You have nothing to hide if you don't have any more secrets. While it seems like I'm going to start a run-on confessional, I'm not. I will however discuss a variety of topics that are affecting me right now - not sure what they'll be yet - but Shannon has requested I update this damn thing so here goes...
I was driving behind the Slushie truck - you know those yummy tasty syrupy treats we'd have as kids? The dog with big floppy ears used to be plastered all over the machine and our cups? Well, apparently he's made new friends. Seems puppy likes 'em with big boobs and low cut shirts. I want to shake these marketing teams until their heads roll off their shoulders - like really, who do they think they're marketing to?!? This whole thing about sex-sells sends me...
I love milk. I have a 2 litre jug of it in the fridge at work with my name on it. Ten bucks says people are going to use it for their cappuccino. Twenty says I catch 'em.
Do sesame seeds sometimes leave a sulfur taste in your mouth? Am I the only one this happens to? It's gross.
I don't tell a friend I find our friendship totally one-sided for fear of ending our long-term relationship. Don't ask why, I still don't know.
My friend has an animated ass as her profile picture on MSN. Every time she logs in I see it and it makes my eyes roll.
I saw the girl walking with the cane again. This time she was using it. It reminded me that not everything happens as quickly as we would like it to, especially recovery.
I need to learn to have patience with the things that take time. Realize that not everything will happen exactly when I need it to. That others, particularly those I care about, can't have it that way either.
And saving the best for last...
Anyone heard that "Lips of an angel" song that talks about him pining over this girl and how she makes it hard to him be faithful? How can we blame something as selfish as infidelity on someone else? I have been thinking of the subject of 'cheating' for a while now, not because I'm doing it, but lately it's everywhere I look. Started watching a show called "What about Brian" and everyone is kissing or sleeping with someone they shouldn't be. If it's one of my greatest fears then why does it entertain me? What am I getting from it? And, have you seen Six Degrees? Same thing, well, sorta. This really successful and beautiful woman was engaged to a total lying, deceitful, cheating jerk! How do we end up with these guys? Is it our lack of judgment or are we blind to their cunning ways? Do we accept our gut feelings as gospel or chalk it up to paranoia from past experience? Is it the constant and relentless bombardment that makes us think this way or is it our insecurity? Can it be both?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
I wonder...
Do you ever feel disconnected?
How do you feel love?
What entices you to try new things?
Are you judgmental?
Do you expect too much?
Do I?
Can you keep a secret?
Are you pro-choice?
Who did you vote for?
How do you give back to your world?
Is that important to you?
Are you honest with yourself?
What inspires you?
Why do you fear what you fear?
Can I trust you?
Should I?
How do you reconnect?
Are you curious about who I am?
What drives you?
Are you diligently seeking what feeds your soul?
Are you gentle with yourself?
Will you be wreckless with me?
How do you handle critism?
Can we just be?
Do you care about what I say?
And how I feel?
And what I love?
And who I love?
Do you respect me?
Will you teach me how to let go?
Are you still learning?
Are you scared?
I am.
How do you feel love?
What entices you to try new things?
Are you judgmental?
Do you expect too much?
Do I?
Can you keep a secret?
Are you pro-choice?
Who did you vote for?
How do you give back to your world?
Is that important to you?
Are you honest with yourself?
What inspires you?
Why do you fear what you fear?
Can I trust you?
Should I?
How do you reconnect?
Are you curious about who I am?
What drives you?
Are you diligently seeking what feeds your soul?
Are you gentle with yourself?
Will you be wreckless with me?
How do you handle critism?
Can we just be?
Do you care about what I say?
And how I feel?
And what I love?
And who I love?
Do you respect me?
Will you teach me how to let go?
Are you still learning?
Are you scared?
I am.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Things that piss me off - vol. 1
I am generally a pretty positive person, trying to think and do good things to others and my community. Sometimes, especially today, I'm pissed off. I'm going to use this milieu as a venting post, just for today though I do reserve the right to change my mind as I please.
People who cut you off refusing to hear what you have to say and repeat the same thing over and over just getting louder so your opinion can't be heard.
Friends who are unfaithful to their mates and expect you to play coy and cute when they tell you they're horny and ask you what you're doing later. Get away from me pig. Now, I have been unfaithful in past relationships, I'll admit it. In no way was it a long continuous affair but it still doesn't make it right. I was in my 20's, totally selfish and didn't give a shit. Am I proud, no, but that isn't the point of this rant. The point is that this friend of mine has been seeing a woman for the last four years and they are both married with children. I know it's none of my business and I shouldn't judge but don't call me telling me you wanna get it on and wonder if I'm free. Go to hell. Even if you're kidding, go to hell. It's soo not appropriate. Besides, how horny can you be if you already have two women!!! Selfish bastard.
Service clerks who don't give a rats ass what you buy. Yeah, they're helpful.
Phone bills.
Ever notice how it's the guys in the nicest cars who seem to have the most road rage? Does money make madness, or does not giving a shit about others make it easy to climb the money ladder? Either way, no thanks. I'd rather be poor.
Having serious conversations via email where tones and emotions are often misinterpreted and usually lead to the need to even more serious conversations.
Nosy friends who assume you've 'settled' in your life when really you're living the best life you could ever have imagined - sans lottery winnings of course.
Oh, and not winning the lottery.
...to be continued...
People who cut you off refusing to hear what you have to say and repeat the same thing over and over just getting louder so your opinion can't be heard.
Friends who are unfaithful to their mates and expect you to play coy and cute when they tell you they're horny and ask you what you're doing later. Get away from me pig. Now, I have been unfaithful in past relationships, I'll admit it. In no way was it a long continuous affair but it still doesn't make it right. I was in my 20's, totally selfish and didn't give a shit. Am I proud, no, but that isn't the point of this rant. The point is that this friend of mine has been seeing a woman for the last four years and they are both married with children. I know it's none of my business and I shouldn't judge but don't call me telling me you wanna get it on and wonder if I'm free. Go to hell. Even if you're kidding, go to hell. It's soo not appropriate. Besides, how horny can you be if you already have two women!!! Selfish bastard.
Service clerks who don't give a rats ass what you buy. Yeah, they're helpful.
Phone bills.
Ever notice how it's the guys in the nicest cars who seem to have the most road rage? Does money make madness, or does not giving a shit about others make it easy to climb the money ladder? Either way, no thanks. I'd rather be poor.
Having serious conversations via email where tones and emotions are often misinterpreted and usually lead to the need to even more serious conversations.
Nosy friends who assume you've 'settled' in your life when really you're living the best life you could ever have imagined - sans lottery winnings of course.
Oh, and not winning the lottery.
...to be continued...
My daily inspiration
Every morning I drive passed this woman who must be in her early 20's from the looks of her hair and dress. She walks slowly with the aid of a cane, looking down at her feet intent on making the next step. She is always carrying a shopping bag of some kind, as though she needs a destination, a goal, for her daily physiotherapy. Maybe she goes a little farther each day, setting the bar a little higher.
Every day as I pass her the same questions run through my mind... Has she had surgery? Was it an accident? Was she told she would never walk again? How much support does she have at home? Is she ok? Will she be ok?
Today was different.
Looking down at her feet. Intent on the next step. Carrying only a handbag. Her cane hung on her wrist. It did not touch the ground. She was walking on her own.
Every day as I pass her the same questions run through my mind... Has she had surgery? Was it an accident? Was she told she would never walk again? How much support does she have at home? Is she ok? Will she be ok?
Today was different.
Looking down at her feet. Intent on the next step. Carrying only a handbag. Her cane hung on her wrist. It did not touch the ground. She was walking on her own.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
How'd they do that???
Recently someone sent me an email with a video of these 'Quick change' artists. They're the guys and gals who magically change outfits in a nanosecond under the cover of a flowing, seemingly paper thin drape. Can someone please tell me how they do this???
Late addition: here's the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RB-wUgnyGv0
I've heard rumors that it's all layers. How many of you can wear eighteen outfits ALL AT ONCE without looking like Joey-gone-commando in that episode of Friends? ...remember that one - too funny man... Anyway.
Seriously. I need to know.
Late addition: here's the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RB-wUgnyGv0
I've heard rumors that it's all layers. How many of you can wear eighteen outfits ALL AT ONCE without looking like Joey-gone-commando in that episode of Friends? ...remember that one - too funny man... Anyway.
Seriously. I need to know.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
To boldly go...
So now that Anousheh Ansari is back from space, she has a blog to tell us all about it. Though I haven't read it all, it gives us a different perspective that what we wouldn't usually hear from NASA astronauts coming home. Click here to read about how they wash their hair and how painful it is to be tall.
http://spaceblog.xprize.org/
The trip to the international space station cost her $20M. I just gotta ask - how much money does she have that she can blow that much on a 48 hour trip?! I have to say, I'm a little envious... ok, a lot. Wish it was more affordable for the rest of us with restless spirits and a curiosity that knows no bounds.
What would you guys do if you had $20M to spend? Hmm?
http://spaceblog.xprize.org/
The trip to the international space station cost her $20M. I just gotta ask - how much money does she have that she can blow that much on a 48 hour trip?! I have to say, I'm a little envious... ok, a lot. Wish it was more affordable for the rest of us with restless spirits and a curiosity that knows no bounds.
What would you guys do if you had $20M to spend? Hmm?
Friday, September 22, 2006
Must Love Dogs
As most people I know would attest that I don't like dogs. A couple of posts ago I admitted my unpopular position on the animal and surprisingly no one commented... not directly to me anyway. Well, I haven't changed my opinion on the matter, just changed the facts.
Yesterday I met Maggie. An eight year old well-groomed husky shepherd mix with expressive eyes, one grey, one brown. She's calm, cute, and cuddly soft. She's loved and well taken care of, you can tell. See, that is the kind of dog I like. I don't like ones that look all depressed with dirty eyes, plowing me over at the door, and fur that leaves a lingering odor on your hands when you pet them. Poor guys, really. I know it's not their fault but why do people who can't care for them get them anyway? ... separate rant there... it upsets me.
I didn't always not like dogs. Growing up we always had some kind of pet in the house, Mocha a huge bull mastiff that I slept on as a toddler, Sneaker, our cat, who lived a long 16 years, Rusty, and Dusty, two shepherd mixes, rabbits Peter, Minnie, and a big chubby one that I don't remember the name of. We always had fish. And, Gizmo, the parrot I got for my 11th birthday. Gawd, I hated that thing. He just died last year you know, 21 years... my Mom adopted him. I guess she could tell we never connected like a girl and a screeching pet should.
I suppose I never wanted pets as an adult because they were always my responsibility growing up. Cleaning the aquarium, picking up dog poop, emptying the cat litter before the invention of that clump stuff, and getting bitten by mad rabbits while cleaning their cages (I swear they went crazy).
Just remembered... her name was Sherrie.
While on a field trip to Quebec City in the fifth grade, my Mom told me that Peter and Sherrie's cage, which was kept outside, was broken open by a wolf of some kind and Sherrie was killed and lucky Peter hopped away. There were sightings of him, likely stories to quell a little girls worst fears, but he was never found.
Minnie, a dwarf rabbit, escaped the balcony when my visiting aunt was letting her dog out and failed to close the gate.
Sneaker, who was my best friend until allergies kicked in at 13, was the most affectionate cat ever. We called him that because as a kitten he would hide behind furniture and close his eyes so we couldn't see him. He was jet black.
Missy, my puppy that I got when I moved into my first apartment. I remember her running away for a few hours and getting back to find scrape markings on her hip and blood on her nose. The next time I walked her she flinched whenever a car drove by. Broke my heart.
I'm sure we all have stories of how we loved pets and lost them. I think that's why I claimed I didn't like dogs, or animals in general, knowing in a few years I'll have to say goodbye...again. I have yet to decide if the pain is worth it.
...so, I guess it's not about the dogs at all... hmph.
Yesterday I met Maggie. An eight year old well-groomed husky shepherd mix with expressive eyes, one grey, one brown. She's calm, cute, and cuddly soft. She's loved and well taken care of, you can tell. See, that is the kind of dog I like. I don't like ones that look all depressed with dirty eyes, plowing me over at the door, and fur that leaves a lingering odor on your hands when you pet them. Poor guys, really. I know it's not their fault but why do people who can't care for them get them anyway? ... separate rant there... it upsets me.
I didn't always not like dogs. Growing up we always had some kind of pet in the house, Mocha a huge bull mastiff that I slept on as a toddler, Sneaker, our cat, who lived a long 16 years, Rusty, and Dusty, two shepherd mixes, rabbits Peter, Minnie, and a big chubby one that I don't remember the name of. We always had fish. And, Gizmo, the parrot I got for my 11th birthday. Gawd, I hated that thing. He just died last year you know, 21 years... my Mom adopted him. I guess she could tell we never connected like a girl and a screeching pet should.
I suppose I never wanted pets as an adult because they were always my responsibility growing up. Cleaning the aquarium, picking up dog poop, emptying the cat litter before the invention of that clump stuff, and getting bitten by mad rabbits while cleaning their cages (I swear they went crazy).
Just remembered... her name was Sherrie.
While on a field trip to Quebec City in the fifth grade, my Mom told me that Peter and Sherrie's cage, which was kept outside, was broken open by a wolf of some kind and Sherrie was killed and lucky Peter hopped away. There were sightings of him, likely stories to quell a little girls worst fears, but he was never found.
Minnie, a dwarf rabbit, escaped the balcony when my visiting aunt was letting her dog out and failed to close the gate.
Sneaker, who was my best friend until allergies kicked in at 13, was the most affectionate cat ever. We called him that because as a kitten he would hide behind furniture and close his eyes so we couldn't see him. He was jet black.
Missy, my puppy that I got when I moved into my first apartment. I remember her running away for a few hours and getting back to find scrape markings on her hip and blood on her nose. The next time I walked her she flinched whenever a car drove by. Broke my heart.
I'm sure we all have stories of how we loved pets and lost them. I think that's why I claimed I didn't like dogs, or animals in general, knowing in a few years I'll have to say goodbye...again. I have yet to decide if the pain is worth it.
...so, I guess it's not about the dogs at all... hmph.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Gratitude, in no particular order
I'm thankful for hugs because they let me know I am loved.
I'm thankful for smiles because they let me know someone is happy.
I'm thankful for friends that show me their blogs, it means they're letting me into their world.
I'm thankful for the laughter I share with the Christian, the Purolator guy, knowing that a chuckle can be wildly contagious long after he's left our office.
I'm thankful for music and the songs I sing-along to.
I'm just thankful and far too often I forget to recognize all that I have and all that I am.
I'm thankful for smiles because they let me know someone is happy.
I'm thankful for friends that show me their blogs, it means they're letting me into their world.
I'm thankful for the laughter I share with the Christian, the Purolator guy, knowing that a chuckle can be wildly contagious long after he's left our office.
I'm thankful for music and the songs I sing-along to.
I'm just thankful and far too often I forget to recognize all that I have and all that I am.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
The ones that got away...
Spent yesterday afternoon at a friend of a friends sons 12th birthday party. The adults drank sangria, laughed, and discussed kids (not mine since I ain't got any) and all in all had a pretty great time. Listening to the home-building banes, potty training trials, and general malaise over mother-in-laws got me thinking... when is it my turn? That question came with a question mark slash exclamation point.
Do I really want all of that, right now?!?! I mean, dating sucks, I got the memo. But it sounds a helluva lot more appealing than a four year old jamming a hard plastic nerf bullet into what could only be described as a screaming bandsaw going through a steel pipe.
Which brings me to my next point... I swear, if someone gives me the are-you-still-single look one more time I am going to be the bandsaw. What is it about being the token 30-something year old friend who tags along at all friend and family BBQ's - is it the pity invite or are we genuinely wanted? You know, cuz we could all just as easily stay at home and not be reminded that we don't have a husband that makes fat jokes behind our back, have children that roll their eyes at us, or tell stories of how we yelled mercilessly at a hardware store worker who failed to know the difference between a 2 x 4 and a 2 x 10. For real.
But really, I have turned into that woman. The one that married ones secretly envy and hate. In essence, I suppose that's the same thing. Either way, I'll take it. I've got no one to cook for, do laundry for or pick up after... all of mine 'got away'. Thankfully.
Do I really want all of that, right now?!?! I mean, dating sucks, I got the memo. But it sounds a helluva lot more appealing than a four year old jamming a hard plastic nerf bullet into what could only be described as a screaming bandsaw going through a steel pipe.
Which brings me to my next point... I swear, if someone gives me the are-you-still-single look one more time I am going to be the bandsaw. What is it about being the token 30-something year old friend who tags along at all friend and family BBQ's - is it the pity invite or are we genuinely wanted? You know, cuz we could all just as easily stay at home and not be reminded that we don't have a husband that makes fat jokes behind our back, have children that roll their eyes at us, or tell stories of how we yelled mercilessly at a hardware store worker who failed to know the difference between a 2 x 4 and a 2 x 10. For real.
But really, I have turned into that woman. The one that married ones secretly envy and hate. In essence, I suppose that's the same thing. Either way, I'll take it. I've got no one to cook for, do laundry for or pick up after... all of mine 'got away'. Thankfully.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Listening to Neil makes me happy
Windows media player let's me stack a playlist full of songs I currently love and some of those I haven't heard in a while. Now playing is "I am, I said" by Neil Diamond. Brings me back to living on Notre Dame street in Chomedey in the late 70's listening to Johnny Cash, John Denver, Diana Ross, Ginette Renaud, and of course Neil Diamond. I can remember my mom's friend bellowing the lyrics to Sweet Caroline... brings me back to a time I knew nothing at all and loved every minute of it. Oh, to be six again. Ba-ba-baaaa....
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
I always hated plaid
Being aware of ourselves, namely our behaviour, keeps us in constant contact with the 'me'. It's almost like checking your pulse once in a while to make sure your heart is still beating, your chest is filling with air and then you exhale... all in working order. Check and check.
Keeping track of where your mind is at isn't that cut and dry. There's no inflation of anything we can see, or touch, there's no rhythmic beat to count, only assumptions of where we believe we are at the time. A lot of rationalizations can happen there too. We fiercely defend our positions when no one has even questioned them. We make excuses for ourselves vowing to all and to none that things are different this time, I just know it. When we think we've cleared up those nasty patterns we would fall so easily into, only to suddenly get jolted from our false reality awakening to yet another "oh shit I've done it again" moments. Those suck ass.
When do we know what we feel is actually what we're feeling if we don't know it? And when do we accept responsibility for not knowing something we know? Since we can't un-know, how is it that we can't seem to recognize behaviours we have perfected and know make us feel icky? What is it that makes self-sabotaging an attractive scapegoat? Where does it end? And when... can someone tell me when?
I think I need to be more aware and let my instincts guide me and hope that the alarm bell sounds before I've gone passed the point of no return. For now I can only sit with my life today and hold on to what I think I know and wish all of my past knowns will know themselves. You know?
Keeping track of where your mind is at isn't that cut and dry. There's no inflation of anything we can see, or touch, there's no rhythmic beat to count, only assumptions of where we believe we are at the time. A lot of rationalizations can happen there too. We fiercely defend our positions when no one has even questioned them. We make excuses for ourselves vowing to all and to none that things are different this time, I just know it. When we think we've cleared up those nasty patterns we would fall so easily into, only to suddenly get jolted from our false reality awakening to yet another "oh shit I've done it again" moments. Those suck ass.
When do we know what we feel is actually what we're feeling if we don't know it? And when do we accept responsibility for not knowing something we know? Since we can't un-know, how is it that we can't seem to recognize behaviours we have perfected and know make us feel icky? What is it that makes self-sabotaging an attractive scapegoat? Where does it end? And when... can someone tell me when?
I think I need to be more aware and let my instincts guide me and hope that the alarm bell sounds before I've gone passed the point of no return. For now I can only sit with my life today and hold on to what I think I know and wish all of my past knowns will know themselves. You know?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
The truth about mullets
What do we really want? I must've asked myself this at least a thousand times in the last few months and have finally found most of the answers - I'm also totally comfortable with the fact that I don't have all of them. Whew.
It's amazing, once I put myself out into the dating world I realized I'm facing it with my eyes open and chin up. I'm more confident than before and understanding what I can and cannot accept in a friend, partner, lover, and everything in between.
Addicted? Move on. I heard this past weekend that people who smoke have suicidal tendencies. Think on that one for a minute.
A father? Can't do it. I've been in two relationships with men with children and I won't do it again. Am I being selfish? For sure. But would I be sacrificing my needs to stay with someone who didn't want more children? Definitely.
Total dog lover? Yeah. That's a deal breaker for two reasons... 1. I'm allergic to most. And 2. I am against committing to picking up someone else’s crap for 10 - 15 years... sorta sounds like a sentence doesn't it. I'm single, love to travel, and would hate for an animal to have to be put in a kennel for weeks on end. Not to mention, I work full time and am in complete disagreement with people who think keeping dogs in cages for ten hours a day is a mighty fine idea.
Into weird... stuff? Seriously, I know 'to each his own' but really, where the hell do these people come from? What possesses someone to get oddly placed piercings, full body tattoos, and having a snake as a pet is beyond me.
And another thing, why are most men into sci-fi (not that there's anything wrong with that) but what is it about oddly shaped heads, giant flying cities, and blobs that allure you? I've never met a woman who owns the complete Star Wars series.
Controlling? Yeah, not me or the remote. I once dated a guy that had me thinking my friends and family were secretly plotting to kill me. Well, not really, but it was bad. I left him... with his permission.
Bad hygiene? What is the deal with men who hate to bathe and/or do laundry? Ever been around a guy who smells like a hamper? Sick. They mustn't have friends to tell them - or, even worse, their friends smell just as bad.
Two words... comb overs. Give it up. You're losing it and the sooner you accept it the sooner you'll cut it off and stop looking like a muppet.
And saving the best for last, let's discuss the mullet. Oublie ca mes amis. It's over. 1987 has come and gone and unless you're vying for a prime position on www.mulletsgalore.com, let it go.
So here's what I know I don't want... saving the mystery for what I do for another day. Until then, I remain, imperfect and wonderful.
Cheers!
It's amazing, once I put myself out into the dating world I realized I'm facing it with my eyes open and chin up. I'm more confident than before and understanding what I can and cannot accept in a friend, partner, lover, and everything in between.
Addicted? Move on. I heard this past weekend that people who smoke have suicidal tendencies. Think on that one for a minute.
A father? Can't do it. I've been in two relationships with men with children and I won't do it again. Am I being selfish? For sure. But would I be sacrificing my needs to stay with someone who didn't want more children? Definitely.
Total dog lover? Yeah. That's a deal breaker for two reasons... 1. I'm allergic to most. And 2. I am against committing to picking up someone else’s crap for 10 - 15 years... sorta sounds like a sentence doesn't it. I'm single, love to travel, and would hate for an animal to have to be put in a kennel for weeks on end. Not to mention, I work full time and am in complete disagreement with people who think keeping dogs in cages for ten hours a day is a mighty fine idea.
Into weird... stuff? Seriously, I know 'to each his own' but really, where the hell do these people come from? What possesses someone to get oddly placed piercings, full body tattoos, and having a snake as a pet is beyond me.
And another thing, why are most men into sci-fi (not that there's anything wrong with that) but what is it about oddly shaped heads, giant flying cities, and blobs that allure you? I've never met a woman who owns the complete Star Wars series.
Controlling? Yeah, not me or the remote. I once dated a guy that had me thinking my friends and family were secretly plotting to kill me. Well, not really, but it was bad. I left him... with his permission.
Bad hygiene? What is the deal with men who hate to bathe and/or do laundry? Ever been around a guy who smells like a hamper? Sick. They mustn't have friends to tell them - or, even worse, their friends smell just as bad.
Two words... comb overs. Give it up. You're losing it and the sooner you accept it the sooner you'll cut it off and stop looking like a muppet.
And saving the best for last, let's discuss the mullet. Oublie ca mes amis. It's over. 1987 has come and gone and unless you're vying for a prime position on www.mulletsgalore.com, let it go.
So here's what I know I don't want... saving the mystery for what I do for another day. Until then, I remain, imperfect and wonderful.
Cheers!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Goodnight Grandpa...
Everyone dies, it isn't a matter of when, it's a matter of how. Whether you lived your life to it's fullest without regret or if you bowed in the face of your own existence arrogantly thinking it would be forever. Well, it is forever.
We never know when our time will come but it's the life lived that gets counted. It is judged by the good you have left behind. Your legacy. What will you leave? In whose mind will you pass on memories of a life with stories that will continue to be told? What good will come from you walking this earth among the rest of us? What lessons have you left us with? On whose heart will you leave your footprint? Who will remember you...
While we can only be who we are and give what we can at the time, we can always manage to leave this life with a smile... maybe even a tiny grin.
We never know when our time will come but it's the life lived that gets counted. It is judged by the good you have left behind. Your legacy. What will you leave? In whose mind will you pass on memories of a life with stories that will continue to be told? What good will come from you walking this earth among the rest of us? What lessons have you left us with? On whose heart will you leave your footprint? Who will remember you...
While we can only be who we are and give what we can at the time, we can always manage to leave this life with a smile... maybe even a tiny grin.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The best is yet to come.
Driving home from downtown yesterday I realized something - unlike most of my friends or relatives, I still have soo many firsts ahead of me. Now, forgive me if this whole post is like a run-on sentence and blabbering session but I'm writing it as it comes...
A few posts ago I boasted giving the gift of being alone to me. Truth be known I wasn't too thrilled about it. But, as they say, fake it until you make it. Well, here I am. I am alone and it feels great. I know that I will have at least one more first kiss in my lifetime and that mystery is enough to get me through any dreadful wait in the inevitable grocery store line behind a woman who is trying to cash coupons and the clerk is officially "In training" - at least that's what her name tag tells me. I know that I'll at least once see someone's eyes from across a crowded room *insert gag sound here* and feel those butterflies in my tummy. I know that I will feel the overwhelming rush of passion. I know I will crave him... whoever he is.
You know, for the first time I'm not in a rush to find him. According to a wise friend of mine, we'll call her Shannon, he's getting ready for me as I am for him and when the time is right the universe will make it happen. Fate. Destiny. There's really something to be said for a process you've believed in that has never worked yet you continue to have faith, blindly. I still believe that this time, it is different. Don't we all?
Think of all the firsts that are coming. The first hand holding. The first time. Exploring someone soo deeply, knowing how he takes his coffee, giggling together and knowing inside jokes that no one else understands, cooking together. Discovering all of the big and little things that make me, me, him, him and we, we.
In the meantime, I am still sans hot pink sheets and lovin' every minute of it. After all, the best is yet to come ... but it’s also right here and right now.
A few posts ago I boasted giving the gift of being alone to me. Truth be known I wasn't too thrilled about it. But, as they say, fake it until you make it. Well, here I am. I am alone and it feels great. I know that I will have at least one more first kiss in my lifetime and that mystery is enough to get me through any dreadful wait in the inevitable grocery store line behind a woman who is trying to cash coupons and the clerk is officially "In training" - at least that's what her name tag tells me. I know that I'll at least once see someone's eyes from across a crowded room *insert gag sound here* and feel those butterflies in my tummy. I know that I will feel the overwhelming rush of passion. I know I will crave him... whoever he is.
You know, for the first time I'm not in a rush to find him. According to a wise friend of mine, we'll call her Shannon, he's getting ready for me as I am for him and when the time is right the universe will make it happen. Fate. Destiny. There's really something to be said for a process you've believed in that has never worked yet you continue to have faith, blindly. I still believe that this time, it is different. Don't we all?
Think of all the firsts that are coming. The first hand holding. The first time. Exploring someone soo deeply, knowing how he takes his coffee, giggling together and knowing inside jokes that no one else understands, cooking together. Discovering all of the big and little things that make me, me, him, him and we, we.
In the meantime, I am still sans hot pink sheets and lovin' every minute of it. After all, the best is yet to come ... but it’s also right here and right now.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
The value of good judgment...
...and when I could have used it.
When is it time to stop eating after a Coke, handfuls of Fritos, a 14oz rib steak, roasted potatoes, Greek salad. Maybe after the ice cream covered in fruit and heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream? Nowhere in your meal should the word 'cream' appear twice. I feel sick.
When to remove yourself from situations and conversations that are a) none of your business and b) soo negative that if you had a gauge it would be off the charts. Always, always, always take the high road uttering curse words and gesturing violently with your arms. Mature.
When to keep your mouth shut about dropping your cob of corn on the ground and not sounding like a 4 year old who just dropped her lollipop in the sand. Wait, sidebar: I think corn IS the adult lollipop - although the traditional ways to enjoy each of them are dramatically different. Yummy.
When to say goodbye and know that it truly is the best decision for you. The other person may not appreciate what you have done but in time they will realize that you could have ripped their heart out one painful piece at a time and instead you walked away. I could never be one of those wives with a whipped husband. The whole thing just makes me feel icky. Icky.
When to let go and keep faith in the choices you made all the while knowing you can never go back. There's a certain finality to that one. Excruciating.
Confession... most times, I ain't got it. Shocker.
When is it time to stop eating after a Coke, handfuls of Fritos, a 14oz rib steak, roasted potatoes, Greek salad. Maybe after the ice cream covered in fruit and heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream? Nowhere in your meal should the word 'cream' appear twice. I feel sick.
When to remove yourself from situations and conversations that are a) none of your business and b) soo negative that if you had a gauge it would be off the charts. Always, always, always take the high road uttering curse words and gesturing violently with your arms. Mature.
When to keep your mouth shut about dropping your cob of corn on the ground and not sounding like a 4 year old who just dropped her lollipop in the sand. Wait, sidebar: I think corn IS the adult lollipop - although the traditional ways to enjoy each of them are dramatically different. Yummy.
When to say goodbye and know that it truly is the best decision for you. The other person may not appreciate what you have done but in time they will realize that you could have ripped their heart out one painful piece at a time and instead you walked away. I could never be one of those wives with a whipped husband. The whole thing just makes me feel icky. Icky.
When to let go and keep faith in the choices you made all the while knowing you can never go back. There's a certain finality to that one. Excruciating.
Confession... most times, I ain't got it. Shocker.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Dude, where's my castle?!
This week I will be spending the anniversary of my birth touring a castle that was built for Louise... the love of George Boldt's life.
At the turn-of-the-century, George C. Boldt, millionaire proprietor of the world famous Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City, set out to build a full size Rhineland Castle in Alexandria Bay, on Picturesque Heart Island. The grandiose structure was to be a display of his love for his wife, Louise.
Beginning in 1900, Boldt's family shared four glorious summers on the island in the Alster Tower while 300 workers including stonemasons, carpenters, and artists fashioned the six story, 120 room castle, complete with tunnels, a powerhouse, Italian gardens, a draw bridge, and a dove cote. Not a single detail or expense was spared.
In 1904, tragedy struck. Boldt telegraphed the island and commanded the workers to immediately "stop all construction." Louise had died suddenly. A broken hearted Boldt could not imagine his dream castle without his beloved. Boldt never returned to the island, leaving behind the structure as a monument of his love.
http://www.boldtcastle.com/history.html
Reading this love story, though tragic, leaves me with one thought. What happened to the days of castle-building, courting, chivalry, knight in shining armour, fight to the death for his lady's honour? The F-word, Feminism, in a healthy dose, I believe still leaves room for the romance of those days, of course without horses, swords, and powder wigs.
A friend of mine confessed that he feels with women being independent (which is something he finds very attractive) leaves a line that is blurred and men often don't know their place - before you hang me, those were his words not mine - and that opening a door for some women could be viewed as thoughtful whereas others would take it as an attack on their equality. Phooey!, I say. If someone wants to open my door, drape their jacket over my shoulders on a cool night, bring me flowers for no reason at all, that is ok with me. Those gestures, small or grandiose, do not and will never make me the weaker sex.
Now, building a castle is very sweet but for my needs it is completely unnecessary. I would rather a castle built on respect, love, friendship and laughter. I think that recipe makes a quite satisfying foundation if not the entire structure.
So on that note, I wait. I wait for my castle while I secure my own foundation in hopes of someday sharing it.
At the turn-of-the-century, George C. Boldt, millionaire proprietor of the world famous Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City, set out to build a full size Rhineland Castle in Alexandria Bay, on Picturesque Heart Island. The grandiose structure was to be a display of his love for his wife, Louise.
Beginning in 1900, Boldt's family shared four glorious summers on the island in the Alster Tower while 300 workers including stonemasons, carpenters, and artists fashioned the six story, 120 room castle, complete with tunnels, a powerhouse, Italian gardens, a draw bridge, and a dove cote. Not a single detail or expense was spared.
In 1904, tragedy struck. Boldt telegraphed the island and commanded the workers to immediately "stop all construction." Louise had died suddenly. A broken hearted Boldt could not imagine his dream castle without his beloved. Boldt never returned to the island, leaving behind the structure as a monument of his love.
http://www.boldtcastle.com/history.html
Reading this love story, though tragic, leaves me with one thought. What happened to the days of castle-building, courting, chivalry, knight in shining armour, fight to the death for his lady's honour? The F-word, Feminism, in a healthy dose, I believe still leaves room for the romance of those days, of course without horses, swords, and powder wigs.
A friend of mine confessed that he feels with women being independent (which is something he finds very attractive) leaves a line that is blurred and men often don't know their place - before you hang me, those were his words not mine - and that opening a door for some women could be viewed as thoughtful whereas others would take it as an attack on their equality. Phooey!, I say. If someone wants to open my door, drape their jacket over my shoulders on a cool night, bring me flowers for no reason at all, that is ok with me. Those gestures, small or grandiose, do not and will never make me the weaker sex.
Now, building a castle is very sweet but for my needs it is completely unnecessary. I would rather a castle built on respect, love, friendship and laughter. I think that recipe makes a quite satisfying foundation if not the entire structure.
So on that note, I wait. I wait for my castle while I secure my own foundation in hopes of someday sharing it.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Dance Like No One is Watching
Reading a friends blog made me giggle, made me sad, and struck me as something I should be writing. Telling a story of a 40-something-balding-out-of-shape guy dancing by his lonesome self trying to get it on with the girls on the dance floor... man, sometimes I feel like that guy. Desperately trying to reach out, wondering if anyone sees me.
I am becoming the invisible woman. Oh, wait scratch that - I'm the Woman Only Seen By 40-something-balding-out-of-shape guys. I remember a mature person who labeled herself as the Invisible Woman. She shared her absolutely depressing views on how we, the female species, age and now I will share this ill-fated wisdom with you.
In our late teens we are often seen as young women with hard bodies, who knew everything, and dated boys with tattoos, piercings, and a motorcycle. We were the envy of the 30 somethings who wished they could do it all again, sans sagging asses and adult acne. Then came our twenties when were educated, pretending to like martinis, and claiming we knew the true meaning of "oh god, remember when...??", Stars on 45, and dreaming of being taken to Funkytown in our nighties. Through it all we were still gawked at, honked at, whistled at, poked, groped, and hit on.
Now comes our actual thirties when less heads turn as we walk by. We're considered to be mothers, career-women with families, grocery bag touting mommies who discuss preschool mishaps, women who are slowly becoming invisible. Sidebar: what happens when you're not actually one of these?
Forties... yeah, won't even go there. I'm not in that stage of life and would hate the wrath of comments that may follow from actual 40 year olds who may not appreciate this second-hand wisdom. I won't even delve into the fifty+ market, you guys get the idea.
The Invisible Woman - someone in their twenties could never understand what it feels like when it starts to happen. When you only get the attention from guys who wear tuques in the bar, have four teeth and smell like cabbage while they're offering to buy you a drink with their pocket full of toonies! What happened to that young virile totally make my knees weak hottie that used to take me in by the eye full? Hmph...
So, thinking about it now, would it be so bad to Dance Like No One Is Watching? At least someone is lookin'... even if it's just to point and laugh at your jabbing-the-air dance moves.
I am becoming the invisible woman. Oh, wait scratch that - I'm the Woman Only Seen By 40-something-balding-out-of-shape guys. I remember a mature person who labeled herself as the Invisible Woman. She shared her absolutely depressing views on how we, the female species, age and now I will share this ill-fated wisdom with you.
In our late teens we are often seen as young women with hard bodies, who knew everything, and dated boys with tattoos, piercings, and a motorcycle. We were the envy of the 30 somethings who wished they could do it all again, sans sagging asses and adult acne. Then came our twenties when were educated, pretending to like martinis, and claiming we knew the true meaning of "oh god, remember when...??", Stars on 45, and dreaming of being taken to Funkytown in our nighties. Through it all we were still gawked at, honked at, whistled at, poked, groped, and hit on.
Now comes our actual thirties when less heads turn as we walk by. We're considered to be mothers, career-women with families, grocery bag touting mommies who discuss preschool mishaps, women who are slowly becoming invisible. Sidebar: what happens when you're not actually one of these?
Forties... yeah, won't even go there. I'm not in that stage of life and would hate the wrath of comments that may follow from actual 40 year olds who may not appreciate this second-hand wisdom. I won't even delve into the fifty+ market, you guys get the idea.
The Invisible Woman - someone in their twenties could never understand what it feels like when it starts to happen. When you only get the attention from guys who wear tuques in the bar, have four teeth and smell like cabbage while they're offering to buy you a drink with their pocket full of toonies! What happened to that young virile totally make my knees weak hottie that used to take me in by the eye full? Hmph...
So, thinking about it now, would it be so bad to Dance Like No One Is Watching? At least someone is lookin'... even if it's just to point and laugh at your jabbing-the-air dance moves.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Busiest blog on the net
Here is a link to an Israelis woman's blog. She was featured on Canada AM earlier this week and according to stats cited by the show, her blog is the most read on the topic of the crisis in the Middle East. Quite interesting to see, read, and get a feel for what is actually going on on the other side of the world - not just filtering what the media tells us.
http://ontheface.blogware.com/
http://ontheface.blogware.com/
The Pop-Culture Closure
I was wondering, amidst all the reality shows; what to wear, what not to wear, who says the darnedest things, how someone miraculously survived sliding off a roof while they were shovelling it, how babies can shoot peas out of their noses and win $10,000 for doing it, how people can invent things that are too ridiculous to entertain or mention, how we can watch the sweetest proposals caught on tape, do we gain closure on events that affected us all?
During the thirty eight minutes of previews to "The Devil Wears Prada" was the one preview that surely stopped everyones breath, even for just a moment. World Trade Center, the movie. In the hours it seemed to have passed in mere seconds, we were all brought back to that day. Are we ready to relive it? Are we prepared to submerse ourselves into the images we had nightmares about?
After all great events there is inevitably some director that thinks it's a good time to document all the facts... whether it's Baby Erica's story, the first organ transplant, Apollo 13, the Sago mine disaster, the Holocaust, 9/11. When do we know we're ready? And if we are, do we get closure?
During the thirty eight minutes of previews to "The Devil Wears Prada" was the one preview that surely stopped everyones breath, even for just a moment. World Trade Center, the movie. In the hours it seemed to have passed in mere seconds, we were all brought back to that day. Are we ready to relive it? Are we prepared to submerse ourselves into the images we had nightmares about?
After all great events there is inevitably some director that thinks it's a good time to document all the facts... whether it's Baby Erica's story, the first organ transplant, Apollo 13, the Sago mine disaster, the Holocaust, 9/11. When do we know we're ready? And if we are, do we get closure?
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