Thursday, 15 May 2014

Friday Link-Up!

Although I'm phasing out of the blogging game for a couple months, I'm back to join in on Ashley's Little Friday Link-up! Don't forget to link up with us and follow this week's hosts!


The Grits Blog (Follow Here) // My Wilderness (Follow Here) // Switching Classrooms (Follow Here)

Rules are there are no rules! 

Please link-up to whatever you like! 

All that we ask is, if you wish, please follow us via the links above and that you link back to this blog - so that other's can join in and mingle! 

Happy Little Friday Everyone!

The Grits Blog

Monday, 28 April 2014

My Acceptance To Yale

It's true - in a drawer in my room there's an opened & unanswered acceptance letter from Yale University. But it's time I put the conspiracy theories to rest and come clean to those of you who I've successfully tricked over the years- it's a fake. And to those of you who chuckled at the mere thought of Julie being accepted to Yale-- well, you're dismissed from this post. I totally could have got in if I applied.



In the last year of high school I had more than many a question as to "what my plans were". My plans? I had none! I was a lost 17 year old who was too afraid to go for her license testing never mind college or university. But the creative soul in me couldn't just brush this question off any longer. After much thought I came up with the perfect response. I was waiting to hear back from Yale- my dream school (only for the name/connotations behind it... and probably the fact that Rory Gilmore went there). Nearing the end of the year the story changed to I was accepted.

My closest friend & accomplice "Phil" aka Karissa only made this story better. One day I received a letter in the mail addressed to Julie Enns from Yale University. I opened the letter to find a letter of acceptance to Yale with the letterhead and everything. In the few paragraphs of joy they even promised to place me in their best dorm with only the most attractive & good men surrounding me.

I can clearly remember a conversation with my sister - who at the time was extremely gullible - where I showed her the letter and explained Yale had accepted me. I remember her asking me if our mom was ok with me moving to the US and stating she didn't even know I applied. I convinced her for the day that yes, I was moving to Connecticut in September but I couldn't lie for long and came clean after 24 hours.

The letter came in handy for the rest of my charade. Now I was no longer lying and the conversation changed from;

"What are your plans for next year?"
"I'll be attending Yale, so.. that's pretty exciting."

to

"What are your plans for next year?"
 "I received an acceptance letter from Yale, so..."

complete and utter honesty. Life couldn't have been more fun.

Years later the topic of schooling would at times come up in conversation. With people who hadn't gone to my high school I still at times would explain how I got an acceptance letter from Yale but decided to not go and just enter the workforce instead. Some believed, some just laughed, but it was always a fun story to tell.





Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Orphan Black

Today I have a new show alert for you all!

As I've mentioned before I watch or have watched nearly every show on TV. I try new shows all the time and stick to many of them, but most are simply good TV, not great TV. This weekend, though, I've began a new show and it's GREAT television. If you haven't watched it yet, chances are most of you would enjoy it; the show Orphan Black.

Orphan black best tv show 2014 tatiana maslany BBC America CTV scifi series

In the passed two days I started and have caught up to what's playing on TV, which isn't too difficult as the first season was only 10 episodes. The second season began last Saturday so we're only one episode in. Boy do you ever get addicted fast with this one. I'm saying it now, favourite quality show on TV. Here's a run down of the plot...

In the pilot episode we begin with Sarah Manning, a girl described as 'punk rock' with a London accent, who at a train station watches a girl who looks identical to her jump in front of the train and die. Sarah, confused as anything else, takes the girls purse to find out who and why... Through a series of events during the entire season we find out that Sarah & so far 9 other women who we know of are clones, created by the 'Neolutionists' who believe they can create, mutate, and control the human experience. To make matters worse, we find out that one of the clones has been brainwashed to believe she was the "original" by an extremist "religious" cult the Proletheans and is one by one killing off the other clones. Meanwhile Sarah, the only known clone to ever be able to procreate tries to protect her daughter who seems to be a miracle and therefore wanted by the scientists who made them, the Proletheans, and possibly others. 

Throw in a spectacular supporting cast with a foster brother Felix, boyfriend/double agent/is he good or bad Paul, foster mother Mrs. S, detectives Art & Angela, an angry ex-boyfriend/drug dealer Vic, and a slew of scientists from the Dyad institute (Neolutionists), and you've got a hectic race to find answers & stay alive. 

Tatiana Maslany does an impeccable job creating extremely different personas for the clones. Come to this show to find the best representation of acting I've ever seen. It will blow your mind how much range can be shown in one scene, especially when Tatiana plays a clone who has to go undercover as a different clone.. double acting? Woah. There's a mind bender for you. 

Filmed and set in Toronto, Ontario this is one Canadian show that got it right. So, so right. Orphan Black airs Saturday nights on CTV, BBC America, or Space. If you still aren't sold, check out the opening scene from the first season, you won't be disappointed.




Monday, 21 April 2014

Monkeys

When I was young I was the kid who was afraid of people dressed up. I had the chance to meet Barney and I think I cried instead.

I remember whenever we went to my aunt and uncles house they had these stuffed monkeys that looked extremely real to me. I was a child, but I've seen them as an adult and I still think they look pretty realistic. Their faces were made of this plastic material covered in tiny face hairs and their eyes were wide and reached into your soul. Anyway, every time we went over there I knew I'd have to face these monkeys. It was inevitable that at one point during the visit they would probably come out but what scared me more was what they were doing when we didn't see them. I think one time 1 of them wasn't in the usual spot and I was convinced it had moved on its own. It was the Toy Story effect but they were animals so I found it more believable.


It didn't help that the monkeys were also puppets. People would control them and bring my fears to life and I was both fascinated and disturbed. As I grew I became more and more intrigued by the monkeys. I was so afraid, but I also needed to see them and stare into their eyes. I needed to touch them and control them on my own so I knew they weren't real.. or maybe so that I could be in control of them for a minute. 


These monkeys were a big fear for me, but I had to get a closer look, I had to pay attention to them. It's that whole 'car crash you can't look away from' affect. What is that? Is there a name for that?


Sometimes I think back on experiences like this and I wonder if the child version of me really believed that these monkeys came alive or if I just loved imagining that was a possibility.




Monday, 14 April 2014

Story Day; Fix My Fridge, Take My Number

If you follow me on Instagram you may have seen my recent picture with a potential title for my autobiography.
I was going through my many many old journals of lists and dreams and things I used to imagine and found this list. This was the first title, but the page was full. Often I'll say something and think how great a title that would be about my life. The thing about my life is that I could focus the story on so many different things, and the titles change with what my life story is about. "Am I Single Because I Wear Glasses?" is obviously the story of my life (for the most part) alone. On the other hand, "Jesus Take The Wheel- No, Seriously I'm Gonna Stay Here 'Til You Drop Me Off Where I'm Supposed To Be" is the story of my life working at Tim Horton's for 7 years until I got the dream job I have now. 

But today, I'll share with you a teaser from "27 Crushes.. and Counting" (or alternatively; "All My Crushes Are Married Now And I'm Still Asking My Mom What's For Dinner")

I know I'm not unlike others when I make up life stories for people passing by. Working at Tim Horton's before the job I have now, I had countless opportunities to work my imagination. Just a fun pastime to.. well, pass the time. You see someone for a second, and for the rest of the day you can imagine their lives. They're inspiration for something greater inside of you. 

I view a crush in the same sense as this. I enjoy having a crush - or even just a short interaction with someone gorgeous who will spark my imagination of "what could be". I get to make up a story of what our life would be like and more importantly; I control what he's really like. I like crushes because that's all they are. 100% of my crushes never could have or should have turned into anything more. It would have both ruined the magic and, probably my view on the guy. Especially considering crushes & attraction is almost purely physical. Turns out most guys are not Noah Calhoun.

Sometimes, when I meet a beautiful man, and I know I have no chance, I like to flatter him and be obviously attracted. In my mind, I guarantee you this plays out smoother than in real life. To be honest I'm much more Mia Thermopolis in the first half of the movie than the second. I can only fake it for about 30 minutes a day. 

When I worked at Tim Horton's we had a male model fix our fridges & A/C. Ok, he wasn't at all a male model, but he was like pro sports player turned cologne ad model good-looking. Really tall, dark hair, excellent features, fit, but not super muscular... yeah, strictly physical. 

I made the model sandwiches every visit on his request. My manager knew my thoughts on the guy so she'd make sure we got a chance to discuss his lunch order every visit. Every time he said thank-you and looked directly into my eyes, the girls I worked with would discuss the moment for the rest of our shift. (I know what you're thinking and no, we really didn't have anything better to talk about) But we all shared those experiences with him. If he smiled in any of our general direction, we all took note.

One time the model asked me to clean this one machine so he could fix it, but he talked really fast (Probably got nervous talking to me... right?) and I didn't understand him so I just nodded and smiled until he briefly left to get some more tools. From what I caught off of the conversation I assumed he was going to fix things, then leave for the day, and then I should clean it. That worked perfectly for me because what I didn't want to tell him was that I actually had no clue how to clean the machine.

An hour passes and he awkwardly is hovering near me (serving customers instead of cleaning the machine) until he (musters up the confidence and) comes up to me and says he needs to go soon so if I'm busy he'll just clean it. "Oh!" I say "Sorry- yeah... I just got a rush so I didn't have time..." I tried to pass off.

Guys, it was clearly awkward. I knew all my chances were blown (As if 1. There were chances in the first place and 2. That interaction would be a chance killer), but this opened up the perfect opportunity for confident Julie to arrive. 

See, there's something that happens to me when I realize a guy is far out of my league and I'll never have a chance. I turn into second-half of the movie Mia and will be super honest about how great the guy is... to his face. 

Fast forward to the next time the model visits. Our A/C is broken and he came 3 days in a row upon our call. It kept breaking and no- unfortunately this wasn't my master plan, although in hindsight, confident Julie should have thought about that. 

On the 3rd visit I found my opening. I walked over to where my boss and the model were talking/fixing and I made a casual joke about how often he's had to be called here. "Yeah" he replies (probably too shy to say more around such a confident stunning girl) (ahem- me) "I think I need your number on speed dial incase this keeps breaking!" I say, sure of myself. "haha... nice" he answers. 

I walk back to my side of the store and am content with this interaction, assuming both 1) that he hardly even heard what I said and has already forgotten and 2) that it's all he can think about. He's probably kicking himself for not getting my number (I'd think to myself) and also Thank goodness he didn't actually ask for my number because I don't like dating people I know nothing about and that would ruin the facade of the crush. 

In reality, I thought that was it. 

2 days later his boss comes in to fix something else of ours that was broken. He worked for and with his boss which meant for any visit, either one of them could show up. This time it was just the boss. I had an established friend-type relationship with the boss and after the usual greetings of nice to see you, how have you been, he says "Heard that you think {the model} needs your number!". Both mortified and proud that I was successfully someones story of the day, I reply "What! No.. Maybe.. I didn't hear about that.. hmmm.. well.. I have to get back to work kbyeeeee" and run away as the first-half Mia that I truly am.




Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Spring Changing

Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like spring has officially arrived!



With the weather changing I've come to a decision temporarily for the blog to change as well. I want to focus more on my life stories & writings I can come up with on here. I love reading & hearing about peoples lives and I feel like that's what I'm most passionate about right now.

Beginning this week I'll now be posting once a week, on Monday, a story I have to share.

This won't be set, and I could very well post more often if I feel like it, but I won't be going through my usual daily themes at all. I found I was losing my own focus on those and I hate putting things out there that I don't love in some way.

Expect to hear from me, and please stick around! The fun is only just beginning...


Monday, 7 April 2014

Dandelions

When I was 7 years old Hannah was my best friend. I can't remember how Hannah and I first met. I suppose we had been in the same class at school together beginning in Junior Kindergarten and friends since then no doubt, but it wasn't until Mrs. DeJonge's Grade 2 class where we shared an experience that would bond us forever. This is the story that sealed our friendship.



It was springtime in Southern Ontario and the fields at school were covered in dandelions. As a young girl full of life, I saw a sea of possibilities. Make a crown of these yellow wands? Bring some home for my mom? Rub it on my nose so I turn yellow? All of the above? Definitely. At one point during my spritely young years I attempted all of those things. But this year was different. Hannah and I took this field as a challenge. For every recess and lunch hour this week, we would pick every last dandelion on the entire school field and collect them for our teacher. Mrs. DeJonge was our favourite and what better way to show a grown up appreciation than a pile of hundreds of weeds? We ran into our first problem when we realized there was no way we could carry all of these flowers in our hands. Looking around and finding no bucket, or container we opted for the obvious alternative- Hannah's jacket. It must have been a warm week for Hannah to give up her jacket so willingly. I knew she must be good people. Every day as the bell rang announcing the beginning of recess we'd sprint out to where we left off (and left her jacket) and continue sweeping the field for missed sprouts and new patches. Lucky for us her jacket lived through the week without being stolen. If my memory serves, we left her jacket out there with a pile of dandelions camoflauging it every night for the full week.


When Friday came we knew this was our day. Finally our teacher would know how great she was- and maybe even give us better marks because of how sweet we are? When we got out to the pile at lunch I don't think we could have been more proud. Excitement, nerves, and definitely a healthy dose of arrogance about the whole matter washed over us. This pile was huge. It was probably the same size as Hannah since her jacket was now overflowing.


The bell rings.


It was time. We carefully picked up two corners each of the jacket and carried it to the doors. Walking in with our heads held high we made it to the classroom flowers in tact and placed the pile of hard work on Mrs. D's desk. Smiling big we tell her this is for her.


She tilts her head, and smiles at us softly uttering the last 4 words we ever wanted to hear after the most gruelling week of our 7 years on earth; "I'm allergic to dandelions."


She thanked us anyway, and instructed to take the flowers outside and let them free. I thought she had to be kidding me. We just spent all of our free time for a full week picking weeds and this lady is gonna come up here and make us throw it all away?!


We obliged. The walk was solemn and long. It was as if the theme 'Life and Death' from LOST was being played loudly in the speakers of our thoughts. How could this day get any worse. We said our goodbyes and dumped out our blood, sweat, and tears in the form of these weeds. Shaking out her jacket as if in slow motion we slowly realized this day wasn't done with us yet. We laid out her jacket and looked wide eyed at each other seeing what we had done. As it turns out, dandelions stain, and by now her entire jacket was yellow. We took a second to laugh at our pain, then turned around and headed back in to face the rest of our lives.


In my opinion, this week solidified our best-friendship for years to come.