well it's all pretty pretty outside. which makes it increasingly difficult to do anything productive. unless daydreaming is considered productive. i mean, i'm taking things (people) and putting them into things (implausible situations) and adding things (really clever, rapid fire banter) and then making stuff happen (good stuff).

see, there's plenty of copywriting involved - it's just in my head, and none of it is going to sell a mobile phone. or beer. or large ladies clothing.

though i suppose all of those things could be worked into said daydream - if that made it billable.

and more likely to happen.

i notice that most of my dronings here are actually more like moanings.

the woe is me thing is kind of '90's, isn't it. or is it only '90's if you write a song about it, or in your journal (or livejournal), or bombard various indie messageboards with your angsty musings? is the new woe is me for 2007 all about blog-fest of gigantic proportions? where you have your own space to showcase to the world your various indiscretions and emotional inconsistencies?

c'est possible.

it occurs to me that to be different, i should only let my fingers tappity tap the keyboard when i am happy-clappy. after all sunshine is so much harder to come by in this sad world wide web we live in. shall i be all unicorns and giggles and puppies?

i mean, i'm not really a downer in real life, honest. i'm about as upper as you can get, without being classified as an amphetamine. i turn all obstacles into some sort of relay race - and smile even when i'm bluer than the bluest meanie.

so why do i rabbit on like a sad rabbit here?

guess i am hopped up on a love of cheeseball introspection. show my cheery self to the world, and brood quietly through the internerd. LOL in real life, and bury my melodramatic musings in html coding.

works for me.

another day, another bawler.

the sky is blue pristine, but my head feels like plasticine. malleable. muddled-able.

there are these moments lately where i wonder exactly where i am going on this little path called life. and then i wonder how on earth i managed to write that cliche with a straight face. and yet, i'm not really laughing. no, this isn't ha ha funny - it's ha ha ridiculous. or maybe just odd.

yes, odd describes everything right now - from the way that my head spins like a broken top to the fractured recollections of the previous evening to all the heartaches and stupidities and banalities of the day-to-day demise of me.

i mean, who am i really?

a melodramatic teenager in the guise of a real live adult? possibly.
a silly billy with a penchant for disaster? definitely.
a whiny blogger with little motivation and a lot of work to do?

yes, yes and yes.

how is it that i keep falling behind on the poetry hoetry composition?

Another month slips through my felt-pen tips. must get cracking on the rhyme. and stop wasting time. and find a tree to climb. i feel that spring has sprung, an expression i abhor, but perhaps am using masochistically. yes, the snow has dwindled to pathetic puddles, the world is a dirty grey, and the temperature is shooting up like heroin.

Speaking of temperatures, i had to write some particularly horrifying copy about high heels the other day -- something along the lines of "It's spring, and temperatures and heels are soaring to new heights". Yes, you hear correctly - the sound of my soul being sucked into the vacum of whore-porate splendor. and you know what? i kind of dig the sound. it's got a ring to it, one that i can only describe as delightful. why? well, why not?

after all - to sum up copywriting in a line (appropriate, really to write a headline about writing headlines) would be to say:

Copywriting. The mind it enlightens, the writing skills it tightens.

today was bookended by appointments of the aesthetic variety. was poked, prodded and tisk tisked at the dentist this morning. at 7:40 am, to be exact. what prompted me to book that early is simple. i am a morning owl. or would that be an early bird? whatever type of winged creature arises first, ready to burst with excitment for the new day - that would be me.

not sure if i was that peppy about going to get my chomp chomps checked out, but for the sake of the story, i'll pretend i was. toddled up to the far north (yonge & eglinton) to see dr. fisher and his cohorts. and by cohorts i mean hygenists. cheery chatty patty was ready & waiting, and off we went into the land of drill drill buzz buzz.

but not before she could tell me (once she found out i was in advertising), "ohhh i love those bell ads with the beavers? oh-ho, those always crack me up." well goshdarn it. so happy to see that mediocrity continues to wow the world. i had to quash her excitement by telling her i worked for the competitor. "oh, is that the one with the monkeys?" she asked disinterestedly, then trailed off into nothing.

so that was the cleaning. and then there was the verdict. ie the dentist. the man with the five year plan to replace every single tooth with a gold crown. or something. there were a few cavities. and a warning that if i didn't get a night guard, i would grind my teeth into oblivion. a night guard. that phrase brings to mind slumbering sentries from some sort of shakespeare play, not something i put in my mouth. i mean, just say retainer. or nerd gear.

instead he said (with a straight-face, mind), "at night, you can rely on the night guard. during the day, you can only rely on your will power". goodness, i didn't realize there was so much drama in the molar world.

so bookend beginning.

and then at the end of the day - at five pm - i crossed town to get my haircut - whizzing (or rather, inching along in a cab) by crappy front street sports bars filled with suits unwinding with lukewarm domestics in hand, and commuters breathing icicles in the air.

haircuts are a joy, especially at aveda. my hair cutter is a 24 year old adorable on his way to becoming the next, well, whatever the top of his industry is. cutting master? snipping extaordinaire? edward scissorhands?

we talked of new york and bad fringes to the sweet sounds of blades slicing through strands. and as piles were swept away by the passing sweeping up hair guy, i gazed upon a new me. or maybe just a new version of the old me-haircut. but it's a goodie. and not really an oldie, either.

so bookend ended. shiny smile, shiny hair. take a shine to me.

friday slush funds.

or rather, friday slush fun.

knee deep in icy goodness, i trudged to the metro stop this morning. ok, perhaps it was only ankle-deep, but those moments where you feel the swift spread of water as it soaks through your boots and creeps from the bottom of your stockings upwards - they feel worthy of exaggerated description. and so i give it to them.

hours later, i still feel a bit chilled. in temperature and attitude. (note: i only use the word "chilled" in this context because of the double meaning of the word -- otherwise i would not touch it with a ten foot pole. or even a small stick).

point is, i've done a whole lot of nothing today, even though i have a whole lot to do.

and really all i want to do is love me up some guinness. is there anything better? i would venture to say there isn't. mostly because i know it's purely rhetorical, and therefore no one will argue. but guinness reallly is a delight for all senses involved, right? am i right? am i right?

yes. always.