New blog wow!!

I haven't been writing in this blog so I figured hey, why not start a new blog.

I miss you, old blog.

New blog: neumanjm2.blogspot.com

Setting the scene

It was winter 2002. Scratch that. It was the beginning of spring 2002. And I was at Talisman Resort with Matt who was competing in a series of ski competitions. This was the last one which involved I THINK the half pipe but who can really be sure.

I was skiing down a smooth and creamy run when suddenly my right ski caught something, pulling my leg out and back. I crumpled. I heard a pop but didn't know what that meant. Fuck. A snowboarder cruising by stopped and asked me if I was okay. "I don't think so," I said shakily. Unsure of what to do, I sat for a moment riding out the pain, then carefully stood up. I could see Matt at the bottom of the hill walking as quickly as he could in those cumbersome ski boots up to meet me. Together I hobbled to the bottom of the pipe, my knee slipping left and right on the way, where I sat for the rest of the afternoon.

I forget whether he came first or second in the series.

Returning home, I endured a hospital visit, months of limping and discomfort, a few doctors visits and finally an MRI, with diagnoses ranging from nothing serious to fully torn Anterior Cruiate Ligament to partially torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament. The latter is what seemed to stick, and for the last six years I've been pretty much unawares of my knee or any injury I had sustained.

This spring I stared playing ultimate frisbee. I love it! It's great. In June I sprained my ankle. I hate it. It's bad. I now wear a brace. Two weeks ago my knee went one way when I went another and I suddenly remembered my ACL injury of yesteryear.

It hurt far less and the limping ceased after only days, but clearly somethig is askew.

A trip to the sport's medicine doctor today has left me with a likely fully torn ACL diagnosis and an MRI appointment. Plus physio for which I have no coverage. Plus my having to back out of two ultimate league teams I was due to start up next week.

It also leaves me something to blog about. Finally.

Observation exercise

She sat beside me on a bench, the traffic of University Ave. buzzing by on either side of the outer flowerbeds. Maybe she made a call on her cell phone - I was deeply engaged in my book and didn't notice her really until she stood up from the bench and spread a picnic blanket on the small strip of grass directly in front of me.

The ever so familiar Dominion plastic bag in hand, she kicked off her cheap flip flops and sat down cross-legged, smoothing out the puffs of air resting beneath the blanket.

Looking self-conscious but not minding my direct view, she began unpacking the grocery bag. First, twin fruit, yogurt, and granola containers - the pre-made kind you buy from the pre-made salad shelf. The shelf I frequented almost daily during my time at The Department this past year. Those must have set her back a whopping $3.99 each. She laid them on the blanket side by side, out of the way. Next she pulled out two Mandarin Chicken Salads. Yes, I know these things by name. And because a picnic isn't a picnic without it, she also had a container of grocery store sushi rolls. California, I bet, but can't confirm. She emptied the bag, with two fancy bottled smoothies, one pink and one yellow. I could literally trace her steps through the store.

The store, which sits on Bloor and is teeming with students buying pre-made salads and frozen pizzas.

But we're on Hospital Row, which is instead teeming with healthcare workers and suits. And researchers trying to get away with fancy pants and sneakers, but I digress.

My lunch is more or less over, but I want to stay to see who her lunch guest will be. I'm almost certain it's a boy - like she'd go to so much effort for anyone else, but then again it's all store bought and demonstrates very little creativity. Plus, despite the healthy eating hoorah happening these days, I don't know how happy many men would be about lettuce, rice, and granola. I'm also willing to bet she doesn't know him all that well. She chooses two of the same of everything, except for the smoothies where she guesses with two popular colours/flavours - she can't go wrong, but clearly she doesn't know that his favourite drink is Blue Powerade and he much prefers Greek to Mandarin, for example.

She's wearing the typical student uniform; the flip flops I've already mentioned, along with too-tight jeans that emphasize her slight stomach rolls showing from beneath her simple tank top. I forget to notice her face or hair. She's not memorable.

I go back to my book. She waits. I glance up. She's putting a thick, hard-cover book without its jacket away into her satchel, looking up into the distance. She stands, smiles, and meets him. They hug for longer than a greeting between friends, but it definitely doesn't feel like a comfortable, long-time couple. I like being right. They don't kiss, but sit down on the blanket together. I try not to stare so I don't notice his reaction to the things she's laid out. Does he look impressed? Does he even look?

They sit for a moment before she suddenly pulls him by the arm towards her and they share a quick peck. She deserves that much after all this effort, damn it. I'd be willing to bet this is something like date number 3, and the transition from goodnight-in-the-dark kissing to out-in-the-open-guess-what-I-like-you kissing takes some guts.

His legs bend out awkwardly, his dress-shoes just off the blanket on the grass, until he abandoms them and sits cross-legged. He looks sharp in his dress-shirt and dress-pants and dress-frames. He's cute. Good for her. Good for them.

Lunch is over and my curiosity is satisfied. I leave these two to their granola on the grass.

That feeling

You know that feeling when you just wake up from sleeping so soundly and for just a moment all is well until a wave of the memory of all the shit on your mind hits you like a brick?

Oh yeah, I'm heartbroken.

Oh right, I'm stressed.

Oh shit, I'm nervous.

Things like that.

I don't like that feeling.

Hey, MSG

Come on, you can't stay mad at me.

Rainy Sunday

I cut off the rest of the straight bits yesterday. In the kitchen with kitchen scissors and a plastic bag full of hair. What do I have against hairdressers, anyway?

What to do on this rainy Sunday morning?

The amazing and incredible evolution of a Magic Straight perm

Once upon a time I taught English to little tiny creatures who called themselves children in a far-off fantasty land. Sara wondered if I could lie on my deathbed without giving one of its many specialities a try. So I went for it and had the tedious full-day process done. Magic straight-uh!

I said goodbye to my curls in November 2005, opting to give the straight life a try, and I kept it up, refreshing the process just as I left the ROK at the end of Jun 2006. That was one year (and two months if you want to get specific) ago. Let's see how my hair has fared over the year....

Here I am in Vietnam, not a few weeks after the chemical transformation. I look sufficiently carefree with my roll-out-of-bed straight hair that required no effort whatsoever. What a novelty it was.

Here I am in November 2006, four or five months in. Look at that sleek and shiny mane! Not only that but the grueling stress of graduate school was taking its (welcomed, in this way) toll and I was dropping in poundage with little to no effort. Plus, I had a new friend called Romeo! At this point it would have taken blowing and hair straightening effort to handle the growing in roots.

I got a terrible haircut in December that nobody bothered to tell me about! Blunt cut?!?!?! Blasphemous! It looks okay here compared to how it really looked. I guess it was the smooth San Fran dinner jazz that made me smile.

By the end of January, seven months in, I grew sick and tired of the awful blunt and went for something that changed my life: bangs!!! What a wondrous invention, those bangs. I dug 'em, though I had to wield a round brush to get them to behave. It wasn't so bad, really. By now it was becoming a real effort to get this long, exceedingly curly rooted 'do under control. I'm not one for time consuming grooming.

So I cut a lot of it right off! My continued laziness left me with a mullet-esque cross between straight, wavy, and curly. I didn't particularly mind. People were starting to wonder, though, no doubt. Because they, like you, took great interest in the state of my cheveux. I also got this awesome wallet. It's yellow. It still makes me happy whenever I see it. This picture is taken in Fort Hawkesbury, Nova Scotia where I ate ribs and looked out at the gazebo behind the hilarious motel. I watched Bring it On on TV that night, and laughed hard over a game of pool. FYI.


Let's jump through most of the awkward hair growth period to the middle of July, just about one year after this story began. I'm at Mel's wedding. My reader's will recognize the lovely lady on the left, but probably not to the right. That's okay. Here you can see that despite being mostly curly there are still mucho-strange straight pieces at the ends that stick out and make me look much less polished than the two bridesmaids. It drove me crazy.

This brings us to the present. As you're well aware, t's the end of August and a year and two months have passed by. I haven't gotten a haircut since the wedding above, but I have been driven to the breaking point such that I took to some of those straight ends with a small but effective pair of nail scissors. Straight ends begone! I'm almost completely back to my curly self and it feels good! Plus I still have my friend Romeo. He's just a friend, people, just a friend.

The question remains: do blondes have more fun?

I'd say that straight hair definitely has its benefits. You don't have to do anything to it and, if you're lucky enough to have the thickness and sheen of a naturally curly haired person, it looks pretty awesome. Men on a whole definitely find long, straight hair sexy - that I can attest to.

Awkward growth hair I wouldn't particularly recommend. It takes lots of effort to straighten it and leaving it half and half just looks crazy. CRAZY!

Curly hair is pretty good. Girls compliment it a lot, mostly because those with limp straight hair are full of burning jealousy. Smiling guys say things like, "wow, you have crazy hair". I don't know quite what to make of that but... I'll choose to like it.

So that's that. At the end of the summer I'll get the rest of these damn straight bits cut off and that'll be the end of an era. I can now lay on my death bed without any regrets. Thanks Sara.