no, *you* kiss *my* dream...

The other day, my brother insulted and then boldly challenged me: what have I done and learned this summer, in what he insists is my reefer-riddled haze? Here is the (slightly edited) answer I never sent him. (Oh, and to contextualize the title, his name's Dream and his email is "kissmydream.")

This summer, I moved into my own apartment in a supremely funky neighborhood. I've gotten a job I love and feel proud about, with an organization that gives money to artists so they can go about making the world more amazing.

I've cycled through the rough and zigzagged streets of my new city – an activity that is not only good for me, but good for the planet. And in this city, I’ve learned and grown and met a range of people, some of whom have become dear friends.

I also dealt with some intense shit, including the death of my best friend (beloved shaggy being who brought joy and smile to all who met him), and the almost-simultaneous disintegration of 2 simultaneous relationships (as in lovers; it's a strange story, but allow me to qualify that all participants were fully informed at all times).

I finished a full-length play, wrote a one-act and am currently working on two more (one of each). I also found a director, the inimitably incandescent Lisa, and we've been working on or have submitted proposals and applications to theatres and festivals.

I read novels, philosophical masterpieces by Camus, Welles, Vonnegut, Wilde, Robbins, and Bukowski. And a bit of trash too…

And oh, I've had some fun too... I marched with the NDP in the dyke parade (and the next day I got fully decked out with the rowdily rambunctious Jaene for the pride parade); I've watched the sun rise from my delinquently delicious friend Angela's rooftop patio; I've travelled to Montreal with the lasciviously luscious Leanne (who visited me for a glorious 2 weeks); I felt the lakewind in my hair as I toked and talked away on a pot-friendly cruise; I've talked shit on countless patios with world travellers and random smiley people; I've played spin the bottle with cute young belgian boys; I've been twirled and tossed around at the CNE (fair, ya know, with rides and carneys...); I've danced on the streets with my beautiful bosom-buddy Alana to her husband/my friend's reggae-jazz band; I've talked shit and played redneck-scrabble with the marvelously magnanimous Ken (who visited me for a fabulous week); I've gone camping with fellow freaks, musicians and experience-savourers; I've mingled with morris dancers at the renaissance festival with my fabulously funky friend Jeff the bassoon player. And I've laughed. A lot.

And what have I learned?

I continue to learn respect, compassion, understanding. I continue to learn about humans, how despite their insecurities that make them mean, they can be generous and forgiving and sometimes even understanding. How despite their judgments which more often than not signal an internal unrest, they can be open and trusting.

I continue to learn that despite pain that can grip your heart and cause your eyes to spill tears for days on end, there is beauty in the world.

And I continue to learn to love myself. To accept myself. To value myself. To recognize all that is good about me instead of festering in all that can be improved about me. And I continue to learn, slowly so slowly, to trust again, to love again, to see the beauty in people and to find, cherish and/or help them shine with their hidden qualities.

And I continue to learn that though I daily strive to love myself, to create beauty and thank myself and the world for it, a few mean words from someone I love can still punch gaping holes into my frail, doggedly-earned self-esteem and leave me crying, sad and confused by man’s inhumanity to man.

And I continue to learn that I have the right to protect myself from people who have, do or will hurt me. Like you.