Saturday, December 28, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Todd The God Edition):

~sarah p.

p.s. If my dad ever knew I used the term 'Todd The God' on anyone other than Rundgren, I would probably be axed from the family, so let's just keep this one between you and me.


Christmas Eve morning, and then again last night, I was on one of Reggie and my famous World's Slowest Walks (TM Reggie 2013). Standing on the corner on the usually crowded street, watching the stop lights turn from red to yellow to green and back again without a single car passing by, in a strangely quiet moment in my own head, I was able to put some things into perspective. Most people would think I was crazy to say this, but 2013 has probably been the best year of my life. I learned and changed and grew the fuck up. I've had some hard lessons on how to protect my best interests, and own heart (without protecting it too much, right?). I have so much to be thankful for, and owe the greatest of gratitude to all of the wonderful people in my life that helped me through some tough times. I have truly obtained the knowledge on how to take responsibility for my own happiness, and, as the ball drops on Tuesday night, I just know that 2014 is going to be perfect. Much love to all of you out there. Happy New Year.

~sarah p. 

p.s. My mom always says to have a bath on New Year's Day to wash the previous year down the drain, but I'm just going to do it because I spend a fortune on fancy bath products, and kind-of like seeing myself naked.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Downtown People.

 I grew up pretty inner-city, and have always had places that just barely touched the downtown core in Calgary, save for a single, torturous four-month-long stint in the suburbs (which, BTW, fucking sucked, you guys). This, however, is the first time I am living in the very middle of downtown. People used to mistake my places as 'downtown', but I'm learning a lot about how much different a residential neighbourhood and a metropolitan neighbourhood can be.

Sometimes, the streets down here get so busy, and other times, you feel like you are the only one wandering the weathered cement. There is always a cab less than half a block from my house, just sitting and waiting. My building is basically a commune. My next-door neighbours leave our doors open during the day, and Reggie and Tina wander in and out of their apartments. We barter things for wine. I am BFFs with the 2-and-a-half year old upstairs.

My favorite part about being down here is the people. The population around my place is 30% hipster, 40% New Canadian, 20% rich folks, and 10% hippie. I'm not sure where I fit into these demographics yet, but I am positive I belong among them. It seems like there might be a lot of crime and drugs around my apartment (as judging by the needle bin directly in front of my place), but I feel like everyone takes care of each other down here. I have yet to feel unsafe.

As an avid people-watcher, there are the finest specimens in town around my place. There's a guy I like to call 'Pizza Everyday', who, like clockwork, gets a pizza from the shop two doors down from my house at 6:30PM each evening. He's not a big dude, where does he put it all? There's this homeless guy that lives in front of a heat vent. Everyone seems cool with this, and I applaud him for his innovation. There's this bizarre earthy lady named Heather that dog-sits for the "nancy boys" (her words) a few doors down. We walk dogs together sometimes, and I listen to her babble about things that I don't really care that much about, like holistic medicine and yoga. There's a building with a 24-hour-a-day doorman half a block down the street. A lot of people with fancy cars and fur coats live there. The only dry cleaner within walking distance will get your clothes clean, but they will also perpetually reek of Pine Sol, and the owner won't let you leave for at least half an hour when you pick your shit up because she is, very obviously, lonely. There's the two kids that smoke joints in their Tercel about the same time every night, and are perpetually listening to Ready To Die. Sometimes I rap a verse or two when I walk by. We might become friends, I haven't decided yet. There's even weird people that I have never, ever seen, but I know exist, like the person that drops a cigarette with a small piece of paper towel wrapped around the filter in the same spot every day. I'm assuming it's a smell thing, but who knows? These downtown people are crafty.

Since I have lived down here, my new downtown friends all share the same sentiment. They tell me that I'm lucky to work outside of downtown, because it's so easy to hole away in this tiny corner of the city. I know this little five-block radius is not the be all and end all of Calgary, but I'm really in the honeymoon phase with this neighbourhood right now, and I can go for drinks within a block of my house in all directions, and stop for groceries, at either Safeway or one of the thousand sketchy corner stores, on the way home.
All I know is that I felt perfectly at home the day I moved down here, and I feel fortunate to have finally found, what is seemingly, my spot in the world.

~sarah p.

Jams of The Week (Worst Hats In All Of New Jack Swing Edition):

 ~sarah p.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Tig Ol' Bitties Edition):

~sarah p.

The Zone.

I'm sitting so far outside of my comfort zone right now, in a place where everything has changed quickly and severely. I gave up being cautious and elusive and worrisome and petty. I gave it all up and here I am, brimming with happiness. I have learned so much in the past couple of months about synchronicity and reciprocity and probably a lot of other words that end in -city.
Have I gotten it wrong the last 32 years? I guess none of us can predict the future. We're all humans and we all make mistakes and take wrong turns, and that's what makes us who we are.
All I know is I can breathe for the first time in years, and can't wipe this stupid smile off of my face.

~sarah p.

Monday, December 02, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Videos With A Story Edition):

~sarah p.

p.s. I couldn't help but do two of these posts today!

Jams Of The Week (Part-Time Lover Edition):

  ~sarah p.

p.s. New weekly feature? I think yes! xoxo


A couple of years ago, I was making some idle chit-chat while getting my annual pap smear. My doctor is this adorable younger nerdy Asian guy, and he seems to get really flustered during the procedure, so I always try to distract him with some non-cervical discussion.
"How much salmon, would you say, is safe to eat on a regular basis?",  I asked. He was busy poking around underneath a paper blanket, and asked me how much I consume in a week. "I don't know", I replied, "Maybe three or six servings". He looked up from between my legs with furious concern.

When I left the office that day, he handed me a requisition for blood work. When the results came back into the office, he called me back in to discuss my mercury levels, which he called "borderline high". He told me to cool it on the fish for a while, and asked me to watch for signs of poisoning, which included hair falling out, rashes, and skin peeling away from the body. This scared me for about four days, until I discovered the joys of sushi delivery.

I guess I just had never entertained the thought that somebody would be willing to drive raw fish to my house, but my love affair with salmon only grew. Sometimes, the silky, fresh feeling of salmon sashimi sliding down my throat is the last thing I think about at night, and the first thing I think about in the morning. However, no matter how erotically I was thinking about slices of soft, pink flesh, my doctor's words kept ringing in my ears, and I tried to be careful. I really did.

I came into some money after selling my house, and last night I was mildly hungover and mentally and physically exhausted in the most wonderful way, and called one of my favorite sushi joints to drop me off a platter of their finest mercury-laced aquatic creatures. I have been known to be rather indulgent when ordering, and last night was no exception, particularly with the extra weight in my bank account.
Extra sashimi? Why not?
$30 on appetizers? Fuck it. All Tataki everything.

I am not a person with a lot of vices, but of all of harmful things I ingest from time to time, salmon has got to be pretty far down on the list. I could be addicted to onion rings or shopping or meth, but no. Fish. I still crave it every single day. I tried taking omega-3 supplements, I tried just eating other things, and there's just no comparison.
This year, at my annual pap smear, my doctor asked me about my salmon consumption. I impishly lied and told him I had quit entirely, and secretly checked my palms for peeling skin.

~sarah p.