It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood....

I got a great start to the day.
WooHoo!

Psychological Intimacy

It has been awhile since I last posted.

I had my niece to visit me.
She stayed at my place.
Her visit was very relaxed and we got to chat a lot.
It felt so good to spend some alone time with her.

And just now, while writing, I realized something.
I have previously written about the fact
that I have a lack of intimacy in my life.
And yet there are people in my life, like my niece,
with whom I could develop a closer, more intimate relationship.
It has kind of brought to light my own part in my loneliness.
I am so fearful of letting people in,
letting them get close enough that I can get hurt or disappointed.
That I contribute to my own loneliness.
There are times when I have needs but I don't ask for help.
I don't ask for anything, really.
I just give, and give.
And then I wonder why I feel so empty.
So alone.
I am afraid that if I ask for something,
and it is refused,
that I won't have the strength to let it go.
Learning how NOT to take things personally is very difficult for me.
I give so easily, often without being asked,
that I don't understand why it doesn't work that way for other people.

I know, I know.
You have to ask for what you need.
People cannot read your mind.
Psychology 101.

It still upsets me.
It is so easy for me to give it away,
and so hard to ask for it in return.
And so I give, and I give until
the one time that I really need help and am forced to ask for it.
And at that point, if the help is not there,
the one time I really need it,
then I abandon the whole relationship.

There are so many elements in play with this psychology
that I could go on for hours.
Suffice to say that if I want greater intimacy in my life,
I just need to take a risk and ask for it.
Voilà!!!

Second Cycle of Communication - CW

Communication
Gesticulation
Irritation
Aggravation
Exasperation
Provocation
Escalation
Altercation
--------------

....
James was driving towards his daughter's school.
He was going to pick her up as he usually did on Tuesday's after school.
He would then drive her straight to swim practice
at the university's olympic pool.
He always gave himself enough time to get there,
particularly since the speedlimit in the school zone was very slow.

James made a right hand turn
while continuing to drive 30 km/hr. as was the limit.
In his rearview mirror he could see a black SUV bearing down on him.
The car gave no sign of slowing down.
A moment later the SUV was right on his tailgate.
In response to the other driver's dangerous driving
James' reaction was to slow down to 25km/hr.

At this point the other driver started to honk his horn nonstop.
James looked back at the other driver in his rearview mirror
to see that the man was giving him the finger.

-"Jesus! What is that guy's problem?" James wondered in irritation.
"He's going to cause an accident."
 
James continued to drive below the speedlimit 
in the hopes that the driver of the SUV would pass him.
But instead of passing him, the other driver just leaned on the horn.
The driver's incessant honking made his aggravation very clear.
James sighed in exasperation and decided to pull over 
to let the SUV driver pass him.

As James pulled over to the right,
the angry driver pulled up alongside of James' Honda.
James looked over to see the man's face.
The man's eyes were bulging out of his head.
His face was beet red.
His teeth were bared like the fangs of a wild animal.
Blue veins were popping out of the man's neck
as he reamed off a series of expletives.
James was shocked by the man's savage aggression.
Then his adrenaline kicked in.

-"Why don't you just pass me, you stupid idiot?", James yelled in the man's direction.
He was sure the man would get the general idea.

The man got it, alright.
The other driver's face was so red 
that he looked like his head would explode.
He slammed on the brakes.
Then he leaned against his door to open it.
The driver of the SUV stepped out of his car.
He then turned towards his back door, opened it,
and reached down to pick something up.

James froze for one second 
until he saw the man approaching his car with a baseball bat.
As he reached for his cell phone 
he wondered how the day could go so terribly wrong.    

 

First Cycle of Communication - CW

Communication
Conversation
Perception
Misconception
Repetition
Reception
Comprehension
Accomodation
Reconciliation
-------------

....

Elaine: -"Well, can we at least talk about it?"

Paul: -"We've already gone over this, Elaine.
What is there left to say?
You've made your point very clear."

Elaine: -"But I feel as if we are not understanding each other." 

Paul: -"I understand what you are saying perfectly well. 
You want me to leave my job."

Elaine: -"I did not say that. You see. 
We are not hearing the same things.
I said that I wanted you to leave you job earlier at night.
Sometimes they have you working overtime until 9 o'clock.
We never see each other anymore. I miss you.
What kind of a life is that?"

Paul: -" Oh! I misunderstood. 
I thought you wanted me to leave my job.
Look! I miss you too. But the project is finished in two weeks.
Can you hold out for another two weeks?
Then I'll speak with my boss and tell him 
that I can no longer work past 6pm.
Truth be told I'm exhausted.
And if he doesn't accept my conditions 
I'll start looking for a new job. Promise!"

Elaine: -"Oh! Paul----That's all I wanted.
I am tired of always being alone. I love you.
And I want us to have more time together.
That's all. As long as you speak with him 
after your project is finished in two weeks, 
I can wait. We have our vacation in five weeks, anyways."

Paul: -"I love you too.
Don't worry. I'll talk to him in two weeks.
C'mon. Let's get to bed." 

Sangria on a terrasse....

Well, last night, despite the chill of the evenings,
I sat outside with a friend
and had what might be the last Sangria of the season.
It felt so good to eat outside in mid-September.
Great company.
Good food.
And great Sangria!

4 Cycles of Communication - CW

Communication
Conversation
Perception
Misconception
Repetition
Reception
Comprehension
Accomodation
Reconciliation
--------------
Communication
Gesticulation
Irritation
Aggravation
Exasperation
Provocation
Escalation
Altercation
--------------
Communication
Flirtation
Appreciation
Adoration
Admission
Attraction
Permission
Affection
Reaction
Passion
Penetration
Exhileration
--------------
Communication
Acclamation
Acceptation
Distinction
Laudation
Ovation
Recognition
Reputation
Affirmation
Confirmation

Bistro Clémentine (Part I) - CW

The luncheon crowd has long gone back to work.
And the "Happy Hour" has yet to begin.
The waitresses have all left and the only person 
on staff is the young man behind the bar.
Matthew Wright has worked here for a year, part-time.
He is a fulltime university student in business.
He likes his job but work is slow this afternoon.
The bistro is nearly empty save for three occupied tables.

At a table in the rear of the bistro sits an older man with gray hair. 
Though very youthful looking he must be about 70 yrs. old.
He is fiddling with his Blackberry.
His name is Arnaud Loyer.
He is the owner of the bistro.
The bistro is named after his late wife,x Clémentine. 

Towards the centre of the bistro, along the left wall
sits a couple who look to be in their late fifties.
Their names are Ian and Deborah Wellsley.
They are leaning in towards each other while quietly
discussing something that leaves them both with serious expressions. 

And finally, the third table is occupied 
by a man in his late thirties to early forties.
He sits at a table looking onto the sidewalk and busy downtown street.
He keeps checking his watch.
His name is Adam Seabring.

A young, attractive woman breezes through the door of the bistro.
Amanda Kent is late for an appointment.
As her eyes adjust to the change in light,
she unbuttons the top button of her coat.
Then she smiles in recognition.
-"Matt, I got the contract! Can you believe it?"
-"Sis, I knew you'd get it. How could they say no to your talent?"

Matthew and Amanda are half-siblings.
Amanda is six years older than Matt.
They share the same mother but have two different fathers.
Amanda's father died when she was only three years old.
Still young, Amanda's mother remarried two years clater to Jim Wright.
And Matthew was born a year later.
Though not her biological father, Jim has been her Dad ever since she was little.
And Matt is her brother. 
No step this or that, just her brother.
Matt and Amanda are very close despite their difference in age.
Though still at university, Matt has always been Amanda's sounding board.
Amanda is an events planner.
And she started her own company almost two years ago.
The company is growing quickly to much acclaim.  
Amanda is hoping that Matt will come 
and run the business after university.
That would free up Amanda to take on larger events
and forge a bigger clientele.

-"My proposal was chosen out of the three companies
who submitted them."

-"Congratulations! Are you ready to speak with Arnaud?
He is sitting at his usual table in the back. I think he is ready to see you."

-"Excellent! We can get down to business."

At that moment Arnaud Loyer looks up from his Blackberry
to watch Amanda Kent walking towards him. Arnaud stands up 
to greet her as she offers her apologies for arriving late.

-"Amanda, cherie, no harm done. I am just glad that you finally had time
to meet with me. Your brother tells me that your business
is booming. That is good news. Come. Sit down. I want to tell you
about my project. I'll need your help with it. 
Can I get you something to drink?"

-"Yes, thank-you, Arnaud. A perrier with a slice of lime, please."

While Arnaud goes to the bar for her drink, Amanda removes her coat 
and lays it over the back of the chair beside her. She then takes out her
portfolio and some company brochures. Even though Arnaud already
knows what Amanda's business is all about from previous meetings,
he might be able to pass on the brochures to potential clients among his 
business associates. Amanda never misses an opportunity to promote
her company. Most of her business comes from referals.
   
Arnaud returns with her Perrier and sits with his back to the kitchen.
He clears his throat then starts in on his project.

-"You see, Amanda. Business is slow on Tuesday and Wednesday nights.
I want to fill this place up like in years past. With happy, joyful people.
I want to start a singles night on one of those evenings. After work.
Almost like a matchmaking service like in the old days. Something very classy. 
Something that will help people find love. And I need your help."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stay tuned for part II....

Jack Layton's words revisited on 911.

My friends, love is better than anger.
Hope is better than fear.
Optimism is better than despair.
So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic.
And we’ll change the world.

Jack Layton

--------------------------------------------
I don't think it can be said any better than that
on this, the 10th anniversary of the destruction of the WTC
and the death of so many unfortunate souls.

Tomorrow's Another Day

I don't know what it is today but I am feeling
a little down and a little angry.
I am not sure what I am angry about.
But I can feel it.

It was a beautiful day today.
Sunny, warm.
More like summer than fall.

I spent the day alone.
I think that maybe it would have been better
if I had gotten together with a friend.
Perhaps I have been spending too much time by myself.

Ah! well....tomorrow's another day!
The start of a new week.
And so on....

Listening to.....

"Popsicle toes"
Diana Krall

Saturday Night Knitting Fever

Well another saturday night at the Bab's.
I was knitting and people watching.
While others on are their way out for a night of dancing
I am knitting up a storm.
Actually, it is a scarf. :)

I find it interesting that everyone is dressed
as if we were already at the end of October.
I plan on wearing my flip-flops for as long as I can
except for those rainy days because I don't want to fall
down the outside stairs of my triplex AGAIN.
Twice is quite enough, thank you very much.

Anywho, did I mention that I love the fall?
I love it!
It is a very comforting season as
we prepare to go into hibernation for the winter.
Well, I go into hibernation.
Like a bear.

C'est ça!

Creative Writing = CW

From here on in any Creative Writing pieces will
be annotated as such by the "CW" following the title
in the title bar. As I seem to be doing a lot of
creative writing shorts this will make the titles'
list cleaner (hopefully!).

C'est ça!

A Request - Creative Writing

Can I ask you a question?
To which you will reply
without sighing
or holding back.
Without that defensive tone you sometimes get.

Can you tell me the truth?
The whole truth
The simple truth
The truth as you see it
So help you God.

Can you tell me what you want?
For today and tomorrow.
In order to feel good.
About your day
About your life.
About yourself.

Can you help me to understand?
How things can be so different
And yet remain the same
All at once.

Can you tell me about yourself?
The part that you never share with anyone.
The part that is usually in the dark
The part that you try to hide
Until the sun goes down.

Can you trust me?
to love you
and to protect you
no matter what
So help me God.

Can I ask you a question?
Can we just be
together
Alone but together
Loving, living, laughing.
Just you
Just me
Together 

So did I mention....

....that I no longer have TV?
I am really happy to go without TV for a while.
I can still rent movies....
but it's not the same.

TV is bubblegum for the brain.
The more you watch,
the softer your mind gets.
I know there is free will and all, but still.
I have never had cable
because there are other things in life to do than watch TV.
And with one hundred channels
it becomes exponentially harder to turn the damn box off.

So I kind of feel like a pioneer.
In the age of information I am disconnected.
Completely.
No news.
No bubblegum.
No background noise.
Just the film in my head.
24/7
Wow!

I'll keep you posted....

A Regular Day - Creative Writing

I am a simple man.
I go to work.
I come home.
Today was just like any other day.

It is now dinnertime.
I am standing over my oven.
In my underwear.
Waiting for my frozen pizza to cook.
This is the beauty of living alone.
You can eat in the kitchen in your underwear.
Such freedom.

While waiting for my pizza to be ready,
I grab the milk from the fridge.
All my glasses are dirty
so I drink from the milk carton.
Refreshing.

There is nothing on TV that I want to w.....
Wait a minute.
That's right. 
I no longer receive a signal with my rabbit ears.
Analog to digital.
I'm screwed......no TV.

I check on the pizza.
Then for lack of anything better to do,
I scratch my balls.
This occupies my mind for all of two seconds.
I check back on the pizza.

My life is simple, really.
I live alone.
I eat alone. 
I sleep alone.
And then I scratch my balls from time to time.

Just a regular day. 

The Silver Squirrel (Part I) - Creative Writing

Yesterday I ran across a silver squirrel.
I saw him on the way home from my walk with Miko, the dog.
We were crossing the parking lot behind the arena 
when I came across a man looking up at the back wall of the building.
I saw nothing until I heard the sound.
A cry for help.
I looked toward the sound and found there to be a silver squirrel
caught upon a wire about sixty feet above the ground.
The squirrel was caught high above the pavement, 
unable to turn around and make his way down. 
He was quite distressed, screaming out for help.
By this time the man had left and I was alone to figure this out.
I wanted to help him down 
but I realized that I could be of no comfort with the dog in tow.
I would only cause the squirrel more distress.
So I decided to take Miko home and then come back to help the squirrel.

I brought Miko home and returned to the arena.
On the way back I kept praying to God to keep the silver squirrel safe.
I was wondering what I could do to help the animal 
down from such a height.
As I turned the corner of the building I immediately
tried to locate the place where the squirrel was perched high above.
I could no longer hear his cries.

-"Over here", a voice called out.

I thought that perhaps the same man had come back
to help the squirrel and was calling for my help.
But the parking lot was empty.

-"No. Over here by the bins."

I looked over at the two industrial waste disposal bins
but the man was not there.

-"Come closer."

Only as I moved closer towards the bins did I see him.
On top of the far bin sat the silver squirrel, 
munching on a french fry recovered from the garbage within.
I looked around again.
It could not be possible.

-"Yes, I'm talking to you."

I moved towards the bins and the squirrel,
never truly believing that he could be talking to me.
I walked around the bins in search of the voice.

-"Ah! Another disbeliever! I thought you'd be different."

There was no-one anywhere around the bins
or in the whole of the parking lot for that matter.
Fact is fact.
The silver squirrel was talking to me.

-"Boy! This could get tired really quickly!"

To which I had no intelligent response.
You see, I was not in the habit of conversing with a squirrel.
I did not know what to say.
What would be appropriate subject matter?

-"Well, let's get down to it. What shall it be?",the squirrel nattered at me.

-"I beg your pardon?"

-"Your wish. What shall your wish be? 
You get one wish to repay you for your prayers of protection.
God heard your prayers and helped me find the way down
from that dreadfull height. And now I shall grant you one
wish as a sort of thank-you of my own."

To which my mouth gaped open as if blowing bubbles.

-"Come now. We don't have all day.
I am needed back in the forest relatively soon." he squawked.

I was at a total loss.
What to wish for when only one wish is allowed.
From a magic squirrel.
A magic, silver squirrel.

All that can be given,
can be taken away.
I knew this and so I felt no need 
or desire for material things.
All that I could truly keep with me was knowledge.
But I could not make a wish to gain knowledge
when I knew it must be earned.

-"Well, time's up. For what do you wish?" the silver squirrel insisted.

-"Well really I have no desire for things," I replied. 
"What I really need is knowledge. 
How to get on better in life with what I already have."

-"Amazing", chirped the squirrel.
"Never in all my years.... 
So what kind of knowledge would that be, specifically. 
There are lots of ways to learn to live a better life."

-"Uh!", I was at a loss for specifics.
"I was kind of hoping you would know just what I need."

-"Well, I may be a magic squirrel, but I am no clairvoyant.
Nor am I an expert on all that which pertains to humans.
I can only tell you about what I know: squirrel medecine.
I am not sure that it will improve your quality of human life......
but it certainly will make you a better squirrel!   

I decided to wish for squirrel medecine in my life.
I made my request to the silver squirrel
and it seemed to make him quite happy.

-"Squirrel medecine it is then." he informed me 
as he rubbed his little paws together.
"Follow me."

   
For Part II, come and visit my blog soon.... 

Felt like crap.....

But I put out the garbage.
And now I feel MUCH better!

Tuesday is garbage night.... - Creative Writing

The sun has not yet gone down
and so I am not allowed to put out my garbage.
All that is rotting must be put out after dark.
So that it is not visible by the light of day.
Only the moon, barely a quarter of its usual grandeur,
can shine down on the black bags filled with waste.
As the chemical reactions of decomposition
start to give off gases with the most foul of odors,
the bags multiply up and down the avenue.
Like huge, dark mushrooms the garbage sprouts
in the shade of the trees lining the street.
Shade that can only be seen by the light of day.
As the night becomes darker, the scavengers, both human and animal alike,
come out to feed off of that which is no longer wanted.
They sift through food scraps and tin cans
in the hopes of finding something of worth,
something that is still good.
Something the insiders may have overlooked.
Inside their homes after dark, the citizens are safe
from the stench which will overtake the night.
The stench in which the scavengers will bath in order to find some rotting treasure.
A piece of meat on the bone.
A soda can to recycle.
Persistence and repetition arm the scavengers for success.
Sooner or later the animals find rotten morsels
while the humans add another five cents to their mental tally.
And inside,the blue squares give off a shine
much like that of the moon but much less reserved.
While outside, the blue luminescence glows from each window
and mixes in with the foetid stink of garbage.

The sky burst open.

Sunday @ 19:20

"It's raining again....."
(Supertramp)

Stream of Thought & Vision - CW

Dark sky, birds fly.
Clouds of steele.
Right turn at a stop sign.
Flashing light.
Wind dance.
Grocery bags full.
Pointing here and there.
Push, push.
Grunt, grunt.
Wheels spin then stop.
Couples hand-in-hand.
Tricycle, bicycle.
First date banter.
Family drive.
Umbrella in hand.
Newborns everywhere.
Young girls.
Flipping their hair.
Pigeon's flight.
Dark of night.
Descends.
The New Village.
Boys on wheels.
Recycling bag.
Neon skate.
Crosswalk, take-out.
Chinatown.
Golden leopard.
Dark sky, jets fly.
Bus pass.
Flip-flop.
Day's end.
Begin again. 

The Angry Teapot - Creative Writing

The following creative writing piece
was written during my afternoon writing session with Lorraine.
We had to choose an inanimate object
and then give it a voice.
--------------------------------------------------------
The Angry Teapot


I am so tired.
I get so hot.
Then I get the chills.
I feel like a menopausal woman during a heat wave.

I wish that they would have a little more consideration
for my comfort.
Yes! My comfort.
It seems that I am always the one who is giving comfort:
in the early morning,
in the late afternoon,
and then again in the evening.

I am always thinking of others.
I am always doing for others.
When is it going to be my turn?

I love the fact that I can give
so much comfort to those around me.
But still....
When is it going to be about me?

People are always filling me up
then emptying me out one cup at a time.
Then there's the chilly rinse.
And the whole process repeats itself
the next time they need a moment of relaxation and comfort.
I am exhausted by these heat spells
and cold chills.

I am tired of being used for the pleasure of others.
When will I get the afternoon off?
It seems that I am always working.

I need a vacation from my life.
Maybe I'll go to Italy.
I hear they have no use for me over there.
All day it's coffee, coffee, coffee.
That would give me the rest I need.
Then I could enjoy life a bit, too.

Who knows?
Maybe I'll go to the beach and work on my tan.
Yes! That's it!
Italy sounds good. Very good.
A little bit of rest & relaxation from these English ways....

The Quiet Life

Today I went downtown and met Lorraine.
We spent a couple of hours doing some creative writing exercises.
I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I might post one of the stories here.

Anywho------I am reading a really good book.
"Giovanni's Room" by James Baldwin (1956)
I am perhaps a third of the way through the book.
It is an excellent read.
Very dramatic.

I realize(with much glee)how little drama there is in my life.
And it makes me so happy.
When I was younger my whole life was about drama, it seems.
That is probably a distortion but still.....
I was very much into a dramatic existence.
I thought the rush of contrary emotions
helped me to feel more alive.
But in fact, all it did was create lots of anxiety.

The last five years of my life has been filled with real drama.
My brother was killed in a war in the Middle East five yrs. ago.
And my father just died of diabetes this past March.
And yet, despite these HUGE losses,
I still feel as if my life is relatively calm....and I LOVE IT!!!

I no longer need drama in my life
in order to validate my existence.
I am immensely satisfied with serenity.

I do believe that I am repeating myself.
But it is worth repeating.
I am so happy having a quiet life.

And now I know how to leave other peoples' drama to them.
I can listen. Interject.
But I don't let the drama suck out my energy.
I don't make the drama my own.
Thank God!!!

Of course, the ability to unplug is a work in progress.
I am not always able to remain a witness.
Sometimes I do get wrapped up.
But now I often catch myself before getting fully razzled by someone else's drama.
And I step back.
And take a breath.
And centre myself once more.
Then I can listen again without being zapped of energy.
How beautiful is that?

Husband By-the-Hour - Creative Writing

The following news article is the inspiration
for my creative writing piece called
"Husband By-the-Hour."

------------------------------------------------------------

Posted on January 18, 2011 14:54:29 EST by nickcarraway

A new business in Georgia is offering single women who need household help the chance to hire 'husbands' by the hour - but the company's owner admits that all that some of his customers need is love.

"Our service is here to assist those women who need help with tough housekeeping tasks, such as for example minor repair works," company owner Beso Mchedlishvili told AFP.

But he said that many women had been confused by the company's name - A Husband for an Hour Limited - and had been asking for something more.

Since going into business in the ex-Soviet republic two months ago, the number of calls from women seeking a more intimate hour has significantly exceeded the orders for the company's actual services.

"So we have to explain to them that our guys are not male prostitutes," Mchedlishvili said.

"They can help with repairing a leaking tap, but their job description says nothing about providing affection."

Hiring out a 'husband' from the Tbilisi-based company costs 17 dollars (13 euros) an hour, Mchedlishvili said.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Husband By-the-Hour.


I am not married 
and I don't want to be.
But sometimes it would be nice 
to rent a husband by-the-hour.

There are some tasks that I'd prefer not to do.
I am quite capable
but I just don't want to have to deal with the garbage.
And those heavy boxes that need to be taken out of storage.
I am very strong
but I'd rather have a man to move them.
A surrogate husband.
A man I could rent by-the-hour.

You know.
A man I could call
to come and massage my feet when they hurt.
For just one hour.
Or when my back aches.
When I've had a bad day
And would like someone to come home to.
A man who would take me in his arms and hug me tightly.
That's when I'd rent a husband  by-the-hour.

I am an independent, contemporary woman.
But still.
It would be nice to rent a husband  by-the-hour.
Perhaps when I'm sick with a cold
and can't find the courage to go to the drugstore 
for much needed remedies.

Or in the dead chill of winter.
He could warm the bed for me
with his furnace-like heat.
And keep my monkey feet warm against his body.
We could spoon
and I'd fall into peaceful slumber.

I like my space.
And I LOVE my own company.
But even I get overcome by waves of nostalgia.
I get tired of being alone.
I dream of what it would be like to be in the perfect relationship.
At times like those I'd pick up the phone 
and dial for a husband  by-the-hour.

I might even call on some Friday nights.
When I am tired of eating by myself.
I'd cook us dinner.
And we'd talk about our day.  
Then maybe watch a movie at home.
Ah! What matrimonial bliss.
Cuddling and commenting on the movie.
We'd create our own happy ending.

I never realized that there are so many advantages
to having a man around the house.

Hey! Maybe I should just get married.
Perhaps I could start by dating.
Nah! I'll just rent a husband by-the-hour.

The last day of the summer months....

I thought I was inspired to write something
but it turns out not to be the case.
For the moment.

Inspiration for Creative Writing Exercise

To my all readers(ha!ha!ha!)-----

The following outline will be your
inspiration for a short story.
I have given you the setting and the characters involved.
The rest is up to you.
Create a short story about the people in the bistro.
Have fun!

--------------------------------------------

The luncheon crowd has long gone back to work.
And the "Happy Hour" has yet to begin.
The waitresses have all left and the only person 
on staff is the young man behind the bar.
The bistro is nearly empty save for three occupied tables.

At a table in the rear of the bistro sits an older man with gray hair. 
Though very distinguished looking he must be about 70 yrs. old.
He is fiddling with his Blackberry. 

Towards the centre of the bistro, along the left wall
sits a couple who look to be in their late fifties.
They are leaning in towards each other while quietly
dicussing something that leaves them both with serious expressions. 

And finally, the third table is occupied 
by a man in his late thirties to early forties.
He sits at a table looking onto the sidewalk and busy downtown street.
He keeps checking his watch.

A young, attractive woman breezes through the door of the bistro.
She seems to be late for an appointment.
As her eyes adjust to the change in light,
she unbuttons the top button of her coat.
Then she smiles in recognition.

At which table does she go and sit down?
What is her connection to the person(s)
at the table at which she sits?
What are their stories?

I Once Knew A Girl Named Irene - Creative Writing

I once knew a girl named Irene.
I thought she was my friend despite her stormy personality.
In fact, we were friends up until today.
But today was the last straw.
Now I see that I was her friend but to her I was just another port of calm.

You see, 
Irene seemed to surround herself with people of a calm nature.
Everyone around her was so down-to-earth.
I was one of those people.
But the moment Irene would spiral into a party
or a conversation,
all hell would break loose, litterally.
Once Irene had forced herself into a given social interaction,
there would, inevitably, be fists or beer glasses or worse,
furniture flying in her wake.
She was that kind of girl.
Always at the centre of any drama.
Irene LOVED drama.
And she loved to be the centre of attention.
Mostly negative attention.
She was like an attention-starved child,
always striving for negative feedback,
needing to be noticed.
And Irene got noticed everywhere she went.

She was a very slim girl.
A wisp of a girl.
But she took up so much psychological space
that her presence was like an orb.
She'd plough into the centre of a conversation
and people would scatter.
Words like a flood.
Windows shattering.
Chairs flying through the air with centrifugal force.
Amazing.

Sometimes I would ask myself 
how one person could do so much damage.
I always tried to see the good in Irene.
I would justify her tempestuous nature.
She doesn't mean to reek such havok.
She is just a small girl with a big personality.
All of her friends are very calm people.
At her centre she is a calm person too.

I fooled myself for a long time.
I thought she would change.
I thought she would let go of her disastrous ways.

But not Irene.
Irene without chaos
is like a boat without water.
Totally irrelevant
Without chaos, Irene would cease to exist.
Like a hurricane, she would downgrade to a tropical storm.
And then eventually peter out to a summer shower. 
She would just disappear.

Knowing this,
I actually felt sorry for her.
Can you imagine?
And so I took a lot of crap from Irene
and her temperamental ways. 
I was always ready for things to fall in around her.
But today was the last straw. 

Today Irene and I had made plans to get together.
I was thinking we'd celebrate 
the last sunny days of August together.
But it was not to be.
Today even I was left broken in the wake of Irene.

She called me early,
howling into the phone like a gale force wind.
I knew she was upset
but I could not understand a word she was saying.
And she left no space for me to reply.
Then she proceeded to cry:
a torrent of emotions about what, I do not know.
Believe it or not,
I stayed on the phone with her ALL day.
She was so twisted up in her emotional drama
that I dared not interrupt her.
On and on she cried,
never stopping to let me speak.
To offer a few words.
To breathe.

She went on for HOURS.
I have NEVER stayed on the phone for that long with anyone.
No-one.
Except Irene.
She just wouldn't let up.

Until finally she did.
Just like that.
Her tears transformed into snuffles
and like that, she hung up.

I never did find out what her torrential tears were about.
But by that time I was so emotionally exhausted,
that I did not care.
I was drained of all energy
like someone had turned off the power source to my body.
And in that moment of emptiness
came total clarity.
A voice inside my head said, "Be done with her!
She is a hurricane disrupting your peaceful existence".
Suddenly I was freed.

No longer shall I weather the storm,
that is Irene.

Jack Layton's last message to Canadians

August 20, 2011

Toronto, Ontario

Dear Friends,

Tens of thousands of Canadians have written to me in recent weeks to wish me well. I want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful, inspiring and often beautiful notes, cards and gifts. Your spirit and love have lit up my home, my spirit, and my determination.

Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out as I hoped. So I am giving this letter to my partner Olivia to share with you in the circumstance in which I cannot continue.

I recommend that Hull-Aylmer MP Nycole Turmel continue her work as our interim leader until a permanent successor is elected.

I recommend the party hold a leadership vote as early as possible in the New Year, on approximately the same timelines as in 2003, so that our new leader has ample time to reconsolidate our team, renew our party and our program, and move forward towards the next election.

A few additional thoughts:

To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and to live their lives, I say this: please don’t be discouraged that my own journey hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimistic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer.

To the members of my party: we’ve done remarkable things together in the past eight years. It has been a privilege to lead the New Democratic Party and I am most grateful for your confidence, your support, and the endless hours of volunteer commitment you have devoted to our cause. There will be those who will try to persuade you to give up our cause. But that cause is much bigger than any one leader. Answer them by recommitting with energy and determination to our work. Remember our proud history of social justice, universal health care, public pensions and making sure no one is left behind. Let’s continue to move forward. Let’s demonstrate in everything we do in the four years before us that we are ready to serve our beloved Canada as its next government.

To the members of our parliamentary caucus: I have been privileged to work with each and every one of you. Our caucus meetings were always the highlight of my week. It has been my role to ask a great deal from you. And now I am going to do so again. Canadians will be closely watching you in the months to come. Colleagues, I know you will make the tens of thousands of members of our party proud of you by demonstrating the same seamless teamwork and solidarity that has earned us the confidence of millions of Canadians in the recent election.

To my fellow Quebecers: On May 2nd, you made an historic decision. You decided that the way to replace Canada’s Conservative federal government with something better was by working together in partnership with progressive-minded Canadians across the country. You made the right decision then; it is still the right decision today; and it will be the right decision right through to the next election, when we will succeed, together. You have elected a superb team of New Democrats to Parliament. They are going to be doing remarkable things in the years to come to make this country better for us all.

To young Canadians: All my life I have worked to make things better. Hope and optimism have defined my political career, and I continue to be hopeful and optimistic about Canada. Young people have been a great source of inspiration for me. I have met and talked with so many of you about your dreams, your frustrations, and your ideas for change. More and more, you are engaging in politics because you want to change things for the better. Many of you have placed your trust in our party. As my time in political life draws to a close I want to share with you my belief in your power to change this country and this world. There are great challenges before you, from the overwhelming nature of climate change to the unfairness of an economy that excludes so many from our collective wealth, and the changes necessary to build a more inclusive and generous Canada. I believe in you. Your energy, your vision, your passion for justice are exactly what this country needs today. You need to be at the heart of our economy, our political life, and our plans for the present and the future.

And finally, to all Canadians: Canada is a great country, one of the hopes of the world. We can be a better one – a country of greater equality, justice, and opportunity. We can build a prosperous economy and a society that shares its benefits more fairly. We can look after our seniors. We can offer better futures for our children. We can do our part to save the world’s environment. We can restore our good name in the world. We can do all of these things because we finally have a party system at the national level where there are real choices; where your vote matters; where working for change can actually bring about change. In the months and years to come, New Democrats will put a compelling new alternative to you. My colleagues in our party are an impressive, committed team. Give them a careful hearing; consider the alternatives; and consider that we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

All my very best,

Jack Layton


----------I am very saddened by his death.
His humanity will be missed in Canadian politics.
Thanks! Jack.....for the light you brought to our country.
Rest in peace.

A sore throat and the throat chakra

Because of this sore throat thing
I have been researching the chakras again
to realign myself with what I need to do to get rid of this blockage.

The colour of the throat chakra is royal blue.
In the physical body it represents the thyroid glands.
In the mental body it represents Listening and Communication.
And in the emotional body it represents Self-Expression and Truth.

If I were to follow the symbolism of my "mal-aise"
there is something that is caught in my throat.
Something that I feel the need to say that I am not communicating.
And so my body is reflecting this information for me
in an effort to help me figure it out.
I need to listen to the message that my body is sending me.

At my core I already know what it is that I have not properly communicated.
I also know to whom I must communicate this personal truth.
But I am not sure if I am ready to do it.

At least I now know the reason for my "mal-aise" so I can let it go.
Beautiful!

An extra posting....life themes.

There are a several things that
I would like to write about in the future.
They are life lessons or themes that
repeat themselves throughout our life.
I am going to write them down here just so that I don't forget
that I want to look at them at some time or other.
Here it goes:

-the art of letting go.
-the art of mono-tasking (life as meditation)
-learning not to take things personally.
-learning one's limits(and that they can be flexible).
-respecting one's limits.
-making your limits known to other's.
-what do I do when my limits have not been respected?
-learning to be a warrior in the urban jungle.
-learning to be my own best friend (cheezy but necessary)
-when/how to walk away.
-when to stay and invest time, energy and love.
-learning one's needs(and that they can be flexible).
-leaving other people to their own drama (take it to the curb, my friend)
-what brings me joy? and laughter?
-whose energy brings me light? and who is just sucking up my life source.
-how do I live my life at the level of my creativity? every day......

So that sums it up......
To be discussed at another time. :)

-

What is in a title?

Is it just me or
or are my blog-post titles of late
pulling me back to my childhood?

Alice in Wonderland

Oh My God!!!
My massage was wonderful.
And inexpensive.
And I did not have to travel far to get it.
WOW! Alice is a real healer.

Now I feel all loose and BENDY-BENDY....
I will definitely be a return customer.
And my throat feels better too.
But I think I will have to go see my Dr. for my sore throat.
'Cause I still have an infection.
And it is slowing me down.

Feeling like a Pooh!

I really feel like whining today.
I feel like a Pooh!
Whine, whine, whine......
My throat hurts soooooo much.

I barely did anything today.
No gym. No energy.

I cancelled my plans for this evening.
I was supposed to go and see GATINEAU with Janie tonight.
Instead I will just stay in the 'hood and take it easy.

Thank God I go for acupressure tomorrow.
Hopefully she can drain my lymph nodes.
They are swollen and hurt like hell.
Whine, whine, whine......

The Red Handbag II - Creative Writing

The Red Handbag II

The crowd descends the staircase in silence.
At this early hour, many are still half asleep.
They all quicken their pace
as the vibration of the approaching train can be felt underfoot.
Time is precious.
And the morning passengers are the worst pressed for time.

An old man descends the stairs one at a time
on his way to the embarkment.
In his right hand he holds his cane
while his left hand grips onto the central bannister.
Despite his fragile appearance, life is good.
He is returning home from a sleepover 
at his girlfriend's house.
Margaret is ten years younger than him
which makes her seventy-nine years old.
He's an old goat but he can still keep up with her in the bedroom.
He whistles to himself as he slowly continues down the stairs,
lost in his reverie.

Behind the old man, 
a young woman with an enormous red handbag 
is sighing loudly in exasperation.
She is late. 
Again.
That makes three times this week alone.
Her supervisor warned her that the next time she was late,
there would be an interview with the big boss.
Shit! That's all she needs.
An interview with the company's CEO, Ross Desmarais.
There were rumors running through the office that
she had been sleeping with him.
Given that the rumors were true,
she would probably get fired. Again.
"No favoritism for the office slut",
would be the verdict.
And what did she get out of it?
Well, this gorgeous, red Prada bag, for one.
Sex with Ross was definately mediocre.
But this red, Prada handbag that he gave her
was absolutely delicious.

Her dreams of life as a fashion Diva are interrupted
when she hears the sound of the train doors opening, 
The young woman passes the old man.
In her haste she bangs into the old man with her big, red handbag.
She feels badly about it
but continues on to catch the train.
She is really late.
And her feet are already killing her in these shoes.
Her heels are high enough to cause a sprain 
should she take a misstep 
so she moves towards the train doors
with little baby steps.
"Why did I have to wear these bloody shoes?", she asks herself.
Despite the shoes,
she manages to slip into the subway just in time.

The subway is so packed that she is barely in the train.
Nobody moves aside to give her some space.
The crowded train resists her efforts
to move deeper into the subway car.
Great!
That is all she needs.
"It is probably my karma for bumping into that old man on the stairs," she thinks.
"Now it's my turn."

Half of her big, red Prada bag is hanging out of the train.
The train doors close.
Most of the big, red handbag is caught outside of the doors.

As she turns around to struggle with the doors,
trying in vain to get them to open,
she sees the old man that she passed on the staircase.
He is on his hands and knees 
at the foot of the stairs.
"Oh! my God!", she gasps outloud. "What have I done?"
She pushes again to seperate the doors:
a final attempt to rescue her handbag
and run to help the old man.
One last push and the doors reopen.

She clutches her bag to her chest
But her heels prevent her from moving quickly.
The doors open and close with such speed.
She is caught on the train,
unable to repair the damage she has done.
The train starts to move away.
Her last view is that of the old man struggling to get up.

Her bag is safe
but she feels like hell.
"I am a selfish monster", she concludes.
"When am I going to get my shit together?"
As she continues on her way to work,
she feels the weight of the world on her right shoulder.
And on her left one,
she feels the weight of her big, red Prada bag. 



I really got into this writing exercise.
The possibilities are infinite.

The Red Handbag - Creative Writing

Here is a little story I wrote last night.
I could not sleep so I started writing.
My story is in response to a paragraph written by a girlfriend of mine.
Here it goes....


The Red Handbag

The crowd descends the staircase in silence.
All that can be heard is the shuffle of sleepy feet.
Left-right-left 
All are prisonners in the hell that is 9 to 5.

They all quicken their pace 
as the vibration of the approaching train can be felt underfoot.
Everyone is in a hurry to arrive at their destination.
Being late means there is no time 
to stop at Tim Horton's before work.
"I'll take a double-double, please."

An old man descends the stairs one at a time
on his way to the embarkment.
In his right hand he holds his cane
while his left hand grips onto the central bannister.
In his younger days he used to run marathons
but today he is going nowhere fast.
He is tired.
He is tired of life.
And some days he daydreams about when he will rejoin his beautiful Doris
in the sweet hereafter.

Behind the old man is a young woman in a hurry.
She is so young that she is in a hurry to get on with her life.
Reflexively she starts to sigh loudly in exasperation.
Her most prominent feature is her handbag.
It is big and red.

When she hears the sound of the train doors opening,
the young woman passes the old man.
In her haste she bangs into the old man with her big, red handbag.
There is no time to slow down.
Slowing down means that life,
like the train, 
will leave her behind.

With little Geisha steps she moves towards the train doors.
Her heels are high enough to cause a sprain 
should she take a misstep: to her beauty is about pain and sacrifice.
Despite the pain and the sacrifice and the high-heeled shoes,
she manages to slip into the subway just in time.
Destiny is on her side.
She will have time to stop at Starbucks
for her extra hot soy-latte.

The subway is so packed that she is barely in the train.
Nobody moves aside to give her some space.
The crowded train resists her efforts
to move deeper into the subway car.
Fuck!
Half of her big, red handbag is hanging out of the train.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
She knows that she cannot get off 
and wait for the next train.
If she does her life will pass her by.

The train doors close.
Most of the big, red handbag is hanging outside the doors.
She feels close to tears.
She loves that big, red bag.

As she turns around to struggle with the doors,
trying in vain to get them to open,
she sees the old man that she passed on the staircase.
He is on his hands and knees 
at the foot of the stairs.
Serves him right, she thinks, for being so slow.
She pushes again to seperate the doors:
a final attempt to rescue her handbag.
One last push and the doors reopen.
An invible hand pushes her off the train.
The doors close.
The train starts to move away.

Her bag is safe
and now
she has no choice but to wait for the next train.
Well, she thinks, might as well kill some time.

With little Geisha steps she moves towards the old man.

Well that is my post for today....

 

Printed shelter magazines make me happy

what a gorgeous afternoon.

just doing some research on the net
and reading Canadian House&Home in printed medium.
i love that magazine.
i always find ideas to inspire me.
and i like holding the mag. in my hands, old school.
i get a real satisfaction from flipping the pages,touching the paper.

i keep a resource library from photos in different magazines.
i will always buy actual magazines
as opposed to netmags (sorry! trees)'cause they fill a creatve need
that is not satisfied by viewing things on my iPad.
i love my iPad.
but for Interior Design inspiration
i will always give priority to real magazines

well gotta go and walk Miko the dog.

Looking for inspiration

i wrote an earlier posting today but it somehow got erased.
these things happen....

my intention for my blog was to use it to record
the way in which i use my creativity to resource my life.
in everyday life.
nothing monumental,
just the everyday workings of a life,
my life.
i am all about finding ways to resource myself.
just in the small things that i do everyday.
it took me years to want
serenity more than happiness or pleasure.
before i used to heavily pursue pleasure.
but now i like quiet moments.
by myself.
reading, writing, knitting,
sometimes cooking or other creative pursuits.
basically just puttering around.
and that is how i resource myself.
now.

i would like to bring even more creativity
into my life,
my everyday.
i believe that everyday creativity
(not just in the fine arts sense)
is the healthiest way to resource oneself.
well, i speak for myself.

so i guess i want to get creative
on ways to live life creatively.
and share it on my blog
with whomever stops in for a quick read.

all this is to say.....
i am a work in progress
and so too is my blog.

how do you get creative in your everyday life?
does anyone have any ideas to share?

I had a good day

i had a good day.
i had coffee with Peter.
i walked to my psych appointment.
i walked the dog.
i bought some lingerie.
i talked to my Mom.
and i just finished dinner with Janie.
we shared a pitcher of sangria
and laughed a lot.

i had a good day.

It is a good SUN-day

so it is sunday.
i started the day as i usually do by speaking with my mom.
after that i went out to brunch with peter.
we went to a new place here in the hood.
the place was packed, the food was good but the service was a little long.
good thing we always have lots to talk about.
no shortage of conversations with us.

after brunch we went to peter's place and ate the gauffre
that i had picked up for our desert.
i left at about three o'clock as he had to go to work.
i went home to chill with the pussycats
but i did not feel like staying in.
so i called janie to see if she wanted to go and play urban petanque.
no go.
on my own again.

so here i am at the cafe, writing.
i was knitting for awhile.
then i wrote to my cousin on my mother's side.
and now, the blog.
so overall it has been a good day.
it would have been nice to have a little more company but....
so be it.
i am having a good day.
right now it is raining.
that makes me happy to watch the rain.
plus it cools things down a bit.

i do not know what i shall do this evening.
but hey!
maybe i will make some salads so that i have healthy food for the week.
tomorrow is my first day back at the gym.
ABSOLUTELY! so i will need FOOD!

anywho.....c'est ça!

Looking for JOY....

i am at the cafe waiting for janie.
i do not know what we shall do this evening but
at least the company will be nice.
and she is fun and funny.
and it is a beautiful evening out.

i am still in my funk and feeling pissy about it.
maybe i will run away and join the circus.
or move to the forest and live with the animals.

or maybe i'll just suck it up
and be where i am.
because wherever you go, there you are anyways.
soooooo......

where did i leave my JOY?
in my jeans' pocket?
up my sleeve?
in a hole in the bottom of the sea?

JOY, JOY...
come out, come out
wherever you are.
i need you JOY,
to get rid of my funk.

Q:did you know that arm&hammer now sells kitty litter?
i see the link but still....
what a leap!
now that is vision.

just a thought....

Knitt, pearl, knitt, pearl

So i am hopping from activity to activity.
First some knitting.
Now some writing for my blog.
And then I want to study my totem animal medicine cards.

Find a solution to this funk

i did some more knitting on one of my various projects already started.
two scarves and two baby blankets.
those are my current projects.
oh!
and a throw.
not one of which is yet finished.
no matter.

i thought the creativity of my knitting would get me out of my funk.
but it didn't.
so i knit for a while on my balcony and then i moved on to other things.
i gotta find a solution to this funk 'cause
it is really a pain in the ass.
feeling like this.
there are so many things that are bigger than my funk
and yet i am stuck here.
blah!blah!blah!

Where do I start?

I am feeling a little off these days.
I do not know what I need to change in order to feel better.
???
I know that something has got to change.....but what?
I think that I need to get more into the world.
If that makes any sense.
I do different activities, but always alone.
almost, always.
I think I need more intimacy.
Not in the sexual/romantic sense.
Just in the human sense.
I need more interaction with new people and new activities.
maybe I need to be challenged.
Expand my comfort zone.
Push my limits.
Get creative in some new way.
Resource my vital energy.

Where do I start?

Refreshing rain and totem bears

it is pouring rain outside.
and i love it.
even though i don't currently have an umbrella.
who cares?
the rain is so cleansing.
it seems to release all the negative energy in the air.
it is like pressing "refresh".
so lovely.

yesterday i went to the cafe near my house to do some research.
and there was a guy there that i know from the cafe.
he is a superb artist.
and he drew me a bear.
i called the bear Rudi because he looks Russian.
like a circus bear.
so i hung up the drawing on my fridge.
bears are my main totem animal.
so i feel good when their images surround me.
protected.

i am still feeling sad about having put Miss Petunia down on Friday.
she was such a good cat, a pretty girl.
i just could no longer give her the level of care that she needed
with her diabetes and all.
i just could not handle it anymore.
i miss her so much.

Giving things away

Today I have various things to give away to a community centre close to my apt.
It feels so good to have things moving out the door.
I really feel the need to let go of STUFF in my life.
To create some space.
In my apt.
In my head.
In my creativity.
All this accumulation and hoarding of things
is not good for the creative flow.
you need a certain amount of space,
or emptiness,
in order to be able to create.

Just a thought....

Pen to paper

i have not been into this blogging stuff.
and i could not understand why.
particularly since i love to write.
but i figured it out.
i realized that i love writing when i am using paper and pen.
typing my thoughts does not bring me the same satisfying feeling as when i write.
yet.
things can always change.
things ALWAYS change.
that can be a comfort.
or not.