Follow Your Gut

D. Sharon Pruitt via Compfight

Well hello friend, it's been a while.

Without going into too much detail, the end of April was rough for me. The weather was brutal and my heart went through the ringer. I chalk it up to spring and my birthday being in early May; a time for change and rebirth. And although I've never experienced it myself, from what I can tell, birth is painful and messy but at the end of it you get this awesome new little life to play with and watch grow into something beautiful.

Change sucks, even when you know it's the right thing to do, but I've been incredibly lucky to have an absolutely amazing support system around me. This newborn feels well loved and cared for.

So there's that. It's vague and silly, but it's how I feel right now.

Which brings me back - sort of, but not really - to the title of this blog post. For a long time, I didn't trust myself. I needed a second opinion on everything from what do you think of this press release to does this outfit look nice on me. I didn't ask for what I really wanted for fear it was the "wrong thing" to want. Most of the time, it got me into a lot of trouble and anguish for no damn good reason.

For the past month, though it's still something I struggle with because the old habit is still there, I've been listening to myself more and more. And you guys, it's crazy, but magical things are happening. People, events and opportunities are popping into my life at a rapid-fire pace and everything I do flows through me with ease.

More vagueness, I know, but don't worry, I'll be ready to start sharing again very soon. In the meantime, thank you for all your good vibes, late-night conversations & glasses of wine. Thank you for saying 'yes' and thank you for saying 'no'. Thank you for the heartbreak and thank you for the life-lessons. Thank you. No, thank you.

Ah hell, thank you for being a friend.

Everything does happen for a reason. I believe that more strongly than ever.

<3

Continuing Mis-Adventures with Morro and Jasp

My massive love affair with clown sisters Morro and Jasp has been well-documented in the pages of this dear blog.  I was first introduced to them (well, Morro at least) in 2009 at the Big Comedy Go-To (that thing again?). Morro was flying solo that night and put on what I called " the bravest and most endearing pieces of theatre I’ve seen in years" (later on I found out her bit was part of the wildly successful Morro and Jasp do Puberty). Since then, I've followed them to the Toronto Fringe Festival (where I ended up embarrassing myself in Squeeeeee-like proportions when I found out I was standing next to MORRO'S DAD!) and, of course, my well documented adventures at the Next Stage Theatre Festival (which you can read all about here and here.) But then I did something a little stupid. I think I might have taken things a little too far. You see, after what I'm sure was a wild night of drinking with my roommate, I think I may have brought up the clown sisters and, well you can just watch the video from yesterday to see how well that worked out...  I booted it out of there so fast under that tablecloth. I'm sure I didn't look suspicious at all.

So I needed to redeem myself. But maybe I should have just bought them a new tablecloth instead.

[vimeo http://vimeo.com/38617103]

You guys, I think I have a problem.

My Near Death Experience...

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/38580403 w=400&h=300] My Near Death Experience from Nancy Kenny on Vimeo.

My Heart Keeps Beating Like a Hammer

Dear Hamilton Fringe, it's only Day 2 and you're already wiping me out! After a great tech on Tuesday and the next two days spent working on sound, making programs, flyers and other such doodads, my stage manager and I took the GO Train from Union Station to the Opening Night party of the Festival. Armed with a pocketful of flyers and some cool matching tank tops, we were ready to rock.

I have to say, the Fringe does throw a lovely party. Great food, really nice people, what more can you ask for? How about watching two awesome shows? The great thing about this Fringe is that if there are still seats left in the audience, your performer pass lets you get in for free.

First up, was Minced, an incredibly funny and moving two-hander about a mother and a daughter that I just didn't want to see end. Then, we stuck around for An Inconvenient Truthiness directed by my friend Laura Anne Harris of Pitch Blond fame. It's a cute show and a true story about one woman's fandom and how it can go horribly wrong. Really got me thinking about my public persona and what I put out on my blog.

We raced to the Go Station right after in order to catch the late ride home, but while my SM dozed in the seat beside me, my mind was racing. I had finally watched the movie Whip It! earlier in the day and that, combined with watching shows that inspire, finally got my writer's juices flowing for the first time since Ottawa Fringe. I stayed up most of the night writing in some new scenes for a show that opened in less than 24 hours...

An early trip to Hammercity this morning to collect last minute props and work out some more technical stuff and I found myself having a small anxiety attack before the show.

All for naught, of course. The show went off brilliantly and without a hitch, the new scene adds some much needed exposition to the script, and the small but very appreciative audience ate the whole thing up.

But too much sun and adrenaline fumes draining out of me faster than I could possibly imagine meant that I had nothing more to give. I left my wonderful SM - slash - producer in Hamilton and I headed home. I've got an early workshop in the morning before what will be another incredible show at 8:30 pm - 28 Rebecca Street, Hamilton, Ontario.

I hope to see you there!

The World Needs More Cheerleaders

Quite a few years ago now, I read the book the War of Art (not to be confused with the Art of War) by Steven Pressfield as required reading for one of my acting classes. The book is about Resistance. Resistance pops up whenever you're doing any kind of endeavour that means something to you - starting an exercise program, becoming an entrepreneur, writing a play...

As an actor, I experience resistance all the time: I don't want to go to class because I'm tired or not feeling 100% well; I put off learning my lines for an audition because I'm really good at memorizing so I can do it at the last minute; I don't practice in front of someone first because I don't want them to think I suck; I haven't seen person X in sooooooo long, I really should go out for a little bit and catch up; I can't focus on my work until my CD/DVDs are in alphabetical order... ect.

Resistance takes many forms and I've learned to notice it and push through it when I've got my actor hat on. But as a playwright? Resistance has shown up to my party and I didn't recognize it with its snazzy new Clark Kent glasses, so I let it in.

Panic, doubts, drama (Oh my Gawd! The DRAAAAAAAAAMA!) – Seriously, I have not experienced so much drama coming at me from all sides in a long time. And I am just eating it all up and rolling around in its miserable, unhealthy embrace instead of focusing on the work and what really matters to me: putting on a kick-ass show at the Ottawa Fringe Festival.

Fortunately, it turns out I have a secret weapon. So secret I only realized it was there today even though it’s been there all along:

Mother fucking CHEERLEADERS.

These cheerleaders are incredible! They provide snuggles and food. They give me stuffed animals. They offer comfort and encouragement. But most of all, they send me things like this:

Or better yet, this:

There are so many people in the world who will tell you you can't, including your own self. Make sure you keep around a hefty supply of cheerleaders for those times when the going gets particularly tough.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I feel angry today. Irrationally angry. The kind of angry where seeing nice, happy, beautiful things just seem to piss you off. Like how DARE you majestic view of the Rideau Canal be so gorgeous, peaceful and calm when I feel like a volcano ready to explode. Just fuck right off before I smack you in your smug majestic face with my crash helmet. I have no reason to be feeling this way. Rehearsal went fairly well today. My team is absolutely amazing, filling the room with laughter and positive reinforcements. But still, I fall prey to fear, anxiety, doubts.

The weather isn't helping. The cloudy skies are misleading, making it appear colder than it really is. The humidity, once something I relished, now makes an uncomfortable prison of my clothes. I have never loathed all the additional weight I carry around with me more.

My body feels like it's betraying me, attacking me in a myriad of little ways that just makes me gross all over. This week, people told me I didn't look very sick. That's because they caught me in "work mode" where I slap on some makeup, fill my time with tasks and repress repress repress everything that I might think inappropriate or weak.

FINE!

Tonight, I'm turning off the phone and the emails. I'm going to go hide in the cool darkness of my temporary basement accommodations and let the storm brewing inside rage in relative safety and privacy.

Tomorrow will be what it will be.

The Violent Wind Blew the Wires Away

I've been wanting to blog for a while now, but the Month of May has been one crazy busy adventure so far. I quit a job, only to quickly get hired for another. I started and ended a school tour. My theatre company opened what is probably our most successful show to date (a success we mostly attribute to the ability to purchase tickets online - but more on that in another post). I did promotion work, as well as standardized patient work. Saw some shows and had some great auditions. I went on an emotional roller coaster into a past filled with what ifs and coulda beens and, oh yeah, I celebrated my entrance into a new decade, not so much with a bang as a snotty, sobby, little whimper. Yeah, it was my birthday last week.

But all in all, things are good and the future looks bright. Post-London, I've started rehearsals for my upcoming Ottawa Fringe Festival show, Roller Derby Saved My Soul. Now that the high from my pseudo-workshop presentation has worn off, it's time to get to work. Stressful, stressful work. As most Fringe artists do, I wear three separate hats for this project: actor, writer and producer.

Currently, I've already spent close to $800 on this show in Fringe fees, publicity photos & rehearsal space. My director would like a good 40 hours of rehearsal throughout the next month. Since my show takes place on roller skates, this negates the possibility of rehearsing in a living room or other such area. This means I have to rent something. The basic cost of renting space is somewhere between $10 to $12 an hour. If you do the math, that means I need at least $400 in rehearsal space alone. And that's not factoring things like printing of posters, props/costumes/sets/lights, union insurance... fuggetabout paying my director and stage manager or even myself.

Yes, once ticket sales start coming in, it will cover a lot of my initial costs, but right now, I'm really not sure how I'm going to manage. This is all coming out of pocket. My very strapped hobo pockets.

So, this is where I'm asking for some help. It was my birthday last week, but I didn't have a party and I don't drink anymore. In celebration of this new year in my life, if you wanted to take me out, buy me a drink or take me for lunch or something, I have a better idea. Please consider donating that amount of money towards my upcoming Fringe show. Trust me, it will be put to good use.

GoInG OfF tHe RaILs On ThIs CraZy TRaIn

Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Or the stretching myself out too thin (which I keep SAYING I won't do anymore). Or it's the overcaffeination and underhydration. Or maybe it's just all of the above. But for some reason, in the last week, I've got completely batshit insane. I seriously do not understand how I am still functioning as a human being and/or getting shit done (And shit? She is getting DoNe!) Time has pretty much lost all meaning. Everything seems both possible and impossible. My mood jumps from a state of tearstained panic to brilliant euphoria. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

And I'm too straight-edged these days to blame it on external substances. By which I mean drugs. Which I am not on (Mom).

If When I survive this weekend... well, it will be all worth it. I think.

In the meantime, isn't this a wicked guitar rift?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRbPWcLode0]

My Own Dam

The minute I read this post by my dear friend, Kris Joseph, I wanted to comment on it. The part that struck me the most was this one:

I’m not surprised that substance abuse is so prevalent in this line of work: this profession is bizarre. Our tools are our emotions; our product is catharsis (direct and indirect). Actors stir up mountainous levels of feeling as part of their daily work, and they have to climb off those mountains somehow. One terrific and easy way of making the descent every night is with a pint. And that’s what actors do.

Climbing down the mountain! What a beautiful metaphor. For years, I've tried to explain it and it's all right there. That's exactly what it feels like. It's also typically why I drink so much more when I'm working on a show. Gosh, on tour it was pretty much: flyer, show, drink, repeat.

But I held back from commenting because what I'd have to say would be so inherently personal, so confrontational of my own inner demons; who'd want to even read this shit? Well, seeing as how a cutesy post on my accidental dating life was the biggest draw of the past couple of months, apparently, many of you do. So that was the good, here is the ugly.

To be honest, I've never considered myself an alcoholic. I've gotten stupid drunk (and by that I mean I've done stupid, unsafe things while drunk - most of which you know of MOM so stop worrying please, I love you kthxbai) a few times, but I'd like to think that I can handle myself well. I grew up in a family where a drink after work was the norm and social drinking at family occasions was always such fun (some of my favorite memories include going out with my cousins or drinking wine with my godmother). I come from the East Coast, which means I also know how to pound back my fair share, often more than the average man or woman before it really affects me. Then again, there was a bit running joke at the GCTC that you just had to stir some ice cubes and I would come running like Pavlov's Dog, so who knows what other's perception might be?

All this to say, I love a good drink with friends as a way to unwind, and I'm not usually very discriminatory in my poison of choice.

Funny word to use there: poison. Because that's pretty much what I've been told it was today by my doctor. I've had digestive issues for years and, after a while, you just start to believe that that is just the way it always will be. But a doctor did some tests and I've been told I need to cut out yeast, wheat and keep the glutten to a minimum. This means, no more booze. For three weeks. When I have a show opening in less than a week...

I'm a grown-up and I know that I will be fine with this (especially since I was told that I would probably lose quite a bit of weight in the process, which let me tell you is an excellent motivator). Personally, I had already thought about cutting back for quite a few times now, but then someone would ask to go for drinks or offer me a beer or I'd have just a really hard day and my resolve went down with the cool crisp beverage that found its way into my hand. But I always wondered what I would do if I didn't have my "feel-good crutch" - how would I cope? You mean I'd just have to deal with my rage, my depression, my fears and, yes, even my joy without being able to numb any of it down? All on my own? Can I do that?

Well, I guess I'm about to find out.

Little Martyrs runs from February 9 to 19 at Arts Court - Ottawa Dance Directive, Studio A, 2 Daly Ave. Click here for more details.

Who Are You?

Rehearsals are going incredibly well, but everyone is starting to get fatigued. The play takes a lot out of all of us. As of now, we have two days off and, as usual, that made me sad because I'm kind of cheesy lame these days and so in love with this play, this group, this whole process. After buying two bottles of wine (the better to drown my sorrows later), I head to the gym and work really hard even though I'd much rather go home and watch 'V'. My big grey backpack is overflowing now, so much so that I have to carry my wallet and a new ink cartridge in my hands, while my running shoes literally kick my butt all the way to the bus stop as they dangle from the side.

I'm sweaty and gross. Half my hair has fallen out of my pony tail and has matted itself against my face. I follow the crowd onto the 95 and sigh as seat after seat fills up in front of me. All that's left is one of the spinny ones in the middle. I squeeze myself in with all my stuff, my shoes hitting the guy next two me. I look up, apologies, and then I freeze as two of the most beautiful blue eyes smile back and say it's alright. I think. We both had our headphones in and I couldn't hear. No, never mind, it's what he said. I couldn't take my eyes off that mouth.

I blush and duck my head down. I am such a spaz when I find myself attracted to a guy. I've got a good view of his iPod Touch and watch as he scrolls through songs. He finally settles on One by U2 and, silly person that I am, I go straight to my own album, holding my phone in full view of his eye-line and pick out All I Want Is You.

I'm mentally kicking myself for being such a dork and Tweet: "Dear cute boy on the bus, I wish I knew how to talk to you instead of stalking your playlist and playing the same thing you're listening to."

The bus is incredibly crowded and he's not paying any attention to me. Somehow, it feels like his leg is resting slightly more comfortably against my own. But I'm probably imagining that. I keep sneaking glances at the front of the bus, just to look at him and I start wishing I had taken a shower at the gym. My stuff is sliding off my lap again. I try and readjust and my sneakers go flying and smack him on the leg. I apologies again. Again he says it's alright.

He pulls out the iPod Touch once more and starts writing in the notepad. I desperately want to snoop, but keep looking away so as not to pry. That's when I realize that he is deliberately turning it towards me.

And it says: "You have a nice smile. And a nice phone. This is my stop. Stay pretty. His phone number. Marcus"

What the...? Did that just... What the...? OH MYGOD! Did he just pick me up via technology? That's just... That's so...

Me.

My heart jumps. I quickly pull out my contact list and type in the number, praying I write it down correctly. He leaves at St Laurent and we give each other a little wave.

I text the number. Heck, once I got home I even tried calling it, but the phone was off.

I don't know who you are. I don't know if I wrote down the right number or if I should have run off the bus with you or if I will ever even see you again. But Mystery Guy, you affected me and I thank you for that.

I never write about my dating life on this blog. My dirty laundry is my own and that is that. But on the crazy off chance that you know (or you are) a handsome blue-eyed boy named Marcus, well, who knows?

Too Soon?

Ok, so it's over 10 p.m. (AST) on December 29th.  2010 is almost over. Almost. Would it be too soon for me to ring the victory bell? Because gawdammit, I SURVIVED!  Yes, I motherfrakking SURVIVED a year as a professional artist. I just exhaled. It's quite possible I've been holding that breath in for the past 12 months (which might also explain a lot).

As with last year, this is going to be my New Year's Week Blogtacular.  So stay tuned for all the gory details from 2010 and the predictions for 2011!

Need a Place to Stay in Ottawa?

Or know someone who does? Then you've come to the right place!  My condo is up for rent as of December 1st.  It is fully furnished and equipped and includes all utilities (even WiFi and Cable TV). For more details and photos, check out the following link: http://ottawa.kijiji.ca/c-housing-apartments-for-rent-1-bedroom-Fully-Furnished-1-Bedroom-Luxury-Condo-Short-Long-Term-Rentals-W0QQAdIdZ243318371

Feel free to email me through Kijiji if you have any questions or concerns.

Stuff, Stuff Everywhere

There's been interest in my ad to rent my condo. This means I have doubled my efforts to get the place spotless and move-in ready.  Part of me just wants to chuck everything and not worry about it anymore.  I've got a drawer filled with old or broken computer equipment.  What do I do with all these old computer games?  How about a bin filled with CDs I never listen to anymore?  What the F am I suppose to do with all that stuff???  Would someone even buy it? It seems like such a hassle to research, catalogue, price point and sell all this old stuff.  It's also more difficult when you don't have a camera.  Part of me wants to just chuck it all and not worry about it anymore.  But then the environmental and cheap parts of me (respectively) want me to do something about it.

There's also a crapload of papers everywhere.  Old receipts, bills, marketing & show ideas, books & magazines... What do I do with it all?  Again, I'd just like to find an industrial garbage bin and throw it all inside, but I don't think Revenue Canada would be happy about that.

And then there's clothes. I haven't worn this in a while, but you know, I might.  Dresses & business attire: of course I haven't worn any of that, I don't have a "real" job to go to.  Old coats & gym clothes... T-shirts from events I've participated in... What about a blazer that makes me look butch? I might have to play a part like that one day.

Sigh.

Anyone have any boxes I could use?  Anyone want to help me pack?

Confessions of a Scaredy Cat

The moment that I step outside / So many reasons / For me to run and hide.I can't do the little things I hold so dear / 'Cause it's all those little things / That I fear.

Little confession: I'm afraid.  Of pretty much everything.  I'm afraid of new things, of changes to my routine.  I'm afraid of being stuck in the same place forever.  I'm afraid when I go on trips: afraid that I forgot something, afraid that I might miss my train/plane/automobile, afraid that I might never come back, afraid there's no one to come back to.   I'm afraid when I drive.  I'm afraid when I get on the bus.  I'm afraid when I'm running down the street.  I'm afraid when I order food that I should have picked the other thing because this one might not be as good.  I'm afraid of new people because they might not like me.  I'm afraid of people I know because they might not like me anymore.

I'm afraid every single time I have to step out in front of people and perform.   Shows, auditions or even just a rehearsal: I am afraid.

I'm so afraid it makes me sick.  Literally sick.  I get stomach problems more frequently than I would care to admit.  I drink pink goop & chew on chalky tablets in the hopes of making it better, but pink goop and chalky tablets don't make the scare go away.

Some people wonder why I'm always so busy, how I manage to do it all and, now knowing how frightened I am, you probably wonder that too.

The thing is, it's because I'm afraid that I do so much.  If I didn't, I would probably still be in bed today, cowering and waiting for the world to end.    But after a while, that gets old.  And boring.  So I get up, chug back some pink goop, slap on a smile and I tell the fear: " Not today.  Not today."

Now, if you need me, I'll be in the bathroom.

Hysteric

By the Yeah Yeah Yeahs No longer, no longer What you ask Strange steps Heels turn black The cinders, the cinders They light the path Of these strange steps Take us back, take us back

Flow sweetly, hang heavy You suddenly complete me You suddenly complete me

Flow sweetly, hang heavy You suddenly complete me You suddenly complete me

No wonder, no wonder Other half Strange steps Heels turn black The cinders, they splinter And light the path Of these strange steps Trace us back, trace us back

Flow sweetly, hang heavy You suddenly complete me You suddenly complete me

Flow sweetly, hang heavy You suddenly complete me You suddenly complete me

Hysteric, hysteric Hysteric, hysteric Hysteric, hysteric Hysteric, hysteric Hysterical

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqKjIquR5Bc]

Can You Help?

This was going to be a post about the last day of the Big Comedy Go-To, but since it's now over that can wait a bit. This is a post about my first day performing with A Company of Fools in Shakespeare's Interactive Circus. The show is very fun but also probably the most physically demanding piece I've ever had teh pleasure of working on. And, as with most Theatre for Young Audiences (or TYA), we do the show twice at day with probably about three hours to spare between performances. In those three hours, we must tear down the set, change out of costumes, pack everything up, eat, travel to our next destination and set everything up again. I'm exhausted but exhilarated at the same time.

Performance wise, though I had a few blocking (and by blocking I mean choreographed dance routine) issues, everything went really well.

On the personal side though, things were not as good. We performed our first show in a school cafeteria and we were told we could leave our things in the teachers lounge right next door. During the last bits of the show, I saw a group go into our room. Apparently, it's also used a class. Since, I was on stage, I couldn't exactly go over there. I had left my bag open because I assumed the room was secure for us.

When the show finished, one of the actors and I walked over. We were met by a teacher who was just leaving. We asked about our stuff, she said she moved it all to another table. I went to my bag. Some of my stuff had "fallen" out (lipstick, keys, deodorant, and some of my clean clothes). I looked for my iPhone. I couldn't find it. My fellow actor offered to call it. It went straight to voicemail. I started to panic. I never turn my phone off. It's always on silent or vibrate, it should not go to voicemail. I emptied out my bag and everyone looked around our things.

My iPhone was gone.

Also gone from my bag: an apple I was going to eat as a snack. Would this be considered irony that my apple products are what have disappeared?

I know it's just a possession and it's kind of silly for how upset it makes me, but I feel so gross right now. My entire life is in that phone and this is such a violation of my privacy. If someone wanted to, they could have access to my email, facebook and other accounts. They have phone numbers, private text messages, work videos, notes I've jotted down about ideas and shows, and all of my photos & music. It's also an expensive loss. Not just the phone, but also the apps and music I've downloaded on to it.

I don't really know anyone's number by heart and almost everything on there isn't backed up since my desktop exploded back in December. My hardrive was synched to that phone.

I've tried calling it and friends have left texts with requests to call if found. One friend even put in that a reward would be offered. A part of me keeps hoping that it's all just an innocent misunderstanding and so I've been holding off on getting it deactivated, just in case. At this point, I just want it back. But the phone is still off. Rogers can't track it if it's off or if they threw away the sim card, which is a very distinct possibility. I've spent my afternoon at the police station waiting to file a police report and the school tells me they are "looking into it," whatever that means. The officer at the police station was very kind, but I'm not sure if anything can really be done.

So, instead, I'm putting it out there on the interwebs in the rare instance that someone might know something. My phone is a white iPhone 3GS with no case. It was "lost" this morning, April 26, somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30 a.m. at Canterburry High School in the teacher's lounge next to the cafeteria (some people at the school also called it the teacher's cafeteria). When you turn it on, the screen-saver is a picture of my cat sleeping in a suitcase.

I honestly won't press charges or ask any questions if I can get it back in one piece. I'm even willing to discuss a reward if found. You may keep the apple (that's not the reward, but you can keep it).

If anyone knows anything, please leave me a message below or email me: nancyjkenny at yahoo dot com

The Nicest Thing

By Kate Nash

All I know is that you're so nice You're the nicest thing I've seen I wish that we could give it a go See if we could be something

I wish I was your favourite girl I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style

I wish you couldn't figure me out But you'd always wanna know what I was about I wish you'd hold my hand When I was upset I wish you'd never forget The look on my face when we first met

I wish you had a favourite beauty spot That you loved secretly 'Cause it was on a hidden bit That nobody else could see Basically, I wish that you loved me I wish that you needed me I wish that you knew when I said two sugars Actually I meant three

I wish that without me your heart would break I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake I wish that without me you couldn't eat I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep

Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen And I wish that we could see if we could be something Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41R1jN26b4I]

You're A Big Girl Now

By Bob Dylan Our conversation was short and sweet, It nearly swept me off my feet. And I'm back in the rain And you're on dry land, You made it there somehow. You're a big girl now.

Bird on the horizon sitting on the fence. He's singing his song for me, at his own expense. And I'm just like that bird, Singing just for you. I hope that you can hear, Hear me singing through these tears.

Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast. Oh but what a shame that all we've shared can't last. I can change I swear, See what you can do? I can make it through. You can make it too.

Love is so simple to quote a phrase. You've known it all the time, I'm learning it these days. Oh I know where I can find you, In somebody's room. It's a price I had to pay. You're a big girl all the way.

A change in the weather is known to be extreme, But what's the sense of changing horses in midstream? I'm going out of my mind With a pain that stops and starts, Like a corkscrew to my heart Ever since we've been apart.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSXbdZAeF9E]

Life Is Better When You Have A Sassy Gay Friend

Happy Easter! I hope you're all enjoying your time off. I know I am as I get ready for a fancy brunch at the National Arts Centre, a brunch a won through Twitter! In the meantime, purely for your enjoyment (and mine-it's hilarious!), I bring you 3 videos from the Second City Network's Sassy Gay Friend. Because all of Shakespeare's women would have led much better lives if they'd been given a Sassy Gay Friend.

Lots of gratitude to my own Sassy Gay Friend for sending these my way. And of course for looking out for a stupid bitch like me. My hair's never looked better.

Ophelia: [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnvgq8STMGM]

Juliet: [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwnFE_NpMsE&annotation_id=annotation_931649&feature=iv]

Desdemona: [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKttq6EUqbE&annotation_id=annotation_816916&feature=iv]

Wake Up Exhausted

By Tegan and Sara I wake up exhausted, it's not morning, It's back to sleep to re-dream me. We're alone and we're happy But there you are, angry with me. Are you alright? I can stand up straight. Are you alright? Can you get me off your mind? I hated this city before you came here, So let go and move on, We're strangers, we're not friends. I hate this and I hate them. This city's exhausted and it's wound up, Soon to be a place that's just filled up, And I found out that you're angry And you're sorry you ever met me. Are you alright? I can stand up straight. Are you alright? Can you get me off your mind? I am alright, I can stand up straight. I am alright, I can get you off my mind. Are you alright? Can you get me off your mind?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ba_2wdte0Ww]