way good

I'm not a snuggly sleeper, I just can't fall asleep feeling someone else's breathing (it messes up my rhythm). Chris is always so clingy and I usually just quick him away, unless it's a freezing cold night and I huddle up close to him as I managed to blow the fuse on our bedroom's heater (yay for non-central heating).

So basically yesterday morning, I must have been cold or in some sort of deep sleep (because those are the only two viable explanations for this sort of phenomenon) because I was mid dream and woke up to Chris shuffling about and me spooning him. How strange. But further more, he woke me up from the best dream.

I'm not entirely sure how I got there, but I was in Chicago and I was flirting with Obama. We were walking arm in arm and I kept flirtatiously joking with him, giggling "oh Mr. President" and he was eating it right up. And then we got back to his hotel and my sister was there, and we were making him tell us stories of how he used to smoke pot. We kept insisting that we wouldn't tell anyone that we're "nice girls". Then he made me tell him the story of the first time I did, and I was about to lay into the story about how my parents are hippies (not true by the way) but Chris starting squirming and I woke up.

I did wake up all giddy and nervous and Chris called me a homewrecker.

This is the extent of my life right now.

i feel good

the Oscars aren't wildly watched here because they don't start until 1am, and they're on SkyMovies which is insanely expensive to subscribe to, but Chris being resourceful managed to stream it online to ABC in San Diego. So I have this weird thing now where I can't watch American or even Canadian news because it seems as though they're being ironic. It's just so sensational in comparison to the way British news is presented and now I can no longer take it seriously. This extends to American commercials as well. They're just so flashy and loud with wild graphics. (Not that British adverts are any better i.e. "I am going to do a poo at Paul's).

But wow- during the Oscars last night, America come good. There were so many great commercials reflecting the times perfectly and using topical buzzwords etc. I really liked that it was all about community and pushing weight together, and that when you buy McDonalds, you're not just consuming but supporting college bursaries. I even cried during the Mastercard advert with Badger the Dog trying to find his way home. Wow- a post Obama America.

jetstream

yes yes yes! Warm weekend in London. And by warm I mean it was 13 yesterday and sunny which all things considered, is warm. I forced Chris out of the flat, to the market and past. Lovely little walk through London Fields where, in true British fashion, if there's any extreme of weather- be it cold and snowy or warm and bright people go mental. And so it was. We sat on a bench judging people's clothes and dogs.

My day to day happenings haven't been particularly interesting, not even remotely. I guess the only strange thing is that Chris has this new habit of dropping prepared food on the floor. He dropped his half bagel earlier this morning, dropped loads of spinach last night, and apparently a few nights ago when I was out, he dropped a chicken breast. I promise he threw everything out after he did so, but because he's such a moody bastard and because this is becoming increasingly worrisome, I had to listen to him kvetch this morning about how he keeps doing it and how annoying it is. I told him it's more annoying to listen to him complain.

But I'm guessing now it's more annoying reading me write how it's annoying to listen to him being annoyed at dropped bagels. Yup. This is dull. But things are heating up.

shit

Last night we went to see the Black Lips with Jonas, Pippa and Derry. All this weekend I've been telling Chris that I am going to make Jonas my life coach. He constantly makes good life choices, is so extremely clever, and is cavalier, but courteous. Plus he's dating one of the greatest girls therefore is a super person all round. But in doing so, he told me that I had to get Twitter, basically stating that it's a good platform to find jobs.

So Chris and I joined about 2 hours ago. I was immediately against Twitter when it was brought to my attention last year. Yes I blog which is ultimately self involved nonsense, however updating people throughout the day on what I'm doing or thinking, or being akin to Stephen Fy tweeting being stuck in an elevator just makes me feel awkward all over.

Ok but that was then (from 6 months ago up until 2 hours ago). Now I am on Twitter and it's essentially amazing! Self indulgent- very much so, but I think I would rather use it to lurk others out as opposed for my own tweeting benefit (ultimately against Jonas' suggestions but I'm taking baby steps broadcasting my mundane normalities to the masses).

Honestly, internet renaissance. Terrifying that we no longer have the attention span to scour through things written at length, but fuck em'.

Last night at Black Lips the five of us discussed our ideal song lengths (minutes.seconds). Derry's being 2.30, Jonas' 2.45, Pippa's, 2.45, mine being 3.15 and Chris' being 3.40. None of us have the attention span for anything over 4 minutes. I can't help but feel that we're forging ahead into a 3 minute Generation. Short and Sweet.

obviously!

I think I took advantage of being quite acute when I was 18. I did things and didn't realize just how beneficial they were. A couple for instances: showering everyday, writing all the time, studying to classical music (and then sometimes to Frank Sinatra and Louis Prima). Seriously what hadn't I thought of that sooner: writing with classical music on?

So I did last night and my mind became this perfect streamline, perfect little meditations formed into phrases. So I'm on 18,000 words now but I'm holding this particular piece close to my chest. Chris has seen parts and I've discussed it briefly with a few people but no one will see it before it's definitively manicured.

Also, I'm starting another blog with musings on better things than my life. I mean (obviously) I discuss life's little abstracts and put them into a pragmatic sense of "greater picture" blah blah blah but I want something I can put on my CV that's more writerly. Again not that this isn't because this blog is a great aid (not only do I develop a lot of ideas through here but I'm also have conversations with friends across the world via blog, definitely way better than Facebook).

It's just this is about as personal as I'm willing to become in public. And I also use the word Fuck.

And I need to start spellchecking before I post. I make a lot of mistakes you know. But those little quirks will remain here, but I'll put a link to the polished version of my streamlined self once I do an entry or two tonight.

and now for something completely different

Obvious differences between Canada and the UK. Here is an example that makes Chris and I laugh each time it's on.

My friend Pippa who knows everything about UK pop culture has been in Paris for the past month and hasn't seen the Glade advert. I was trying to explain it to her at a party on Saturday night. She was horrified and said she hadn't seen it yet.

I feel sorry for the boy who will grow up and be the kid who said 'poo' on tv...repeatedly.

Also at this party, we stood around for a bit discussing Jade Goody and her current struggle with cancer. For those not in the know, she's a reality tv star here who is right now quite ill and was rushed to hospital late last week for an emergency operation. But what makes this quite interesting is that she is enduring this all whilst being filmed. And while I think the woman is quite annoying, she obviously doesn't deserve this to happen to her. And she made me cry when she was talking about her boys and never seeing them grow into men.

And then someone at the party thought Jade Goody- the Autopsy; and the idea that surely someone has pitched. And that's just bloody morbid.

please don't take this the wrong way

No matter how much I attest to this, I'm sure I'm going to sound very arrogant even discussing this, let alone typing it (clearly it went into a further thought process than just discussing).

I've just been sitting around, reading the Saturday paper, which had a profile on a literary agent, who signed a writer because he wrote a great covering letter. I started asking Chris this questions whether it would be appropriate to mention in the letter that I would be quite marketable (as a woman, immigrant, 24 year old, dimpled). Chris response was definitely, publishing houses always want to hear that an author wants to engage with the media, being sexy certainly helps. That was his response.

I don't want this to sound shocking, but my husband thinks I'm sexy? This isn't ironic, or meant to be taken the wrong way, but it made me turn bright red. Sexy isn't exactly a word that's in my personal lexicon, well only sarcastically. I then had to hide behind the paper and ask him if I was being sexy right now and he replied yes. Then if he thought so when I first met him and he completely lit up. I know, I sound like a turbo idiot writing this down, let alone thinking about it (I'm sure my face deserves to melt) but seriously, in your mind, when you think you're simply projecting in image of a shy, awkward girl when obviously, it's not what's being reflected back at you.

One massive positive, I don't walk around 'tits out', so at least Chris' opinion on female sexiness isn't essentialised. Why is this such an uncomfortable topic? I'm typing with a cringe face, antithesis of sexyface assumably.

blow

So there's a snow storm blowing through central London currently. Apparently it came from Siberia. Apparently I'm not happy. Whilst I've been rather smug with the weather my Canadian counterparts are experiencing, we've had it rather easy here with just a few blisteringly cold days. Evidently, tonight is payback.

And everyone in this country goes absolutely mental for the snow. Last year it didn't snow at all, the year before that only once. This is an experience I haven't had in years (now) and one that I haven't had with Chris. He already shoved some snow down my collar (I threatened divorce- seriously not cool-no pun intended).

Oh wow. Good luck London and the commute tomorrow morning.

So the Superbowl is starting and Chris has decided to take up yet another sport to watch. Essentially I can't watch a superbowl without a pizza so we just went for a walk and took some photos. The pubs were just getting out and a massive snowball fight started down the market. We were too afraid to get any closer.