Toyota Celica
My neighbours just left. I really like them, but they have a lot of issues. She just moved here about a month ago from Vancouver to live with him, and obviously things aren't going so well. You can tell they both want it to work because they've already invested so much into it -- literally, figuratively, financially, etc. -- but they just pickpickpick at each other until they're both so angry they can't even look at each other. It's bizarre, and it doesn't make me feel so bad that I don't have a boyfriend, and haven't had one in a very, very long time. But I would like some prospects. You can send them my way any time now, universe. That's right.
I should really be getting to bed, but I can't stop thinking about my grandad. My dad called me yesterday to tell me that my grandad was in the hospital in Montreal because he had a stomach aneurism, and that they were keeping him unconscious till some surgery in a few days, probably this weekend. I was never very close to him because he lived in Montreal my whole life, and he also did a lot of really bad things before I knew him, so he wasn't part of the family as a whole for the most part, but he was always very kind to me, very sweet, and always took an interest in my life, my family's life. He's in his late 80's so the chances of him making it through are very slim, and the aneurism has also caused a lot of internal bleeding. He looked like a six-foot-tall skeleton the last time I saw him, so I can't imagine his body is strong enough to deal with something like that.
But to give you an idea of the kind of man he was, in his early 80's he was beating 40-year-olds in amateur golf tournaments, and when his wife Gabby had to be put in a home because she has Alzheimers and he could no longer care for her on his own, he drove himself to where she lived every single day to visit her despite the fact she had no idea who he was. I talked to him in the fall, I think, and maybe around Christmas, I'm not sure. Needless to say, I'll probably be taking a trip to Montreal with my family pretty soon. It's sad, but he is old, he's lived a long life, and he was lucky enough to have made amends for all the bad stuff he did. Whether everyone forgave him or not is a different story, but that's all he could do.
We watched Proof tonight and it was really good; it kind of hurt my brain, though. Gwenyth Paltrow is so good at being so pathetic and on the verge of tears every single second that it's almost draining. I wish they would've made it a bit longer to show more of her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal's character, but that's just me. (Although, they were no Jack and Ennis. Haha.)
I finished reading White Noise by Dan DeLillo today (not the same as the Michael Keaton movie), and it was perfect. I'm really loving the post-modern and post-colonial literature. I'm finding that I relate to these works more than I've ever been able to relate to anything I've read. Even when it's absurd, you think, "That's me, that's my world." However, the play Goodnight Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet) by Ann-Marie MacDonald is proving to be more difficult to read. Probably because it's a play, and they're not really meant to be read, they're meant to be seen. But for some reason we don't have that luxury despite the fact that a few hundred of us are paying $1000 to take the class.
Tomorrow Mandy, Alyssa and I are going to see Transamerica. Should be funny. Then it's Grease at Stage West on Saturday, after work. Stupid work. I haven't worked in so long I was beginning to think (and enjoy) that I didn't have a job at all.
I should really be getting to bed, but I can't stop thinking about my grandad. My dad called me yesterday to tell me that my grandad was in the hospital in Montreal because he had a stomach aneurism, and that they were keeping him unconscious till some surgery in a few days, probably this weekend. I was never very close to him because he lived in Montreal my whole life, and he also did a lot of really bad things before I knew him, so he wasn't part of the family as a whole for the most part, but he was always very kind to me, very sweet, and always took an interest in my life, my family's life. He's in his late 80's so the chances of him making it through are very slim, and the aneurism has also caused a lot of internal bleeding. He looked like a six-foot-tall skeleton the last time I saw him, so I can't imagine his body is strong enough to deal with something like that.
But to give you an idea of the kind of man he was, in his early 80's he was beating 40-year-olds in amateur golf tournaments, and when his wife Gabby had to be put in a home because she has Alzheimers and he could no longer care for her on his own, he drove himself to where she lived every single day to visit her despite the fact she had no idea who he was. I talked to him in the fall, I think, and maybe around Christmas, I'm not sure. Needless to say, I'll probably be taking a trip to Montreal with my family pretty soon. It's sad, but he is old, he's lived a long life, and he was lucky enough to have made amends for all the bad stuff he did. Whether everyone forgave him or not is a different story, but that's all he could do.
We watched Proof tonight and it was really good; it kind of hurt my brain, though. Gwenyth Paltrow is so good at being so pathetic and on the verge of tears every single second that it's almost draining. I wish they would've made it a bit longer to show more of her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal's character, but that's just me. (Although, they were no Jack and Ennis. Haha.)
I finished reading White Noise by Dan DeLillo today (not the same as the Michael Keaton movie), and it was perfect. I'm really loving the post-modern and post-colonial literature. I'm finding that I relate to these works more than I've ever been able to relate to anything I've read. Even when it's absurd, you think, "That's me, that's my world." However, the play Goodnight Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet) by Ann-Marie MacDonald is proving to be more difficult to read. Probably because it's a play, and they're not really meant to be read, they're meant to be seen. But for some reason we don't have that luxury despite the fact that a few hundred of us are paying $1000 to take the class.
Tomorrow Mandy, Alyssa and I are going to see Transamerica. Should be funny. Then it's Grease at Stage West on Saturday, after work. Stupid work. I haven't worked in so long I was beginning to think (and enjoy) that I didn't have a job at all.