One of the things I wonder about

I am wondering why it is that whenever a woman does something (nearly anything -- doesn't even have to be particularly nasty) to a man it is labeled as emasculating yet when a man does something really hateful to a woman it just is. Is there even a female version of emasculate? Efemulate?

C

Grant Proposal

Just got back from meeting with the province's program officer for the arts grants. He reviewed my submission and said I had a unique story, that it was very intriguing and well-written -- that I presented information coherently and showed character and story development by "lifting the veils off one by one."

I know, I know this doesn't mean I'm getting a cent, but for right now I am encouraged.

And now I'm on my way out for coffee with a friend.

Zippity do dah!

What a great start to my day.
Colleen

When Friendship Ends

When do you go from being in love to not being in love? From being friends to not being friendly?

In my life, the former is something too difficult to judge but I can tell you when the latter happened. It was about 10 or 12 days ago. Apparently.

I've been trying to stay on friendly terms with the ex for a number of reasons including: the fact that he has not a single friend and I don't want him  to fall into deeper depression; that we were once in love and should be nice to each other; and finally (and this is hard to admit) because there is a part of me that really, really wants him to step up and be the man he should have been.

We had been in the habit of getting together once a week for coffee or to run errands together (he has the car, I am a foot soldier). Once we went out to listen to a blues band.

So, after the last time I saw him he said he'd call in a couple of days and didn't.

Today is the first time I've heard from him in two weeks.

As soon as he said hello, I could hear it. The end of our friendship. It was the same tone he uses with his ex-wife, a woman he hates.

What happened between gabbing over coffee and today? Nothing except that he has become infatuated with someone else.

This is a small town and I've heard what he is now saying about me. And it hurts.

He says that our relationship ended a year ago and that we stayed together for purely financial reasons. (I wonder how couples therapy fits into this theory? Or the long, slow, painful good bye?)

Why he's being this way with me, I do not know.

But I do know that our friendship is finished.

Colleen

Best books of 2009

Here is the Globe and Mail's picks for the 2009 Globe Books 100. I've chosen the link to Canadian books, but the list has the links to foreign, poetry, biography and more.

Here is the New York Times Most Notable Books for 2009. The list is broken down by fiction and nonfiction.

Whether you buy ebooks or pbooks, buy books!

Happy reading!
Colleen

Adam Lambert

Okay, so my fave on last year's Idol (the U.S. version) Adam Lambert is being banned from a number of television shows because of the simulated oral sex act during a recent performance.

I have to say, I don't get the furor.

How many music videos and performances (live or televised) are there where a male singer simulated anal or doggie-style sex with a female dancer? This has even been on main-stream shows like So You Think You Can Dance. No one says boo. Haven't there been instances where a female dancer will drop to her knees in front of a male star?

So, what's the difference?

I'm not saying I like any of it. As a matter of fact, I don't.

I don't think it adds anything of value to the music and is often very degrading.

But that isn't the point.

My question is: if it's okay for some, why isn't it okay for others?

Oh, right. He's gay and it was a guy down there not a woman. 'Cause if it was a woman, it would never have been worthy of canceling bookings. So it's both homophobic and sexist. Bravo, television networks!

Colleen

Exes and clones

So is it weird that the last two guys I have had serious relationships with are now dating women who look like me? Me, that is, with my hair straightened, not the naturally-curly-headed me. It feels weird.

The guy-before-last ran into my daughter and showed her a photo of his new wife. My daughter said she almost choked when she saw it. "It was like looking at a picture of you, Mom," she said.

The last guy is also in pursuit of a me-clone.

Perhaps I should be flattered, but I'm not. I feel like yelling at them. If you wanted me so badly, why couldn't you be the men that you are no doubt going to be with these new women? Why do I say no doubt? Because now they're trained.

Some years ago, my sister ran into an old beau and his new girlfriend and the woman actually thanked my sister for making the guy into such a great human being. They are now happily married.

And I know it's the same with these guys. Guy #1 was married within a year of our break-up. Even though he still owed me money and was a real prick when we split, he was the one who found what he wanted and got married. Guy #2, who I have been emotionally supporting because he suffers from depression, is now out and dating. Guy # 2 -- whose bills I paid and who offered to help me through a rough financial patch of my own, but didn't and now has the family car while I walk -- he is out there dating!

So, here's the lesson ladies: get them post-season not pre-session. It's a lot of hassle and heartache and you avoid the constant accusation of wanting to change them.

Have you met you? I've wanted to ask. If you had, you'd want to change you too.

Ugh! As I write this I see the old saw about accepting people for how they are which leads me to the new saw: If you can't accept them the way they are, tell them to fuck off. There's someone better coming down the road that you won't be available for because you're too busy trying to pretend that the guy you're with is a wonderful human.

Step away from the fantasy or you'll be watching your exes with clone-yous on their arms as you try to fix the next one.

Blech!
Colleen

Let the season of returns begin!

As I write this I am on hold with Sears. My mom, who lives in Ontario, sent Christmas gifts for my kids. She ships them, I wrap them, It's a fine agreement.

This year, however, Mom purchased clothes for my 26-year-old daughter in size small. My daughter is lovely and beautiful but a size small she is not. So, I have offered to attempt to exchange them for a larger size. Did I mention that Mom has lost the receipt?

I decide to call to find out the best course of action.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Ah, six minutes and the bleat of a voice interjects over the insipid and static-filled Muzak.

And I'm disconnected.

I dial again. This time I am lucky to get through to someone who offers to help. I need the receipt she tells me. Yes, I explain. But I don't have one and neither does my 81-year-old mother. I am put on hold.

When the woman returns, she tells me to call another number to locate the receipt.

But how, I inquire, can they find a receipt for a couple of items purchased in another province and not on a credit card?

That's what they will tell you, she says. Is that okay with you?

Sure, I guess so. I mean if you think it will help.

I dial.

I, of course, am on hold and a recording tells me something about return policies and that maybe I might want to send my query via email.

I do not think so.

I hold.

This Muzak is at least clear. An electronic piano with a popcorn-sounding back beat. Shoot me.

I have to pee.

Oh, glory. Latin-inspired Muzak. Where are my dancing shoes?

I wonder if I can -- oh! a voice!

And I've been given the wrong number. I have to call retail returns not catalogue returns.

At least I can pee. And grab the cordless phone.

Now, for the fourth time, a recording tells me that Sears is most interested in making me a happy customer.

I guess we will see whether that is the case, won't we?

I wait only seconds and am connected with a woman with a bad cough and a heavy accent. French of some sort, I believe. Between the coughing, however, she is able to tell me that I have to contact my local store and that the decision to let me return/exchange something is up to the store.

I tell her that it has taken four calls to get this information. She laughs and tells me that I finally found the right person.

She made me laugh too. There is something in the French attitude of "everyone else is an idiot and I am the only one who can do anything right" that can crack me up.

Of course, the reason I called in the first place is because there is no one at the local Sears store who I have dealt with who I consider the least helpful. Or maybe that's exactly what I consider them to be: the least helpful.

Tomorrow. I'll think about it tomorrow.

Mom, you owe me.

But it's snowing. I can't be mad when it's snowing. Not the early snow. Not before Christmas. Later in the season, yes, but today, no.

Happy, happy day!

Colleen