Je me sens un peu vidée...

I have discovered hydrotherapy. Yes. Some also call it colonic irrigation.
I actually went to see the very same Lucie from the article below. (oh, and it's from the Mirror, so if profanity offends you, don't read it)
Spring Fitness
There's so much that could be said about it in general, my experience with it and all, but no one needs more jokes about the colon at this hour of the morning, so I think I'll just leave it at:
whoa.

Yeah, boyeeee!

I. Got. The. Job.

Go, me!

The rain doesn't get me down today because...

I had my second interview with Black Theatre Workshop for the position of Lead Artist in their YouthWorks program. I find out on Monday if I've gotten the job.

I weighed in this morning only 13 pounds away from my goal! That's a 22 pound loss so far, kiddies! Can it possibly last? Who can say? But I'm hanging in there, hanging in there. Thanks for all the encouragement (which somehow never actually makes it onto the comments page on the site, but anyway) it means a lot to me. Happily, this time around, I've not encountered the passive-agressive or backhanded-type compliments: oh, but you looked better before! Oh, you should stop now, you're too skinny! Yeah, maybe if I was built like Nicole Kidman, but let's face it, honeys: that just ain't never gonna happen. Not with the Awang thighs. Heh heh, but that's okay, I'm growing to love my thunder thighs. Kind of makes me sound like a comic book heroine: look, up in the sky! It's a grizzly, it's a kangaroo, no, it's ThunderThighs! Strong enough to crush SUV's, enough friction to start a campfire, gentle enough to roll the finest Cuban cigars. (Okay, now I'm just being silly.)

Erm...

I actually don't have anything significant or entertaining to say today, except: MAN! Is it ever hot today! I'm melting, melting!

Whatta weekend!

Let me tell you, Friday night was something else, waiting in Chapters for the release of HBP. Oy. But I've finally gotten my book, and finished it. Heh heh...I'm fired up. It was neat to see how the things I anticipated played out, which events were complete surprises, how characters developed and changed...in short, it was nearly impossible to put down and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I'm not yet sad about waiting for the next book, but I figure I'm going to begin to get impatient for the final installment roughly a year from now. In the meantime, I'm just going to read and reread the series and marvel at how that woman can craft a story with care.

So the Funk Defenders show has come and gone, and it was actually quite fun! First of all, I didn't have to pile on a lot of makeup, wear sparkly stuff or high heels, and do girly girl choreography. Yeah baby, I wore running shoes! I refused to sidestep! I changed it up! I danced if I felt like it, the way I wanted to. And it was a nice change. Thanks to all of y'all who checked out the show!

Half-Blood Prince spoilers...Get your HBP spoilers right here!

I'm sitting here, kind of cheesed off because my one-stop shop for discussion of all things Harry Potter just got shut down because of some goofy people posting spoilers. not that spoilers bother me, I'm a big girl, and it wouldn't spoil the experience for me. To tell the truth, I'm going a little stir crazy waiting for the book to arrive chez nous on Saturday, so I'm devouring every editorial and half-baked theory out there on the net to tide me over. I actually began looking for spoilers. What's the big deal?
I mean, look at the great Greek tragedies. Right off the bat, from the very beginning, the choragos tells you what's going to happen in the play. But it doesn't spoil it for people, and they don't all go off home in a huff because the surprise is ruined. No, they stick around because the truly interesting thing is how it all unfolds. That's what makes a great storyteller, in my opinion.
Er, got any spoilers? Come on, give! (Oh oh, I'm starting to sound like a junkie...don't hate!)

In case you were curious...

Every time I began to fall asleep, my brother would wake up yelling about leg cramps. No, really. And once he was truly awake in earnest (which was of course just as I had finally fallen asleep) he started in with the rap music. I was too irritated to sleep anymore by that point and decided to get on with my morning. This afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore and came home for a brief nap, and...well, *sigh*. Let's just say I feel that instead of the stop sign on my back, there must be a cosmic "kick me" sign because I feel like the butt of a sophmoric prank in a lame sitcom.

It never fails...

How it never takes days, it takes weeks, even months to regulate a sleep cycle. Case in point: recent late night gigs, although beneficial to my wallet (when I eventually get paid in the not too distant future, come on, Money! Momma's got her Visa bill to pay!) have completely thrown off my desired sleeping pattern. Up until two weeks ago, I managed to consistently get to sleep by midnight after months of gigging until three, and now it's all over. Again. If I miss that brief window of opportunity somewhere around 11pm, fuhgeddaboudit, I'm up and wired until at least 4 am. Never mind that I wake up early, forego afternoon naps and stumble around all day in a stupor, a danger to myself and others. And if I manage to forget to put in earplugs, which inevitably happens whenever I want to sleep in, then for sure, my brothers will wake me up early in the morning with blaring rap music. And it happens every single time. You think I'd learn by now.

Anyway, here I am at 4:15, after another excruciatingly long day with little sleep, and everything points to tomorrow being another such day. Maybe I should tape a stop sign to my back in case I stumble out into traffic. Although, knowing Montreal drivers, it's probably no insurance. The best I can hope for is the patented Montreal "rolling stop" right on over me.

Hey! If I'm talking stupidness, that must mean that I'm tired! Maybe I have another window of opportunity to get some sleep. Hm. I'ma get on that and hope that when I close my eyes this time I'll fall asleep.

Sweet dreams!

One more thing!

Come check me out this Saturday, July 16th with The Funk Defenders at Brutopia! I figure 10 pm is as good a time to show up as any...Brutopia is easy to find, being right downtown on Crescent Street. The address is 1219 Crescent which is between Ste. Catherine and Rene Levesque. You can always call at (514) 393-9277.
For more information, you can check out the website:
http://www.brutopia.net/main/index.html
Show some love!

Said I wasn't gonna talk about it...

But I couldn't keep it to myself! Happy news darlings!
Not even my little brother ranting incessantly in the background can dim the bright shining of my latest little victory!
Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't wind y'all up so much: the news may be anticlimactic.
What's more, I think I'm setting myself up to appear really quite frivolous and shallow.

But well, if you know me, you know that it's not so. Through persistence, healthy habits and discipline (within reason), in spite of bouts of sadness and mild depression, discouragement and setbacks, I have managed to lose 18 pounds so far. I'm now past the halfway mark of losing all the weight I put on over the winter, and I've done it without starving myself, making myself throw up (and the other nasty mean things I used to do to myself) and without hating on my body image (very much).

It makes me think, how funny we women can be sometimes. Because now I've come to a crucial point in the process where I usually lose momentum and sabotage myself. If I'm not careful, I'll do something to punish myself for feeling good, for acheiving something.

Before you start thinking I'm a head case, ask yourself this: how often do you put other priorities ahead of taking care of yourselves? How often do you put yourself "at the bottom of the pile" (to quote my friend Eric) but for all the wrong reasons? I truly admire self-sacrifice and humility, particularly when there is a greater need than your own (all you mothers out there, much respect!), out of reverence for your spiritual beliefs or for the good of another human being. But sometimes we do these things not out of love for others, but out of self-hatred.

Which leads me to remind myself to be vigilant and take care of my spirit. To know that diminishing myself out of self-loathing or to make others feel better about themselves doesn't serve the world at all. I too, have as much right to (or as little, depending on how you look at it) health as anyone else. And while I have the resources and the opportunity to do so, I'll take advantage of it. My back and my knees have begun to thank me already!

Wishing you a hapy and healthy day,
T-Bone

I admit it...

I am a Harry Potter geek, I have written editorials on fansites and I'm waiting for my book to be shipped to me on Saturday. A very sensible friend of mine said: but no post comes on Saturdays. Well.

Never mind, I'm going to blithely ignore that bit of common sense. Hey, the Dursleys got their post on that fateful Sunday, didn't they?
(I know you're quietly judging me, but I'm frankly beyond caring, because one way or another, I'll have the Half-Blood Prince to keep me warm. At least for a weekend.)

Oh, and Kay was saying that she wanted to see a picture of me with a sunburn. Well, happily there were no pictures taken since I stupidly crisped myself in my mom's backyard last Monday, and absolutely none since the wretched thing has begun to peel, but I can show you the last decent(in a manner of speaking) pic of moi before the whole sorry business went down.

Chez Brian, with Fabian, Mom and Lianne. And Brian's pit bull, Chaka. Wasn't sure if she was waiting for me to play with her or looking for which part of me to start eating first. Apparently, my parents weren't so sure either. In the end, she wanted to play, but my regret about my wardrobe choice displaying potential meal items on the menu to a pit bull returned in full force once I saw the picture. Ai-yai-yai! The thunderthighs! Oh well. The Awang women have always had big legs. Whatcha gonna do?

The Honeymoon Capital of the World...

So I'm back from Niagara Falls, the watering place of swarms of khaki-clad Canadian honeymooners, harried middle-aged parents trailing sticky kids hopped up on overpriced ice cream from Denny's and exhausted from the overpriced activities available in town. But mostly everyone, Americans and Canadians alike are converging at the casino (luckily? for me) , while overhead, this dude with helmet hair and a blue sequined jumpsuit walks a tightrope above your head from the top of the Hilton to the top of the casino. And all the while an Elton John impersonator on the street sings Candle in the Wind, Can You Feel the Love Tonight and Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me. In a loop. For four hours a day. Everyday. Never at the same time, though. Only when you decide that you want to take a nap. Seriously, you can't make stuff like this up.

And now the aformentioned sunburn has darkened into a burnt toffee colour.
Update: And now the sunburn is peeling off despite my best efforts and my chest looks like a speckled bass. No pictures, please.

The day that we arrived (Thursday) the security people were all over us in the band, going through our bags before we went to dinner and whatnot. Yes, the good people over at the Fallsview Casino are a little gung-ho about security (they never fail to card me. Every. Single. Time. Though any sensible person, even one blinded in one eye could never possibly mistake me for a seventeen year old), but this went beyond the usual mindless adherence to policy and reeked of distinct overtones of fear.

"Well this is only because of what happened today in London."
"London? What happened? We were in the car driving all day to get here."
Sigh.
That night, as we performed, my throat was so tight I could hardly sing, and not because of stage fright while I watched the crowds drinking and partying in up on the dance floor at our feet. These are times when I feel like what I do is really frivolous.

A Cure for What Ails Ya...

Chunky Monkey. (Ah...That's better!)

Okay, hanging out with Mom is pretty darn awesome too. Who says you can never go back home again?

Whimper...

Okay, Tamara has a sunburn.
Owee.

Happy Birthday Brian!

Today was my brother's 25th birthday. Happy birthday, Brian!
Here's a pic (hope it works):



I remember 25...it was a mixed bag of blessings. On the one hand, I hit a major landmark in my life. On the other hand, I almost died that year from a brand new nut allergy that popped up out of nowhere. Oh, and then, there was the back injury and the missed year of work. The surgery totally didn't work either.

But then again, I got to spend almost a year away from the office recovering (read: watching movies, playing video games and eating lots of molasses cookies and drinking vanilla soymilk with Eileen) which was also one of the best years of my life, because I learned to really enjoy my own company. To this day, I'm still my favourite person to hang out with.

That was also the year of my very first real boyfriend. We eventually got married, and although in the end, things haven't worked out, I wouldn't trade those years because I've learned a lot and have grown a lot too. Of course, it's all a fairly new phenomenon, so I'm probably still in shock and denial and haven't truly begun to grieve or get mad about it, but at least just once, somewhere, I can look back to a time where I was grateful instead of bitter.