Change Time!

So, last week I turned 32. And that really makes me think I should be at least somewhat of a grown up. I also got to thinking about my blog, and what I want from it. I like it, and don't want to let it die out entirely, but I also realized that I wasn't updating in its current form (which you probably realized as well, if you're still actually checking this. Thanks for that, if you are, by the way). I decided it was time for a change.

The name of this blog has been "Alice's Dark Place" since I started writing it in 2004. The name was based on an inside joke between a friend and I, and was probably never funny to anyone else, at any point ever. Since I am now a grown up, and firmly in my early thirties, I decided I needed to update not only the look but the name. And so we come to "Alice's Grown Up Blog".

And yes, that is the best name I could come up with. And yes, I actually did give it quite a bit of thought.

My life hasn't changed that much since I've last written, but it's definitely gotten busier. I'm doing much more at work, which is great and I love it. My flat is on the market, and I'm thinking of moving to a nice converted Victorian flat and getting out of the purpose built 1970s flat market. The cats are adorable, although Lucy is twice the size of Beez, and I have no idea how that happened.

On the personal side, things have probably changed more. I've been really busy with work, which means I'm not seeing as much of my friends as I would like to. I've done a lot of evaluating of my friendships, and realized that I have some really amazing friends, but that you can't stay friends with everyone forever. Such is life. I'm going to do more to keep in touch with my friends, who I love, and not let work take over my entire life.

I'm also going to buy a flatscreen TV. Life is exciting, people. Exciting!

I want to devote more time to my blog, to Londonist, to Steve Guttenberg and to writing in general. Turns out I like it. And I miss having people read my writing. I've missed y'all!

Anyway, I'm back. It's all very fabulous.

Found in an old notebook while tidying my flat...

Books I Read: Summer '96

(started beginning of June, 1996)

Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Famous Last Words - Timothy Findley
Another Roadside Attraction - Tom Robbins
The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne
Prizes - Erich Segal
The Little Drummer Girl - John Le Carre
A Green Desire - Anton Myer
Tess - Katherine Burton
Heiress - Janet Dailey
Watership Down - Richard Adams
Sisters and Strangers - Helen Van Slyke
Moon Shadow - Dawn Stewardson
Butterfly - Kathleen Norris
All The Right Moves - Brenna Tod
Privileged Lives - Edward Stewart
A Ruling Passion - Judith Michael
The Two Towers - J.R.R. Tolkien
The Return of The King - J.R.R. Tolkien
Destination Unknown - Agatha Christie
Sand In The Wind - Kathleen O'Neal Gear

(also listed: Books to Read - "John Irving - Prayer for some guy")

Films I Plan To Never Ever See

Can I just say that the premise of The Strangers scares the crap out of me? It's terrifying. The scariest thing I can think of.

People come to your house and torture you and then kill you just because you were home? So. Freaking. Scary.

It stars Liv Tyler, who I like, and Scott Speedman, who is dreamy. Normally, the two of them cast as the leads in a movie would get me interested. A rom com with the two of them? Please, as if you could keep me away on opening day.

But, the two of them in a film with a terrifying premise that is giving me anxiety attacks even though I haven't even seen it? Not for me.

I pass the poster every day on my way to work - it's on a phone booth on Balham High Road, just before the tube station. And every single day, I think "God, that's so scary." The poster I pass has the three masked figures on it, and that freaks me out too. They're wearing creepy masks! And two of them are girls!

What is up with these people?

I get easily freaked out when I'm home alone - not in my own house, but in other people's houses. Even my parents' house. I always have to do a full check of the house. You know, to make sure there aren't killers lurking, waiting to kill me. The room that scares me most is bathrooms, but only if the shower curtain is closed. I always have to check behind it, y'know, to make sure the killer isn't standing behind the curtain in the bathtub, and it's always a highly tense moment.

I don't really know where this worry comes from - I didn't watch my first horror movie until I was at university (and I still haven't seen most of the classic 80s ones), and I think that's when I started getting freaked out.

So, what with my worry about killers lurking in wait when I'm home alone, you can see why it's very unlikely that I'll see The Strangers. It's not my specific fear covered in the film, but it's one that's just as scary.

I may, however, watch the copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street that I have on DVD at home.

Maybe.

Someday.

"The internet doesn't even know who you are anymore."

So, apparently I haven't posted since April 26. And by "apparently", I mean "in cold hard fact".


In all fairness, since April 26, all I've done is work. That's it. I've come reasonably close to a nervous breakdown. I've gone out, like, twice. Maybe three times. I can barely remember what my friends look like. I've hardly written for Londonist. It's been very exhausting.


But, I've just had a week of holiday and I'm feeling much better now. I'm even making plans to see people! It's crazy, I know.

I've had a super veg-out holiday, which has been fab. I've basically read, watched episodes of Felicity and slept. I've also seen a few people, but it's mainly been about the chillaxing.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Felicity? Because, I really, really do. I've watched the whole first season over the last week, and it's been delighftul. I'd forgotten how much I liked that show. And I had this super clear memory of sitting with Mandy in a movie theatre in Mississauga after the season one finale, telling her all about it and telling her that she should watch it. And, I was totally right. Because it's such a good show.

It's also made me very nostalgic for my first year of university, which was TWELVE YEARS AGO. Holy crap, I'm old. In September 1996, I went to York and met all these amazing (and not so amazing) people. Some of them I'm still friends with, some of them I'm not. A few of them, I look back at photos and I can't even remember their names. Good times, I tell you!

Holy crap. Twelve years. Shouldn't I feel like more of a grown up by now?

Sometimes, I am dumb

So, yesterday morning, I was doing a bit of tidying before my friend Alexcia came to stay, and had two bags of rubbish to get rid of. I carried one in each hand, and held my keys in my left hand, and took them to the communal bins.

I left my front door a bit open, but as I was walking away, I heard the wind slam it shut. "Whew", I thought, "good thing I have my keys."

I got to the garbage area, opened the big metal door and swung the bag in my left hand into the bin. As it was going in, however, the handle of the bag looped around my front door key and pulled it into the bin.

That's right. My keys. In the garbage. My front door. Locked.

Now, just to give you the right mental image of my stupidity, the bins made of metal, about five feet high, around four feet in diameter and on wheels. They're really big.

My keys were sitting on a black bin bag, and were about half way down. Obviously, I couldn't get them.

Someone had left a washing machine sitting in the garbage area, which is where we all leave big stuff to be picked up by the garbage men. (Actually, it was sitting pretty much right where the tree on the left is in this entry.) And I had a genius idea.

I would wheel the giant bin to beside the washing machine, climb up on it, and reach into the bin, and grab the keys. And then, ta da! I'd be all set.

I opened both the huge doors and wheeled the bin out. Due to the kind of wheels on it, I had to kind of turn at as I pulled it, creating a nice spinning out motion. I finally got it to the washing machine, climbed on, and reached in. And was still about ten inches away from the stupid keys.

So, I spun the stupid bin back into it's storage room.

I decided to knock on the door of the one neighbour I kind of know. She's nice, in a "lecture me about life in general" kind of way. But, of course, she wasn't home.

I was really stumped. Julia wasn't going to be home for ages, Alexcia was arriving in a few hours and I was totally stuck.

Then, like a beacon of hopeful light, a door on the building opposite opened. An young-ish woman walked out and I immediately ran up to her, all "excusemeI'msostupidbutIdroppedmykeysinthebinandneedhelpdoyouhaveacoathangeroranything". After she figured out my crazed speech, she told me that she didn't live there, but was just the carer. A teensy tiny little old woman walked out behind her, and I went into the whole speech again. The teensy tiny little old woman (or TTLOW) went and got me a Marks & Spencer hanger.

I raced over to the bin, and reached in. I was still about 8 inches away from those damn freaking keys. Dammit!

TTLOW called out to see if I was having any luck, and when she heard I wasn't, mentioned she had a stepladder. She walked back into her house, and I followed her in, because she was teensy and tiny and shouldn't be carrying ladders for me.

I grabbed the ladder, hauled it over to the bin, climbed up, reached in with the hanger, and ..... SUCCESS!!

I snagged the key ring on the end of the hanger, and was back in business. I carried the hanger and stepladder back to TTLOW and thanked her profusely. She really was very nice.

So, half an hour of idiocy later, I was back in my flat.

Needless to say, I will be carrying my keys in my pocket every time I go to the bins now. The lesson, she is learned.

Meme-a-rama

A) Four jobs I have had in my life:

Camp counsellor, bowling alley attendant, background talent agent and TV production manager

B) Four films I would watch over and over:

Can't Hardly Wait, Some Kind of Wonderful, Zoolander and Overboard.

C) Four places I have lived:

Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario (1977-1987), Goderich, Ontario (1987-1996), Toronto, Ontario (1996-2001), London, England (2001-now)

D) Four TV shows that I watch:

Currently, I am Sky Plussing Dirty Sexy Money, Brothers & Sisters, Reaper and Skins.

F) Four people who e-mail me (regularly):

I am a bad e-mailer and thus do not get many in return. I probably get the most from Heather, Leanne, Lindsay and Robin.

G) Four of my favourite foods:

Kraft dinner, pasta of almost any kind, Thai food, Indian food. Mmmmmm.

H) Four places I would rather be right now:

Rather than here in my office, procrastinating? On holiday somewhere sunny, at home sleeping, in the pub getting drunk and in my garden.

J) Four favourite authors:

Let's call this four of my favourite authors. Jane Austen, Nora Roberts, Kazuo Ishiguro and Marian Keyes. That's just off the top of my head.

Oh, and also?

If you're in the UK, please watch Football Hurts tomorrow, Thursday 14th Feb on Nuts TV at 9pm.

Thanks!

"You realize you haven't blogged since December, right?"

Uh, yeah. I do know that. I'm sorry. But seriously? It's February? February 2008? How did that even happen?

Doesn't it seem like it was just the beginning of 2007 mere minutes ago? 2007, which was terrifyingly known as the year in which I will turn 30 and which will now be remembered as the year in which I turned 30, was pretty good, on the whole. It was a mix of the really good and the horribly awful, which is pretty much par for the course for any year. I did let the blog lag a bit on 2007, and for those of you still reading this, I'm sorry for that. I'll try and do better this year.

I haven't been doing much Londonist-ing either, which I hope to remedy. I'm in LA this weekend for a shoot, then I'm on holiday for a week, and then it'll be March.

March!! Seriously, this year is just disappearing on my at a frightening rate.

Here's an anecdote to keep you amused while I scurry to a corner, curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth, bemoaning the year slipping away on me.

So, every morning, I get to work about the same time. I usually get off the Tube at 9:30 or so, and as I walk from the station to the office, I generally see the same guy. He's very tall, with glasses and blonde hair. He's walking to the station as I walk away. We don't say hi or anything, because that would be insane, but he's one of the people that I see every day, and if I saw somewhere out of context would spend about an hour thinking "how do I know that guy?".

There are a lot of people I see fairly regularly, but this is the only guy I see virtually every day, no matter whether I'm a bit early or a bit late. And today, I realized why.

I got off the tube at 9:30, and who was walking towards me? TWO of this guy! He's actually identical twins!

I've seen him (or, possibly, one of them) every day for like two years. And I never noticed. I just thought it was weird that this guy had the same schedule I had. But now I don't know if I've actually been seeing one of them, or they've been alternating.

This has really shaken my whole world view.


Twins. That's just so sneaky.