Reflections upon the Juno Awards (and I'm not talking about the movie)

It's almost time for every Canadian's favourite award show--the Junos! Sarcasm aside, I am taking this opportunity to tell you a little story about my Juno experience, if only to have a Jillstory excuse to give Duane some traffic to his 2008 Juno Awards Coverage page.

The Junos stopped in Winnipeg in 2005. Tickets to the Sunday night awards show sold out quickly, but, they opened up another section of seats the weekend of the event. I casually mentioned to my family that I would like to go. My sister immediately piped up that she would be game for trying to get tickets, which were only going to be sold at the box office at the MTS Centre--no phone-ins, no Internet orders.

"But we'd have to go down early to get a good spot in line," she said.

"Like, how early? Nine? Eight?" I asked. Tickets were going on sale at noon on the Saturday. I had to wonder what our competition would really be like.

"I was thinking more like six."

"Six a.m.? You really think so?"

She was completely serious. "Hey, if we're going to do this, we have to go for the glory."

I thought for a moment about how much I really wanted to go and how much I really did not want to have to get up earlier on a Saturday morning than what I would for a regular work day.

"Okay, let's do it," I nodded. I figured, if anything else, it would be an interesting experience, and one that I would be really happy to share with my sister.

Neither Tracy or I had ever "camped out" for tickets to anything before. We had no idea what we would be up for. We decided to pack some camp chairs and dressed appropriately for the wait outside.

"I packed two peanut butter and jam sandwiches, water, my MP3 player, and some magazines for us to read" I told Tracy before we set off. She rolled her eyes, laughed and called me her "ridiculously over-prepared sister". It is still one of my favourite terms of endearment.

The weather was mild but I came prepared in case of rain. We arrived at the arena on scheduled time and found ourselves third in line. One guy had been there since 1:30 a.m. The other guy drove 10 hours from Saskatchewan to get there.

At ten to seven we were let inside the lobby, formed a line and settled in for the wait. Security came by and told us Ticketmaster would likely do a wristband draw (a random assignment of a numbered place in line), which would then mean that our early bird arrival was more or less in vain.

At 10, Tracy and I decided our best bet would be to split up to give ourselves two chances at getting a good placement. I went to the end behind about 84 other people, while Tracy ended up at the first position after the other two parties ahead of us adopted similar strategies. After the draw we didn't improve upon my position, but it was still better than what Tracy drew. We were nervous. Mom called us to see how we did and offer up $100 to our cause so we could go for the best seats and not have to worry about all the cheaper ones being gone by the time we got up there. By 12:30 we had the tickets in our hands and were giddy with excitement. We ended up sitting stage right, practically in the wings but right above the aisle the stars walked to get behind stage. Other than that, I don't remember much of the actual ceremony, but I will never forget how we got there.

If you ever have the chance to participate in Juno Awards week, I would highly recommend taking in the concerts and activities leading up to the awards show. I also went that year to the Song Writers Circle where artists like Dallas Green, Burton Cummings, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Gordie Sampson, Alan Doyle and Jully Black gave acoustic performances in an intimate venue and then discussed how they came to write their songs. I love to support Canadian music because it comes from people with whom I share a Canadian experience, and I believe that is reflected in their work.

Danny Greaves, frontman for the now disbanded Winnipeg group The Watchmen, once said the reason why the prairie city produces so many great musicians is that once the snow flies, there's nothing better to do than stay inside and write.

It sounds like bullshit but,
You ever notice?
This old town of ice and snow
It gets you running yeah
To chasing something
What it is I'll never know
I just hope one day that it shows
--Any Day Now, The Watchmen

The It Girl

At work I've been playing Cubicle Tag with Kat and George. It's like ordinary playground tag, the only rule is you're "safe" if your feet are not touching the floor. If you were to walk into one of our cubes you may find us with our feet resting on the legs of our chairs or on top of our recycling boxes. Actually, one time I took refuge by jumping inside Kat's recycling box.

Today, after about two days of being mostly It, I tagged George and then he tagged Kat. After lunch, I was sitting at my desk reading a file. I heard footsteps go by and had a sense danger was close. I decided to ignore my paranoia and continued reading, feet flat on the floor. A moment later the footsteps came back. Suddenly, an arm reached into my cube. I shrieked and my papers flew everywhere as I got swatted on the leg by Kat. I was It, again.

By quarter after three it was looking like I was going to be It over the weekend again. AGAIN! I was It last Friday. I really did not want It again.

Standing at the printer I spotted Kat heading outside. I decided to follow her. She stopped off at the Artshoppe to pick up a friend. I ducked unseen into the next row of cubes, stood at the end with half my papers under one kitten heel boot, half under the other, and waited.

It wasn't long before she walked by. I reached out and tagged her, miraculously managing to hold my balance on my safe spot papers while sending her flying into the wall in a fit of giggles.

And that is how I got to start my weekend as not it.

Sing Gal

It was 6:30 and I was sitting by the window basking in the evening sun with Mac on my lap. I was trying to write a blog post about the joys of being single. A friend of mine asked me today to tell her about how exciting my life is as a single girl while she faced what was looking like the end of her latest round playing girlfriend.

I managed one weak introductory paragraph and got stuck. Instead of focusing on the topic, I was staring at the online status of a guy who I was supposed to be not paying attention to. See, we're playing this dumb game where I have to act uninterested and he gets to pop up and say hello at any random moment and then allow me to entertain him with one of my cute stories. If I dare try to step up and IM him first, he may respond, and he may have time for a conversation. Or he may just ignore me completely. I still think I'm winning.

Realizing that the sun would not be up for much longer and that I was getting nowhere with my post, I shut down Mac, grabbed my headphones and jacket, and headed out for a walk.

I'm into walking now. I always head west, staring right into the setting sun. I observed on my trip today that there were a lot of women out walking, several with dogs. Guys, if you are wondering where all the girls are, try going for a walk. We're not living inside your X-Box 360, I can tell you that.

I also used the time to think. I thought about what to tell my friend about being single. I tried to come up with all these cool advantages but they ended up sounding kind of lame. Woo, you can go on a shopping spree and not explain yourself to anyone. I certainly hope I never feel obligated to explain why I felt the need to buy three pairs of shoes in one day to a significant other. I may as well try to explain why I felt the need to inhale, or go for a walk (the answer is simple actually, because I can).

Meh, being single can be fun, and being in a relationship can be fun. What it comes down to is the ability to feel normal and confident with just being yourself. I have learned that when I get anxious about a guy and all caught up in the games, I just need to ask myself one question: is this guy's name George Stroumboulopoulos? If the answer is no, (as it has been traditionally, so far) then I say, "well don't spend another minute thinking about him. Go out and enjoy the sunshine". Because really, only George, who has his own talk show, radio show, and thousand of fans, can legitimately say he sometimes doesn't have the time to politely acknowledge my IM or let me know that he's very sorry he can't meet me for coffee this week, or this lifetime...

I do believe that I am a romantic at heart. I am capable of a whole lot of love, but frankly, I just don't get people who seem to think that love is the only reason for living. If you are not in a romantic relationship right now, fear not. There are a million other things you can focus your big heart on. Go help the orphans in Africa, the disappearing rain forests, the contaminated bodies of water, the abandoned puppies and kittens at the pound or darn it just try to be a better all around human being. Find a passion, be a hero. Nine times out of ten it will probably lead you to some other lonely soul to get together with. They don't just come knocking at your door you know. Well, actually, I will never forget the day I answered the door back at mom's and dad's to find a totally hot, blond, lawn care guy on the front step who smiled, and in a sexy voice said to me (I kid you not), "Are your parents home?"

On my way home I spotted two cute red heads hanging out in the back yard. I have a weakness for redheads. They called to me and I met them at the fence. They tripped over each other to vie for my attention and kiss my hand. I was more than happy to rub cold noses with both of them and scratch them under their chins. Women who say men are dogs must be cat people. I'd take a dog of a guy in a heartbeat.

I guess that's my advice. Single and lonely? Get a dog, go for walks, and help out with a charity. You'll either meet someone or you'll find yourself too busy and adored to feel lonely anymore anyway.

I wrote all but the last paragraph of this post outside in the dark in my back yard. I came in only when my fingers started to get cold. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed being able to do that.

I'll stop the world and melt with you

Today, after I ate delicious leftovers for dinner, I decided to go for a walk and get ice cream. The streets are slushy and I had to hop over a few puddles aspiring to be lakes.

I grabbed my mp3/radio player as a last minute thought before heading out. Today's soundtrack included Mariah Carey and Timberland. When I go walking plugged in I like to pretend I'm in my own music video. I don't care who notices my secret smiles and glances.

You know what I like about living on my own? That I do things like spontaneously decide to go walk for ice cream in sub-zero temperatures and nobody will stop and ask me why or call me ridiculous.

I was the only one in the store when I placed my order for a Sparkler. I was also the only one walking down the street chipping away at the chocolate and rainbow sprinkled outer shell of a vanilla/chocolate twist cone. My hand, the one holding the cone and not the one stuffed in my pocket, got cold so I pulled on a pink stretchy glove.

Ice cream. Sunshine. Music. Walking. Pink. These are things that make me happy.

Because I am awesome

On Saturday I made myself a real pretty dinner. Just for me. Why? Because I am awesome.

Moist, pork tenderloin, roasted baby potatoes with tangy dill drizzle, roasted squash brushed with nutmeg honey-butter and a side of seasonal mixed vegetables.


And yeah Vince, I had wine.

That Jill, she's all sorts of crazy, in a tongue in cheek sort of way

It's really good to hear your voice say my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
Lips of an Angel--Hinder

Tonight I was watching The Hour, hosted by my boyfriend, George Stroumboulopoulos and he mentioned the artist Jill Sobule's creative way of marketing and funding her next CD.

Sobule is taking pledges, much in the same fashion as Public Television does.

Contributors can choose a level of pledges ranging from the $10 "unpolished rock," which earns them a free digital download of her disc when it's made, to the $10,000 "weapons-grade plutonium level," where she promises "you get to come and sing on my CD. Don't worry if you can't sing - we can fix that on our end."
The Canadian Press

I first heard this story on the radio this morning and thought it was pretty cool. I remember loving Jill's song, Supermodel, made popular by the movie Clueless.

Anyway, yay Jill. Yay also for this Jill, who got to hear George say her name several times with great admiration and respect. Now I know what it would will sound like.

You do the math

I went grocery shopping today, 10% Tuesday. I walked to the store because it wasn't crazy cold out and I like the walk.

To get the 10% discount you have to spend a minimum of $25--excluding dairy (that's a weird condition I've never seen before but noticed tonight in the fine print). Before going to the check-out I estimated my grand total. I figured I had met the minimum requirement without going over too much. And I was right. My total was around $34.00. The other important calculation I forgot to take into consideration however, was weight.

I had amassed 2 kg of sugar, 1 lb of butter, 3 lbs of apples, 2 lbs of soup, and probably another 2 lbs of other random things that I hauled about four blocks home.

So when I got home, I felt no guilt about eating that leftover piece of cheesecake. Nope, none at all.

***k buddy

"Talk to me," he says. There's no hello or random statement to ease into a conversation. You could picture me, sitting in a space working away at something and suddenly interrupted by a familiar man standing in my doorway. We speak playfully about something and share a laugh. I ask him how he's doing.

"It's in the e-mail. Read and enjoy."

"Yeah, I was just trying to be polite and not talk about myself." I laugh at my sheer honesty. It's taken a while to get this comfortable with him.

"You should, that's why I said 'talk to me', because you should".

I sit up and look at him for a moment. He doesn't want a polite conversation. He doesn't care what topic I pick. All he wants is talk. There are two things I do well; talking is the other one. So I give it to him. I don't think about the past, I don't think about the non-existent future. I just let it all loose, chattering away and holding nothing back for 40 minutes until he says he has to go.

I used to suck at good-bye, always wondering when the next time would be. This time, I don't even care if there is a next time. This was just so perfect I'm afraid a next time couldn't be anything but a let down. That, and I know that there will certainly be a next time. After a year and a half of dancing around I finally know.

*Every girl should have a good talk buddy.