Monday, August 31, 2009

The junk spiral

I have reached a point in my life where I now have to sell off possessions. I'm moving in a month's time and literally have an attic's worth of useless crap I must sadly part with. Yes, I said useless and sadly.

I've been living like a student these past few years. I really have. I just keep moving and seeing each new rental with temporary intentions of staying forever. I see a place, envision how I can live there for keeps (meaning several years) and then invariably move out in two or less. Usually less. I've been here just over a year and so clearly it's time to move on.

But this time I really do plan on staying longer. I really do. I hate moving. Why I keep doing something I hate is kind of confusing, but I really don't enjoy that surreal disjointed feeling of sitting in a new apartment and totally not feeling at home even though it is home.

In prep for this move I'm selling off an IKEA rug that we (the Dude and I) bought to cover a urine stain on the floor. We did not notice this when we looked at the place initially, but yes, right in the living room is a patch that has been destroyed by cat urine. So we did what any reasonable people do. First we had multiple seances with vinegar and baking soda and various chemicals to remove the smell at least, and then in failure we bought a charming IKEA rug to hide it. With presumably no urine stains in our future, we're getting rid of the rug.

We're also selling an IKEA desk that an ex of mine gave me. Why? Don't need it, don't have room. In four years that desk has seen four apartments (I told you I moved often). Time to let go, man.

Also getting rid of a wooden futon frame that used to be my bed when I was a student, before I made my first most adulty purchase ever: a pillowtop bed. I love that bed. We call it the cloud.

And then there's the curb treasure the Dude brought home one day. Dude likes to pick up stuff from the side of the road and bring it into the house. Whenever we pass by junk tossed out or waiting to be picked up, he nudges me and says, "free chair," "free lamp", "free shoe." Yard sales now makes me tense because he's worse than your average 69.3-year-old grandma. He lives for yard sales, and used book stores selling old publications that are out of print for a buck. He's brought home a bike, tea set, small stand, two lamps, a ridiculous heavy chair, pictures frames, and I can't remember what else.

So selling this one chair is a small victory for me. He insists if it wasn't falling apart, it would be a vintage collector's piece. I'm selling it for $15, or free.

There is something liberating about removing the excess in your life. There's also something kind of sad about selling off things that you have acquired. I remember a time when I was anxious to take anyone's junk off their hands so I could have a place to sit, dishes, a TV... This is the cycle of junk coming full circle, much like the circle of life, only not quite so majestic.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Happy 25th anniversary, MuchMusic. Your old audience remembers you fondly

So apparently MuchMusic doesn't play music anymore. And apparently it's 25 years old this month. I recall being 14 years old and watching this channel religiously to get a glimpse of Gavin Rossdale playing Glycerine. And of course once the video was over, it was OVER! It was either keep your finger firmly hovered over the record button on the VCR or just savour the alt-rock-grunge-ish hottness for the five minutes you got with it.

I was never handy with a VCR. I savoured, waiting for my favourite scenes in the video. The same went for Swallowed when it came out. There were a couple scenes where dude throws his hair around and my heart orgasmed. And then I moved on to Our Lady Peace for grade 12. Superman's Dead was my favourite and I haunted MuchMusic in wait of this video.

I'd always see what artist or group was being shown in Spotlight, which I don't even know is on the air anymore. And Fromage! Hot damn, I loved me some Ed The Sock and Fromage. When CHUM got sold off after Jim Waters died, Ed left and there hasn't been a Fromage since. And there hasn't been a New Year that's been quite as good since. Coincidence?

Flipping through my once beloved MuchMusic, I see Tila Tequila (I had to do a search to find out who this even was), Flavor of Love, Brooke Hogan Knows Best, and other reality type shows that don't have anything to do with music. Okay, I know Brooke Hogan is trying to become a singer, but let's get real. A good effort counts in horseshoes, but not the music industry.

I popped on to see what late night Much had to offer and there in the ungodly hours of the night was my teenage years for display. The Wedge, Videoflow... *sigh* Teenagers used to be interested in new music and artists and their stories and videos. Now they're not? Or they can just research them online and want TV to provide garbage? I suppose this is the hallmark of becoming an adult. The teenagers freak you out.

I think this is what Abe Simpson meant when he said, "I used to be with it. Then they changed what it was. Now what's it is strange and scary to me. It'll happen to you!"

Thursday, August 27, 2009

So I'm only 26. But I'm almost 27 and three years ain't long, man

Okay, WTF. I'm almost 30. This is a sudden realization. I'm 26. I'm turning 27 in a few months. This means I'm in my late 20s, not my mid 20s.

These are the things that I see on Facebook that keep taking a dump on my youth:

* People my age buying condos or actual houses.
* People my age getting married
* People my age getting pregnant
* People my age with school age children (The hell?! When did that happen?)

Basically adulty-family stuff. You know, real responsibility. The biggest thing I have to do every day is give my diabetic cat his insulin. And this is a childhood pet, here. Yeah, from childhood. I have two of them and they're technically ancient at 16, but they're still alive.

I've realized a few things lately. One, I can't drink anymore. I was never a major party houndress, but I could at least drink myself into oblivion and then wake up the next morning not wanting someone to dig me a grave to go die in.

Two, I must watch the weather channel before leaving the house.

Three, I can no longer eat what I want without consequences. I still do, but, you know, I'm getting fat. That sucks.

When I was a teenager I thought that I knew everything, and that each passing year I was only growing more and more sage. If only everyone could have all the answers I did. What has permeated my 20s thus far is that every passing year I find I know even less than I ever thought possible. I know shit all about squat.

And that's going to be the tone of this little ol' blog of mine.