and I didn’t want to mention it to a friend 😦

I love skating, but I don’t like skating alone if I can help it…

BAH!

Now the internet can see my guilt, and point its gigantic finger at my shame. I feel a bit better after three days, but still…