Its freaking one in the morning and I have been awake since six. I am not tired and I need to be awake again at, shockingly, 6am. Why can't I sleep?
_____________________________________________________________
Great now its fucking 2:01am and I am STILL awake.
I'm going to be a mess tomorrow.
Why dammit - why???
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Solstice this
The longest day of the year left this as my horoscope:
Gemini (May 21 — June 21)
You will improve awkward areas of your emotional world. At the moment, you are keenly aware of what's missing in your life, but soon you will realize how much you have.
_______________________________________________
I have awkward areas in my emotional world.
Things that I can't explain and won't.
We all do.
I swear that half of the life we live, we live in our heads and not out loud.
Half of all reality is fantasy. That's what makes it fun.
The things I do.
The things I say.
The thoughts I think.
All of these are very different.
Only the thoughts I think actually belong to me. Right?
When I write down what I think, it stops being mine.
I write too many things.
And then I portion them out in tiny packages to different people.
Even a grocery list.
Its a sharing thing. And frankly, I don't want to share everything.
Nor can I.
Nor should I.
I'm trying, again, to find my balance folks.
Hang in there....we're getting closer.
So on a day that is all about EXCESS - the longest day of the year - the most sunlight - the biggest pleasure - I give you all a giant push towards the sun.
Gemini (May 21 — June 21)
You will improve awkward areas of your emotional world. At the moment, you are keenly aware of what's missing in your life, but soon you will realize how much you have.
_______________________________________________
I have awkward areas in my emotional world.
Things that I can't explain and won't.
We all do.
I swear that half of the life we live, we live in our heads and not out loud.
Half of all reality is fantasy. That's what makes it fun.
The things I do.
The things I say.
The thoughts I think.
All of these are very different.
Only the thoughts I think actually belong to me. Right?
When I write down what I think, it stops being mine.
I write too many things.
And then I portion them out in tiny packages to different people.
Even a grocery list.
Its a sharing thing. And frankly, I don't want to share everything.
Nor can I.
Nor should I.
I'm trying, again, to find my balance folks.
Hang in there....we're getting closer.
So on a day that is all about EXCESS - the longest day of the year - the most sunlight - the biggest pleasure - I give you all a giant push towards the sun.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
From Fourty-One to Fourty-Two
Today I am 42. Fourty two freaking years old.
I looked and listened for a song that would capture the last year of my life. I toyed with more Concrete Blonde, went through all of the Stars that I know and love. Hell, I even thought about some Blue Rodeo for old time's sake. But nothing quite hit the roller coaster year I've had.
I went back, and frankly thanks to the blogosphere you can too, and re-read last year's birthday stuff - just to get a feel for where my head was. I thought about where I was and where I am today and I came up with this pearl of wisdom for you.
There is nothing quite as sobering as a brush with almost near kinda death to make you see what a crazy insane psycho bitch you have the potential to be.
No.
Wait.
That's not it at all.
Love will save the day, set you free and sustain you.
Well. That's closer anyway!
Anyone who knows me even a little knows that my one real rule in life is that everyone must love me. The idea that someone doesn't like me is really the worst thought ever! I take what affection and attention that is offered and I revel in it - I really honestly do. I seek it out. I embrace any kind of love. In fact, I've said a tonne of times before - do we find love often enough that we can afford to ever turn it away? No matter who it is?
Well, with age comes wisdon and this year I changed my attitude a bit. I started to try to find love that made me FEEL loved and in turn made me feel good about myself.
I mean all kinds of love. Friends - family - where ever love finds us these days.
This past year I took a new attitude with my family. I love them all - each and every one of my extended family: cousins, aunts, uncles, dead parents, divorced in laws, estranged brothers. But, I'm not going to force myself into places I don't naturally fit. My kids need family - as much as I do. But they need it to be effortless and comforting not forced and surreal.
They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, I can't throw holiday parties that my mother would love. I just don't have it in me. And you know, she's never going to fucking show up. So, it doesn't really matter does it? Its time I started pleasing myself - not my dead mother.
When I went to my cousin's funeral and my Aunt said that they were all "so proud" of how I'd handled myself in spite of the shitful fucked up hand I'd been dealt (paraphrasing of course gentle reader - my "Auntie Lois" would NEVER in a million years say shitful or fucked up)I cried for days like the blubbering puke that I am. Why? Not because she was right, although in hindsight she likely is, but because I needed that approval and validation from them - I sucked it up.
After I gave my head a good shake (read: Rick told me not to be such an idiot) I realized how pathetic that is. I don't need what essentially amounts to pity. I know I cope amazingly well. Somtimes I forget. But I KNOW I rock the crisis hard core. I am "Crisis chick". I should get a t-shirt - maybe even a cape.....hm.
I also made some decisions on how I manage my personal relationships. I know I hurt people who love me and who I love. I didn't mean to because, hell people, if you are following at all, I just want to be loved, but not all love is good for you. Some love was not good for me.
I did some pretty fantastically stupid things this year. And NO I am not going to make you a list! Suffice it to say that each and every wrong turn I made, I made a note of. I will try not to do it again. I can't say that I won't because I am the queen of unfulfilled promise, but I do have geniunely pure intentions.
I had, what some might say, a triumphant year for a 41 year old woman.
I discovered new things, bits and peices of confident sexy me that haven't seen the light of day in forever. Those peices of me own good high heels, push up bras and rock the short skirt. I like that girl. She's fun and flirty and confident and pretty fucking brilliant and in her fourties. She's not ashamed of her age, she's not too old to do anything, she's got wrinkles and sags and doesn't give a rat's royal ass. Because after all this time she's figured out that it really IS what is inside that gives her the bravado. She forgets sometimes and still wears crocs but I think we'll keep her.
I made moves to take this chick places. I took her to the magazine and wrote an article they actually published. And sure, its in ESL level 4 english but its a start, right.
I have read, this year, peices that have inspired me. I have collaborated. I have shared things I never thought I'd have the courage to share. I have opened myself, my heart and my soul to people in ways I never thought I would and for that I am eternally grateful. I FEEL exceedingly excessively loved.
Sometimes life is about opportunity.
I had tremendous opportunity this year. I took them. I didn't solve all my problems or make the world a better place or cure cancer or feed the homeless. None of those things. But I did the best I could.
My friend Dan said this today: "you just have some "tweaking" to do. not on your blog. but on life..." And, I think, he may be right.
Is it too corny to say that I'm taking steps in the right direction? I'm surrounded by people I love who love me back and they are walking with me where I need to go.
I looked and listened for a song that would capture the last year of my life. I toyed with more Concrete Blonde, went through all of the Stars that I know and love. Hell, I even thought about some Blue Rodeo for old time's sake. But nothing quite hit the roller coaster year I've had.
I went back, and frankly thanks to the blogosphere you can too, and re-read last year's birthday stuff - just to get a feel for where my head was. I thought about where I was and where I am today and I came up with this pearl of wisdom for you.
There is nothing quite as sobering as a brush with almost near kinda death to make you see what a crazy insane psycho bitch you have the potential to be.
No.
Wait.
That's not it at all.
Love will save the day, set you free and sustain you.
Well. That's closer anyway!
Anyone who knows me even a little knows that my one real rule in life is that everyone must love me. The idea that someone doesn't like me is really the worst thought ever! I take what affection and attention that is offered and I revel in it - I really honestly do. I seek it out. I embrace any kind of love. In fact, I've said a tonne of times before - do we find love often enough that we can afford to ever turn it away? No matter who it is?
Well, with age comes wisdon and this year I changed my attitude a bit. I started to try to find love that made me FEEL loved and in turn made me feel good about myself.
I mean all kinds of love. Friends - family - where ever love finds us these days.
This past year I took a new attitude with my family. I love them all - each and every one of my extended family: cousins, aunts, uncles, dead parents, divorced in laws, estranged brothers. But, I'm not going to force myself into places I don't naturally fit. My kids need family - as much as I do. But they need it to be effortless and comforting not forced and surreal.
They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, I can't throw holiday parties that my mother would love. I just don't have it in me. And you know, she's never going to fucking show up. So, it doesn't really matter does it? Its time I started pleasing myself - not my dead mother.
When I went to my cousin's funeral and my Aunt said that they were all "so proud" of how I'd handled myself in spite of the shitful fucked up hand I'd been dealt (paraphrasing of course gentle reader - my "Auntie Lois" would NEVER in a million years say shitful or fucked up)I cried for days like the blubbering puke that I am. Why? Not because she was right, although in hindsight she likely is, but because I needed that approval and validation from them - I sucked it up.
After I gave my head a good shake (read: Rick told me not to be such an idiot) I realized how pathetic that is. I don't need what essentially amounts to pity. I know I cope amazingly well. Somtimes I forget. But I KNOW I rock the crisis hard core. I am "Crisis chick". I should get a t-shirt - maybe even a cape.....hm.
I also made some decisions on how I manage my personal relationships. I know I hurt people who love me and who I love. I didn't mean to because, hell people, if you are following at all, I just want to be loved, but not all love is good for you. Some love was not good for me.
I did some pretty fantastically stupid things this year. And NO I am not going to make you a list! Suffice it to say that each and every wrong turn I made, I made a note of. I will try not to do it again. I can't say that I won't because I am the queen of unfulfilled promise, but I do have geniunely pure intentions.
I had, what some might say, a triumphant year for a 41 year old woman.
I discovered new things, bits and peices of confident sexy me that haven't seen the light of day in forever. Those peices of me own good high heels, push up bras and rock the short skirt. I like that girl. She's fun and flirty and confident and pretty fucking brilliant and in her fourties. She's not ashamed of her age, she's not too old to do anything, she's got wrinkles and sags and doesn't give a rat's royal ass. Because after all this time she's figured out that it really IS what is inside that gives her the bravado. She forgets sometimes and still wears crocs but I think we'll keep her.
I made moves to take this chick places. I took her to the magazine and wrote an article they actually published. And sure, its in ESL level 4 english but its a start, right.
I have read, this year, peices that have inspired me. I have collaborated. I have shared things I never thought I'd have the courage to share. I have opened myself, my heart and my soul to people in ways I never thought I would and for that I am eternally grateful. I FEEL exceedingly excessively loved.
Sometimes life is about opportunity.
I had tremendous opportunity this year. I took them. I didn't solve all my problems or make the world a better place or cure cancer or feed the homeless. None of those things. But I did the best I could.
My friend Dan said this today: "you just have some "tweaking" to do. not on your blog. but on life..." And, I think, he may be right.
Is it too corny to say that I'm taking steps in the right direction? I'm surrounded by people I love who love me back and they are walking with me where I need to go.
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Magazine
I haven't been blogging much lately. Okay, let me correct that. I have been blogging plenty - just not hitting the magical "Publish Post" button.
Why?
Because they SUCK ASS.
No, I'm not being self deprecating. I'm being honest. They do.
They are mostly whiny and snivelly, self indulgent and sad.
Why again?
Because that's how I feel.
I feel just overwhelmed and under achieving.
If I have let you down recently I apologize.
I'm doing an awful lot of that to myself too.
I'm taking some time to regroup.
Re-think.
Re-write.
In the mean time - please feel free to peruse Canadian Newcomer Magazine and my fascinating article on summer festivals.
Why?
Because they SUCK ASS.
No, I'm not being self deprecating. I'm being honest. They do.
They are mostly whiny and snivelly, self indulgent and sad.
Why again?
Because that's how I feel.
I feel just overwhelmed and under achieving.
If I have let you down recently I apologize.
I'm doing an awful lot of that to myself too.
I'm taking some time to regroup.
Re-think.
Re-write.
In the mean time - please feel free to peruse Canadian Newcomer Magazine and my fascinating article on summer festivals.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Gilligan's Island
I have worked (again) this year on the Fun Fair at the boy's school. Hours and hours and meetings and planning and shopping and errands. Days and days and days I have spent trying to help the fun fair committee - affectionately called the Fantastic Four.
Days I was awake until 2am - emailing my fellow members and having them answer me.
I typed folktales and translated folktales and laminated folktales and spiral bound folktales...all with my buddies...all in the name of rabid multiculturalism. All in prep for the fun fair.
Today alone, I drove a quarter tank of gas on errands all over hell's half acre. I ran around town, I shopped, I wrapped, I organized.
I sold fucking tickets for raffles and food and freezies.
Candy floss and popcorn.
Burgers and dogs.
It was exhausting - for all of us.
All 4 of us looked like we'd been beaten up.
The principal gets up on the stage and says - "I'd like to thank the pta for all of their efforts to put on the fun fair....." and I'm thinking well, you're welcome. Then she continues - "this fair would not take place without our great team: Mrs Sharma, Mr. MacKay AND THE REST..."
And the rest?
WTF?
There are only fucking 4 of us.
And the rest?
The rest is Miss MacDougall and Mrs. Fletcher.
For fuck's bloddy sake there are fucking four of us.
I know now exactly why the Professor and Mary Anne were always so annoyed. They probably COULD have gotten everyone off the fucking island but were just pissed off at being ignored.
I'm annoyed.
No one volunteers to be acknowledged. You do it out of the goodness of your heart - from a sense of duty to your cause. But, its shitty when you're colleagues are recognized and you are not.
Ah well. I supposed it could have been worse.
The could have gotten my name wrong altogether or spilled ketchup on me or .... wait. Or maybe she's just a rude bitch.
That's the one I'm going with.
Its not like she doesn't know my fucking name!
There are 3 more events at the school this year although there are only 21 days of school left.
Teacher appreciation lunch. Fuck that - I'm working and although I COULD take time out to be there - fuck them - order the big 6 foot long fucking sub and be done with it. Last year I was in charge of supplying all the dessert. This year, let them eat fruit coctail from a can.
Volunteer appreciation tea. Fuck that. I don't want their tea.
Grade 8 grad. Now, that I WILL go to. One of the fantastic 4, her daughter is in grade 8 - and I want to make sure that she has a good night. After all - she is "and the rest" too.
But after that, I seriously need to re-evaluate my reasons for doing this. What do I get out of this? What is my motivation? Why does the P.T.A. make me so angry?
And how bad is it to be just like "the rest"?
Days I was awake until 2am - emailing my fellow members and having them answer me.
I typed folktales and translated folktales and laminated folktales and spiral bound folktales...all with my buddies...all in the name of rabid multiculturalism. All in prep for the fun fair.
Today alone, I drove a quarter tank of gas on errands all over hell's half acre. I ran around town, I shopped, I wrapped, I organized.
I sold fucking tickets for raffles and food and freezies.
Candy floss and popcorn.
Burgers and dogs.
It was exhausting - for all of us.
All 4 of us looked like we'd been beaten up.
The principal gets up on the stage and says - "I'd like to thank the pta for all of their efforts to put on the fun fair....." and I'm thinking well, you're welcome. Then she continues - "this fair would not take place without our great team: Mrs Sharma, Mr. MacKay AND THE REST..."
And the rest?
WTF?
There are only fucking 4 of us.
And the rest?
The rest is Miss MacDougall and Mrs. Fletcher.
For fuck's bloddy sake there are fucking four of us.
I know now exactly why the Professor and Mary Anne were always so annoyed. They probably COULD have gotten everyone off the fucking island but were just pissed off at being ignored.
I'm annoyed.
No one volunteers to be acknowledged. You do it out of the goodness of your heart - from a sense of duty to your cause. But, its shitty when you're colleagues are recognized and you are not.
Ah well. I supposed it could have been worse.
The could have gotten my name wrong altogether or spilled ketchup on me or .... wait. Or maybe she's just a rude bitch.
That's the one I'm going with.
Its not like she doesn't know my fucking name!
There are 3 more events at the school this year although there are only 21 days of school left.
Teacher appreciation lunch. Fuck that - I'm working and although I COULD take time out to be there - fuck them - order the big 6 foot long fucking sub and be done with it. Last year I was in charge of supplying all the dessert. This year, let them eat fruit coctail from a can.
Volunteer appreciation tea. Fuck that. I don't want their tea.
Grade 8 grad. Now, that I WILL go to. One of the fantastic 4, her daughter is in grade 8 - and I want to make sure that she has a good night. After all - she is "and the rest" too.
But after that, I seriously need to re-evaluate my reasons for doing this. What do I get out of this? What is my motivation? Why does the P.T.A. make me so angry?
And how bad is it to be just like "the rest"?
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