Well, we're at the one week checkpoint. Only one more night with the furry goobers until I'm back to my regularly scheduled programming.
To celebrate, I figured we could play my mother's favourite Georgie game called, "What DIDN'T Georgie Eat?".
Your options are:
a) dirty tissue
b) dryer ball
c) yogurt container
d) her leash
Choose wisely. She only didn't try to eat one of those things. I'll reveal the answer at the end of this post!
Georgie and I went for a walk today since she doesn't get to go back to doggy daycare until tomorrow. On our route, we met another pupper who Georgie insisted on excitedly greeting by jumping all over her. The owner of the other dog asked me if Georgie was a "he or she", just as the two doggos started to brawl. Then he told me, "Yeah, she's not so good with 'shes'. Don't know why." No shit. Normally, I would have been able to yank my excited canine friend away with more ease. However, yesterday's shoveling extravaganza really did a number on my muscles. I looked like a very frantic person with a Tasmanian devil on the other end of the leash.
Since I spent most of today teaching dance, I'll end the post here with the answer to the question I posed earlier. If you chose option a) for "What DIDN'T Georgie Eat?", then you are correct! If you chose any of the other options, you can go ahead and hang your head in shame. How dare you not know her well enough by now that you couldn't correctly answer that question??
(Kidding. She totally eats dirty tissues all the time. Today was definitely an anomaly).
Alright, signing off! As always, only eat edible objects.
Monday, 5 February 2018
Sunday, 4 February 2018
Adventure In Dog Sitting - Day 6
I spend most of the day shoveling. I'm over it. Done. Get me out of here. Snowmageddon carry me home. Never again. UGH.
I was told that I wouldn't need to know how to use the snowblower this week. Fortunately, I knew enough to ask to be shown how it works just in case. Unfortunately, I was incapable of getting it started when I needed to actually use it. #fail
Bright side, I don't need to do an arm workout this week...or ever again.
The pets are starting to miss having their usual people around. I woke up cuddling a Teddy. Minus the cat food breath and the snoring, it was a pretty adorable situation. My selfie game was on point too, as you can see here.
The next adorable photo op occurred as a result of me attempting to eat lunch. These fur mammals just can't seem to control themselves around chicken and avocado sandwiches. I can't blame them; it was delicious. I am a sandwich "artiste".
The rest of the day was spent cuddling and recovering from all of the hard manual labour I did earlier in the afternoon. I found myself at the bottom of a dog (and cat) pile while I was attempting to stretch my legs out. Minnie sat on my chest to ensure I couldn't run away while Georgie stood on my hair and licked my face. There's a 76% chance they planned this...
When I tried to get up, the dog took that chance to sit on my lap like she was telling me what she wanted for Christmas. However, I felt more like Michael Scott as Santa that time that Kevin took his sweet time trying to figure out what he should ask for. 85 pounds of bony dog butt plopped down onto one of my legs was adorable for about 10 seconds before I started to lose feeling in my limb. She's built like a horse, but she desperately wants to be a lapdog. Who am I to deny her that dream?
Eventually, day turned into night, which I know because I watched the entire process from the couch. I was stuck chilling in a progressively darker room because the cat was sitting on me and I couldn't get up to turn on a light. #catownerprobs
I know you've all been there.
Alas, I've been released from the confines of my voluntary cat cuddle prison. I must complete some adult tasks now that I have been freed!
Until next time, never make a sandwich you're not willing to fight for.
I was told that I wouldn't need to know how to use the snowblower this week. Fortunately, I knew enough to ask to be shown how it works just in case. Unfortunately, I was incapable of getting it started when I needed to actually use it. #fail
Bright side, I don't need to do an arm workout this week...or ever again.
The pets are starting to miss having their usual people around. I woke up cuddling a Teddy. Minus the cat food breath and the snoring, it was a pretty adorable situation. My selfie game was on point too, as you can see here.
The next adorable photo op occurred as a result of me attempting to eat lunch. These fur mammals just can't seem to control themselves around chicken and avocado sandwiches. I can't blame them; it was delicious. I am a sandwich "artiste".
The rest of the day was spent cuddling and recovering from all of the hard manual labour I did earlier in the afternoon. I found myself at the bottom of a dog (and cat) pile while I was attempting to stretch my legs out. Minnie sat on my chest to ensure I couldn't run away while Georgie stood on my hair and licked my face. There's a 76% chance they planned this...
When I tried to get up, the dog took that chance to sit on my lap like she was telling me what she wanted for Christmas. However, I felt more like Michael Scott as Santa that time that Kevin took his sweet time trying to figure out what he should ask for. 85 pounds of bony dog butt plopped down onto one of my legs was adorable for about 10 seconds before I started to lose feeling in my limb. She's built like a horse, but she desperately wants to be a lapdog. Who am I to deny her that dream?
Eventually, day turned into night, which I know because I watched the entire process from the couch. I was stuck chilling in a progressively darker room because the cat was sitting on me and I couldn't get up to turn on a light. #catownerprobs
I know you've all been there.
Alas, I've been released from the confines of my voluntary cat cuddle prison. I must complete some adult tasks now that I have been freed!
Until next time, never make a sandwich you're not willing to fight for.
Friday, 2 February 2018
Adventures In Dog Sitting - Days 4 & 5
Day 4:
Georgie decided she wanted to give driving a shot today. Just hopped right into the front seat of my car like she belonged there. In retrospect, I should have just let her give it a go. I spent most of my day stuck in awful traffic and it would have been nice to have delegated that stress to a chauffeur for once. Instead, I got stuck behind a stalled bus on my way home. When I attempted to avoid it, I promptly got stuck behind a different stalled bus on my detour route. Wouldn't expect anything different, really. #winning
Therefore, the lesson of this story is: if your dog wants to drive, let them.
Day 5:
The pets woke up at 5:15 AM, which means that I woke up at 5:15 AM. Y'all. I am so tired. That's why you're getting two days of material in one shorter-than-average post. They always say size doesn't matter, anyway. It's 9 PM on the Friday of an exhausting week, so I'm going to finish adding the songs from the weird abandoned mix CDs I took from the lost-and-found box at Enterprise to my music library and then Imma go to bed.
Just gotta remove the mouse toy from my PJ pants first. No, that's not a euphemism for that new sex thing all the kids are doing; Teddy just left a toy mouse on top of my pajama pants because he thinks I'm a terrible hunter and wanted to help me out. It's cute and patronizing all at the same time! He actually cuddles me at night now, so you know he's getting desperate. He's probably worried that his last remaining human servant might starve to death and he won't have anyone's leg to shred for chicken scraps. I feel so loved.
Anyway, my good people, it is time for me to cater to the furry nobility before getting some shut eye. There is a full litter box to address and a water bowl that has been empty since Georgie came home this afternoon after doggy daycare and drained the whole thing. Play hard, drink hard..? No, wait...
I'll leave you with something important to ponder. Do you ever think about how many people spend their Friday and Saturday nights vomiting? The volume of collective human barf must increase by a predictable amount on the weekend compared to week days. Someone has got to have crunched the numbers on this... OR, you could be like me and just think about these things instead of going out on a Friday night and participating in the drunken puke fest. There are pros and cons to both options, really...
Georgie decided she wanted to give driving a shot today. Just hopped right into the front seat of my car like she belonged there. In retrospect, I should have just let her give it a go. I spent most of my day stuck in awful traffic and it would have been nice to have delegated that stress to a chauffeur for once. Instead, I got stuck behind a stalled bus on my way home. When I attempted to avoid it, I promptly got stuck behind a different stalled bus on my detour route. Wouldn't expect anything different, really. #winning
Therefore, the lesson of this story is: if your dog wants to drive, let them.
Day 5:
The pets woke up at 5:15 AM, which means that I woke up at 5:15 AM. Y'all. I am so tired. That's why you're getting two days of material in one shorter-than-average post. They always say size doesn't matter, anyway. It's 9 PM on the Friday of an exhausting week, so I'm going to finish adding the songs from the weird abandoned mix CDs I took from the lost-and-found box at Enterprise to my music library and then Imma go to bed.
Just gotta remove the mouse toy from my PJ pants first. No, that's not a euphemism for that new sex thing all the kids are doing; Teddy just left a toy mouse on top of my pajama pants because he thinks I'm a terrible hunter and wanted to help me out. It's cute and patronizing all at the same time! He actually cuddles me at night now, so you know he's getting desperate. He's probably worried that his last remaining human servant might starve to death and he won't have anyone's leg to shred for chicken scraps. I feel so loved.
Anyway, my good people, it is time for me to cater to the furry nobility before getting some shut eye. There is a full litter box to address and a water bowl that has been empty since Georgie came home this afternoon after doggy daycare and drained the whole thing. Play hard, drink hard..? No, wait...
I'll leave you with something important to ponder. Do you ever think about how many people spend their Friday and Saturday nights vomiting? The volume of collective human barf must increase by a predictable amount on the weekend compared to week days. Someone has got to have crunched the numbers on this... OR, you could be like me and just think about these things instead of going out on a Friday night and participating in the drunken puke fest. There are pros and cons to both options, really...
Wednesday, 31 January 2018
Adventures In Dog Sitting - Day 3
Another day, another pee-related incident on the floor of the doggy daycare. Turns out, the person at the front desk wasn't talking about Georgie's excitable personality when she said, "Just get it all out before you go". Those are the words that she said, but what she really meant was, "Sure, just keep peeing all over the freaking floor. I love this part of my job".
Oops.
At least I avoided pee-magedon in my car. That's what matters most to me, anyway.
Georgie, the giant canine goofball, soils the doggy daycare floors and literally jumps on top of the other dogs to be the first one out of the gate, but all of the staff who work there insist that they absolutely love her. And I get it. I really love this dog too. She plays hard, she cuddles hard, and she audibly excitement-farts when you're about to give her a treat. What's not to love? Right now, she is passed out and snoring so loudly that Teddy is glaring at her for keeping him awake and Mini keeps looking around all startled as if a train has just slammed into the side of the house. UPDATE. Teddy has just fallen asleep and is now snoring louder than Georgie. It's a very adorable snoring symphony up in here. I could probably market this as some sort of live music evolution of those "Cat Yoga" events and make a killing.
Speaking of sleeping and killing, I feel like there are enough bed-related disputes occurring between the house mammals this week that I could create a crappy cable show all about it. Instead of "Storage Wars", it would be called "Bed Wars", and 90% of it would consist of dramatic staring contests between cats and dogs competing for ultimate nap time dominance. I've almost got enough fight scene footage for the show's episode opening montage. Just today, I got caught in the middle of a very real fight between Teddy and Georgie because Teddy was sleeping on the dog bed and Georgie thought she could squeeze her enormous body onto the tiny open spot next to le chat. She was mistaken. Realistically, I probably could have reacted better than how I did, which involved me immediately picking up the cat in a futile attempt to remove him from the situation. All I actually succeeded in doing was providing Teddy with a more direct shot at Georgie's face.
I'm really killin' it at this pet sitting thing. I know I'm not the daughter currently enrolled in Vet School, but I bet my parents still expected slightly more competency from me. I bet they also didn't expect me to eat all of their sour jujubes. Alas, I cannot change the past. Some people have more self control than I do. Some people might also save this kind of weird stuff for their personal diaries. Me? Apparently, I just post my minimally filtered thoughts and experiences on the internet for all to see, embarrassing my family and myself in the process. #millennial
Until tomorrow, folks! Always keep your retractable claws handy!
(Couldn't resist throwing in one more terrible pun today... Sorry, not sorry.)
Oops.
At least I avoided pee-magedon in my car. That's what matters most to me, anyway.
Georgie, the giant canine goofball, soils the doggy daycare floors and literally jumps on top of the other dogs to be the first one out of the gate, but all of the staff who work there insist that they absolutely love her. And I get it. I really love this dog too. She plays hard, she cuddles hard, and she audibly excitement-farts when you're about to give her a treat. What's not to love? Right now, she is passed out and snoring so loudly that Teddy is glaring at her for keeping him awake and Mini keeps looking around all startled as if a train has just slammed into the side of the house. UPDATE. Teddy has just fallen asleep and is now snoring louder than Georgie. It's a very adorable snoring symphony up in here. I could probably market this as some sort of live music evolution of those "Cat Yoga" events and make a killing.
Speaking of sleeping and killing, I feel like there are enough bed-related disputes occurring between the house mammals this week that I could create a crappy cable show all about it. Instead of "Storage Wars", it would be called "Bed Wars", and 90% of it would consist of dramatic staring contests between cats and dogs competing for ultimate nap time dominance. I've almost got enough fight scene footage for the show's episode opening montage. Just today, I got caught in the middle of a very real fight between Teddy and Georgie because Teddy was sleeping on the dog bed and Georgie thought she could squeeze her enormous body onto the tiny open spot next to le chat. She was mistaken. Realistically, I probably could have reacted better than how I did, which involved me immediately picking up the cat in a futile attempt to remove him from the situation. All I actually succeeded in doing was providing Teddy with a more direct shot at Georgie's face.
I'm really killin' it at this pet sitting thing. I know I'm not the daughter currently enrolled in Vet School, but I bet my parents still expected slightly more competency from me. I bet they also didn't expect me to eat all of their sour jujubes. Alas, I cannot change the past. Some people have more self control than I do. Some people might also save this kind of weird stuff for their personal diaries. Me? Apparently, I just post my minimally filtered thoughts and experiences on the internet for all to see, embarrassing my family and myself in the process. #millennial
Until tomorrow, folks! Always keep your retractable claws handy!
(Couldn't resist throwing in one more terrible pun today... Sorry, not sorry.)
Adventures in Dog Sitting - Day 2
Day 2:
I made a bold choice and wore an entirely black outfit. Although, it doesn't really matter what I wear because somehow all of my clothes are made out of real fur without me ever having removed them from my suitcase. Such is the great mystery of the physics of pet fur.
HALLELUJAH, the pets let me sleep last night. I woke up to my phone alarm, rather than to a cold dog nose in the face. When I looked over to see Teddy sleeping on the dog bed next to me, it all made more sense. Poor Georgie wouldn't have been allowed to get past the raging feline furball even if she had wanted to give me a good morning nose boop.
I can't exactly say that Georgie's car surfing/howling routine is getting better. I CAN say that it is getting louder and more intense, though. Some serious vibrato on that dog... And she's never even taken a single lesson!
The daycare owner raved about what a good "daycare dog" Georgie is, so she got extra dog treats this morning. I may be only two days in, but the smell of these nasty food "rewards" is beginning to overwhelm me. The scent is on my hands, all over my clothes, and in my hair. It's starting to permeate my skin. It's radiating out of me. I don't just smell like a dog treat, I AM a dog treat.
I was so preoccupied with the pets and my rush to get out the door this morning, that I completely forgot the beautiful gourmet lunch I had prepared for myself in the fridge. THIS WAS NO ORDINARY LUNCH, EITHER. I'm talking kale chicken salad with avocado and blackberries kinda gourmet lunch. Sigh, can't win 'em all. Fortunately, I work within walking distance of at least four different cafes, so lunch was not a complete write-off today. Of course, me being me, I managed to choose the one cafe that was experiencing a total credit/debit system meltdown during the lunch rush. The staff were frantically putting up "cash only" signs and desperately calling for extra change for the cash register. The ship was going down and the captain was simply trying to get everyone off the boat. It was a titanic situation. EVERYONE INTO THE LIFEBOATS. WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST. MAYDAY MAYDAY. ABORT MISSION. HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
It was fine for me, though. I actually had cash on my person for once. I just quickly paid for my rice bowl and got the hell out of there...
Almost had a very serious WWIII situation back at home, as Teddy had decided to claim the dog bed as his own. Georgie was sadly oozing towards it, trying to figure out how she could reclaim her sleep spot without getting her face slashed by the cat. Luckily, I'm a natural mediator and Georgie is one spoiled puppy; I brought her backup dog bed out to the living room so she and Teddy could sleep next to each other in peace.
Saving the world, one resolved PETty dispute at a time.
And now, here's a photo of Georgie adorably sleeping after a full day of playing to make up for that terrible pun...
Until next time! Don't put dog food out as party snacks.
I made a bold choice and wore an entirely black outfit. Although, it doesn't really matter what I wear because somehow all of my clothes are made out of real fur without me ever having removed them from my suitcase. Such is the great mystery of the physics of pet fur.
HALLELUJAH, the pets let me sleep last night. I woke up to my phone alarm, rather than to a cold dog nose in the face. When I looked over to see Teddy sleeping on the dog bed next to me, it all made more sense. Poor Georgie wouldn't have been allowed to get past the raging feline furball even if she had wanted to give me a good morning nose boop.
I can't exactly say that Georgie's car surfing/howling routine is getting better. I CAN say that it is getting louder and more intense, though. Some serious vibrato on that dog... And she's never even taken a single lesson!
The daycare owner raved about what a good "daycare dog" Georgie is, so she got extra dog treats this morning. I may be only two days in, but the smell of these nasty food "rewards" is beginning to overwhelm me. The scent is on my hands, all over my clothes, and in my hair. It's starting to permeate my skin. It's radiating out of me. I don't just smell like a dog treat, I AM a dog treat.
I was so preoccupied with the pets and my rush to get out the door this morning, that I completely forgot the beautiful gourmet lunch I had prepared for myself in the fridge. THIS WAS NO ORDINARY LUNCH, EITHER. I'm talking kale chicken salad with avocado and blackberries kinda gourmet lunch. Sigh, can't win 'em all. Fortunately, I work within walking distance of at least four different cafes, so lunch was not a complete write-off today. Of course, me being me, I managed to choose the one cafe that was experiencing a total credit/debit system meltdown during the lunch rush. The staff were frantically putting up "cash only" signs and desperately calling for extra change for the cash register. The ship was going down and the captain was simply trying to get everyone off the boat. It was a titanic situation. EVERYONE INTO THE LIFEBOATS. WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST. MAYDAY MAYDAY. ABORT MISSION. HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
It was fine for me, though. I actually had cash on my person for once. I just quickly paid for my rice bowl and got the hell out of there...
Almost had a very serious WWIII situation back at home, as Teddy had decided to claim the dog bed as his own. Georgie was sadly oozing towards it, trying to figure out how she could reclaim her sleep spot without getting her face slashed by the cat. Luckily, I'm a natural mediator and Georgie is one spoiled puppy; I brought her backup dog bed out to the living room so she and Teddy could sleep next to each other in peace.
Saving the world, one resolved PETty dispute at a time.
And now, here's a photo of Georgie adorably sleeping after a full day of playing to make up for that terrible pun...
Until next time! Don't put dog food out as party snacks.
Monday, 29 January 2018
Adventures In Dog Sitting - Day 1
The parents are busily sleeping away on a Mexican beach between trips to the soft serve ice cream machine, which means that I am taking a staycation at their house to keep an eye on the furrier family members. I figured I might as well write about the daily shenanigans, since there are bound to be a few of those. We're off to an adorably sleepless start, as Georgie the dog can't tell time and thought she was doing me a favour by coming in every hour starting at 3 AM to boop me on my nose and make sure that I was going to wake up in time to take her to doggy daycare. She's not a great singer, but she did her best to howl along to the Ella and Louis duets I was playing during the car ride. Luckily, we've got an entire week to work on her harmonies. Seeing as she refuses to take anything other than a standing position across the back seat of my car, I've also got a whole week to figure out how to brake like a decent human being. Apparently, I've developed a bit of a "startled rabbit" braking strategy over the course of my driving career which I discovered this morning as Georgie's lanky body suddenly careened towards my headrest at a stoplight. Whoops. The last thing I want to do is give the dog AND myself a concussion at the same time for the week that I'm responsible for three furry toddlers.
In case you were concerned that my life this week was going to revolve solely around awko taco animal moments, fear not! For I have not ceased to be any less uncomfortable in my day-to-day human interactions. In fact, the person working the front desk at the doggy daycare I brought Georgie to today actually used to be an old schoolmate. However, it just so happens that she is a twin and I couldn't figure out which individual of the set she is. She remembers my name. I have a 50/50 shot at guessing hers, so that's at least better than my usual odds...? There was a whole lot of, "hey...YOU" type of verbal dodging happening on my end. Then, instead of catching up like a competent person who has had ~2 decades of experience socializing with other people, I proceeded to make her feel awkward about misgendering my parents' dog and then neglected to tell her that said dog had just excitedly peed all over the floor when she saw me there to pick her up. But it's all good... I'll most likely see her again tomorrow to... continue to fail at human interaction in her presence. Awesome.
I was hoping to wrap this up and head to bed, but it seems that Teddy the cat has discovered a ghost because he is frantically running around the house and leaping up walls. I most definitely did not bring my baseball bat with me, so I'm a little nervous about whatever demon he's chasing around the living room. Meanwhile, Minnie the other cat, came by to cuddle for approximately 5 minutes before leaving in an agitated state because I kept static shocking her nose. There's a 93% chance that she's taking a dump in my suitcase at this very moment.
Alas, I need to make an attempt to sleep now, even if it is a futile one. Last night, Georgie and Teddy tag teamed to ensure that one of them was always keeping me from a peaceful slumber at all times. I'm pretty sure Teddy was only in on it because he mistook me for my sister and was excited for cuddles. Hopefully, they'll both allow me slightly more sleep tonight.
Until tomorrow, friends! Don't snort catnip.
In case you were concerned that my life this week was going to revolve solely around awko taco animal moments, fear not! For I have not ceased to be any less uncomfortable in my day-to-day human interactions. In fact, the person working the front desk at the doggy daycare I brought Georgie to today actually used to be an old schoolmate. However, it just so happens that she is a twin and I couldn't figure out which individual of the set she is. She remembers my name. I have a 50/50 shot at guessing hers, so that's at least better than my usual odds...? There was a whole lot of, "hey...YOU" type of verbal dodging happening on my end. Then, instead of catching up like a competent person who has had ~2 decades of experience socializing with other people, I proceeded to make her feel awkward about misgendering my parents' dog and then neglected to tell her that said dog had just excitedly peed all over the floor when she saw me there to pick her up. But it's all good... I'll most likely see her again tomorrow to... continue to fail at human interaction in her presence. Awesome.
I was hoping to wrap this up and head to bed, but it seems that Teddy the cat has discovered a ghost because he is frantically running around the house and leaping up walls. I most definitely did not bring my baseball bat with me, so I'm a little nervous about whatever demon he's chasing around the living room. Meanwhile, Minnie the other cat, came by to cuddle for approximately 5 minutes before leaving in an agitated state because I kept static shocking her nose. There's a 93% chance that she's taking a dump in my suitcase at this very moment.
Alas, I need to make an attempt to sleep now, even if it is a futile one. Last night, Georgie and Teddy tag teamed to ensure that one of them was always keeping me from a peaceful slumber at all times. I'm pretty sure Teddy was only in on it because he mistook me for my sister and was excited for cuddles. Hopefully, they'll both allow me slightly more sleep tonight.
Until tomorrow, friends! Don't snort catnip.
Monday, 21 August 2017
Artistic Healing
So, um... What the actual fuck is happening, everyone? Apparently, society was harbouring a giant underground zit of racism and hate that has now come to a head and exploded all over the mirror...? Didn't your mother ever yell, "DON'T SQUEEZE IT!" at you as a teenager??? Nope, we had to just go ahead and poke at the damn thing instead of letting it die under the surface and fade away on its own.
Seriously, though, we have HOW many centuries of documented human history that clearly shows what kind of hell goes down when a race war breaks out? DO PEOPLE HONESTLY THINK THIS IS GOING TO GO WELL FOR ANYONE?????? Do you know what you're not enjoying when you're spending the entirety of your time fighting a superficial war? Life. That's what you're not enjoying. It's really hard to savour patio drinks and rock out at live music shows when you're too busy yelling at someone over their melanin levels.
At the risk of sounding too much like a Buzzfeed article, here are 20 things that are more important than hating people who are different from you:
If you're feeling bummed out and hopeless about the state of society, fear not, for there is a glimmer of hope. Once again, it's time to rely on artists to save the world. Yep, you read that correctly. Step aside, Superman. The artists are here to save the day!
I alluded to this at the end of my Buzzfeed-esque list, but let me break it down further for y'all. Artistic expression and collaboration are what will lead the way out of this shitty hate tornado. I came to this specific realization after experiencing the most incredible C.R. Avery show this month. I strolled into my usual haunt, The Needle Vinyl Tavern, with the expectation of an always amazing set from Joe Nolan & the Dogs with the added bonus of some harmonica beat-boxing spoken word realness from C.R. Avery. I GOT SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT.
Joe Nolan was fabulous, as always. He rocked us. He rolled us. I got a couple of dances in. No complaints! Then, the lights dimmed as a recorded political monologue filled the air to set the tone. What was it about? I wish I had been taking notes or recording a video so that I could tell you. Alas, I was too struck by the weight of the room and the powerful figure standing in the dark onstage to do either of those things. A chugging harmonica began to punctuate the words that would become memorable history in that back room at the Needle. C.R. began to intersperse beat-boxing and sharp melodies between each note diffusing out of his harp. Suddenly, the lights brightened and the horns erupted. That first blast of the trumpet and trombone carried a power that could have simultaneously killed and revived me. My soul was screaming to be taken to the next level and this music was going to achieve that. Melodies, harmonies, rhythms, and poetry surrounded my body like I had just climbed into a memory foam bed, lined with freshly washed jersey knit sheets.
Each song was filled with content that was hard hitting, political, life-affirming, inspirational, and real. As Avery sang "the NRA finally met its match with the LGBTQ2", referring to the Pulse Nightclub shooting, I started tearing up. Then, he got the crowd to sing one line together, "49 angels dancing in the night". Did I cry? YES, OBVIOUSLY.
It felt the way church worship used to feel to me before I discovered the ugly side of organized religion. People combined their independent voices into a singular focus with an expanding wall of sound and emotion. That feeling of coming together in a congregation of music is what church really should be all about. The message of love coming from the stage and from the lips of every person in the room temporarily drowned out our inequalities to celebrate us coming together in a beautiful mosaic of our differences.
Avery slid fluidly from topic to poetic topic with ease and style, touching on race relations, inequality, privilege, and personal reflection, among other things. He brought male heel dancers onto the stage who are known locally for regularly challenging the concept and perception of masculinity in our society. He gave the dancers a platform on which they could strut their fabulous selves before joining in for the grand finale which consisted of them each ripping off their tearaway pants to reveal their asses in all of their thonged glory.
A rousing and bluesy version of "When The Saints Go Marching In" concluded the set before a greater level of crowd participation was demanded for the encore. Avery encouraged everyone to join in to sing "O Canada" before launching into some more spoken word and hitting us with the grave reminder that we're "standing on stolen Native land". His point was made and was met with thunderous cheering from the audience. He then asked us to form a circle in the middle of the floor before introducing a Hoop Dancer to its center. The dancer floated and twirled with strength and grace inside the human-made circle to the sound of the band members playing as if none of them would never play again. The dancer took a knee with his recently constructed sphere of hoops outstretched in his hand, while Avery and a local musician with Middle Eastern roots turned towards each other to face off in a musical duel. When they were done, the dancer stood back up to mesmerize everyone the room again with his intricate hoop shapes and rhythmic movement.
There was nothing I could do to stop the steady stream of tears now flowing down my cheeks. I was so struck by the emotion rolling off of these performers just giving us their all. It became apparent that the process I was witnessing is exactly what will allow us to move forward as a more peaceful society. Artistic collaboration is how we will make change and heal as a people. These artists came together with their demographic and artistic differences to create something more powerful than what any one of them could have produced individually. You could debate all day long about whose artistic talents are the best, but what's the point when the final product was hundreds of times more amazing than any single artist's work? Moments like this make it clear that politicians are not going to be the ones to dissolve the hate embedded in the current discourse. It will not even be the expected activists who will save us from ourselves. The people who are going to fix things are the artistic souls that so many of us readily dismiss as dreamers. I'm putting my money on these people who show up and pour themselves into creating emotion inducing art to be the ones who will turn the world into the more peaceful place that they envision. More than ever, we need to support those who can see the different colours we all bring to the tapestry and know how to piece them together to create it. C.R. Avery is one of those people. Seriously, if you ever get a chance to see one of his shows, freaking do it. The amount of effort and creativity that went into that production must have been immense. He's putting his money where his harmonica usually is to make the world a better place the way only artists can.
So, fight however you've gotta fight. Whatever you do, make sure you're fighting on the right side of history. Our lives are more documented now than they've ever been before. Decades from now, the world will still remember what kind of person you proved yourself to be. We don't have time to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves and others. If we can get enough people turning their little pocket of the world into a masterpiece, maybe that will be enough to dispel the tsunami of hate trying to overwhelm our global community. More than ever, we need comedy, spoken word, music, writing, poetry, design, costuming, makeup, film, photography, visual art, animation, drawing, burlesque, painting, sculpture, street performing, theatre, dance, performance art, clowning, balloon animals, WHATEVER. If you can do it, then do it. If you're learning how to do it, learn fast. If you don't consider yourself an artist, consider supporting one (or many). Get out there and be involved however you can be involved.
We're not just lifting spirits; we're saving the world.
Seriously, though, we have HOW many centuries of documented human history that clearly shows what kind of hell goes down when a race war breaks out? DO PEOPLE HONESTLY THINK THIS IS GOING TO GO WELL FOR ANYONE?????? Do you know what you're not enjoying when you're spending the entirety of your time fighting a superficial war? Life. That's what you're not enjoying. It's really hard to savour patio drinks and rock out at live music shows when you're too busy yelling at someone over their melanin levels.
At the risk of sounding too much like a Buzzfeed article, here are 20 things that are more important than hating people who are different from you:
- Puppies, dogs, cats, kittens, and baby mammals in general
- Live music
- Bakeries
- Climbing into a bed with freshly cleaned sheets
- Dancing (especially, as if nobody is watching)
- Genuine compliments
- Coffee
- Holding hands - Platonically, romantically, or otherwise
- Patio drinks
- Rainbows
- The perfect parallel park
- Comfy socks
- The horn section of a fabulous band
- Someone giving you their pre-paid parking slip when they're done with it
- Farmer's markets
- Songs that give you chills
- Getting back in touch with an old friend
- Fake mustaches
- Star gazing
- Artistic collaboration
If you're feeling bummed out and hopeless about the state of society, fear not, for there is a glimmer of hope. Once again, it's time to rely on artists to save the world. Yep, you read that correctly. Step aside, Superman. The artists are here to save the day!
I alluded to this at the end of my Buzzfeed-esque list, but let me break it down further for y'all. Artistic expression and collaboration are what will lead the way out of this shitty hate tornado. I came to this specific realization after experiencing the most incredible C.R. Avery show this month. I strolled into my usual haunt, The Needle Vinyl Tavern, with the expectation of an always amazing set from Joe Nolan & the Dogs with the added bonus of some harmonica beat-boxing spoken word realness from C.R. Avery. I GOT SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT.
Joe Nolan was fabulous, as always. He rocked us. He rolled us. I got a couple of dances in. No complaints! Then, the lights dimmed as a recorded political monologue filled the air to set the tone. What was it about? I wish I had been taking notes or recording a video so that I could tell you. Alas, I was too struck by the weight of the room and the powerful figure standing in the dark onstage to do either of those things. A chugging harmonica began to punctuate the words that would become memorable history in that back room at the Needle. C.R. began to intersperse beat-boxing and sharp melodies between each note diffusing out of his harp. Suddenly, the lights brightened and the horns erupted. That first blast of the trumpet and trombone carried a power that could have simultaneously killed and revived me. My soul was screaming to be taken to the next level and this music was going to achieve that. Melodies, harmonies, rhythms, and poetry surrounded my body like I had just climbed into a memory foam bed, lined with freshly washed jersey knit sheets.
Each song was filled with content that was hard hitting, political, life-affirming, inspirational, and real. As Avery sang "the NRA finally met its match with the LGBTQ2", referring to the Pulse Nightclub shooting, I started tearing up. Then, he got the crowd to sing one line together, "49 angels dancing in the night". Did I cry? YES, OBVIOUSLY.
It felt the way church worship used to feel to me before I discovered the ugly side of organized religion. People combined their independent voices into a singular focus with an expanding wall of sound and emotion. That feeling of coming together in a congregation of music is what church really should be all about. The message of love coming from the stage and from the lips of every person in the room temporarily drowned out our inequalities to celebrate us coming together in a beautiful mosaic of our differences.
Avery slid fluidly from topic to poetic topic with ease and style, touching on race relations, inequality, privilege, and personal reflection, among other things. He brought male heel dancers onto the stage who are known locally for regularly challenging the concept and perception of masculinity in our society. He gave the dancers a platform on which they could strut their fabulous selves before joining in for the grand finale which consisted of them each ripping off their tearaway pants to reveal their asses in all of their thonged glory.
A rousing and bluesy version of "When The Saints Go Marching In" concluded the set before a greater level of crowd participation was demanded for the encore. Avery encouraged everyone to join in to sing "O Canada" before launching into some more spoken word and hitting us with the grave reminder that we're "standing on stolen Native land". His point was made and was met with thunderous cheering from the audience. He then asked us to form a circle in the middle of the floor before introducing a Hoop Dancer to its center. The dancer floated and twirled with strength and grace inside the human-made circle to the sound of the band members playing as if none of them would never play again. The dancer took a knee with his recently constructed sphere of hoops outstretched in his hand, while Avery and a local musician with Middle Eastern roots turned towards each other to face off in a musical duel. When they were done, the dancer stood back up to mesmerize everyone the room again with his intricate hoop shapes and rhythmic movement.
There was nothing I could do to stop the steady stream of tears now flowing down my cheeks. I was so struck by the emotion rolling off of these performers just giving us their all. It became apparent that the process I was witnessing is exactly what will allow us to move forward as a more peaceful society. Artistic collaboration is how we will make change and heal as a people. These artists came together with their demographic and artistic differences to create something more powerful than what any one of them could have produced individually. You could debate all day long about whose artistic talents are the best, but what's the point when the final product was hundreds of times more amazing than any single artist's work? Moments like this make it clear that politicians are not going to be the ones to dissolve the hate embedded in the current discourse. It will not even be the expected activists who will save us from ourselves. The people who are going to fix things are the artistic souls that so many of us readily dismiss as dreamers. I'm putting my money on these people who show up and pour themselves into creating emotion inducing art to be the ones who will turn the world into the more peaceful place that they envision. More than ever, we need to support those who can see the different colours we all bring to the tapestry and know how to piece them together to create it. C.R. Avery is one of those people. Seriously, if you ever get a chance to see one of his shows, freaking do it. The amount of effort and creativity that went into that production must have been immense. He's putting his money where his harmonica usually is to make the world a better place the way only artists can.
So, fight however you've gotta fight. Whatever you do, make sure you're fighting on the right side of history. Our lives are more documented now than they've ever been before. Decades from now, the world will still remember what kind of person you proved yourself to be. We don't have time to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves and others. If we can get enough people turning their little pocket of the world into a masterpiece, maybe that will be enough to dispel the tsunami of hate trying to overwhelm our global community. More than ever, we need comedy, spoken word, music, writing, poetry, design, costuming, makeup, film, photography, visual art, animation, drawing, burlesque, painting, sculpture, street performing, theatre, dance, performance art, clowning, balloon animals, WHATEVER. If you can do it, then do it. If you're learning how to do it, learn fast. If you don't consider yourself an artist, consider supporting one (or many). Get out there and be involved however you can be involved.
We're not just lifting spirits; we're saving the world.
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