Cleaning out the closet

Cleaning out the closet
in the box
cards from
awesome people

in the corners
the guest pillow
I thought we had a spare somewhere.

In the middle
broken shoe rack
(shoes go in the box)
and my favourite socks
dirty from camping last summer
at Battleford
so that we could see the re-enactment of the Battle of Battleford.

Longlseeved dress shirts
when I had to work in an office
and had very little office clothing that wasn't
black or white.
Holdovers from bistro days.

The miniskirt I only ever had the guts to wear once
the night we met an old friend of mine for drinks
in a jazz bar
where my ex's brother played
in Toronto
hot
humid
night.

A skirt that never fit well, bought to wear with
a cream sweater set that
so wasn't me but
could be
if I wanted.
The night my Dad's wife and I went to the symphony to find out
it was really the
choir.

T-shirt
souvenir
from San Francisco
Awesome trip with my Dad.

Pants and shirts
memories
definitions of
who I was

The gal who worked at the bistro
serving wine
coffee
and finally learning how to shuck oysters
moonlighting early in the mornings at transcription
at my Dad's house
he usually made me lunch
which completely sweetened the deal.

Capris and matching shirts
bought for that dumb office job
where we weren't allowed to wear shorts
Everything coordinated
with everything else.
I had blue stuff
and pink stuff
and a mix and match that went with the cream
sweater set.

I seriously hated that office.

Finally black and white shirts. Another bistro-type job but.
But.
But.
Only worse than that even.
Food safety standards were shocking.
Steamed milk left to sit sometimes for hours, only to be resteamed and served
to unsuspecting customers
Oh.
Also,
it was scalded the second time around.
And when I asked where the handwash sink was
I was told I could use the staff washroom
which was down the long hall and up the stairs
I actually had to explain to someone that I
didn't have time to go up there every
damn time I made a caesar to
wash the clamato juice off my hands so as
not to
potentially
contaminate the drink of whichever customer might be next
who might not think
to inform the serving staff
of his or her lethal seafood allergies.
Seriously!
Some people are really fucking dumb.

I quit that job.

The shirt I love to look at but never wear
bought out shopping with mum

The other shirt bought out shopping with mum that I
don't want
to give away yet but
might
if the coolest person accepts it. I found it in Estevan.
For reals.

The yoga pants I picked up for dance,
for a potential costume,
that shrunk beyond belief. They're still awesome just
so
so
small!

A skirt I wore
the first time I went to church
when I stared at her legs
the whole way there
out of the corner of my eye.
I have some seriously attractive friends.
(MILF club?)

And 3 t-shirts that
aren't really on offer but
might
go to someone
3 t-shirts that I really love and
am not ready to part with
yet

May I have a word with you? (poem)

May I have a word with you?
I don't know you well
but you seem awfully... well..
I want to be your friend.
I want to be her friend too.
I'm a bit confused.

(Ha - I bet you both read this and think I'm talking about you!)

You tell me you are reluctant
to let her get in our space
that she's the one
you brush your teeth with at the end of the day
and go to bed with
and wake up with

you make it sound so much like drudgery

Why did I ever think you were a good idea?
Was it because you were from somewhere that
seemed
exotic to me? Was it because
you could write so convincingly?
My mum reminded me that apprently
Charles Manson
was quite skilled in the love letters department.

Now I see some similarities.

Then... I saw you. I wondered about you. I wondered about absinthe
too

And when I was making my decision to
not
go back with you to your hotel room
I was thinking
of your beautiful wife and wishing
she were with us.

You were evasive on the subject and
had harsh words with her on the phone. And I knew
something wasn't right
but
I decided to ignore it for the moment.

Making out in the river valley
under the stars
fall leaves cold under your back
she understood, you said
she understood
but I wasn't convinced.

Later in an email she said she tried to veto me
and that made sense.

Somehow it seemed I had this hold over you
but
I
didn't really.
I just have a way with words and a way with ghetto-fabulous
clothing on a budget.

I wrote you poetry
I wrote her love letters.

Honestly, how does it feel
(not that you'll ever read this)
to know that I was much more interested in your wife
than you?

A couple of years later I'm
happily into
a closed relationship with the man
I eventually marry and I
remember her birthday.

I get a letter back
telling me that you'd done some terrible things to her. I
try
to
think

restraining order she said

I try to think

and hindsight is 20/20.

I know I didn't know you for very long
or very well but
I saw it so clearly.

Dude.

You can't treat people like that.
And yes, women
are people too.

*****************

The orange dirt and
reeds in the park were of
little comfort as I
ate my vegetarian sandwich and
thought.

You were off learning to dive
on the motherfucking Great Barrier Reef.
I was poor
picking zucchini
having the worst menstrual cramps of my life
and wishing we had drugs. I don't remember what I was taking.
For the pain.
I think it was the extra strength Neurofen
The stuff wot has the opiates in the analgesic.

Uh huh.

Why were you there? I know why I was there. I know that you accused me of screwing around and giving you a yeast infection and I didn't answer you. I didn't try to deny it.

why
the
fuck

did you not
question that? I wouldn't even meet your gaze.

And why, instead of standing up for myself, why'd I just
stand there
in the shower with you
thinking of another man naked
unable to speak in my own defense?

That part of the trip was stupid. Why did you even come?
I offered you the ultimatum because I
never
in a bazillion years
thought you'd actually show up.

So when it all fell apart and we were face to face fighting and crying and talking in circles
(as opposed to doing it over the phone)
what on earth kept us in that space?

I left you shortly thereafter
for an Australian
I took off my engagement rings. Put them
back in their box.

I might not be able to stand up to you
but I could easily disappear.
I left no forwarding information.

Of course, when I got home
you found me out
and were understandably upset.

Fine.

I wanted to never see you again so
is it so wrong that
I learned so much from you
about who I am
and who I'd rather be?

Is it wrong that when everything went right in your life I
cowered a bit
when I saw you and
tried to hide?

You approached me anyway. Kudos to you.

Your happiness confuses me.
I wish that was how I'd known you.

But
I'm glad you found her
you're much better off with her
and you have a beautiful son.

I have found out that I couldn't promise you
children.

I'm glad you and I never had to figure that one out together.

Thanks for being in touch and
being so positive
and occasionally recommending stuff to me.

You're not a bad person. I never really hated you.
I hated that we didn't get along. Like, at all.
I'm sorry I prolonged it so long
and dragged you all the way to the
other side of the earth
only to
finish it.

************

I dated a man once who
liked to cum on my face
and wear straight jackets in public
so
so
sexy.

***********

You don't know me yet
but you're trying
and I respect that
I think you're
prettier than you give yourself credit for
and
better than you think.

I'm not sure how you came to be in a submissive place
in this world.
You just don't seem like
that kind of person.

Who is telling you
how to behave?
Where and when to go?
And under what authority?

You act with such confidence and a kind of
clumsy grace
it's beautiful and
totally disarming
(honest, I haven't felt this way about a woman in years)

I am going to echo words I think
you might have used recently:
I want to be your friend
but I don't know how to get into
your world.

We come from such incredibly different places
we have different view on words such as
authority
and
abuse
and what differentiates one from another
and what's okay and what's
really not.

You're obviously intelligent
and kind
and pretty
and caring.
What's not to love?

But
subservience?
To whom?
Doctrine?

I'm having trouble getting there.
I don't even
know

that that's what I know about you but I know that
if my husband ever hung up on me
out of frustration
while I was out doing a good deed for a friend
you'd better believe
there'd be hell to pay.
In my world you don't treat someone you love like that.
Ever.
No freaking excuses.

I don't know what the line is
between love
authority
and abuse.

I've clearly failed to see it before
in my own life but

at some point I learned how to say no. I remember it clearly.
I was with my Dad. We were shouting at each other and
he swore and I
swore back and without
calling each other names I said hey
what's really bothering you because all this
negative talk
is really bothering me and I don't like it.

I spent a weekend standing up for myself in
difficult situations
and
afterward
everything started to get
so freaking good that
I've never
ever
ever
looked back.

I'd rather tell someone I love to go eff themselves
than let them walk all over me
or tell me
what I can do or
say
in public
(because trust me, I've said and done much, much worse)

But what freaks me out is that
maybe you're reaching out to
give me some sort of warning like
maybe
this is one mountain I can't topple
and that
freaks me out and makes me want to
wash my hands
of the whole thing

but for the grace of God

honestly.

Straight up,
WTF?

What's up?

Why can't I call you and say this?
Because. I feel passionately about it.

When I feel passionately about anything I usually
express it with
fairly crude language
as all pre 2011 posts on this blog
will attest.

I respect you. I don't want to offend you.
I don't want to say anything
that doesn't come from a place of love.

This is why I'm not identifying you. I'm not naming names. You'll maybe recognize yourself
in this post
poem
if you manage to get past all of the
offensive things I've done.

And that's a short list.

Seriously.

I'm easy to like because it's
difficult to get past the
past
if you're a judging type.

But here's the kicker:
I'm still the same person. I haven't changed.

Yes, I'm married and faithful.
But lemme tell ya, the grownup toybox has toys. And we occasionally use 'em.

I don't party in shopping carts anymore
or try to bring 2 boys or 2 girls
home
at once
anymore.

But let's not confuse that with mellow.
I am still a certifiable
perpetrator of the Bee Es.

And the number one thing I
absolutely cannot stand
is to watch my friends be trampled upon
whether by husbands
churches
doctrine
other friends
or anyone who might apply pressure
or tell y'all to behave
any certain way.

You are a strong
brilliant
talented
thoroughly awesome
amazing
pretty
caring
wonderful young woman.

I want nothing more than for you to shine your light
all over the world.
this great big light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
I'm gonna let it shine
all over the world

It goes against every fiber of my being not to
get you to rat out
everyone who's ever
tried to tell you what to do or
what to be
and
break their motherfucking knees.

When you're my friend
you deserve
DESERVE
respect, love, and kindness.

You deserve to be appreciated
for all of your gifts and talents.

You're amazing.

To paraphrase one of my favourite long quotes,
we don't serve the world
by playing small.

Ever.

Who are you to not be beautiful, talented, wonderful, amazing?

And who the heck is everyone else for not allowing you
fuck that.
Encouraging you to
let your great big light shine?

she's been
everybody else's girl
maybe one day she'll be her own....

I want you to know that I want you
to be
the best person you can possibly be and that
I will support you in doing that.

I'm not talking about being righteous or virtuous or
obeying anything or anyone.

I'm talking 100% about being YOU.

Everyone else can
take it or
leave it.

I'll take it. And love it.
I would love to walk beside you
if you'd let me.

***************

The end.

How do you define a friend? Postaday2011

How do you define a friend?

A friend is someone who encourages you to follow your heart. She might think you're making a really bad decision. If she loves you, she might very gently tell you that she doesn't agree with you but values your happiness over agreement.


A friend is someone who doesn't judge you - for anything. If you make a bad decision about something important, a friend won't tell you that you did something stupid. Instead, when the consequences come raining down, a friend will be really glad that you came to your senses and sought her out.



Someone who is not controlling is a friend. He is someone who does not tell you what to wear, how to act, how to behave in public or ever insult your parents, no matter how awful they might be behaving.

A friend is someone in whom you can confide your deepest, darkest secrets and truths, knowing they will never be shared with anyone - they will be taken to the grave. A friend won't talk behind your back, or make up stories about you that aren't true.

A friend is someone who does something nice for you without you having to ask for it, or without offering first. Friends bring over random baking. Friends show up without warning in work clothes when you post on facebook that you're going to spring clean your garden. If you're lucky, they bring homemade lemonade. Friends show up to help you move. They also find time to spend with you when there's no time left and you're desperate for some grown-up conversation. Friends don't do thoughtful things out of some sense of obligation. Friends are thoughtful because they actually think about you. A friend is someone who comes over on the sly to give you a souvenir from their recent trip to somewhere exotic with the added info that nobody else got anything but this one thing just jumped out and screamed your name...

Friends don't understand what it's like to have something awful happen, or to have your heart broken so badly that you feel like you're going to die from the emotional pain/trauma. Friends will stay with you though, and distract you, look after you and make sure that your life is going on, even though it hurts. A friend knows that passing you a kleenex when you cry is a silent message that they aren't comfortable with your tears. Friends know that you'll get the kleenex when your effing good and ready for it, thankyouverymuch. Friends are folks in front of whom you can cry, openly. Because friends don't talk about friends, and because friends care so deeply even though they don't understand your unique feeling because it is yours only, friends create a safe space for you.

When a friend gives you positive encouragement, and encourages sharing of your memories, good, bad, ugly and otherwise, and when the friend doesn't share any of that with anybody else, it creates a feeling of safety and a feeling of trust. Most people have private things inside of them that they don't share easily, but will spill to a safe friend.

A friend definitely says it's okay to cry when the tears start and you look hesitant about it.

A friend will track you down if you're in the hospital. She might not know where to start looking for you, but if your facebook post says you're in the hospital, she'll do her darnedest to find you, because nobody should ever be in the hospital alone.

A friend knows how self-sufficient you really are, and believes you when you say that you don't need anything. A friend will simply sit with you, talking when it's time to talk, and chilling out when it's that time too.

A friend will offer to help clean your kids' or pets' vomit. If you won't let them, your friend will offer to look after whichever creature recently upchucked.

Friends will offer to go to funerals with you, even though they don't know the person who died, and even though it might be difficult for them to get the time off work. They'll also offer to go with you to put flowers on graves and make sure you're emotionally stable enough to drive yourself there and back.

Friends know who in your life is unwell, and they ask about that person. Friends care about whether or not your husband aced his job interview and how your kid is recovering from her injury. Friends care when your pet dies or if it is particularly sick.

Most friends probably don't know everything there is to know about you or your past, but they should have a decent idea of the life you've led and the circumstances that gave rise to the person who you are today.

A friend is somebody who loves you, for who you are, no matter what you've said or done. A friend understands that sometimes things happen, sometimes we make mistakes or do something we might regret, but that it was necessary to shape us into who we are today. Friends forgive you for occasionally being mean because they know that it usually has nothing to do with you.

Have you ever wanted to start your own business?

I made a fun time movie!

I have a follower! (postaday2011 another topic for today 'cuz I'm super bored)

Ooohhh... I have a follower.

That is super-de-duper fun!

(It helps that I actually know my follower, and I think she is the best blog follower in the whole wide world.)

I decided to blog about another topic today because I just can't get enough of blogging, reminiscing, narscisissm (if only I could learn to spell it, seriously) and... I just found out that my exam marks likely won't be available until the 31st so I have time on my hands. Lots of time on my hands.

The new topic is a fun one: Describe the town where you grew up.

The town where I grew up
was totally full of wankers
and crankers
and probably yankers.

The town where I grew up was made up of trees
and streets
and houses
and a park
that supposedly contained the aforementioned yankers
(although I think our parents simply called them "perverts")
who apparently liked to
expose themselves
to little children
who were wandering in the park
without adequate adult supervision.

Just behind the playground there was a tiny stream where
sometimes
if we were lucky
we could catch tadpoles.
They were funny looking things.
Slimy.
Greenish. But just as much grayish.

My school was round. (And no, I don't care if
you remember it differently. This one's mine.)
The classrooms surrounded the library. The library might have, at one time, had green carpet. I remember the library
as green.
The library was my place of solace.
I loved reading books. The librarian, Mrs. W., was very
kind to me.

Outside was the playground and the tree.
The tree was wonderful for climbing. It was
a
huge
sprawling old tree.

They cut our tree in half to close the fence it had been blocking.

That is one of those events
that very clearly marked
the end of my innocence
in my memories.

We used to sit in the tree
and talk about boys.

The town where I grew up was very closed
in terms of who was in and who was out.
I was pretty much always out.
Although, once, when I went back to my high school
I found out that some nice person
had clipped all of my stories
from the local paper where I'd been interning for the summer
and posted them on the office windows
as an example of an alumnus who'd become
someone.

It didn't quite make up for never being one of the cool kids
but it was nice.

My house was almost in the corner of a crescent. We planted a whole bunch of trees. It was a lot like living in a well-manicured forest. I really loved the yard. Dad and I would prune trees. Mum and I would plant flowers. It was pretty fantastic.

The house is where we lived when
my parents divorced.

On the day of my prom
I came home from the hair dresser
all done up and pretty.
Dad was visiting
to work in the yard
to make it look good
for selling the house that summer
and Mum told me to sit beside him so
she could get a picture.
Dad protested that he wasn't dressed nicely enough
and why'd she have to go and do that and and and...

I'm not even sure if he's smiling in the photo. I'd have to go downstairs and check. I hung it in my laundry room, a 4x6 tucked into the frame of another picture.

I'm glad Dad wasn't all dressed up because now I know that those memories I have of working in the yard with him aren't fiction. His gardening clothing existed.

It is one of my favourite pictures.

I hated that night. We had to listen to bad commentary
from our equivalent of the prom king and queen.
We were at a dinner
with a whole bunch of people who supposedly were in the graduating class
who we'd never seen before.
They actually made us parade around the room before sitting down
for dinner
in our finery.
For reals.

Afterward, my friends and I fought about who was going to pay for the limo
and another girl was all pissy because it wasn't white
I think my parents ended up footing the bill
when I'd have been happy to go home with them in the back seat
of Dad's convertible
with the top down to tousle
my expensive hairdo.

At the party we fought again, and my boyfriend
yelled at his dog
terrified me

In the morning everyone played video games.
I'm not a gamer.
Really not.
I was totally bored, exhausted from having slept on the edge of the bed with
one eye open
in case said boyfriend decided to make me
the target of his rage
and grateful to just go home
and have it over with.

That maybe doesn't give you a good idea of the town where I grew up.

There was a mall or maybe 2. A library. An ice rink.

There was a giant park that wove its way through the whole town.
Midway through my growth it became a city.

It was made of mostly suburbs. These days the highway corridor is
full
of businesses
but back then...
not so much.

All my friends
just about
went to church. I didn't.

Just before high school I discovered
through a friend
that my town
considered it appropriate
to call brown people
Squaw.
And other names.

I learned that being a lesbian
or bisexual
was something I had to keep secret
even though I didn't know
and was only trying to make up my mind
because the boys were such
incredible jerkfaces.
Mostly.
I thought maybe other girls
wouldn't be
so abusive or controlling.

With the exception of a few friends I made, and some good times
with my parents and family
I mostly hated the town where I grew up.

There was very little there for me
And I was glad that the house sold
and that moving day was the day after
my last high school final exam.

postaday2011 choose my own topic

The postaday topic isn't up yet. I like writing in the morning more than the afternoon, so postaday can have my topic of choice today: Planning my 30th birthday party.

On Thursday I turn 30.
It's like this great big deal
except
not really?

I'm exactly where I want to be in my life.
I have a husband
who I love, admire and am attracted to.
His way of existing compels me
to try to be a better person
all the time.

We have a lovely house
with just enough home reno projects
on the horizon
to keep us from ever being bored
or accumulating too much spare change.

We are working on having a child
the fun part of course being the "work"
although we have also filled out adoption papers
deciding we'd be equally happy with whatever happens first.

I have a successful small business.
Assuming I pass my MT exam
I might even be bringing in enough money really soon
to pay myself a living wage
and have some left over
for Mexico!

I am thinking I should take a Spanish class.

Today I am preparing for my 30th birthday party.
It will be fun!

Our house is tiny. I am thinking about where to put things so that we do not end up without enough space.
I think the dinner table will go in the kitchen
and the coffee table will go
where the dinner table was.
The coffee table can hold punch and cookies. The kitchen table can be for overflow.
Extra rugs will be added to the kitchen
for wet and muddy boots.
(I seriously hate washing floors.)


Punch:
Mix the following in a punch bowl:
1 jug cranberry juice
2 bottles Virgil's cream soda
1 carton/frozen concentrate with water OJ
float cinnamon sticks (optional)
add ice

Cookies:
3 or 4 eggs
4 cups of sugar (either half white and half brown or all very light brown)
4.5 cups flour
2 cups oil/butter/margarine
2 cups chocolate chips
2 cups walnuts, freshly pressed with a rolling pin
1/4 cup ground flax seed
almost 1/4 cup vanilla extract
mix & bake for 13 minutes at 350.

I also need to try and figure out who is coming to my party. And where we're going after, although I suspect that will be decided on Thursday...

postaday2011 #18

All about hope!

Yes, I always have hope because I believe I am not completely powerless to change everything or anything at all. I have to keep hope about others as well because if I do not choose to be hopeful, my world might look very bleak. If I had no hope, I would probably not even have motivation to kill myself because what would be the point if it never gets better? Right. You see?

And I have to hold hope for some people because I believe that my hopeful energy does reach them on an energetic level and has some vague influence on their lives.

The other side of hope is to say I believe in you. All of you. I really do. I believe you are beautiful, wonderful, smart, gorgeous and powerful beyond measure.

How does that make you feel?

postaday2011 #17

Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Why/not?

I believe everything happens for a reason when it suits me. For example, I believe that I chose not to marry my first ex-fiance because it wasn't right; on hindsight it is easy to see that it was quite obvious that I didn't marry him because the wife he chose was to give birth to his son, not me.

This is turning out to be really lame and I don't feel like making it all better. Maybe there's a reason for that.

Postaday2011 topic # 16

What's the wackiest piece of advice you've ever received?

My husband's answer to all problems is to eat a cheese sandwich.

Postaday2011 #15

If you had a time machine and could go anywhere for an hour only, when would you go?

My wedding all over again, of course! It was completely perfect!

Postaday #14

What made you decide to start a blog?

I type faster than I write with a pen, and it is also more legible. I want to share my creative soul with the whole world. I am a silent exhibitionist. It is a similar feeling to the difference between stage fright (from which I am immune) and restaurant fright. When I dance in restaurants it can start as a frightful experience because all those people are really really close to me. Writing is similar. I love to share it but God forbid I ever read it out loud. To anyone. Ever. Please don't ask me to do that. My writing is of my soul. All of my characters are me and yet are not me. To read them, to give them voice is something that would cause a part of them and a part of me to die somehow. I've partially captured them in words but not entirely. When we read things, our imaginations do a fabulous job of filling in the gaps. (Anyone who has read the Harry Potter books unconsciously also fills in gaps with the movies - my husband pointed this out and caused me to become conscious of the fact that he hadn't read the books - now I whisper to him during the movies...) For me to give voice to my words would take away the voice you have been attributing to them. It would kill a little bit of their magic. I have only written one piece that was meant to be spoken, simply because its rhythm was difficult to follow as a written piece. Everything else I have written is and was meant only to be read. But that is important too - it is written to be read by people other than myself. I don't care if you like it or not. I do hope that now and then I'm able to capture some essence of something universal, something that rings in your heart as being common with an experience that is uniquely yours. I hope to evoke feelings of sentimentality sometimes, feelings that help you to see beauty in the dark places. I hope to be able to share that fallen and broken and dark are not always synonymous with bad or evil. I want to share the beauty I see in everything. Occasionally I also want you to sit back and say well that was really cheesy but... hm... it made me giggle or was also somehow fun. Even when my writing is truly awful, I tried. I had motivation and passion. It might've even been deliberate.

That is why I have a blog.

The real Topic # 13

What are you looking forward to this year?

I am looking forward to writing my final exam.
I am looking forward to my birthday party.
I am looking forward to working.
I am looking forward to my sister-in-law's wedding in Mexico.
I am looking forward to adopting a child.
I am looking forward to the awesome Al Amar student show.
I am looking forward to Thai basil chicken.
I am looking forward to lots of sex with my husband.
I am looking forward to having most of our house meet electrical code thanks to my husband.
I am looking forward to dancing.
I am looking forward to quality family time, even if it does end up being brief.
I am looking forward to paying myself and getting paid by others.
I am looking forward to being able to pay my bills.

Postaday 13

If you only had 1 hour to live, what would you do?

My husband. Repeatedly.

No, seriously. I really would.

I love the rest of you, I really do. Before I got down and dirty I'd probably phone those of you whose phone numbers I have and let you know that I was going to die. Maybe. I'd probably even give one of you (Amanda or Lisa) my facebook password so that you could let everyone know I was going to die. I'd call my parents.

But then I'd unplug the phone, lock the doors, get out the grown-up toy box and go play with Russell. If I could choose to die in his arms I'd be happy. He'd be devastated, of course....

hm.

Maybe I'd also call someone who lives really near by and arrange for said person to show up just after I kick the bucket to be with Russell and help make sure he's okay.

However, the nature of this question assumes that everyone who's participating in postaday2011 also has only one hour to live, so I'd have to weed out a bunch of people as being potential support for recently widowed husband. Hm. And I might want to book the undertaker early too because clearly there is going to be mass demand.

I guess I should also like to plan my funeral a bit. (This is all eating into my remaining sex time. It is a good thing I've thought about this before.)

Originally I didn't want a body viewing but given what I now know about how the brain processes loss, I think it would be a good idea. Eeew. You're all going to have to look at my dead body!

Then I'd like to be cremated and put in a very simple, unpreserved wooden box. I'd like the box to be buried in the earth and I'd like all of my rocks to be buried with me. Please send my collection of shells to my friend Michael in New Zealand with the instructions that they're to be returned to the ocean. (Okay, okay, I know he's in Australia right now, whatever. Semantics.) Umm.... right. Donate whatever of my clothing Russell doesn't want to keep to Tamara's House. All of my ritual stuff goes to my mum who can see that if any of it needs to go to friends, it will get there. Someone needs to sell my dance costumes - I just finished working on the blue skirt. It is covered with dongles made of real gemstones and is probably worth a small fortune. The gold costume is also worth a fair bit. The silver wouldn't be worth as much but you could still get something for it, and the tribal pieces aren't worth much of anything so maybe just give them away to a new dancer who is in desperate need of a costume for a show. Art supplies are hereby donated to Prairie Energy Counselling Services. Russell gets to keep whatever he wants. Andrea gets my sewing stuff.

I'm all done now. It's time for my husband and I to have wild and crazy sex. And in the off-chance that I survive the next hour, well, you'll all have to keep putting up with these crazy posts for another long while.

Peace.

Postaday 2011 catchup topics 1-12

I thought I'd give this post a day thing a try. Since I currently have time on my hands I'm going to go through the first 12 topics today and be all caught up (uh huh.... funsies!). And this creative writing outlet blog that isn't used very much will become a narcissistic spot. Or hopefully the same fusion of the best of both worlds that it began as. Time will tell.

Okay. Here we go.

Topic #1: List 3 countries you want to visit and why.

1. Mexico. My sister-in-law is getting married there and the more I read about where we'll be, the more I want to go.
2. Morocco. Every year the Festival in the Desert is held on my birthday. If I ever have a spare $10,000 kicking around I'm definitely going to check out the festival. Happy Birthday Jen!
3. Scandanavia. I know it's a region and not a country, but I would like to see all of it. My ancestors are from Scandanavia and the region's mythology fascinates me.

Topic #2: Name someone who deserves more credit than they get. And for bonus points, how to change things so they get more.

Anyone who works in the customer service industry, particularly in restaurants or retail. I think our society should make tipping less of a mandatory social courtesy and bring it back to being all about receiving exceptional service. If the service sucks, don't leave a tip. I've provided rotten service and not been tipped before. I've also provided better than average service and gone home with a pocket full of bills. I think this is fair. If I forget your order or ignore your table, you shouldn't have to leave me anything. But if I go out of my way to make sure that everything is perfect, that should be appreciated, whether it's making you a latte or helping you find the perfect knife. Why don't we tip the nice folks who sell us stuff? If I walk into a store feeling helpless and hopeless and someone actually helps me find something I feel I need, I should be able to leave a tip out of gratitude. Or come back and leave a box of chocolates or tray of cookies. Why doesn't the world work like that?

Topic #3: What’s the single most important thing you accomplished in 2010?

Me, me, me. Why is this all about me? Do you even care that much?

My single biggest accomplishment is probably surviving and thriving. Period but also in various aspects of my life. I think I'm progressing well in my dance class and finally starting to fit in (instead of feeling like I'm constantly trying to catch up). I think I've done well to survive my intense year of school. I'm surviving changes in the lives of those around me who matter the most, and learning how to gently start to let go. I feel like 2010 was a major step in the right direction... but in a very non-specific way. I don't feel like most of what I did can be quantified but I know it's all woven together in a positive way. Positive progress. Did that even answer the question?

Topic #4: Share something that makes you smile.
My husband dressed up for Hallowe'en.

Topic #5: Do you prefer to talk, text message or use a different form of communication?

I like face to face and letter writing. I think text messaging mostly sucks and causes me to walk into things/people. I'm not fond of the telephone.

Topic #6: Are you stressed now? Why or why not?

I'm not stressed but I am hungry. I can fix that with some food. I might be a little stressed actually because I haven't heard back from the peeps at the college about my 2nd prefinal assessment and I'd really like to write my exam and just be done with it. I'm trying to exercise patience though....

Topic #7: Share a story about a memorable job interview.

Most of my job interviews that are memorable are so because they sucked horridly. My favourite was the interview I had with Jeff Rogers at Sobeys. J-Ro put me at ease immediately and when he said he was having fun talking with me and that we had stuff in common, I believed him. (Others have tried that line - I feel like I'm interviewing for my new best friend, we have so much in common... but so insincere!) That was one of the best jobs I ever had and I have to say, I loved working with J-Ro. If we ever live in the same city again I'd look for part time work wherever he's working just because he's an awesome person.

Topic #8: How do you stay focused on a task or activity?

I make sure I have time and I make sure I have nothing better to do, particularly if the activity is dreary or dull. If it's truly awful (like memorization studying) I try to recruit a friend to help out with flash cards. I generally don't have trouble staying focused. I'm also very good at shutting out whatever's going on around me - I don't get distracted easily. Anyone who's ever tried to call to me across a crowded room knows that.

Topic #9: Describe a recent "Aha!" moment and what sparked it.

Ummmm..... I have no idea. Maybe when I finally figured out that I want to have a drumming circle for my birthday, a thought which came to me while writing a letter to an awesome person. Let's go with that.

Topic # 10: How do you stay entertained when you are snowed in?

I have a sewing machine and a giant mound of fabric. I have a computer and the internet. I like movies. There's always something to clean/fix in the house and I usually have the supplies on hand. There are letters to write and canvasses to paint. I have 2 drums and a violin. I also have several dance costumes in progress which are full of tedious hand beading/hand sewing work. I have some really good books to read. I like taking baths. I love baking and cooking. I'm happy to spend hours on the internet researching a potential future destination, usually somewhere warm. I also love fooling around with my husband.

Topic # 11: What do you want to be remembered for?

That's easy: being a positive force in someone's life.

Topic # 12: Write about one thing you've never told anyone and explain why.

This will be trickier because there is very little I've never told anyone. I think I'm going to get myself some food and think it over.

Brb.

I'm assuming this has to be about me. There are many things I know about others that I've never shared, and never plan to share.

I have an intense, almost constant fish craving. I mostly stopped eating fish when I found out how deathly allergic my husband is to it. I don't want to give him the kiss of death, or touch him and give him a rash. We are finding ways around this, but I don't want to have fish in the house because I am that cautious. I don't talk about how much I miss fish because I know I'd miss my husband more than I'd ever miss eating fish. I also tend not to talk about it because in spite of his allergy, my husband really loves fish. I don't like the idea of making him envious over something he has no control about. I used to eat sushi several times a week. I miss that the most. It is hard to find good sushi in Saskatoon, and it usually costs an arm and a leg or is far from home. If I ever go anywhere without my husband, the entire trip is usually planned around where to get sushi or other fish. I'm the person who would buy a jar of pickled herring to take on a bus with me and eat the entire thing before reaching my destination.