tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-323567712024-03-23T10:58:36.822-07:00waiting on the front porchshe just stood there on the front porch
waiting for her will to come and get her
she was packed
she had a suitcase full of noble intentions
she had a map and a straight face
hell bent on reinvention
she was learning about please
and huge humilities
then one day she looked around her
and everything up til then was showing
and she wondered how did i get here
without even knowing where i was going?
~ani difrancobeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-83765838980377523322006-12-15T11:51:00.000-08:002006-12-15T11:52:59.422-08:00and for my next trick...*pooof!*<br /><br />bee got mad at blogger and moved. but please come visit! it's <a href="http://waitingonthefrontporch.wordpress.com">the same porch</a>, just a different house!<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-47601429528641297872006-12-13T16:34:00.000-08:002006-12-13T17:11:42.082-08:00under the weather<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAU8TiPEWxyBqdT4n2RfTLD6xd6y72qa6f8Uxp4Speb8Tzh-25VW2spvhDqoJzfwU9VJvLRynW0Mc2n6TVJx4sPTCUba-b3ERX4mKeRl4lIM-2iCgx4ichIM3kAMFYJIrNx5gD/s1600-h/salt+lamp.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAU8TiPEWxyBqdT4n2RfTLD6xd6y72qa6f8Uxp4Speb8Tzh-25VW2spvhDqoJzfwU9VJvLRynW0Mc2n6TVJx4sPTCUba-b3ERX4mKeRl4lIM-2iCgx4ichIM3kAMFYJIrNx5gD/s320/salt+lamp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008176119330614034" /></a> i feel like i've been quieter lately, although that doesn't appear to be the case - i'm still posting every few days, which i guess is good. my posts have been lacking something though - for me - and i can't quite put my finger on it. i guess that it's just that i'm not really thinking about much. <br /><br />i have a sneaking feeling something is up with my health, so i'm making an appointment to see the doctor. i haven't really bounced back from that fever/migraine combo of two weeks ago. i'm pretty tired; i've been sleeping 12 hours a night, and while that sounds luxurious, it's sort of scaring me, because my body just shuts off when it feels like it. i'm lucky to get to 9 pm. these days. and i feel foggy throughout the day - at work i'm getting the reputation of a well-meaning space cadet. (well, not really. but that's what i think.)<br /><br />i'm also working a lot: they suckered me in for 6 days this week. the good thing about that is is that i'm rubbing up against all these health products so today i finally caved and bought some wheat grass juice. my boss keeps feeding me all these articles about health issues in hopes that she can fix me. <br />i'm contemplating doing a fast/cleanse once i eat a bit more of my groceries...(right around the christmas season! riiiight!) to see if that will clean me out a bit. <br /><br />i've been watching "<a href="http://http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0335119/"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0335119/">girl with a pearl earring</a></a>" and getting really into art again. my god, i wish i was artistic. like, truly artistic, and not in the folk-arty kind of way that i am. i admire people who can use their hands to create art so much. <br />there's this part in the movie where griet and vermeer are sitting side by side crushing the tints to make paint, and i got such a visceral reaction from it...can you imagine creating a painting from every step? stretching the canvas, crushing the pigment, adding water to make paint, manipulating the brushes, and making something breathe underneath your touch?<br /><br />i love art. i think i love all types of it. it lodges right into my solar plexus and makes me think, makes me ache to get my hands dirty, gives me a million ideas even as i focus slowly on one aspect...yum. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAKb5xHVXEAnOI67CZKLF9PbN-X4JoEwbiTZCHvV6pCFDuj5Jsf2JAYAHVPaKUjLIudaTdH1g_6Yu74w1gn1hxx9Uk2xO93Eb7jxj7AHF6VuA9Y0F00PL-VKRVpxZ5MB36-oa/s1600-h/pearl_earring.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAKb5xHVXEAnOI67CZKLF9PbN-X4JoEwbiTZCHvV6pCFDuj5Jsf2JAYAHVPaKUjLIudaTdH1g_6Yu74w1gn1hxx9Uk2xO93Eb7jxj7AHF6VuA9Y0F00PL-VKRVpxZ5MB36-oa/s320/pearl_earring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008181805867313954" /></a><br /><br />i'd love to trade inspiration with you. what inspires you? can we give each other new directions to follow?<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-20799084329028100972006-12-12T07:46:00.000-08:002006-12-12T09:17:34.429-08:00the coolest meme ever<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3r28ZoQ0Qlzk2LWDUglkAONki7Wm5iPyXP9Q3uZXCBS1YYQauOvYDL9VCLMyUliLDqzzsWoPgqKJKuQyQjHMXrzlla3bUUGrAyqNLYukuFAU6c7paMrsEa8FGkj7JIFUMjvXn/s1600-h/crayons.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3r28ZoQ0Qlzk2LWDUglkAONki7Wm5iPyXP9Q3uZXCBS1YYQauOvYDL9VCLMyUliLDqzzsWoPgqKJKuQyQjHMXrzlla3bUUGrAyqNLYukuFAU6c7paMrsEa8FGkj7JIFUMjvXn/s320/crayons.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007681227126710866" /></a><br />"The first five people to respond to this post (via the comments section) will get some form of art made by me. The only catch, of course: as with most memes, if you sign up, you have to put this in your own blog as well."<br /><br />C R E A T E <br /><br />something for the first five. shoot me an email with your address. i got this from the fabulous <a href="http://rubygirl.typepad.com">ruby-cube</a>, as well as the divine <a href="http://swampgrrl.typepad.com">swamp grrl</a>, as well as the luscious <a href="http://colorsonmymind.blogspot.com">thea</a>...<br /><br />this is, quite literally, the most BRILLIANT meme i've ever seen. who doesn't want to get some arty love from her bloggie sisters? eggg-xactly. i am dying for the chance to love up five people...(most of you i was going to anyway...) so drop me a comment, and i promise you, i will get you something.<br />***************************<br /><br />1. Eggnog or Hot Chocolate? mostly hot chocolate, but nothing quite beats a christmas-eve rum nog. <br />2. Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree? see, i'm lucky in that i'm not expected to get gifts for the adults in my life, (ie: my stepfather or my godmother) because they know i'm poor, and my sister and i decided to stop buying each other "have-to" gifts long ago. so....neither. <br />3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? coloured. blinky-blink. but anything festive, really. they tend to stay up year round.<br />4. Do you hang mistletoe? i used to have some plastic mistletoe that i kept up year round, too, but i think i ditched it in the last move. <br />5. When do you put your decorations up? i have no idea where the box of "bee decorations" is at the moment. i hope my stepfather is keeping it in storage for me. but i haven't yet.<br />6. What is your favorite holiday dish? my mom's orange coffee cake.<br />7. Favorite holiday memory as a child? every year, banane and i would have a "sleepover" on christmas eve. giggling like six-year-olds until we dropped off, spooning, has to take the cake, for sure. <br />8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? the year after i was 10. i really didn't want to let the magic go, and the 'grandmother' who lived down the stree convinced me that she'd seen him one year when i was wavering. that sustained me for a while.<br />9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? yes. usually - i don't get as many as i used to, but when gifts meant more to me, i did.<br />10. What kind of cookies does Santa get set out for him? i think it depended on the year...i can't remember.<br />11. Snow! Love it or hate it? love it. don't love it by february, but LOVE IT in december.<br />12. Can you ice skate? yes...but i can't exactly stop once i start. :)<br />13. Do you remember your favorite gift? i was 6. my mom made me a cabbage patch doll because we were too poor for her to buy one. her name was maggie. i loved that thing.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5APduF0jQptH0kZAfGL9xI2N176WoM2uNWRyN-pPQIZGlUt4fOR8a4F-0r3ByC4okzNbVZZuquim-jum4kre4PgyKM3zTw7gDQi3MfIrdXyEIC1LnCBE3Xxl-vGKDtilk-Yr/s1600-h/rudy.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5APduF0jQptH0kZAfGL9xI2N176WoM2uNWRyN-pPQIZGlUt4fOR8a4F-0r3ByC4okzNbVZZuquim-jum4kre4PgyKM3zTw7gDQi3MfIrdXyEIC1LnCBE3Xxl-vGKDtilk-Yr/s320/rudy.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007681523479454306" /></a><br /><br />14. What's the most important thing about the holidays to you? banane - family.<br />15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? i like fruit cake at this time of the year. don't ask me why or how.<br />16. Favorite Holiday tradition? see #7.<br />17. What tops your tree? it used to be a gold tinselly star - the most gaudy thing in all the land. now, i think it's an angel.<br />18. Which do you prefer--GIVING OR RECEIVING? GIVING. hands freaking down.<br />19. What is your favorite Christmas Carol? o holy night used to make me cry. there's something about the progression of the notes.<br />20. Candy Canes? every so often, why not?<br /><br /><br />Tag! You're it....<br />******************************************************<br />p.s. on a completely unrelated note, i feel like i need to mention <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2684890&page=1">this</a>. i don't know if y'all have heard of <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2684890&page=1">this</a>, but my hackles shot through the roof. i was listening to the cbc yesterday (the canadian version of npr) and this guy was talking about how evil does exist in the world...it exists in the form of people who impose their will on the selves, whether physical or emotional, of others. <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2684890&page=1">this</a> would qualify.<br />how can we stop this? how can we protect the world?<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-35339957805034419462006-12-11T17:27:00.000-08:002006-12-11T17:59:29.966-08:00monday musings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaQw8dedRMRcCHMBCOb-GSMC8Tw_SKoethPQe1baNNAnod3Fnhhh0YvvsqrtIt_reVZDQwbFDxeeIPmFC7Utk2wekH152sloq8uLGkWYwvC1sI3wr86TRIPJSGjkkcaf9pceS/s1600-h/odd+day.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaQw8dedRMRcCHMBCOb-GSMC8Tw_SKoethPQe1baNNAnod3Fnhhh0YvvsqrtIt_reVZDQwbFDxeeIPmFC7Utk2wekH152sloq8uLGkWYwvC1sI3wr86TRIPJSGjkkcaf9pceS/s320/odd+day.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007446027370085522" /></a><br /><br />today i woke up late, and as it always does the odd time or two when i sleep past 10, it threw off my entire day. when i sleep in, i feel like i wander around in a perpetual fog, unable to kickstart myself into any sort of productive rhythm. i was still in my cat hair-covered bathrobe by 2, having made a stab at drinking a pot of coffee and eating a few bowls of oatmeal, trying to finish watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0365737/combined">syriana</a> for the third day in a row.<br /><br />the morning blurred from its low, grey, damp state into the afternoon. after wandering from my computer in the bedroom through the living room to the kitchen a few dozen times, i finally shook myself and got dressed, and got out of the house. <br /><br />i was going to get my hair cut, but the little middle-eastern place where i get it done is closed on mondays. <br /><br />i was going to go buy some winter clothes so i could stop layering my tank tops, but the sign i saw for reitmans was actually just a bill board. <br /><br />i went to my work to buy groceries and ended up getting scheduled for the rest of the week. it's good - i need the money, and my boss ended up telling me how much she likes me. job security is good. <br /><br />money. funny what an insidious worry it is. i never thought, growing up, that i would be the kind of person who would worry about money, but i guess that's just part and parcel of being bad with it, living on your own, and trying to make sure there's enough of it to get by. <br /><br />the past week i've come to realize how much i love my home. trying to think of why i love it so much is difficult to describe. it has hardwood floors (which i refuse to cover) and large windows (ditto) that face south, and get lots of light. i've stocked the window ledges with plants and crystals and candle holders. my sister's art hangs on the walls. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74TtnMXyC5mQVsQ80KTL3d1Q211uJticSSoWr5fFWM7QihHw6S1upEvjB0oCVNXBLZq5WXCo6mA23QMrvSt1tzSbnnmF8LbPwpNntRiPm9suKY5ytYXC4NyHtEI6HkBajdioc/s1600-h/my+lroom.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74TtnMXyC5mQVsQ80KTL3d1Q211uJticSSoWr5fFWM7QihHw6S1upEvjB0oCVNXBLZq5WXCo6mA23QMrvSt1tzSbnnmF8LbPwpNntRiPm9suKY5ytYXC4NyHtEI6HkBajdioc/s320/my+lroom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007449974445030562" /></a><br />i've carried on some family traditions. my mother loved to listen to the radio in the kitchen because HER mother did, so i do too. (and love it.) i keep a rooster in there too, because in some tradition it's considered lucky. i have a chubby cat as my constant companion who sleeps on the $10 rug i got from ikea and who eats my leftovers without compunction. <br /><br />in the past 8 years i haven't lived anywhere longer than 6 months. 8 if you count the last place i lived in, where the last 2 months were spent mostly in b.c. more than anything now, i feel like i need a home, and this place has been magical for me. it's allowed me to do a lot of healing within its walls - hardcore and sometimes uncomfortable healing, but healing nonetheless.<br /><br />i feel safe here. safe in more than just the physical sense; something spiritual in me matches up with the energy of this place. i have lived here now for five months. in another four, my super is going to come and ask me if i want to renew my lease. i want to say yes, every fibre in my being wants to stay here, but the simple fact of the matter is i doubt i will be able to afford it, unless something drastic happens with my finances. <br /><br />it makes me sad. i still don't feel like i've moved in completely, (the walls are still kind of bare, i haven't committed to the amethyst bedroom i dreamed of), and i'm already somewhat saying goodbye. <br /><br />beyond this bit of melancholy, i know a few things: i know that what is meant to happen will happen; i know that my 'home' doesn't really matter, that my home is with my loved one; that i can take it all down and put it all back up again and the new place will be just as...new. as good. <br /><br />the universe will take care of me, i know that, i just wish a miracle could happen.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-63682831592941136092006-12-09T17:00:00.000-08:002006-12-09T17:27:15.776-08:00feeling.....sassy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfdz52nUHE3B9g7vMipruo2HfNKYhy0GuvUCGxMhJUGrY25kwhpRDcSQJPYW1SYUoJ1QEEpnxxYnCLM-m7OzNjw0TVivaU7gB3Khz_UJeQW6x7JRoZ3BXxqquIJ67-dbdudV9_/s1600-h/redbest.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfdz52nUHE3B9g7vMipruo2HfNKYhy0GuvUCGxMhJUGrY25kwhpRDcSQJPYW1SYUoJ1QEEpnxxYnCLM-m7OzNjw0TVivaU7gB3Khz_UJeQW6x7JRoZ3BXxqquIJ67-dbdudV9_/s320/redbest.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006697281426406434" /></a><br />have you guys ever read this book? it's by kathy stinson, and i LOVED it when i was growing up. it's just a simple story about a little girl who can't explain it to the people around her why things are so much better when they're red. (juice tastes better when she drinks it from the red cup; her red mitts pack better snow balls; her red pajamas keep the monsters away, and on and on.)<br />it really is one of the cutest things i've ever read, and of course i thought of <a href="http://debrichardson.blogspot.com">miss deb</a> when i saw it again.<br /><br />today i had a <em>red day</em>. what that means to me is, simply, that i had a blast, for no particular reason at all. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjschXYggrqV9kr_CnGigYh_vw75rXJsDDqzoAVpB5M5ngkTdraGMMhWjK2LynbcG2VZ40C_eVZFA0FCT4Uvec6jW4Y6B6FWm2TR5rnRKskXU8KKIsd-0ELPjYcfYJPpltqB84n/s1600-h/redsunset.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjschXYggrqV9kr_CnGigYh_vw75rXJsDDqzoAVpB5M5ngkTdraGMMhWjK2LynbcG2VZ40C_eVZFA0FCT4Uvec6jW4Y6B6FWm2TR5rnRKskXU8KKIsd-0ELPjYcfYJPpltqB84n/s320/redsunset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006697290016341042" /></a><br />i went to work, and got to make signs all day. art always makes me feel happy, especially when i get to play with chalk. chalk makes me think of the blackboard that we had in the basement of our family's house. the weight of it in my fingers makes me happy - how you HAVE to make thick, heavy lines with it. <br /><br />i bought some figs, and some extra coffee, and then i walked to the grocery store and on the way got lured in by a florist's shop. i did exceedingly well in there, considering, and only left with a fern, a jade plant, and one stem of gladiola. it's been forever since i bought some plants, and these were incredibly cheap.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99DFf2rPxWt4fUAp75XVAON2V-LVIx204qOjUwHTbEx6b0oaCfY8RCOvvt6DDF4S0HRF73VmGxCPFB_VnKFLGFeZJI6xR3X1ye8cFExuVrhApFMAtX3-K8yJDU26dAbSWfy35/s1600-h/redaccordion.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99DFf2rPxWt4fUAp75XVAON2V-LVIx204qOjUwHTbEx6b0oaCfY8RCOvvt6DDF4S0HRF73VmGxCPFB_VnKFLGFeZJI6xR3X1ye8cFExuVrhApFMAtX3-K8yJDU26dAbSWfy35/s320/redaccordion.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006697294311308354" /></a><br />i'm a bit tired but i still want to clean my apartment and watch a movie before i go to bed. it's funny, now that the pressure of school is off i don't really have any ideas for blog posts...well, i have one. i'll write that tomorrow.<br /><br />this poem strikes me as a very "me" poem today:<br /><br />WHAT WILL YOU BE?<br /><br />they never stop asking me<br />"what will you be?-<br />a doctor, a dancer, <br />a diver at sea?"<br /><br />they never stop bugging me:<br />"what will you BE?"<br />as if they expect me to <br />stop being me.<br /><br />when i grow up i'm going to be a sneeze,<br />and sprinkle germs on all my enemies.<br /><br />when i grow up i'm going to be a toad,<br />and dump on silly questions in the road.<br /><br />when i grow up, i'm going to be a child. <br />i'll play the whole day and drive them wild.<br /><br />-dennis lee, from "garbage delight", 1977<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXm5Azy7QwIRm6mha2IB1JVUC4GFaC4xBw66gR2Z_wslkcxstaA6gJ2FfHTlz9jort0-B7PLkOz-xAaNlBsLDlQ8X-x70ZipG0fp4jpei8BlM2UpQsrnkWTvgAegal3fqKobK/s1600-h/redroom.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXm5Azy7QwIRm6mha2IB1JVUC4GFaC4xBw66gR2Z_wslkcxstaA6gJ2FfHTlz9jort0-B7PLkOz-xAaNlBsLDlQ8X-x70ZipG0fp4jpei8BlM2UpQsrnkWTvgAegal3fqKobK/s320/redroom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006697294311308370" /></a><br /><br />yes, so this is me today. a bit silly, a LOT sassy, a dash of bratty....just, basically, RED through and through.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHPfYoSfGs_fG2TwJev2wDTJ0A1hzBIzQglVPbQqzd8Zh9CPRyT5oaMKzCkG9srP9wPkXMHWigErMXGicspuXiLlxhqth4vw7SWh_DsZgWrVlThV039_Ydhd9v_JxZEmu4PBw/s1600-h/Red-Rose-best-bloom_small1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHPfYoSfGs_fG2TwJev2wDTJ0A1hzBIzQglVPbQqzd8Zh9CPRyT5oaMKzCkG9srP9wPkXMHWigErMXGicspuXiLlxhqth4vw7SWh_DsZgWrVlThV039_Ydhd9v_JxZEmu4PBw/s320/Red-Rose-best-bloom_small1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006697294311308386" /></a><br /><br />p.s. for some reason, i can't comment on anybody's blogs today...i'm so sorry! i've been trying but nothing is happening.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-27057630026268581562006-12-08T13:21:00.000-08:002006-12-08T14:17:56.631-08:00victory garden<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GmPIYgklG3XgI0gambBkWDO0ghJjIVBX1ToQJaun5PoMwUYzGTa7V81jKYMc5VKpbx0exhzzMpKtg3iaNitcwq0kOifzuJ2wppTZgwaqJhGpBzYy0uBgOMlSltKmNWdmWdhI/s1600-h/Sow_victory_poster_usgovt.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GmPIYgklG3XgI0gambBkWDO0ghJjIVBX1ToQJaun5PoMwUYzGTa7V81jKYMc5VKpbx0exhzzMpKtg3iaNitcwq0kOifzuJ2wppTZgwaqJhGpBzYy0uBgOMlSltKmNWdmWdhI/s320/Sow_victory_poster_usgovt.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006269421079346178" /></a><br />i have this vase that sits in my cupboard - i painted it one year as a gift for my mother for mother's day. there's a black-eyed susan on it, and the words, <em>mothers soothe the soul's garden</em>, in blurred black on the bottom. i've always liked the idea of a person's inner space being living and dynamic, like a bed of soil where one can plant whatever they wish. <br /><br />the other night, when i was struggling with my last assignment, i started googling images that were associated with the word "victory", (yes, i was already planning my 'i did it' post), and these pictures came up. <br /><br />i like vintage things (movies, clothes, wines, deco), so i was struck by the graphics on the posters and had to learn more about what 'victory gardens' actually were. according to a teeny bit of internet research, they were a project the u.s. government undertook to encourage american citizens to grow their own produce so the agricultural production could be channeled directly to the allied troops overseas.<br /><br />this idea sort of seemed like a no-brainer to me, in the 'take production back into your own hands, grow your own food' sense, but i quickly took it away from its original intention and re-appropriated it as my own. <br /><br />and i thought - what does my soul need to feel replenished right now? what can i give to it that would be like leaving a field fallow for 3 years? what would restore the pH balance to my inner garden? and so i planned my first day off. <br /><br />after i dropped off my essay, i bought myself a coffee, went to the library and borrowed 4 children's books: <br /><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Alligator-Pie-Dennis-Lee/dp/1552633381">alligator pie</a><br /><a href="http://www.bookloons.com/cgi-bin/Review.ASP?bookid=709">garbage delight</a><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Falling-Up-Shel-Silverstein/dp/0060248025">falling up </a><br />and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Sidewalk-Ends-Poems-Drawings/dp/0060256672">where the sidewalk ends</a><br /><br />...basically because my brain has been filled with gigantic amounts of "adult" books lately, but also because immersing myself in children's things reminds me how much they spark a different side of creativity, a side that still lives within me, but that i neglect from time to time.<br /><br />i came home and fell asleep for a dreamless nap that lasted 4 hours. i got up and made miso soup, went to the video store and rented <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0169547/">american beauty</a>, and bought myself a cheap tiramisu. <br /><br />i don't think i've watched american beauty since it came out in 1999, and i've wanted to since, and i was so glad i did. what an exquisitely crafted, and written script. the actors are all so incredible, the cinematography was gorgeous, and it was superb. and i knew i was doing it for just me. <br />(which is, of course, fine every once in a while).<br /><br />by then it was 10 and i was sleepy again (i'm still a bit sick) so i just went to my bed and curled up in it and fell asleep...and i woke up sprawled out in all directions.<br /><br />i have a question for you: what can you do to water your 'victory garden'? what does your soul need to feel replenished? maybe you haven't done anything you feel is particularly noteworthy today - so what? life is here, happening, and you're an intrinsic part of this life, and you should celebrate your own existence. because you're lovely, and you so deserve a gesture of appreciation from the person who knows you best. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEqKQJy2om1r96j7LuoPF1CzmycbN0otnrkONNqFmIeb4jMe1-RFsf8uIYrFYEBmi_t8nl4_VK3Cenli_tM8l4Pveh6MZbvZGXMsy0k1zp5KoVdhpZL8-AqgCPHknPNg74fMv/s1600-h/growing-plant-web.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEqKQJy2om1r96j7LuoPF1CzmycbN0otnrkONNqFmIeb4jMe1-RFsf8uIYrFYEBmi_t8nl4_VK3Cenli_tM8l4Pveh6MZbvZGXMsy0k1zp5KoVdhpZL8-AqgCPHknPNg74fMv/s320/growing-plant-web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006282838557178898" /></a><br />it feels really good. wholesome. healthy. holistic. sacred. <br /><br />plant something within yourself...bead a new necklace, light candles when you make supper, and watch how the shoots that are inside of you unfold, welcome the warmth of that attention...it's a beautiful thing.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-63428125804054347242006-12-06T21:56:00.000-08:002006-12-06T22:08:28.153-08:00holy crap<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxmNdTMRpB_eVuGFuL-QuKCiY-VSP1_Wnxg9mz4HJwUNUrJEp-yFEJzHyf0YLraydhZTyiu2NwvUcwiG836Up8opbCHZvu66BP5YzCixM3_xcVb5aTfWUg193vQPwgcDi-22C/s1600-h/happy_dance.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxmNdTMRpB_eVuGFuL-QuKCiY-VSP1_Wnxg9mz4HJwUNUrJEp-yFEJzHyf0YLraydhZTyiu2NwvUcwiG836Up8opbCHZvu66BP5YzCixM3_xcVb5aTfWUg193vQPwgcDi-22C/s320/happy_dance.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005662318862121954" /></a><br />guys. i'm <strong></strong>DONE<strong></strong>!!!<br /><br />it is 12:57 am. i just finished my last assignment for the semester. the semester that almost killed me, yes, but taught me oh-so-much-more than just book-larnin. <br /><br />i have a month off. <br /><br />what the hell am i going to do?<br /><br />ONE WHOLE FREAKING MONTH. weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!<br /><br />you know what was weird right before i sat myself down for the final. bloody. time. to write this thing, i found a tiny, paper flower on my desk by the keyboard.<br /><br />now, i don't do tiny paper flowers. i have NO idea how this tiny paper flower got to be in my apartment in the first place, let alone how it magically appeared on my desk, by my hand. <br /><br />it looks like a chamomile flower. and because i'm a google-freak, i googled chamomile symbolism. apparently, it means wisdom, luck, and longevity. COOL. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR57wnIu6156x8RGx19ARAOsAnRP4oxvPR41QSFcB88JffthM5lCbqihOlEsZtspT2wk1zX8Vg4CqhBmyQsmewDISW5wg3_NI03Mk5vI6aH-Qg1LvuiShdKUhLtil-41e2jEj/s1600-h/cham.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR57wnIu6156x8RGx19ARAOsAnRP4oxvPR41QSFcB88JffthM5lCbqihOlEsZtspT2wk1zX8Vg4CqhBmyQsmewDISW5wg3_NI03Mk5vI6aH-Qg1LvuiShdKUhLtil-41e2jEj/s320/cham.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005662069754018770" /></a><br /><br />i love everybody right now. i feel like i just won a war with one of the most uncomfortable parts of myself - the part that is afraid to succeed.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-19534582556686154482006-12-06T12:52:00.000-08:002006-12-06T13:19:28.198-08:00meme, meme, meme, MEEEEEEEEEMMMMMME<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KzusetoheqtxbJpAls3SP9h9LqoQFl8xYGvARGiES0nxsP2p2FTEJUWEHWynF_ozOCMXbcjHKEf6qt3vXpqZR7u4GFGkwe1RoHFBE9LVjEyAdhu64JQRmyDjtsZNAepDJl4a/s1600-h/aswell.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KzusetoheqtxbJpAls3SP9h9LqoQFl8xYGvARGiES0nxsP2p2FTEJUWEHWynF_ozOCMXbcjHKEf6qt3vXpqZR7u4GFGkwe1RoHFBE9LVjEyAdhu64JQRmyDjtsZNAepDJl4a/s320/aswell.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005523204871404466" /></a><br />well, i'm having a hard time writing this damn assignment. my body's being a bit crabby (because i haven't really moved in a week, i still have a bit o'fever and my head's got this intermittent, nails-on-a-chalkboard thing going on) and i'm getting frustrated because..."really bee? it's two pages. and it's the last thing you have to do before a MONTH LONG BREAK. would you do it already, please?" <br />does anyone else have this problem??<br /> <br />...so, to "soothe the savage beast" i thought i'd do a meme. because they DO soothe me, for some ODD reason. i like quizzes. always have. remember MASH? loved that too. and mad libs. i just like filling out things.<br /><br />here we go!<br /><br />List ten things you want to say to people you know but you never will, for whatever reason. Don't say who they are. Use each person only once.<br /><br />10. the only reason i'm keeping you in my life is for the money i might get from your death one day. i think you owe me that much. <br /><br />9. i wish you had just told me the truth. it would have hurt still, but for a lot less. it would have showed me you respected me.<br /><br />8. you changed my life in a really powerful, gentle way and i think about you a lot. thank you.<br /><br />7. i'm sorry. there was a lot of stuff going on with me at the time, but it still doesn't excuse my behaviour. <br /><br />6. marry me.<br /><br />5. i was jealous of you for too long, but i understand why now.<br /><br />4. if i had been single at the time, i totally would have asked you out. you're really attractive.<br /><br />3. authority figure or no, if you touch me again, i'll rip your fucking arm off.<br /><br />2. i thought you were the most beautiful person i had ever seen when i was growing up.<br /><br />1. teach me everything you know. i am ready.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-69015238124797558302006-12-06T07:50:00.000-08:002006-12-06T13:22:23.729-08:00a thoughtful thought<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3s4VXCMFGOH92HpimmRiKohtRAVzmj-2RHHQ_Pl6tCx88P6yG-6W69g8hp0hjkUq6O2wko6D1LgCLnlWPcPtRlz6NFqd-etQATzT0kFej0ygfDp2LXLVs0MMPO3bH7Wb5bxUD/s1600-h/laker+and+leif.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3s4VXCMFGOH92HpimmRiKohtRAVzmj-2RHHQ_Pl6tCx88P6yG-6W69g8hp0hjkUq6O2wko6D1LgCLnlWPcPtRlz6NFqd-etQATzT0kFej0ygfDp2LXLVs0MMPO3bH7Wb5bxUD/s320/laker+and+leif.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005527259320531906" /></a><br /><br /><br />these bouncing babes are my cousins leif (the blond) and lakshmi (the brunette). they live in the yukon and are the children of my cousin, jay, a woman who by rights is more my sister than anything. when she adopted them, i became an aunt for the first time - and oh, my god, is anything better than being an aunt?<br /><br />they were born in march, 2005, and had some of the problems that twins have upon birth. lakshmi was the fighting big sister, (wisely named after a tough indian goddess) and leif (named after leif ericksson - yes, the kids are destined to be great warriors)- well, it was touch-and-go for the little puff for a while. he was flown to the icu in a hospital in ottawa, where he stayed, incubated, for 6 weeks while his parents tried to deal with...everything. i was living in ottawa at the time and some of my most precious memories are of being suited up in the cap and mask, sitting in a rocking chair, and holding the newest member of our family - all 3.5 pounds of him. <br /><br />his skin was translucent. he was covered in tubes. he snuffled and slept a lot and he smelled like a miracle. <br /><br />out of the two, leif has always been the more accomodating. he's such a happy-go-lucky, sweet-tempered kid, who loves watching golf with his daddy or swinging in his mechanical swing set. lakshmi, on the other hand - is a FIRECRACKER. good LORD. <br />she was the one to roll over first, crawl first, walk first - and she knew her mind early and was NOT afraid to articulate her point of view. i remember, on my trip up to the yukon in august 2005, it took laker a while to trust me, but once she did, she wanted to be "up". "down" was NEVER an option. so i put on a solid five pounds of muscle carrying her precious weight around because...well, it was just easier on everybody that way. <br /><br />they are both such miracles - completely different children (which i marvel at) but so so SO special. <br /><br />now imagine.<br /><br />imagine them in 17 years. it's their first day of their first year in college. they never stopped being each other's best buddy so they plan to take the bus together. they have different classes for the morning but agree to meet up in the cafeteria for lunch. lakshmi has geography all morning; leif has intro to architecture. they both doodle in the margins of their new notebooks. <br /><br />when they meet up in the cafeteria it's with a burst of relief. lakshmi immediately starts up with the teasing, which leif counters by silently slipping french fries in her knapsack. they can see the other students looking at them - always the wondering, and lakshmi tells leif they should just print t-shirts saying "yes, we're twins" on the front and "twins can be best friends, too" on the back. leif almost chokes on his laughter. <br /><br />someone comes up to their table. leif notices first, but thinks nothing of it - the guy could just be looking for a place to eat lunch, after all. <br /><br />the guy has a gun.<br /><br />in a deep voice that suddenly echoes through the whole cafeteria, the guy tells lakshmi and leif to separate. he digs the gun into her side. she panics a little and leif is panicking too, but he stays calm for her, and nods; he'll figure a way out. the guy starts screaming,<br /><br />"boys on one side! girls on the other!" over and over, and the cafeteria explodes into chaos. all these young kids screaming and crying, but doing what they're told, thinking that it will save them.<br /><br />once he has them separated, the guy starts shooting. <br /><br />funny, how methodical death can be sometimes. <br /><br />"doing what they're told" doesn't save 14 of the women in that cafeteria.<br /><br />lakshmi is one of them.<br /><br />*<br /><br />i tell people two things about myself on a regular basis. the first is that i became a feminist when i was 11 years old, and the second is that montreal is so much my home because i chose it - i dreamed myself here. <br /><br />these two facts about myself collided in an "oh my god" eureka moment a few days ago, when the tell-tale belly twitch (that lets my memory know an anniversary was coming) started twitching. <br /><br />17 years ago TODAY, a man entered a room in a building of l'ecole polytechnique and separated the women from the men. shouting, "you're all a bunch of feminists, and I hate feminists," he opened fire on the women, and killed 14 of them. his reasons, beyond madness, were fairly 'simple' - they were women enrolled in engineering, (typically, a man's profession), and had 'ruined his life' by taking away his prospects.<br /><br />i remember watching the news with my mother, and asking her what a feminist was. she told me that it was a person who believed in the equality of both genders, without discrimination.<br />"but there's nothing wrong with that." i said, puzzled, watching the stretchers get carried out of the school on the news.<br />"no," she said, "no, there isn't."<br />"can i be one?"<br />she looked at me, and smiled.<br />"it might make your life harder, but you can if you want to."<br />"i want to."<br /><br />and my birth as a feminist took place.<br /><br />and my love for a city was hatched. <br /><br />a city that has seen so much, hurt so much, buried so much, and yet been the locus for so much healing. december 6 is now a national day of remembrance for violence against women.<br /><br />i remember these women. <br /><br />i work (peacefully) to ensure equality among everyone, regardless of gender, sexuality, or ethnicity. <br /><br />i do it for lakshmi, and for leif. for their children, too. <br /><br />(i took some poetic license with the story, but please read more about it <a href="http://www.rapereliefshelter.bc.ca/dec6/macleans.html">here</a>, or <a href="http://www.nupge.ca/news_2005/n05de05a.htm">here</a>, or <a href="http://www.gendercide.org/case_montreal.html">here</a>, or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89cole_Polytechnique_Massacre">here</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-69920089779330430392006-12-05T06:52:00.000-08:002006-12-05T07:21:46.661-08:00my absence can be explained by the word "ow"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJtx7LuxJpfoy9iAIGYgsJNJtYm-GP0Wky-5GA_JAd7iL0yDxLPulPpbFj2dqrCIrT_z7hhDuOMEx75W-7hm09INtndVhOaqkxGLMziZhjR-lFgN11oC1g4T59spe7cW9S9VR/s1600-h/Cloudberry.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJtx7LuxJpfoy9iAIGYgsJNJtYm-GP0Wky-5GA_JAd7iL0yDxLPulPpbFj2dqrCIrT_z7hhDuOMEx75W-7hm09INtndVhOaqkxGLMziZhjR-lFgN11oC1g4T59spe7cW9S9VR/s320/Cloudberry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005062846249597970" /></a><br />okay. i am here, but just barely. <br /><br />i got sick with a fever on saturday that magically turned into migraine-from-hell on sunday, which has been off-and-on, (but mostly on) since. <br /><br />this has made doing anything, really, beyond lying in bed and taking long showers to beat the tension out of my body, almost impossible. <br /><br />can you believe i don't even own a bottle of advil? <br /><em></em>that<em></em> will be remedied shortly, i can tell you.<br /><br />you know what's ironic about this whole situation? i am sucking up sleep from everywhere - (got some hidden under your couch for safe-keeping? found that. put some in the medicine cabinet behind the toothpaste? that was gone on sunday) - and yet i'm <em></em>still<em></em> tired. <br /><br />seriously. <br /><br />i'm sorry if i've been absent from your blogs lately - i looked at them yesterday but was literally too exhausted to comment. but today i should finish an assignment and then my last class and then be DONE, so i'll be back in full force once my brain fits inside my skull properly.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-83400290264791127162006-11-30T05:47:00.000-08:002006-11-30T05:56:16.377-08:00poetry thursday<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/826860/lomoflower.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/615708/lomoflower.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />i didn't follow the prompt for <a href="http://poetrythursday.blogspot.com">poetry thursday</a>, because i've had neruda on the brain. i lent my collection of neruda poetry to my cuban friend one year and forgot to get it back from him when i moved. neruda's voice is one of the ones that flutters around in my head a lot. his rhythms ground me. <br /><br />this is one of my favourites. when banane moved to ecuador for 8 months, i kept a journal for her for every day she was gone, and i sent this poem to her right before she came back. i found it torn out of its original letter and taped to her current journal - it's just one of those poems that changes lives.<br /><br />Keeping Quiet <br />by Pablo Neruda. (trans. Alastair Reid.)<br />And now we will count to twelve<br />and we will all keep still. <br /><br />For once on the face of the earth<br />let's not speak in any language,<br />let's stop for one second,<br />and not move our arms so much. <br /><br />It would be an exotic moment<br />without rush, without engines,<br />we would all be together<br />in a sudden strangeness. <br /><br />Fisherman in the cold sea<br />would not harm whales<br />and the man gathering salt<br />would not look at his hurt hands. <br /><br />Those who prepare green wars,<br />wars with gas, wars with fire,<br />victory with no survivors, <br />would put on clean clothes<br />and walk about with their brothers<br />in the shade, doing nothing. <br /><br />What I want should not be confused<br />with total inactivity.<br />Life is what it is about,<br />I want no truck with death.<br /><br />If we were not so single-minded<br />about keeping our lives moving,<br />and for once could do nothing, <br />perhaps a huge silence<br />might interrupt this sadness<br />of never understanding ourselves<br />and of threatening ourselves with death. <br /><br />Perhaps the earth can teach us<br />as when everything seems dead<br />and later proves to be alive. <br /><br />Now I'll count up to twelve,<br />and you keep quiet and I will go.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-84353489778255059512006-11-29T18:39:00.000-08:002006-11-29T19:59:58.012-08:00tendril<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/36589/tendril.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/400/777442/tendril.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />i have been voraciously attracted to green things for the past couple years; i'm not sure when it started. mossy tree trunks, wet grass, maple leaves, radishes, cucumbers, acrylic paint. i stare at whatever it is, mesmerized, and feel calmed, energized, healed, nurtured, and held up to the light, all by one striking note of colour.<br /><br />green heals me. it reminds me of the earth; of regeneration; of stopping still; of being. <br /><br />i'm feeling off-balance today, for the simple reason that i haven't been taking care of myself for a few days. not taking care of myself means: not having bought healthy food a few days ago when i should have; not meditating; not doing yoga yesterday; not sleeping well. not taking <br /><em></em>care of myself<em></em>. i mean this more as a gentle reminder that the steps i have taken worked in stabilizing me, and i should continue to do them. <br /><br />i feel like a need a hug, is all. lately, i've felt strong enough to wrap my arms around myself and hang on. right now, not so much.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-7592893299937588662006-11-29T02:02:00.000-08:002006-11-29T17:52:30.238-08:005:42/8:05<em>Don't consider yourself a failure just because you might be stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. You may not be able to move freely enough to create the changes you desire. You are positioned better than you realize, but in order to make the most of it, you must open your mind wider than ever before. Then, hang on tight, for something big is about to happen. ~my horoscope for today</em><br /><br />guys, it's 5 am. i got up about 40 minutes ago, after having to crash once i got home from my workshop. i'm drinking a HUUUUUGE cup of black coffee and trying to ignore the fact that my body's not fitting right - you know when your skin itchs and your head hurts and all you can do is look at your amazing wonderful bed that's not even 10 feet away from you? <br /><br />i'm a ritualist in the sense that i like things a "certain way" before i start writing. for instance, my internet wouldn't boot up just now - so i had to call the company to check my connection, because i MUST have internet access when i'm on the computer. it's harder for me to write in the winter because i usually like to leave my feet bare, which can be cold in november. normally, i must have a clean desk (and by clean, i apparently mean covered in non-related school books - since when does anybody have time to read for PLEASURE? bwa ha ha ha; a hair dryer; hand lotion; cds; necklaces; incense; and my figurines). <br /><br />i'm writing a story that i think is going to be waaaaaaaay bigger than it should be, and i'm ALREADY having editing anxiety, and it isn't even <em></em>written yet<em></em>. i think i have an exam today - but i'm not sure. i think i'll just show up to class and check. i'm hoping it wasn't on monday. <br /><br />and in case you were wondering, this <em></em>is<em></em> all i think about right now: school (i have just today to get through, then an exam tomorrow, then a paper on monday); all the relationships i am neglecting to do school; work; my non-existant yoga practice; and oh - have i showered yet? (i just take one whenever i remember to, which has been every day so far. yippie!)<br /><br />i wonder...what is my life going to BE like in a week when i don't have to do this anymore? <br />i can already answer that! it's going to be REPAINTING MY APARTMENT!<br />********************************************************************<br /><strong></strong>postus scriptumus, 8:05 pm.<strong></strong> <br /><br />(picture bee, clinging to her computer desk) folks, i am getting OLD. appreciably. i can remember a time when i pulled all-nighters and the like 6 times in a row (okay...so i'm exaggerating) and laughed at sleep. SLEEP, I LAUGHED AT YOU. and now i am 28, and i am sad.<br />you know why? because i was RIGHT. my shakespeare exam WAS at 1 pm. today, which meant that i was sitting at my desk at 1 pm. (my friend actually laughed when i showed up, i haven't been in so long). and seriously? i hope i passed. i'm not joking. there was identify-passages, which sucked, because - have i read the plays? even if i had - and i swear, i read most of them - could i tell you who had actually spoke (spake?) them, or what the speeches meant to the play? then on to the second part - the essay questions - and i haven't been to the class in a few weeks (totally missed the review) so i didn't know exactly what plays we were being tested on...and, oh god. hear that whistling noise far off? that is the bee-bomb about to go off. <br />KAPOW!<br />then i went directly to the computer lab to finish WRITING and photocopying the story, and promptly forgot my computer disk there. so i was late to class, and it just so happens and i shit you not, we were CRITIQUING A STORY ABOUT LESBIAN PROSTITUTES WITH FABRIC NAMES (IE: GIN CUT COTTON) HAVING SEX WITH POTATOES AND BEING FED TO ALLIGATORS which was, actually, as wince-inducing as it sounds (and i hate to admit that. i really really do - i want to give props where props are due. but jesus god). <br /><br />then my professor drove me home. the professor who i've almost decided to ask to adopt me. i think he might say yes. and it was lovely and there was nothing odd about that but i did have this twinge where, i wondered, "is this cool?" not that i think he would EVER do anything untoward...but still. i get jumpy.<br /><br />then i spent an absurd. ABSURD. amount of money to nourish myself for the coming week. and now i'm too tired to make any of said nourishment and, oooooh looky, i've got 300 pages of psych to read. BY TOMORROW. AT 10 AM.<br /><br />bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/86190/Tree%2520and%2520Bamboo.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/384598/Tree%2520and%2520Bamboo.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />this tree makes me want to climb up it and go to sleep for 100 years, leaving a "do not disturb" sign for that pesky prince charming.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-70287597215646991652006-11-28T09:40:00.000-08:002006-11-28T09:48:32.945-08:00note to myself<em></em>when school quiets down, i need to touch base with the following people:<em></em><br /><br />-<a href="http://vespers-escape.blogspot.com">vesper</a><br />-<a href="http://rubygirl.typepad.com">ruby</a><br />-<a href="http://ravenn.blogspot.com">jessie</a><br />-<a href="http://inkonmyfingers.blogspot.com">susannah</a><br /><br />-<a href="http://meplus3.blogspot.com">mad</a><br />-<a href="http://debrichardson.blogspot.com">deb r</a><br /><br />-<a href="http://dailydotes.blogspot.com">darlene</a><br /><br />-<a href="http://asweetlife.typepad.com">michelle</a><br /><br />-<a href="http://countrymouseclaire.blogspot.com">claire</a><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/swampie.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/swampie.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />**this is just to let you know that i am fully aware that i owe you all emails, and that i love you to death and can't wait to touch base - except that i am swamped.**<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-83114340396217228612006-11-28T06:56:00.000-08:002006-11-28T07:08:49.776-08:00meme...because i'm sleepy and sort of stressed outthank god, i was tagged by <a href="http://ravenn.blogspot.com">jessie</a>. because quite honestly, i wanted to write something, but i have SO MUCH to do before...oooh, tomorrow? and it keeps going until thursday morning. i have a short story due tomorrow, plus a midterm in shakespeare that i need to read some plays for (and king lear? i have to slog through. that bitch is DENSE.) then i have a final exam in psych on thursday morning...which i need to read 6 chapters for. SIGH. basically, i'm not getting out of my pajamas until the last minute possible.<br /><br />if you would like to do this, consider yourself tagged.<br /><br />One word. No explanation.<br />1. Yourself: silly<br />2. Your partner: incredible<br />3. Your hair: bedhead<br />4. Your mother: loving<br />5. Your father: delusional<br />6. Your favorite item: mala<br />7. Your dream last night: pedophile<br />8. Your favorite drink: coffee<br />9. Your dream car: anything<br />10. The room you are in: office<br />11. Your ex: punk<br />12. Your fear: waste<br />13. What you want to be in 10 years: mother<br />14. Who you hung out with last night: bean<br />15. What you're not: conservative<br />16. Muffins: yes<br />17: One of your wish list items: blanket<br />18: Time: elastic<br />19. The last thing you did: blogsurf<br />20. What you are wearing: bathrobe<br /> 21. Your favorite weather: sunny<br />22. Your favorite book: all<br />23. The last thing you ate: yam<br />24. Your life: wonderful<br />25. Your mood: hungry<br />26. Your best friend: stressed<br />27. What you're thinking about right now: story<br />28. Your car: anything<br />29. What you are doing at the moment: smiling<br />30. Your summer: blur<br />31. Your relationship status: wonderful<br />32. What is on your TV: cloth<br />33. What is the weather like: metallic<br />34. When was the last time you laughed: earlier<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-53548744104439012162006-11-27T09:54:00.000-08:002006-11-27T10:53:42.122-08:00you wouldn't believe me if i told you; i'll try anyway.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/287843/wineglass.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/429382/wineglass.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>i'm sitting here, in my bathrobe, with my tiny cup of coffee by my right hand, my desk covered with books and zines and driftwood and its statues of ganesh and buddha and the goddess and my pills and my incense holder that's actually a piece of termite-eaten driftwood that i picked up off the beach in tofino this summer...the only sound i can hear is the hum of my old computer. my eyes keep getting drawn to the huge copy of <em>living artfully </em>that i want to roll around in.<br /><br /><div></div><div>basically, it's like i've never left, but oh-so-much-has happened in the four days that i have been away. i basically haven't stopped moving or drinking wine or hiking or talking or hugging or writing or cooking or singing since. now comes the part where i try and tell you all the story of my weekend.</div><br /><div>it starts when i turned off the computer from blogging my last entry. i knew i was going to be late to the bus station, and would probably miss my connection through to peterborough once i got to ottawa. i packed up my homework and stuffed a sweater and some underwear in a shoulder bag and went to the metro. i got to the bus station and climbed in a huge greyhound and it took me to ottawa. </div><br /><div>where i realized that the earliest i was going to leave for peterborough was at 12:30 am, so i decided to spend the night at my friend c's house.</div><br /><div>i didn't call or anything beforehand, i wanted it to be a complete surprise. so i walked the half-an-hour from the bus station to her house, all through little italy and down one of my favourite streets in ottawa - and finally stood on her doorstep and rang the bell. </div><br /><div>she opened the door, squealing with delight (which is always nice) and i noticed that she was wearing a knapsack on her back. </div><br /><div>"where are <em>you </em>going?" i asked her, and she said, "to the pool. i was going to take a hot-tub. do you want to go?"</div><br /><div>and i said, "sure."</div><br /><div>so she lent me one of her bathing suits and got me an extra towel and we walked the block up to the pool and swam some laps, then sat in the hot tub for a while and then steamed the stress out of our bodies in the steam room, chatchatchatting all the way. </div><br /><div>she was on her way to my other best friends' house to babysit her son while they all went out to celebrate my friend angell's birthday. so i went along with her, and the door opened and my friend k., who had surgery earlier this month, started crying and said, "i've been <em>calling you and calling you</em>. what took you so long?"</div><br /><div>(calling in the sense where she's been asking the universe to send me to her.) so that was nice, too. i hugged her back and told her i got there as soon as i could. c left with the baby, and k and i were sitting out on the picnic table in front of her house and she was smoking a cigarette and telling me the (horrific) details of her surgery when a car pulled up. </div><br /><div>and who should get out of it but our friend charlie, who is apparently <em>not </em>living in thailand forever and ever but is back on this continent for a few weeks. </div><br /><div>so amid the screams and welcome-home hugs and looking at all our physical differences (my hair cut, his lost weight, new tattoo and shaved head) it was a very heady welcome home indeed.</div><div> </div><div>george and i drove to pick up angell from her work and she screamed when she saw me, too. (apparently, i have to go back home more than once every 4 months.) and we brought her back to t's house and there was much wine and beer drinking, and a birthday cake in the shape of a pirate - and then we called two cabs and went to a west-end bar where there was karaoke...<br /></div><div></div><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/474462/kermit.jpg" border="0" />where there was MORE beer-drinking and bellowing of the "rainbow connection" and i ran into my best friend from high school (of all the bars in all the world i had to walk into hers) who had apparently written into a gameshow once, trying to find me.<br /><br /><div></div><div>we went home and i put myself to bed shortly thereafter. and woke up the next morning already having missed the first two buses to peterborough, and with a pounding headache that no amount of coffee would make better. george and i took his dog moe for a looooong walk in the beautiful november sunshine the half-an-hour back to the bus station and i tied my greasy hair up in my goddess scarf and got back on the bus for another 3 1/2 hours. </div><br /><div>*poof* out of ottawa.</div><br /><div>the ride to peterborough was uneventful, except that i realized that i had misplaced the directions to banane's new house somewhere in my foggy-headedness of that morning. so i read homework and listened to the only cd i had thought to bring with me, over and over until i got there. of course when i got there it was getting dark. and so thank god i remembered the first few directions on how to get there (up to <em>go across the pedestrian foot bridge</em>) and was hoping that someone would find me when....</div><br /><div>banane did. i crossed the foot bridge which brought me to this dog park, and there was banane, magically standing on the other side of it at a completely random moment, to take me home. with her wonderful puppy. so we walked home and i got to see her brand new house (her first-ever OWNED one) which is the cutest wee bungalow painted in earth tones and has a lot of reggae-influenced art and milk-crate furniture and a root cellar full of pickles and preserves...and had my bf in it. my bf from last week who is now living with and good friends with my sister. which is fabulous (and no doubt confusing to people who know them only by initials and nicknames). </div><br /><div>they were having a meeting for their "hunger gala" (a night staged to bring attention to peterborough's poverty and food crisis...if you'll be in the area, it's on tuesday at market hall) so i helped a bit and wrote a piece for their zine and curled up and did some more homework and then drank some wine...i think we went to bed somewhat early, but i can't be too sure.</div><br /><div>the next day we woke up slowly again and had some coffee and then banane and i went to the farmer's market, too late to buy anything. and then we drove up to her farm property where she showed me what grew where during the summer months and we went on this long hike with her puppy to the watering hole where she and her boy and her dog swam all summer, and the hike took us through this forest that was incredibly, incredibly magical. </div><br /><div>it was all grown over with coniferous trees and there were needles on the ground and these huge stone caves overgrown with moss - porcupines live in the caves and we saw some dead ones, and i picked some of the porcupine quills to make a necklace for someone (the quills are good for asthma, apparently) and then we went home to get ready for her birthday dinner. </div><br /><div>she and her boy went into their backyard to build a bonfire pit and i opened the crate of dumpster-dived white wine she found to make a cauldron full of sangria (i am always called on to make the sangria at any party i go to. add wine - cheap juice - fruit. mix.) and then bf roasted some squash and made chocolate cake and rice, and there was fresh roasted venison, and then people started arriving and we drank sangria and beer and ate cake and sat at a bonfire and...i went to bed around 2 am, after realizing that king lear was very hard to read after a party like that.</div><br /><div>i woke up yesterday morning by 11:30 and by 12:30 banane's boy and i were at a diner, eating sausage and eggs and drinking <em>mucho </em>coffee and water and then we got back in the car and he drove us to his parents' house where we made an impromptu showing at his family's birthday dinner - i drank more wine and more beer and ate lasagne and more cake and then boy drove me to the bus station, where i bought a student priced ticket for montreal and boarded the bus. </div><br /><div>*poof out of peterborough and ottawa*</div><br /><div>i got home at 9:30, called met so that he could use his keys to let me in, we talked for 3 minutes (or so) and i walked into my bedroom and passed OUT.</div><br /><div></div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/841971/frankenstein.gif"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/886077/frankenstein.png" border="0" /></a>i woke up today a full 12 hours after i went to sleep. i got up, took a shower, and made coffee. i have a lot of work to do.<br /><div> </div><div>i realized a few things this weekend, though. i was thinking, once i made it to peterborough and realized that banane didn't have a computer and the town hasn't quite made it to the concept of "internet cafes", that of course my resolution to blog every day in november, much less my participation in nanoblopomo, was down the crapper. </div><br /><div>i was a bit upset, and then i realized that there was nothing i could have done to change the situation. what was i supposed to have done - missed my sister's birthday in order to stick close to the internet? no.</div><br /><div>and being away from it showed me how healing it is to take breaks every once in a while. breaks even from healing resolutions to journal every day. to be flexible with yourself even when you think you're engaging with yourself flexibly. to allow healing to come through in different forms - like the half-an-hour wordless cuddle that banane and i shared on her couch. to let go of attachment to <em>things</em> - to events and outcomes and notions of oneself - and to just, plainly and finally, <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/440752/beecosmos.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/833896/beecosmos.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div>BEE. </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-83717611931293797402006-11-23T11:41:00.000-08:002006-11-23T12:03:57.749-08:00thanksgiving<div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/231529/peterborough.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/900512/peterborough.jpg" border="0" /></a>i am just incredibly grateful to the world today.<br /><div>thank you, everybody who commented and read yesterday's post, for your words. i am literally astounded at how wonderful your support was and i really appreciated it. i wish i could hug you all individually and tell you exactly what was so special about each individual comment - but that will have to wait for email. i appreciate it so much. (HUG)</div><br /><div>i finished my psych assignment. (!!!!) which means that i'm so. very. close. to the end of the semester, which means a month off for bee, and some SERIOUS re-organization and 'winter-cleaning', which i'm looking forward to in a strange way. (i have told everyone i'm addicted to the smell of cleaner, right? and currently i'm living with fruit flies. which i hate.)</div><div>one of the last things i have to do is WRITE A STORY. which will be AWESOME. i'm looking forward to it.</div><br /><div>i'm grateful that my partner is writing the play that he's writing. it sounds fantastic, and i'm super-proud of him for going in a direction he has never gone before, touching on certain subjects and issues that are close to him. i love watching people's creativity flare, and their trust in their own genius.</div><br /><div>i'm grateful for the jaw-droppingly wonderful, goddess-gifted package i got in the mail today from one of the most special people i've ever met. thank you, jessica michelle. i love you. </div><br /><div>i'm so thankful for my sister, who turns <em>freaking 25 years old </em>today. happy birthday, sweetpea! i LOOOOOOOOOVE you. i'm coming! i swear! i'm just late as usual! (she is currently carving her own stag for her dinner right now and never uses the internet anyway, so i'm not sure why i'm making excuses.)</div><div> </div><div>the beautiful day. it's all blue skies and warm sun and melty montreal goodness. i was just tripping around the light fantastic and thinking to myself how MUCH i love this city, today. and i'm so lucky to truly be living my dreams here.</div><br /><div><em>going to the country...going to eat a lot of peaches. </em>so, i'm heading to peterborough today. or, at least, i hope i am. i gots to get moving if i want to go. and i still have to pack. erg. i didn't have much time to visit (if any. did i visit today? crap on a stick, i don't think so. i'm SORRRRRYYYY!!!) because it's the banane's birthday, and you know, we stick together. and i'm looking forward to the weekend 'off', as it were, in the country, drinking my sister's hippie brews and playing with her dog. and seeing her very-own-first house for the first time. and...probably drinking red wine. and getting lost in some cornfields. whee. </div><br /><div>i hope you have a wonderful thanksgiving. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/459526/raging%20fem.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/200/412112/raging%20fem.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div>and p.s. check out my new favourite picture in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. isn't she just the cutest thing in the entire world? i laughed MY ASS OFF when i saw that.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-16341850309786686702006-11-22T10:38:00.000-08:002006-11-22T11:36:14.412-08:00learning how to be grateful for humiliationlast night i went to my yoga class, knowing that i was stiff and in a little pain. i can expect that when it's cold like this and i haven't done any deep stretching in a week. normally i love my tuesday classes because jodie's my teacher - she's so sweet and gentle that i liked and got along with her right away.<br /><br /><div><div></div><div>she had the stomach flu yesterday so a different teacher subbed for her - a man. i've taken a lot of studio yoga classes in my day and i'm not sure what it is (i mean no disrespect) but i've never liked or felt comfortable around any male instructors. </div><br /><div>...but that has a lot to do with my herstory. i've found as well, through my informal polling, that male instructors like to touch and manipulate their students' bodies more - which is, in general, a no-no in my book. </div><br /><div>so i took a deep breath once i figured this all out and told myself to stay open to the experience - that maybe i was wrong, and that there was a reason why i was supposed to take that class. i changed and unrolled my mat and got ready. </div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/tree-sm.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/tree-sm.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>right away my "worries" were confirmed. in yoga i <em>love</em> doing flexibility postures (where the emphasis is placed on warming up and opening up the joints) because my joints stiffen so quickly and close in on themselves. i <em>hate </em>doing balance postures, because - well, <em>i'm </em>out of balance. one half of my body is literally shorter and lighter than the other half which means i can barely stand on one foot, much less tuck the leg i'm not using into the fold of my hip.</div><br /><div>yesterday was a balance-postures class. i felt my heart sink right away as soon as i figured that out, because not only does my heart rate speed up (in the anxious, <em>oh no i can't do this he's going to constantly correct and draw attention to me </em>way), but it means i simply can't physically do a lot of the postures. so i'm left cooling my heels when all my body wanted and needed was a good 90 minute stretching out. </div><br /><div>of course the teacher, never having read my file (which says under 'health concerns': born with cerebral palsy - i know because i wrote it down) constantly did what i was afraid he was going to do. in the leg lunges, which were fairly simple, the students were supposed to keep their knee straight and above their ankle. </div><br /><div>(if you tried that right now, it's fairly simple. drop to the floor, extend one leg behind you, and keep your forward leg bent in a 90 degree angle. no matter how low you can sink into the posture, keeping the knee in front of the ankle is fairly easy - except for me. my left knee has never been able to do that properly - because of the spasticity of my tendons, my knee angles in, towards my other leg, and it <em>hurts </em>and is extremely uncomfortable when i try to reposition it. i'm working on opening up that area, but it takes time.)</div><br /><div>so <em>of course</em> the teacher said to me, "no. the knee over the ankle. <em>the knee over the ankle.</em> see? like this." and i'm trying to maintain the posture and trying not to burst into tears (because this is a shy person's nightmare) and trying not to yell at him, "you think i don't know what you're talking about? i just <em>can't do it</em>, you jerk!"</div><br /><div>this continued, with him commenting on the position of my arm in the warrior pose (ironic, no?) and then, at the end of the class when we're all rolling up our mats, he came up to me and said, in a loud voice,</div><br /><div>"so, what happened to you? were you in an accident or something? is it your leg or your arm? i was trying to figure that out all class." and i said, quietly, </div><div> </div><div>"no, i was born with cerebral palsy."</div><br /><div>and he sort of stopped and looked and me and said, "oh? i don't know much about that. so...the yoga's helping?"</div><br /><div>i told him, yes, it was, and that's why i did so much of it. </div><br /><div>on the way to class afterwards i had to walk quickly so that i didn't start crying. </div><br /><div>i know, for me, that my 'disability' is where a lot of my insecurity comes from. i guess i thought i was dealing with it better. i wish it didn't; i don't think that any disability should affect people's 'soul cores'. </div><br /><div>for me, a lot of my confusion and insecurity comes from the fact that i can 'almost pass' for an able-bodied person. that's what my parents wanted me to do - that's why neither of them told me that what i had was actually c.p. - they didn't want me to grow up under a label which would help me determine my own limitations.</div><br /><div>i remember lying on my mother's bed for so much of my childhood as she helped me do my physiotherapy exercises, watching the two of us in her mirrored closet. </div><br /><div><em>"your left side is just weaker than your right side. if somebody asks you about it and you don't feel comfortable, just tell them you got in a football accident."</em></div><br /><div>i rememb<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/IMG_0078-1-tm.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/IMG_0078-1-tm.jpg" border="0" /></a>er going to kiddie kobbler to buy shoes for my first day in grade school and my face burning with embarrassment as my mother told the salesclerk, <em>"see...one foot is about a size larger than the other. can you mismatch two pairs?" </em></div><br /><div>i remember stroking the fingers of my left hand, imagining i could feel new nerves growing, telling myself that if i just kept it up, i wouldn't be <em>this way </em>anymore.</div><br /><div>i remember sitting on the window sills of the library, because nobody picked me for recess dodgeball, and i'd close my eyes and in my head i would be the most graceful ballet dancer in the world. i would be light and beautiful and strong.</div><br /><div>throughout my life i've had people tell me that i wouldn't be able to do things. like climbing trees (well, maybe they were right about that), or playing sports well enough to make a school team (so i didn't try), or building campfires <em>("watch out! you'll burn yourself! let me do it</em>!"). and even though <em>now</em> i know that there's absolutely nothing wrong with me, and that it doesn't have to define me in any way that i don't want it to, and that i <em>can </em>do anything i set my mind to, there is a lot of rewiring that i need to do. a lot of sensitive spots that i'm trying to teach myself to let go of. </div><br /><div>like it or not, people are often going to remark on my body, and i want to stop the internal cringe that happens when they do. the internal cringe happens because of a sense of shame that i have, i know that. i want to be gentle with myself and let it go. i want to understand myself better.</div><br /><div>i want to be grateful to the opportunities and gifts that this life has given me, even the ones that come in lopsided and sometimes painful packages. and i am, most of the time. </div><div> </div><div>i just wish that my first reaction towards such an integral part of myself - what makes me <em>me, </em>wasn't shame.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-62214705308968651052006-11-21T07:28:00.000-08:002006-11-21T07:41:47.590-08:00happyhappy happy, baby.<br /><br />in such a short time you've completely changed my life. thank you for supporting me in becoming a truer version of myself, for being my best friend, and for loving me so well.<br /><br />there are so many things i admire about you as a person - your steadfastness, creativity, kindness, your loyalty. i love your sense of honour. your sense of humour, too.<br /><br />i love how we are, so completely, two sides of the sane coin - sharing so many things, but complementing on so many others.<br /><br />i love that i get to share my life with you.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-26980002674909436292006-11-20T16:22:00.000-08:002006-11-20T17:06:45.258-08:00rewire<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/351229/minimoon.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/440495/minimoon.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong>the negatives</strong></div><p>it's late and i'm feeling shivery and having one of those petulant moments where <em>no, i don't want to make myself anything for dinner i just want to eat those three figs that i have left in my knapsack and drink yerba mate</em> which probably means that i'm low on protein. and sleep. i used to be such an avid partier that it somewhat embarrasses me that i can't drink somewhat heavily more than one night in a row and not feel the effects.</p><ul><li>i have been HIGHLY premenstrual this month (so bad, in fact, that my boyfriend looked at me on thursday which was <strong>four days ago</strong> and asked me if i was more bloated than usual) and one of the posts that i had in mind for today was how i have been aware of that, so have been flipping my naturally sensitive mind frame for this time of the month and gotten super positive instead. all hail the moon cycle, etc., etc. but, as is usual for the end of the term (it finally hit) my body is starting to refuse to do any work.</li><li>after the few days off that i gave it, ("are you <em>crazy</em>?" my school friends asked me), i'm sitting in front of my computer knowing that i have a gajillion things to do for tomorrow (2 poetry assignments, a psych essay, editing 3 submissions) and yet - i want to read blogs and just generally fart around for the next few hours, until i get tired and fall asleep.</li><li>the not-wanting-to-do-any-work is making me a bit grumpy.</li><li>at this point, everyone i talk to is describing feelings of burn-out. i'm one of the luckier ones in that my breakdown has taught me to value my health above getting that essay in on time, but for the most part, everybody is intensely stressed, frustrated, and exhausted.</li><li>i spent about an hour talking to my boyfriend yesterday as he was valiantly trying to apply the finishing touches to 4 plays. he was tired and overwrought and nothing i said seemed to help the situation. it bothers me when i think i should know how to do something, and yet i can't. for the life of me.</li><li>my father wrote one of his airy, insensitive asshole emails to his 'family' today which said: <em>Just in case you write and don't get a reply for a while, I will be in Peru from today to 11 December, with uncertain access to the internet.<br />Sigh ... I can hardly wait to get back to the comfort of my home. But, if someone doesn't visit Peru, who will support the economy? </em>this from a man who has always said that if he had his life to live over again he would never have had kids; who is living the life of whoever in costa rica and taking jaunty trips to other continents <strong>just because</strong> while his daughters are ekeing out existences on the poverty line. it makes me so mad i shake a little every time i think about it.</li><li>i've also scheduled a trip out of town this weekend to see banane for her birthday. i love her, and i love where she lives, but at this point i'm asking myself<em>, are you absolutely nuts? you have a story due next week, for god's sake</em>. which is one more thing that i'm not thinking i want to write, but that i need to get through in order to get to my vacation.</li><li>my body also hurt today for the first time in a long time. my hip was achy and my back's starting to tense up. but that just means i need to go to yoga again. </li></ul>then i found <a href="http://evenstar-art.blogspot.com/">this woman's blog</a> tonight and <a href="http://evenstar-art.blogspot.com/2006/11/gratitude.html">her post</a> sort of stopped me in my tracks. so i need, once again, to rewire my thinking a bit. because i truly think that she is right, but that just means it's probably going to be the most difficult thing to actually do.<br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>the positives</strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/75222/brain.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/485417/brain.jpg" border="0" /></a> i bought some lovely photos from a photo exhibit in the main building of my university. i like supporting student art and the pictures are lovely. one's of a forest, and one is of a girl in a negligee using a blowdryer in a bathroom. they both spoke to me in different ways.<br /><br />i had my prose workshop tonight, which always puts me in a good mood. i love my teacher.<br /><br />after this assignment that's due tomorrow, i don't have anything more for another week.<br /><br /><ul><li>i got a package waiting for me at a post office i've never been to, so i have to go on an adventure to pick it up.<br /></li><li>i'm going to make myself a kick-ass, mini "date" dinner. and listen to my favourite talk-radio station, and maybe dance around my kitchen a bit because no-one can see me. </li></ul><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-69549795303265442222006-11-19T15:51:00.000-08:002006-11-19T17:05:58.838-08:00a weekend of light<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/824984/dahlia.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/15297/dahlia.jpg" border="0" /></a>yesterday i had this really interesting "encounter" with this woman i'd never met before. she came into the store to make a delivery and as i took the box from her our eyes locked. <div> </div><div>all of a sudden she was telling me about how she got sepsis in october and almost died, then how she started meditating. i told her about how i'd had health issues of my own in the past and had recently begun to meditate again, myself. </div><div> </div><div>then she started telling me about this 'break-through' she'd had during one of her sessions where she'd realized how to break down the ego - her solution was to beam out love energy - egoless, healing, all-encompassing love.</div><div> </div><div>i'd been thinking much the same thing lately, and so excitedly contributed to the discussion whenever i could. we touched a lot on meditation, how organic food is one of our ways to self-heal, talismans, auras - the whole shebang.</div><div> </div><div>our conversation continued after she left. she called me to read me this piece she'd written about the breakthrough, and then sent the piece to me by email. then she said something that stopped me in my tracks. </div><div> </div><div>"you know, i don't normally say any of this to people i just meet. did you notice that i took a step back and scanned you once you said that you had health issues, as well?"</div><div> </div><div>i was serving another customer and sort of distracted at this point so i replied,</div><div> </div><div>"no, not really."</div><div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/344569/open.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/893093/open.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>"well, i assessed whether you had - and what i saw was that you had significant health problems, but that you were on a path of joy. there are only certain people who are open to what i have to say."</div><div> </div><div>these are things that she said she tried to do with her meditation: become "one with the light", and to project healing to the entire world. this is a woman who meditates for four hours a day - two in the morning and two before she goes to sleep. </div><div> </div><div>i thought that was a beautiful thing, because she can't be the only one. she cannot be the only person who is striving with such focus to become part of positive energy, and she can't be the only person who projects egoless love onto all humanity.<br /></div><div>something that my body hasn't quite accepted yet is that this continues to happen on 'bad days' as well. it can be hard for me to feel <em>anything </em>good on those days - but yet, someone is still out there, going to a place of peace and praying for me within it. </div><div> </div><div>last night, i got home from work and meditated for a while, and just as i was blowing out the candle, my door buzzed and best friend had arrived. we flopped on the couch and i said, "you know, if you hadn't showed up just now i would have made myself a drink and turned on <em>the family guy</em>." she replied, "oh, <em>could</em> we?" so we snacked a bit and drank some nice drinks and watched cartoons, until mom and dad showed up. then we decided to get up and make food - quinoa with mushrooms, roasted squash - and we ate, then we went out to get popcorn and a few movies. we drank a lot - when mom and dad showed up they brought beer and wine with them - and i think it was around 10 when i wandered into my bedroom, saw my bed, and literally went, "ooh, <em>that </em>looks good!" and promptly passed out in my clothes with all the lights on. </div><div> </div><div>bf came in a while later to see what had happened to me, saw me curled up, and turned off the lights to curl up beside me - so it was really the most chill, early night ever. and i got to wake up to being spooned by a woman who knows me very well and loves me better.</div><div> </div><div>this morning was beautiful - because it revived a tradition that i didn't realize i missed so much: bf, mom, dad, and i all having 'morning coffee' together as the sun was rising. when we lived in the commune we would always meet up to watch the dawson's creek reruns on tbs - and there would be a few hours of quiet companionship and caffeination. i hugged my friends goodbye and then i headed to work, and when i headed to work - i had this feeling.</div><div> </div><div>it took me a while to figure out what it was, exactly. i knew the 'blissful' part right away, but there was something else. </div><div> </div><div>i love very easily - and i'm finally okay with that. for a long time i was told that 'love' was something special and should only be reserved for a few people, to keep its specialness - and i tried to rein in my heart, even though it hurt and trying to stop loving a lot of people went contrary to my nature. </div><div>lately, as i've been out of balance, i'd 'watched' my love more - keeping track of it, a little - "okay, i've shown this person this much of me - now i should wait to see what's going to happen before i reveal more." and quite frankly, i didn't like doing that, because it felt weird to me, too - i always understood it as a sign that i <em>was</em> imbalanced.</div><div> </div><div>but on the way to work this morning - i felt love just surging out of me, to everyone i thought of - and it was completely unfettered. there were no more checks and balances, there wasn't a drought, there was enough to give to the whole world. </div><div> </div><div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/903020/first%20light.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>i hope that, even if you didn't feel it today, that you will let yourself know that i was sending you some. </div><div> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-87018391036163769912006-11-18T06:21:00.000-08:002006-11-18T06:49:40.902-08:00mini commune reunion<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/513788/rae.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/958219/rae.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>around 3 years ago, i found myself living in a house in the east end of ottawa with 6 other people. one was the hobbit, my ex-partner, one was my best friend rachelle, and two others were my friends chris and brenda, a couple in their own right whose nicknames in the household were, affectionately, "mom and dad". </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>well, rachelle came to town yesterday. we drank A LOT of wine and then went to a show in the plateau to meet up with some friends. the show was incredible - we missed the first part but got to see <a href="http://www.raespoon.com/bio.html">rae spoon</a> (pictured above) who had one of those voices...that makes you believe in god again. you know? where he opened his mouth and the whole bar fell silent to listen.</div><div> </div><div>mom and dad, celebrating their six-year anniversary, are coming to town today. and tonight we're making sushi and drinking (more) wine and generally getting silly in my apartment.</div><div> </div><div>i have a "rag tag" family, one that looks funny from the outside, but the bonds of love on the inside are so rare.</div><div> </div><div>i want to write so much more, but once again, i'm going to be late for work if i don't get my ass in gear. i love you all! if you don't see me today it's because of a fault in time-management but i'm thinking about you and sending you SNUGGLES.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-58099928332811626602006-11-17T14:32:00.000-08:002006-11-17T15:09:04.041-08:00waking myself up, meme stylesitting at my desk, thinking <em>why, god, is it pitch black and only 5:30? why? </em>and desperately needing a cup of coffee before i can even think about writing that story that i should be writing - and i saw that not only <a href="http://vespers-escape.blogspot.com">vesper</a>, but now <a href="http://inkonmyfingers.blogspot.com">susannah</a> has done versions of the coolest meme around. so i had to. super fun. and <a href="http://debrichardson.blogspot.com">deb</a>, this one's for you. ;)<br />i borrowed this from <a href="http://inkonmyfingers.blogspot.com">susannah</a>.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"> [RED ]</span><br /><br />1. Closest red thing to you? my winter boots, which i am now wearing when it rains.<br />2. Has anyone ever cheated on you in a relationship? yes. he never admitted it, but i knew anyway. so did all of our friends.<br />3. Last thing to make you angry? when i forgot to take my anti-depressant two days running. it didn't really take much.<br />4. Are you a fan of romance? YES. i love being romanced.<br />5. Have you ever been in love? yes. most definitely.<br />6. Do you have a temper? incredibly so. it doesn't come out to play very often, but when it comes out, it's a scorcher.<br /><br /><span style="color:#33ff33;">[ GREEN ]</span><br /><br />1. Closest green thing to you? a bottle of fructis sleek&shine anti-frizz.<br />2. Do you care about the environment? very very much so.<br />3. Are you jealous of anyone right now? i am jealous periodically. i have a tendency to it, which i hate, so i try to keep tabs on it.<br />4. Are you a lucky person? i used to think so, then i changed my mind, now i'm changing it again.<br />5. Do you always want what you can't have? yes, but it takes me a while to realize that.<br />6. Are you Irish? oh, probably. everything's in me somewhere.<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">[ PURPLE ]</span><br />1. Last purple thing you saw? my bedspread. i bought it for it's purplocity.<br />2. Like being treated to expensive things? no. i buy expensive things for myself, so i don't feel guilty about them. i like getting letters and sweet things that i know someone put at least a bit of thought into.<br />3. Do you like mysterious things? depends. usually mystery drives me nuts.<br />4. Favourite type of chocolate? dark.<br />5. Ever met any royalty? yes. i sang for the queen and prince charles once and then i sang for princess diana once.<br />6. Are you creative? yes.<br />7. Are you lonely? sometimes. i shouldn't be, but you know, i want what i can't have.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1989/2716/1600/trafficlights.jpg"></a><span style="color:#3366ff;">[ BLUE ]</span><br />1. Closest blue thing to you? a book about chakras.<br />2. Are you good at calming people down? i think so.<br />3. Do you like the ocean? yes. a LOT.<br />4. What was the last thing that made you cry? yesterday, when i thought about not having a family. it makes holidays kind of weird.<br />5. Are you a logical thinker? logic's overrated. :)<br />6. Can you sleep easily? usually.<br />7. Do you prefer the beach or the woods? i'll have to go with <a href="http://vespers-escape.blogspot.com">vesper</a> on this one - there can be combinations of both, and that's what i'd pick.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;">[ YELLOW ]</span><br />1. Closest yellow thing to you? the buffalo drawing on a buffalo brand eraser.<br />2. The happiest time(s) of your life? i think it's coming up.<br />3. Favourite holiday? going to europe with banane.<br />4. Are you a coward? sometimes i don't speak up when i want to.<br />5. Do you burn or tan? i burn first. tan once the burn peels off.<br />6. Do you want children? yes. i also want to get married.<br />7. What makes you happy? everything can make me happy if i give it a chance to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1989/2716/1600/brunch4.jpg"></a><span style="color:#ffcccc;">[ PINK ]</span><br />1. Closest pink thing to you? a sharpie highlighter.<br />2. Do you like sweet things? yes. dark chocolate-y sweet things.<br />3. Like play-fighting? yes, with a lover. i'm a biter.<br />4. Are you sensitive? waaay too much sometimes.<br />5. Do you like punk music? i don't own any, but it's okay when i'm in the mood.<br />6. What is your favourite flower? lilies and tulips.<br />7. Does someone have a crush on you? no - unless the boyfriend counts. but i don't think that's what we're talking about.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;">[ ORANGE ]</span><br />1. Closest orange thing to you? a silk scarf.<br />2. Do you like to burn things? a few things. like incense, and wishes, and candles.<br />3. Dress up for Halloween? i was going to this year, but halloween got rained out.<br />4. Are you usually a warm-hearted person? i'd like to think so.<br />5. Do you prefer the single life or the security of a relationship? i'd like the security of a relationship while still maintaining my own life.<br />6. What would your super power be? the ability to heal people.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">[ WHITE ]</span><br />1. Closest white thing to you? a note that says "surprise" from one of my birthday presents.<br />2. Would you say you're innocent? no. i can still be naive, but i'm not innocent.<br />3. Always try to keep the peace? no, i can shit-disturb with the best of them.<br />4. How do you imagine your wedding? i try not to think about it, because then i get impatient.<br />5. Do you like to play in the snow? if i'm warmly dressed, yes.<br />6. Are you afraid of going to the doctors or dentist? i'm tired of both. every time i go to one, i leave with five extra appointments. no thank you!<br /><br />[ BLACK ]<br />1. Closest black thing to you? a book called "quiet rumours". it's a collection of anarcho-feminist essays.<br />2. Ever enjoy hurting people? yes. but i like being hurt in return. :)<br />3. Are you sophisticated or silly? i'd say i'm waaaaaay more silly than sophisticated.<br />4. Do you have a lot of secrets? a few.<br />5. What is your favourite colour(s)? pomegranate red, grass green, royal purple, sky blue.<br />6. Does the colour you wear affect your mood? my mood affects the colour, like susannah said.<div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-28562915502811787692006-11-17T05:32:00.000-08:002006-11-17T05:44:22.117-08:00thank you....zzzZZZZZzzzzzz<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/578318/sleep.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6563/3949/320/474890/sleep.jpg" border="0" /></a>guess what i did all yesterday? <div> </div><div>i'll give you four guesses.</div><div> </div><div>a) did yoga</div><div>b) did homework</div><div>c) went for a run</div><div>d) slept 15 + hours</div><div> </div><div>if you picked d), you'd be CORRECT! you win a million dollah!</div><div> </div><div>thank you to everybody who answered my post about the links, i'm getting back to you, because as you can see - i was waylaid yesterday. i never fully woke up, i think. i dragged myself through cleaning my apartment, and then dragged my bed into the livingroom, because met wanted to watch cartoons in bed, which i thought was a fabulous idea.</div><div>he came over, i finished eating some hippie lunch, and i fell onto the bed beside him where he was reading a comic book and said, "nap?"</div><div> </div><div>so we curled up together and snoozed for two hours or so. then we sloooowly woke up, managed to fit in an episode of cartoons before he went home to work on a play, at which point i thought i was going to write, too. i have a story that's about ready to come out.</div><div> </div><div>you know, maybe catch up on some of those emails that i've been too busy to respond to.</div><div> </div><div>but no. i no sooner sat at my desk than i could feel the magnets on my eyelids pulling them down. i looked at the clock and was like, "7:30??? come on, girl, where is your bad self?"</div><div> </div><div>my bad self made it to 7:40. i slept almost a full 12 hours. </div><div> </div><div>so that is where i have been - sleeping in my living room, and making bean have a heart attack <em>because oh my god, things are different. are we moving again</em>? and now, i have not very much time before i have to be at work, so i should go and get dressed. and...you know...make sure i smell okay.</div><div> </div><div>we really need to work on this teleportation deal, people. seriously. that would be right up my alley. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32356771.post-47152449965345151772006-11-16T08:28:00.000-08:002006-11-16T09:39:57.827-08:00what are YOUR orange shoes like?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/frankencoffee.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/frankencoffee.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />well, i finished the essay at around 3:30 this morning, and i was so hopped up on caffeine that i probably didn't drift off until some time around 4. my alarm, of course, was set for 6:30, because i figured it would take me an hour to get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and head to the shuttle for 8.<br /><br />i'm glad i had that foresight, as it took me an hour to do anything other than press the snooze button.<br /><br />sometimes i can function of <strong>very little </strong>sleep, other times it feels like i have to remind myself to breathe. today was one of those second times. maybe it was because in the few hours that i napped, it had rained again and i woke up to a soft grey sky; maybe it was that i literally had just enough time to throw on the clothes that i had dropped at the foot of my bed, grab my computer disk and head out the door; but whatever it was i just couldn't shake myself awake.<br /><br />i must have looked like the funniest sight: wild (and red-) eyed and wild-haired bee, stumbling towards the bus with her briefcase full of school books in her pur<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/orange!%20shoes!.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/orange%21%20shoes%21.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>ple fall jacket and her orange shoes.<br /><br />i bought my orange shoes to wear to a maceo parker concert back in july. they have bows on the top and thin rubber soles. i love them first of all because they're orange, second because they're slip-ons, and third because even though they're shoes, i can still feel the earth under my feet when i wear them.<br /><br />i sucked at meditating the first couple times i tried doing it.<br /><br />i don't know if it comes across in my writing style here, but i can be a pretty excitable person. people have described me as 'child-like', 'bouncy', and 'full of energy' my entire life, and i remember my mother once exasperatedly telling me to go to my room and try to just <em>sit </em>for a while. <br /><br />i couldn't. there was this force that seemed to propel me off the ground, in the same way i couldn't handle silence, or being on my own.<br /><br />but the idea appealed to me - meditation - the idea of sitting still, and allowing calm to enter and flood my being. i just wasn't ready for it yet.<br /><br />when i was in my early 20's, i met a good friend who introduced me to buddhism. i had dabbled a bit already, but with his influence i started to seriously read the dhammapada, and books by <a href="http://www.seaox.com/thich.html">thich nhat hanh</a>. i was really struck by the idea that <em>every action </em>could be a meditation, if one stayed in the present moment and remained mindful. with that awareness, washing dishes could be a meditation, or reading a book, or soothing a child after a fall. anything.<br /><br />i liked how that idea felt under my skin, and i started trying to remain more inside the moment. which was <strong>very hard for me to do</strong>.<br />i can be a squirmy bee, for sure. i plan lots, dream big dreams, and can be the 'what's next?' girl if i'm not careful.<br /><br />this summer i travelled by myself across the country to b.c. for 6 weeks. i had a lot of friends and family out there, but in essence i was alone. this was meant to be a sort of self-test. the last time i had travelled alone anywhere was to california in 2003, and i crashed and <em>burned</em> on that particular venture, so i needed to know that i could take care of myself for an extended period of time.<br /><br />this year, in fact, has been about me learning to take care of myself, <em>by myself</em>, with no safety net. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/1600/gonzales.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6563/3949/200/gonzales.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />i didn't just go to b.c. to test myself, though, i went to heal in a lot of ways, too. most of my family i hadn't seen in at least 10 years, if not double that. both sides of my family, since my parents' divorce, had just gotten progressively more and more pissed off at each other. living that far away from the drama, it just looked to banane and i like some gigantic, immature game of telephone.<br /><br />i spent the first 10 days of my trip in vancouver, with the aunt that i hadn't seen in 17 years. and while i was there, i found out a WHOLE lot of family skeletons that i was uncomfortable - to say the least - with. like ginormous, racist ones. i felt myself biting my tongue the entire time.<br /><br />at the end of the week and a half, i escaped to victoria for 3 days, and for those 3 days i did approximately the following, in varying amounts:<br /><ul><li>talked to met on the phone</li><li>slept</li><li>ate</li><li>drank wine</li><li>biked around</li><li>lay on the beach</li></ul><p>oh, and i also watched the quarter-finals of american idol. but i digress. on the second day, i found myself on gonzales beach, which is the beach in the picture. </p><p>to be honest, i love the ocean, and i love the beach by the ocean, but gonzales was a bit too crowded for me. so i started to walk. away. away from everybody and everything.</p><p>before i knew it, i had reached this stillness, both exterior and interior, that i had never felt. i could feel my blood pumping in my wrists. i could feel the sunlight splitting over my head. i was aware of each muscle in my foot bending and squeezing its way across the sand.</p><p>that was my first true experience with mindful walking, and good lord, i got addicted. for a walker, there really is nothing better - to just concentrate on the movement. each tiny, impossibly infinite movement. </p><p>i realized early on that my snazzy orange shoes were going to fit the bill for the fall months when it got too cold to barefoot my meditation around montreal. </p><p>and so when i stumbled out of bed this morning, and had to go back to my bedroom five separate times because i was so tired i kept forgetting things, and i couldn't make coffee, i decided to put them on. so i could feel the pavement beneath my soles, the soft fall grass, and try to pierce through my space cadet uniform.</p><p>it was hard. at first i kept noticing things and thinking about how much i wanted to blog, or take pictures of. <em>ooh, look at the contrast of those red berries on the yellowing leaves of that hedge! that line from that sexton poem - i could use that in what i'm working on. i have that story due for next wednesday. </em>etc., etc. so i started trying to incorporate my five senses. </p><p>the air smelled like nothing but cold. all of the fall colours (tree, and leaf, and burning bush, and house) stood out at once soft and incredibly vibrant after the rain. i listened to some girls speaking spanish together at the bus stop. i felt the soft cloth covers of the poetry books i've been carrying around to read at any small moment. and i felt myself sigh, just a little bit, and realize again, just how lucky i actually am.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">this is my blog. it smells good, and reads good too.</div>beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03515424386033586219noreply@blogger.com13