Acht!

I currently curled up in bed in a pair of flannel PJs, trying desperately to fight the sick.
I fear the sick may be winning, which is especially loathsome on the eve of a long weekend.

However, in an attempt to squeeze out one last burst of creativity before I try to smother this evil cold bug by sleep, I bring to you another edition of eight princess factoids!

#33- I am neurotically petrified of the super gory slasher films that have been pumped out by Hollywood lately, like Saw, Hostel, etc. The notion of elaborate contraptions to slowly rip one's eyes out of their sockets gives me the heebies-jeebies, and I am a little perplexed at how people subject themselves to such grotesque scenarios in the name of entertainment.

While I'm sure that in and of itself does not make me especially weird... I am so frightened of these images, and of being at someone's house when they just pop, say, Saw 3, in the DVD player, that I try to innoculate myself by reading all of the vile plot details on Wikipedia. I know I never want to see a giant trap snap someone's head in two... but it feels a little more reassuring that I'll know that trap may be coming on my screen one day.

I'm sure that makes no sense whatsoever.

#34- I utterly lack athletic ability. I would have had straight As in high school if it weren't for gym class. It is not that I am out of shape (I can hold my own in, for example, a pilates class or on a treadmill), but more that I totally lack coordination.

I have awful images of PE in Grade 10, when the girls had to execute individual gymnastic routines while the guys learned wrestling.
Everyone else's routines? Elaborate concoctions of cartwheels, hand springs, and pole vaults.
Mine? Hopping on one foot, doing a somersault, hopping on the other foot, doing another somersault.

Because that was seriously ALL I COULD DO.

#35-These may or may not be my regular household footwear.


And I may or may not make them meow and purr at people.

#36- Growing up with neo-hippie parents, including a father who ran a recycling depot, imbued me with a neurotic sense of environmental conscience. I'm not just talking recycling my papers and bottles. I'm talking serious guilt over throwing a piece of note paper in the trash when there is no recycling around. It doesn't help that my dad will seriously rescue recyclables from the trash when he comes to visit if I dare to slip up.

This was especially problematic living in a city with no door-to-door recycling without a car in a one-bedroom apartment. The norms of cleanliness and environmental friendliness can be at odds at times. And they can also result in a homeless guy scaling up 6 feet to your balcony because of the bottle mecca it provides. (That was frightening!)

My parents even make me feel guilty over not having a compost bin, despite the fact I have never had a yard or a garden since I moved out. When they visit, they will actually start their own compost bin to bring home with them... and they live 8 hours away.

#37- Another consequence of environmentally friendly parents? Proud, public declarations of their support for the Green party.

Normally, not such a big deal, right?

It is when you are 16, and your parents let you borrow the wood-panelled minivan one day a week to drive to school. As though a wood-panelled minivan isn't enough of cool magnet at 16.... around election time, it was topped by a massive, wooden "Vote Green" sign.

Even though I would park as far away as possible, I couldn't escape the calls of "Hey, Princess! Vote Green!" throughout the halls.

#38- I woke up at around 4am one night at my old apartment building to the people in the apartment above me yelling, again. My first reaction was aggravation, at yet another late night argument seeping through the floorboards.

Until I heard the word fire.

I quickly shook awake my then-boyfriend, gasping "I think the apartment above us is on fire!"

He bolted up, ran to the balcony door, looked up, dashed back, and reported that there were indeed flames flickering above us.

Although, objectively, the situation rapidly degenerated into chaos, with him running about looking for his wallet, me trying to trap the cat in one room while doors were frantically tossed open, my mind settled into a strange state of clarity. I decided that we officially had until the heat sensor above our front door went off to gather up as much as we could. I started generating a checklist in my mind of what we needed. Wallet, check. Cat, check.

What next?

Oh yeah, photo albums, or so they say.

So as my boyfriend dashed about, I grabbed my biggest bag, and started stuffing photo albums into it, only pausing when I started realizing they all wouldn't fit.

It didn't even occur to me to get dressed.

And, as quickly as it all began, the discord above us suddenly ceased, and was replaced by expressions of relief. We later found out that some fire extinguisher heroics were pulled-- of which we were especially grateful, given that the fire was on the balcony above us, with a giant tree outstreched onto both our balconies, with its branches right by our propane tank for our BBQ. Yikes.

#39- I think one of the best skills I have gained in my 20s is becoming at ease with being alone.
I've always been a fairly social person. In my teens, this translated into a sense of desperation, of needing to escape when left for too long by myself, as if such a state would condemn me to eternal loserdom.

It was an incredible shock when, at 19, I moved to a big city with a boyfriend who worked out of town throughout the entire week. The emptiness of my suite seemed overwhelming at time, and I was unsure of how to fill it.

It's a long story of how that space has become filled, but the point is that I now love living alone. I do tend to fill my time up with being around others, which is what makes my own time and space that much more refreshing. Even more refreshing is the comfort at being alone outside of "my" realm. Over the past few years, I moved from sitting by myself at a coffee shop, to going to a movie or a concert on my own, to exploring different areas of the city solo, to hopping on a plane and travelling about a new city by myself. It's also shifted from doing these things only out of necessity (e.g., no one likes that particular band), to out of choice (e.g., booking a conference flight early so I can explore). Having confidence in the ability to do such things is both a relief and a source of pride.

#40- I, as many children did, had a bit of an entrepreneurial spirit about me. When I began to feel my allowance wasn't quite cutting it, I started pondering new ways to make some cash. However, being of the creative type, I wouldn't just settle for a lemonade stand or a paper route. I decided to put my talents to work and sell my drawings.

I somehow convinced some friends to join me, and we set out on a mass production spree, putting crayon to paper in the name of money, and pricing our photos from a nickel to fifty cents according to quality. Once we had a sufficient mass of art, we would first hit up our parents, who would invariably purchase the best of the bunch. We would then set off down my kilometer long driveway, art in hand, to stand at the foot of our driveway, along a desolate road, shouting "Art for sale! Will look great on your wall!" onto the empty pavement in front of us.

I'm afraid we never made a single sale outside of the family-- mostly due to the fact that we never saw another person while peddling our wares.

Although I did cross out the price on one of my better works, re-labelling it as "Free" in bold marker, and gave it to a family friend for her birthday.