The calm before the storm: T-minus 1 day to John Taylor

I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I guess that's a good thing. At least I know I'm still alive...right?

It's less than 48 hours until I meet John Taylor. I have a basic general idea of what I'm going to say...a basic general leap off point of which to talk to him. Thank the Gods and Muses because I think I'd be seriously devastated if I got to him and said absolutely nothing except for "hi" and "thank you". But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was freaking the hell out. It's my idol after all...the man who donned my bedroom wall long before and after anyone else. Until my husband came along, his were the last set of eyes I'd see looking at me before I went to sleep and his were the first set of eyes that I'd see when I'd wake up. (Not too stalker sounding right?).

In the reality of the situation...internally...I am seriously losing my shit. I have butterflies...even now and am so unbelievably excited. It seems like all of my life has been leading to that moment. Does that sound weird?

My Dad emailed me the other day asking me if I was going to go see John or if I was under some delusion. Which made me seriously laugh my ass off. I assured him that no, I was actually going to meet this man, but how the hell HE found out I was going or that John was going to be in Toronto, remains a mystery. I assume he must have seen it on the news somewhere.

I've found the right outfit...Something that looks nice but at the same time I'll be comfortable (IMPORTANT!!). I mean do I want to be dressed like a slob meeting John??? Ummm NO of course not!!

I'm looking forward to tomorrow for many reasons. Meeting John of course, but also I get to see and 'meet' some fantastic ladies. People I talk to everyday, but have never actually met. I'm super excited to meet and see them all. They're fantastic people.

I'm certain I'll have an entry about actually meeting him. I apologize in advance if it's complete gibberish and makes no sense whatsoever. Remember to breathe!!!!

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Hidden in the Stacks

Bizarre, odd dreams are nothing new for me. You know it. I know it. I've told this dream to some of you, but now I'll share it with all of you.

Maybe (likely) its the excitement of the release of John's book, or the signing, or the fact I'm getting to see and meet up with friends, not to mention the obvious of course...meeting the man himself. Who knows. Probably a culmination of all of the above.

The other night I had this dream I was in a large Chapters/Indigo bookstore. I'm with my friend Deena (one of the lovely ladies I'm looking forward to actually meeting!!) but we're hiding for some reason. I'm not sure (even now) as to why.

We've stacked John's books about 30 copies high in rows around us to build a fort of some sort (clearly no one would see us behind them!) and we are looking for our friends Kristina and Christine. I'm not sure where they were, or why we were looking for them but we were. I can only assume so they can hide with us from whatever it was we were hiding from in the first place. (Zombies is of course the likely and obvious reason - followed closely by hiding from our dear friend Victoria...but don't tell her I said that - HA!!)

It's very bright in the store, light is streaming in from floor to ceiling windows I can see about 60 feet away across the store. The shelves are high and people are milling about, and seem to take no notice of us whatsoever.

As we're tucked down waiting, I hear this person either clear their throat or say something. I'm not sure now at this point which it was. Maybe both.

I glance up and see John Taylor. He is leaned on his elbows on the stacks of books, bent over looking at us. He's grinning, clearly amused by our little fort and asks "What are you doing?"

I tell him "Hiding of course!" in a hushed tone but chastising like he should have known, like it should have been obvious. He chuckles and replies "From what?" in a quieter tone now glancing around suspiciously as if someone may just hear him. Playing the part.

Deena replies to him something I can't quite hear or make out. John proceeds to walk around the back of our fort and says "Well! In that case...do you mind if I join you?" and sits down with a big grin cross-legged on the floor.

We never did find Christine or Kristina...their whereabouts remain unknown.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Continuing saga of a Gas Bar Glamazon: A$$HOLES! Must be a day that ends in "y"

It's Friday. Gas is... cheap... relatively speaking of course. And as usual it's busy here. We're always busy, but today with the current price add in the fact that it's a weekend, it's worse. Not as bad as it could be...but its busy enough for the assholes to be out (like they need a reason). its fine though I'm off until Monday after this shift so it's "all good" as they say. At least...for me.

This woman come in to pay and she starts telling me about this guy who came up to her car window and pounded on it while she was waiting in line. For whatever reason she didn't pull around the person ahead of her to leap frog ahead to the vaccant spot. This gentleman (who was apparently annoyed she didn't do this) after banging on her window went back to his own car and moved into the empty spot squeeling tires and all. And yet even though she had waited, the woman still ended up finishing before he had.

As she's telling me this story, he comes in to pay for his gas and she says something to him about how it was unessassary it had been of him to come and pound on her window. She says this to him politely, not confrontational or anything.

This guy completely loses it and goes off the reservation on this woman. He goes on a tirade on this woman (I'd say she was probably between 63-68 and he 46-50). He called her every name in the book. At one point he even said to her "Shuddup you fuckin slut" (at this point my jaw hits the floor).

A younger woman (26ish) had come in to pay for her gas and went right rangy batshit before I could even open my mouth. She went up one side of this guy and down the other. Had I had a tub of popcorn I would have been all set. Front row seating for the drama! Never a dull moment around here.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Remembering to breathe

What would you do if you knew you were going to meet your idol? Not (just) your superstar crush (Putting the looks aside for a moment). But your idol. The reason you wanted to (in my case) pick up a bass and learn how to play. The reason you wanted to feel the thrum and the throb of the strings under your fingers. To learn to play the notes. His notes. The ones he himself had written. And make the same musical sounds he makes and has made for the last 30 years. For me...it almost makes it hard to breathe just thinking about it.

I've met famous people before, but never someone that I've idolized and that changed my life in such a profound and significant sort of way. To me; this is and will be; very different. The "famous" part goes out of the equation entirely, and I'm only left with the fact that this guy is my idol.

On October 29th, 2012 my life will change forever. And that sounds melodramatic and oh so cliche. I know it does. I know it's not going to have as profound an impact on him as it does on me, but that's beside the point. The fact is...this isn't a "well you might get a chance to meet him"...this is a definite thing. And that thought scares the holy bajaysis crap out of me. What am I going to say? Will I be able to say anything? Let alone anything intelligent? What if I say something stupid?

And what am I going to wear??!!

It's a small and brief window of conversation, it's not going to be a huge time for conversation but during that time...it's my time. My chance to say to him something that I want him to look back on after the signing and maybe think "hey...that girl made me take pause". Know what I mean? But I expect everyone wants that.

Every person I have spoken to have said how instantly at ease that he makes people feel. How sweet, kind and endearing he is. Of this, I have no doubt. That truly emanates from his personality.

I'm meeting up with some of my Duranie sisters whom I adore. Some I have met, others I have yet to meet face to face but am so very excited to meet them!!! My husband has agreed to drive and escort me on this sojourn (I think he just wants to make sure I come home and don't take off on some tour bus - as if! Okay well...maybe). The one thing I'm sad about is my partner in crime Rachel won't be there to take it all in and share it with me, but I know she'll be there in spirit and is so very thrilled and excited for me.

I know everything will be fine, I know it will be. I'll remember to breathe, I'll remember my name and his. I'll not scream like a little 14 year old fangirl, or cry and pee my pants with excitement. I won't leap across the table at him and throw him to the floor in the heat of the moment (Lest security escort me out). And all will be well. I just need to make it there and remember to keep breathing.

 One Last Glimpse,

~K

It's coming...

It's coming...I can feel it. The anniversary of my nephew's death. I don't want to go through that day, but I know in order to heal (eventually) I have to. He's on my mind a lot lately, my nephew - as those I care for that have passed on often are.

Last night after Alan went to bed I stayed up for a while. Every now and again (I don't know why...maybe it's because I'm on my period who knows) I listen to songs that I know are going to make me cry. And I don't mean boo hoo couple tears here and there, I mean full on bawl like a little bitch...cry. Last night was one of those times. I don't know how or what started it off but I do know it went from bad to worse. And to top it off...I was looking at old pictures I have on my computer.

At one point I started looking through pictures of my nephew Brad. Then I went for the mother of all sobfest songs as I'm looking at pictures of Brad, his sister, his Mom and Dad. If you have never listened to "The Perfect Fan" by Backstreet Boys (yes, you read that right...I said Backstreet Boys). Here's a little tip of advice. DON'T DO IT WHEN YOU ARE ALREADY EMOTIONAL AND LOOKING AT PICTURES OF A DEARLY DEPARTED ONE. LOL. I cried like I haven't cried in quite some time. Perhaps it was healing, and cathartic in some way. Perhaps since I'm already an emotional wreck, it only exacerbated the situation. I don't know. I do however feel a little bit better.

I'm thankful that I have a brief distraction the night the before the anniversary in the surprising form of John Taylor. Or maybe...it's not so surprising. Like many, Duran have been there when I needed them most. This is one of those times. I'm super nervous to finally meet John. I don't know that I'll actually remember to say anything, but I'm hoping my husband Alan prompts me (he's coming with me...I think) so I don't just stand there like some gawking idiot who says nothing. We'll see. Who knows maybe I'll be surprisingly cool meeting my idol, the man from many a teenage fantasy, and the man that I was going to marry had you asked me when I was 12 (...or 41 if I were single).

YA RIGHT!

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Bright Lights, Big City

I'm in Toronto this week with my sister in law. She's here on business, and as luck would have it she was permitted (on the company's dime) to bring a +1. All I needed was to get here, and pay for my food. I love Toronto. I suspect it's on par with the same affair anyone who goes to New York City and falls in love with the Big Apple has (I've yet to go to New York City, so I can only assume).

My youngest sister in law and I (Mary) and I are close. We've always been close, in spite of the fact that there's an 11 years difference between us. We have a good relationship (always have) and I love her to bits (even though she's reading this over my shoulder as I type it and that drives me completely bonkers)...But I digress.

I arrived yesterday, she arrived Tuesday night (I had to work). When I arrived yesterday she was already at her convention for work. I, was left to my own devices. No. I did not jump on the bed. (Mary put the kibosh on that - personally I think she wanted that fun for herself). I hung out, wrote a little bit and watched a movie until she got back. Mary had told me that the bed was "small". I was concerns. I've tried to fit two people in a double bed. So when she said it was small I sort of had a panic. It's not, thankfully it's a queen... Mary has a king sized bed so her perception of "small" is a bit skewed. HA!

Last night was spent having a lovely dinner at a chain called "Jack Astor's" we have them at home so we knew what to expect. It was lovely. Great time. Tonight we're looking to go to a place (I think) called The Pickle Barrel. Should also be fun.

I'm sure you're wondering dear reader, if I'm ever going to get to the 'point' of it all. Indeed dear hearts, indeed. Fast forward to today. I'm feeling a little 'meh'. I'm missing my hubby. Missing home. And it's been bloody ass cold. For those of you who don't know Yonge Street (the main street I look out on) is pretty much like a tunnel that leads towards the lake in one direction and in land in the other. It's been windy, and cold. When it comes up off the lake, it's like a shot up the tunnel. And I of course, in my infinite wisdom forgot a sweater.

 

Our kitchenette

 

I'm in the hotel this afternoon Facebooking and honestly getting wrapped up in the San Fransisco Giants/ Cincinnati Reds baseball game. Mary comes in from her convention on a 2 hour break and during that time the maid service comes in to tidy the room. I had sat the little bathroom glasses on the "kitchen" counter after we had used them (I had gotten lipstick on the lip of one of them). I expected the housekeeper (a spry Jamacian woman who continually softly sang to herself while cleaning) to take the glasses and leave new ones. What she did next, absolutely blew my effing mind and put Mary and I into near hysterics the moment the door was closed.

She informed us that there were other glasses in the cupboard, put the TWO SINGLE GLASSES into the dishwasher and fired it up. WITH ONLY TWO GLASSES INSIDE. Now, I'm no environmentalist...but even I know better than to do something as balls out redonkulous as that! What a huge waste of water.What is funnily ironic about it all is that in the bathroom there is a 'help us save water' sign in regards to reusing the towels (If you want to do so just hang them up, if you want fresh towels - toss them on the floor). Mary and I dutifully hung our towels up. Which she replaced as well.

The sign that hangs in the bathroom

So what is the point of all of this hotel literature of "save the water, save the environment" if you're only going to do something as ridiculous as that? The world may never know. Even though there was a sink there with a bottle of dishwasher soap underneath, why she'd choose to start a dishwasher with only two glasses inside is beyond me.

TWO GLASSES IN THE WHOLE DISHWASHER!!

This trip has been fun. We haven't done a whole hell of a lot, but we've spent time together and had some laughs together. Which to me is more important than going out and spending a whole bunch of money doing things (okay that would be fun too!). I'm thrilled I came to spend a couple days with Mary here in the big city. Although I must admit, I'll be glad to go home tomorrow to my own bed and my beloved hubby.

Mary-Cat...nothing but trouble

 One Last Glimpse,

~K

Wud de feck?

I often have weird dreams. Dreams that make no sense whatsoever. It's just the way things are. Last night, was no different.

I was in attendence of some sort of "high society" type dinner. I'm not sure if it was some sort of awards dinner (ie. Oscars, Music Awards), or if It was for some Fashion magazine like Vogue or what. But in any event there I was. My husband as well as a few other friends that I went to high school with were there, seated at my table with me (Rachel, Jeff, Amber, Jancy and Trevis), My friends Jane, Hazel and Maya were there . For some reason (outside of my husband) I am astonished to see these people there, and they are equally as shocked to see me there. Nefer (Nick Rhodes' current girlfriend) comes over to me in a fury saying 'how dare I bring "them" with me'. I inform her that A) I didn't invite them - and I'm just as surprised as SHE, that they are there. and B) It wasn't HER party anyway so she needed to mind her own business. She left in a huff, Nick came over and appologizes for her behaviour and leaves the party with us.

Next thing I can recall I am standing with Nick (I have no idea where everyone else went to - Nick assures me we'll 'catch up with them'). We are in a house in a small (5x6) room discussing going to 'where we think the body is burried" (no idea WHOSE body -- been watching too much Criminal Minds! LOL) We get into an older black sedan style car (1980s Grand Marquis maybe?) and Nick (out of habit) has slipped into the left side of the car, only to find himself sitting behind the wheel of the car. After teasing him good naturedly and his expected/anticipated/joking response of "what self respecting country has their steering column on the LEFT side of a car?" With a large smirk on his face. We arrive at a rundown abandoned church where we think this body is buried.

As we are strolling through the ruins we see someone hiding in the shadows watching us. In fear they could harm us, we flee. We are convinced the person in the shadows is the person who put the body there - but don't know who it is.

We drive back to a large barn where everyone else is. Nick is now significantly younger in appearance although when I ask him about it he says "I haven't the foggiest idea about what you're talking about." With a wide grin. That is that, and there will be no more discussion about it is what I glean from his statement .

The last thing I remember is standing sidestage (apparently the inside of the barn is where some concert is being held - and has the internal appearance of an arena). Everyone is now in some sort of Halloween costume. Alan is dressed as Simon Le Bon (no idea where the REAL Simon Le Bon is), Maya, Jane, Hazel and Rachel are all dressed in ancient egyptian garb, Andy is there (young) dressed as a vampire, and I turn to Nick and John asking them if they are okay with Andy being there to play with them instead of Dom. John says yes - and gives me a big smile. Nick says "No, of course not. But it can't always be about what I want....Just most of the time." he adds smiling broadly. With that, we (much to my surprise) are ushered toward the stage. I can hear the screaming rising from those in the audience there to watch the show, I can feel the heat (no Power Station pun intended) and see the brightness of the spotlights. John quickly kisses my cheek; in a friendly manner; as he jogs past me in his ever famous 80's leathers with his red, gray and white top. His bass is strapped to him and he's ready to go. "For luck!" he winks over his shoulder. "Ready?" Nick asks me. Wide eyed I shake my head in protest. "You'll do fine..."he smiles leading me on stage.

And that's where I woke up. So I ask...Wud de feck?

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Of what dreams are made of

I've always had vivid dreams. The kind of dreams where you're really not sure if you're awake or not. I can hear, read, touch and my dreams are always in colour. These are apparently things most people don't or can't do. I'm not sure why I can or why I do dream the things I do. But for lack of a better way to put it, it's interesting.

Recently, I had a dream that has stuck with me (No ladies...not THAT dream, although that dream stuck with me too and was VERY interesting to say the LEAST!) and I have revisited it more than a few times in my waking hours. I'm not going to go into great detail, because truth be told it would make a great book that I may just take advantage of at some point (once I write umpteen OTHER stories I have on the go currently!). But trying to get it from my brain down on paper has been a bitch!! I have this scene I'm wanting desperately to get from my brain out onto paper (yes...I write my stories on paper and then transfer them to digital) but I just can't get the vision written out properly. I know how I want the scene to flow, but it's just not coming out properly in word form. Talk about frustrating and failure to launch! Oy vey!

I frequently will have little blurbs that I will write, various ideas and scenes. Perhaps they'll work in a story I'm already working on, or maybe they won't. In any case, I write them out and use them later or tuck them away for another time.

I love writing (in case you hadn't guessed). I find it relaxing, and an outlet for my thoughts. Would the stories I write be construed as my feelings? Sometimes I think yes. Sometimes definitely not. It's a form of escapism I suppose. Some people knit, some people paint, some people bake, I write. It can be time consuming but for me, it's relaxing. So much so, that there are some occasions when I can't write that I find I become annoyed and agitated. I suppose it's like trying to suppress someone trying to get out pent up energy.

Sometimes I find that I get overwhelmed with detail, and I guess that can be a good thing. I think the one thing I like when reading a book I'm enjoying is being able to visualize the surroundings or characters. For me, it makes the writing more immersible and something I can get lost in. The devil may be in the details but I would certainly write the devil in a 3 piece suit, with long dark tendrils and chestnut eyes and can intoxicate and betwixt a woman with a mere arch of his eyebrow and a wry smile. Oh wait...that's not the devil...that's John Taylor. And what a fiiiiiiiiiine looking devil he is...

But I digress. I suppose I should close this entry and trundle off to dream land. The place where anything can happen - and has! Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to find the words I so desperately need to get my thoughts down on paper. Until then...

One Last Glimpse,

~K