i've just read a great quote, by anais nin: "life expands or contracts according to risk taken."
if you've been following these past few weeks, you'll know i suffered a heartbreak.
and as tempted as i may be to beat myself up for ignoring the many (and tireless) voices of wisdom that urged me these last 2 years to walk - and sometimes, to RUN away, i won't. the spirit behind my tenacious infatuation with him was inspired by beauty and passion. and as ms nin points out, it is our ability to embrace challenges and take risks that make life worth living. sometimes, we really fuck up. but sometimes, whole new worlds unfurl before us and frankly, that's what it's all about...
and anyway, i'm the one who said a few years back, in my silly profile, that i'm "larger than life." shit, with the amount of risks i take, i sure wasn't kidding!
sigh
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
thank you thank you thank you, life!
i know, i've fallen back into remission - a whole week without posting, after that orgy of words. but what a week; it was phenomenal!
so, when i left whatshisface back in august, i suddenly found myself back in vancouver and was amazed by how clearly the gods favoured my return. temporary homes lined up like obedient children, work bowed before me like an adoring servant. it was brilliant, and it was very clear to me that the gods wanted me in vancouver.
but did i listen? noooooo. i went running back to whatshisname for a final month of misery. luckily for me, my gods are generous gods, and they have paved my re-return home with platinum and daisies! (i was going to say gold and roses - more popular images of abundance - but platinum and daisies are my personal favourite precious metal and flower.)
i have found a great home in the heart of the very fabulous mount pleasant neighborhood - reputed for its funky little restaurants and shops and its overall dramatic (but not tragic) hipness!
i've found two great jobs! one for the pocketbook, one for the theatre girl who lives inside me, and both for the soul. one job is with a tiny and amazing non-profit organization populated with smiling friendly people out to change the world's vibrations, the other is with a funky little theatre company whose last play rocked my world. and in a couple of weeks, i'll be doing some stage managing with a crew of beloved friends - the old crew from the cultch days. ahhh!
during my interview yesterday, the fella asked me how long i'd been back. "two weeks," i replied. "wow," he whistled, "you don't waste your time." funnily, it's actually because i've wasted the last two years of my life, trapped in a pathetic limbo of lies, that i'm so energetic to get it all finally STARTED!!!
i'm feeling calm. happy. centred. awake. and also a bit fuzzy! (a bit warm and fuzzy, a bit bc pot good'n fuzzy!) and good. so so good.
thank you vancouver gods for giving me another chance!!
: ))))))))))))))))))))
so, when i left whatshisface back in august, i suddenly found myself back in vancouver and was amazed by how clearly the gods favoured my return. temporary homes lined up like obedient children, work bowed before me like an adoring servant. it was brilliant, and it was very clear to me that the gods wanted me in vancouver.
but did i listen? noooooo. i went running back to whatshisname for a final month of misery. luckily for me, my gods are generous gods, and they have paved my re-return home with platinum and daisies! (i was going to say gold and roses - more popular images of abundance - but platinum and daisies are my personal favourite precious metal and flower.)
i have found a great home in the heart of the very fabulous mount pleasant neighborhood - reputed for its funky little restaurants and shops and its overall dramatic (but not tragic) hipness!
i've found two great jobs! one for the pocketbook, one for the theatre girl who lives inside me, and both for the soul. one job is with a tiny and amazing non-profit organization populated with smiling friendly people out to change the world's vibrations, the other is with a funky little theatre company whose last play rocked my world. and in a couple of weeks, i'll be doing some stage managing with a crew of beloved friends - the old crew from the cultch days. ahhh!
during my interview yesterday, the fella asked me how long i'd been back. "two weeks," i replied. "wow," he whistled, "you don't waste your time." funnily, it's actually because i've wasted the last two years of my life, trapped in a pathetic limbo of lies, that i'm so energetic to get it all finally STARTED!!!
i'm feeling calm. happy. centred. awake. and also a bit fuzzy! (a bit warm and fuzzy, a bit bc pot good'n fuzzy!) and good. so so good.
thank you vancouver gods for giving me another chance!!
: ))))))))))))))))))))
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
breathless
i am exhausted!!
i've just duplicated, sorted, labelled and filed away every single blog post i've ever written. although i didn't take the time to read through every post formally, i skimmed them all. what i got was a snapshot of the last 2+ years. and holy shit: drama drama drama!
reading it, in one big chunk like that, was a lot more overwhelming than living it. though of course, some of those moments also felt pretty fucking overwhelming...
i remember when a new lover read my blog. he was really testy when i saw him that night, and he finally revealed it was cuz he'd read my blog. he'd found it exhausting, tiresome, repetitive. he criticized the endless cycles that i seemed doomed to repeat again and again. (and he didn't want to be one of the endless stream of fellas who broke my heart. which is admirable and understandable, but total bullshit considering he went on to say some of the meanest things anyone's ever said to me, and to push me around - figuratively and literally. so of course, he joined the ranks of assholes and heartbreakers.)
but anyway, i have to agree that in one sitting, it's pretty draining. man, i don't do things half way, do i? i should put that on my resume...
and in addition to the weight of all those words, i got to relive all that wasn't written about. i know what was happening in those silent months a year ago, between raving about love and leaving toronto. i know what bullshit i was sifting through when i was stuttering through the summer. so many words left unposted for fear of retalliation from lovers or strangers, coupled with a desperate desire to stop talking, writing or thinking about it all.
i took a real shit kicking this year. and yes, of course i'm responsible for some of that. i made some really stupid decisions. again and again and again. but the spirit behind those decisions is something about me that i cherish, though it fucks me up every time. passion, a belief in love, a desire for something meaningful with another human. those are nice things... (i just keep falling for mad poet geniuses or supervain actors or conflicted sculptors. damn: enough of these artists!! next person i love is going to be a fucking accountant!!)
so i will not judge myself too harshly. i'll just keep working on ways to embrace that passion, while finding ways to protect myself. you know, not make quite as many stooopid decisions...
for now, i get to breathe again. it's all finally over. no more "soon." no more "temporary." i'm in vancouver, i've found work, i'm looking for a home. i'm going to have plants and maybe even a fish. something that will be a token of my born-again domesticity. a home! a future! a career, a life! so much to look forward to!
for the first time in 2 years, i feel clear-headed. it's incredible how much energy i was spending just coping in the name of "love." but now, that energy gets to be MINE again! i have a focus that comes not from some "him," not from longing, not from heartbreak, not from "love." it comes from me - my resurrected, and my new ideas.
stand back, 2007: here i come.
i've just duplicated, sorted, labelled and filed away every single blog post i've ever written. although i didn't take the time to read through every post formally, i skimmed them all. what i got was a snapshot of the last 2+ years. and holy shit: drama drama drama!
reading it, in one big chunk like that, was a lot more overwhelming than living it. though of course, some of those moments also felt pretty fucking overwhelming...
i remember when a new lover read my blog. he was really testy when i saw him that night, and he finally revealed it was cuz he'd read my blog. he'd found it exhausting, tiresome, repetitive. he criticized the endless cycles that i seemed doomed to repeat again and again. (and he didn't want to be one of the endless stream of fellas who broke my heart. which is admirable and understandable, but total bullshit considering he went on to say some of the meanest things anyone's ever said to me, and to push me around - figuratively and literally. so of course, he joined the ranks of assholes and heartbreakers.)
but anyway, i have to agree that in one sitting, it's pretty draining. man, i don't do things half way, do i? i should put that on my resume...
and in addition to the weight of all those words, i got to relive all that wasn't written about. i know what was happening in those silent months a year ago, between raving about love and leaving toronto. i know what bullshit i was sifting through when i was stuttering through the summer. so many words left unposted for fear of retalliation from lovers or strangers, coupled with a desperate desire to stop talking, writing or thinking about it all.
i took a real shit kicking this year. and yes, of course i'm responsible for some of that. i made some really stupid decisions. again and again and again. but the spirit behind those decisions is something about me that i cherish, though it fucks me up every time. passion, a belief in love, a desire for something meaningful with another human. those are nice things... (i just keep falling for mad poet geniuses or supervain actors or conflicted sculptors. damn: enough of these artists!! next person i love is going to be a fucking accountant!!)
so i will not judge myself too harshly. i'll just keep working on ways to embrace that passion, while finding ways to protect myself. you know, not make quite as many stooopid decisions...
for now, i get to breathe again. it's all finally over. no more "soon." no more "temporary." i'm in vancouver, i've found work, i'm looking for a home. i'm going to have plants and maybe even a fish. something that will be a token of my born-again domesticity. a home! a future! a career, a life! so much to look forward to!
for the first time in 2 years, i feel clear-headed. it's incredible how much energy i was spending just coping in the name of "love." but now, that energy gets to be MINE again! i have a focus that comes not from some "him," not from longing, not from heartbreak, not from "love." it comes from me - my resurrected, and my new ideas.
stand back, 2007: here i come.
Friday, January 12, 2007
P-PuSh it real good
i've had a great couple of nights enjoying the fantabulous PuSh festival! i'd been hearing friends rave about it for years (when i was in toronto), and i gotta tell you, it is very much living up to its excellent reputation.
it's funny, because i was sad, leaving calgary, to be missing the High Performance Rodeo. (another festival of local and international theatre, music, dance, etc.) i'd looked over the program, and there were a number of shows i was interested in seeing. i was also sad that i would be missing the Old Trout Puppet Workshop's remounting of "Famous Puppet Death Scenes" at another calgary theatre, in february.
but lucky for me, the PuSh festival features some of the shows i'd been wanting to see at the Rodeo AND it also has the Old Trouts show. how very excellent!! so i don't feel i'm missing anything at all! (well, except for Pan Pan Theatre, the company from ireland whose director i'd met a few times before. it would've been great to share a pint or two with him again.) but otherwise, i think i even prefer PuSh.
it was interesting to compare the two festivals. in many ways, they're very similar. both are international, multidisciplinary, edgy. both feature more experimental-type performances. but the Rodeo is more... well... it's radical, like punk. but punk was 30 years ago... PuSh somehow seems a little more contemporary. hip. young. (i wonder if thats more a reflection on the audience, or the curators?)
for instance, last night i saw "Sonata for Violin and Turntables." it was an amazing musical performance by New York violinist Daniel Bernard Roumain (DBR) and DJ Scientific, and it blew my fucking mind. also noteworthy was that it was in the Chan Centre at UBC, a really beautiful theatre i'd only ever been to once before, for a friend's graduation. it was also nice to stroll the old grounds, a beautiful campus all dusty with snow. and to top it all off, i had killer seats - right beside the curator, so you know they're the best!! it was a perfect evening.
at the Rodeo, i would have seen Alejandro Escovedo, a very highly-reputed performer who's been perfecting his craft for 4
decades. i'm sure i would have loved Escovedo, but PuSh offered me a couple of young, urban hipsters doing something i'd never heard before. and it was SO good!! i wouldn't have traded last night for anything.
here's another example: i saw some of the PuSh opening night show, "Quizoola." in a 6-hour long performance, 3 british hipsters in clown makeup take turns asking each other questions (some scripted, some not), and answering them (not scripted). lit by naked lightbulbs. in a garage. it was really neat, with some truly deep and challenging moments, and some truly hilarious moments. and ok sure, a couple of boring ones too. but it was great, and again, it was something i'd never seen before. at the Rodeo, i would have seen awesome but aging porn star and performance artist Annie Sprinkle marry her lesbian lover. which is neat, and i'm sure was a hell of a party, but.. well, i think PuSh is just a little more up my alley.
that said, the Rodeo does have a way cooler graphic. i'm rather stunned, actually, that the PuSh festival is actually using the Old Trouts' image. couldn't they come up with their own?? it seems kind of lazy, actually. (shrug)
so anyway, i intend to enjoy the hell out of PuSh! as i told the curator last night, he's 2 for 2! if you're in vancouver, you should definitely check it out: http://pushfestival.ca *
_______
*for some reason, the hyperlink feature isn't available on this computer. must be an older OS or something.. sorry!
it's funny, because i was sad, leaving calgary, to be missing the High Performance Rodeo. (another festival of local and international theatre, music, dance, etc.) i'd looked over the program, and there were a number of shows i was interested in seeing. i was also sad that i would be missing the Old Trout Puppet Workshop's remounting of "Famous Puppet Death Scenes" at another calgary theatre, in february.
but lucky for me, the PuSh festival features some of the shows i'd been wanting to see at the Rodeo AND it also has the Old Trouts show. how very excellent!! so i don't feel i'm missing anything at all! (well, except for Pan Pan Theatre, the company from ireland whose director i'd met a few times before. it would've been great to share a pint or two with him again.) but otherwise, i think i even prefer PuSh.
it was interesting to compare the two festivals. in many ways, they're very similar. both are international, multidisciplinary, edgy. both feature more experimental-type performances. but the Rodeo is more... well... it's radical, like punk. but punk was 30 years ago... PuSh somehow seems a little more contemporary. hip. young. (i wonder if thats more a reflection on the audience, or the curators?)
for instance, last night i saw "Sonata for Violin and Turntables." it was an amazing musical performance by New York violinist Daniel Bernard Roumain (DBR) and DJ Scientific, and it blew my fucking mind. also noteworthy was that it was in the Chan Centre at UBC, a really beautiful theatre i'd only ever been to once before, for a friend's graduation. it was also nice to stroll the old grounds, a beautiful campus all dusty with snow. and to top it all off, i had killer seats - right beside the curator, so you know they're the best!! it was a perfect evening.
at the Rodeo, i would have seen Alejandro Escovedo, a very highly-reputed performer who's been perfecting his craft for 4
decades. i'm sure i would have loved Escovedo, but PuSh offered me a couple of young, urban hipsters doing something i'd never heard before. and it was SO good!! i wouldn't have traded last night for anything.
here's another example: i saw some of the PuSh opening night show, "Quizoola." in a 6-hour long performance, 3 british hipsters in clown makeup take turns asking each other questions (some scripted, some not), and answering them (not scripted). lit by naked lightbulbs. in a garage. it was really neat, with some truly deep and challenging moments, and some truly hilarious moments. and ok sure, a couple of boring ones too. but it was great, and again, it was something i'd never seen before. at the Rodeo, i would have seen awesome but aging porn star and performance artist Annie Sprinkle marry her lesbian lover. which is neat, and i'm sure was a hell of a party, but.. well, i think PuSh is just a little more up my alley.
that said, the Rodeo does have a way cooler graphic. i'm rather stunned, actually, that the PuSh festival is actually using the Old Trouts' image. couldn't they come up with their own?? it seems kind of lazy, actually. (shrug)
so anyway, i intend to enjoy the hell out of PuSh! as i told the curator last night, he's 2 for 2! if you're in vancouver, you should definitely check it out: http://pushfestival.ca *
_______
*for some reason, the hyperlink feature isn't available on this computer. must be an older OS or something.. sorry!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
dude, that is so not cool
ok, i've survived some bad pickup attempts before. like the time that fella tried to woo me with one word. what was it..? oh yea, he'd looked at me and grunted: "boyfriend?"
that was bad, but last night i met the new champion, and crowned him emperor of idiots.
i was at the opening gala for the PuSh festival, drinking and mingling and all in all having a very lovely evening. (even though it was in a cafeteria... who came up with that winning idea??)
at one point i moseyed over to talk to the fabulous DK, who was talking with a coupla guys. turns out i'd met one of them before - a tent supplier for the children's festival. then i met the other guy, who also does crew work. the two guys were leaving, but we had just enough time for new guy to mention some show coming up that he's working on, me to ask if he needs any crew, him to say yes, and me to give him my number. work, yay!
later that evening, i looked at my phone to ascertain exactly how late it had become, and how little sleep i was going to be getting. i was surprised to see that i'd missed 2 phone calls, and received 1 text message from a number i did not know.
guess who:
new guy.
he didn't leave a voice message, but that's ok; the text message was plenty. it read: "at the cat's meow would love to pet your kitty"
(aside for non vancouverites: the cat's meow is a restaurant/lounge on granville island, near the opening gala.)
wha...??? i mean shit man, we'd spoken for perhaps one minute. and it had been entirely about work! there had been no flirting. hell, there hadn't even been any real chitchat or friendliness. just an explanation of the work, and the dictation of contact digits.
pretty impressive, hunh? oh wait, it gets better: he's married. at least this one wore a ring. man, i have a knack for attracting the real winners, eh.
so there you have it, the new "all-time worst pick-up line i've ever be subjected to."
(shakin my head)
that was bad, but last night i met the new champion, and crowned him emperor of idiots.
i was at the opening gala for the PuSh festival, drinking and mingling and all in all having a very lovely evening. (even though it was in a cafeteria... who came up with that winning idea??)
at one point i moseyed over to talk to the fabulous DK, who was talking with a coupla guys. turns out i'd met one of them before - a tent supplier for the children's festival. then i met the other guy, who also does crew work. the two guys were leaving, but we had just enough time for new guy to mention some show coming up that he's working on, me to ask if he needs any crew, him to say yes, and me to give him my number. work, yay!
later that evening, i looked at my phone to ascertain exactly how late it had become, and how little sleep i was going to be getting. i was surprised to see that i'd missed 2 phone calls, and received 1 text message from a number i did not know.
guess who:
new guy.
he didn't leave a voice message, but that's ok; the text message was plenty. it read: "at the cat's meow would love to pet your kitty"
(aside for non vancouverites: the cat's meow is a restaurant/lounge on granville island, near the opening gala.)
wha...??? i mean shit man, we'd spoken for perhaps one minute. and it had been entirely about work! there had been no flirting. hell, there hadn't even been any real chitchat or friendliness. just an explanation of the work, and the dictation of contact digits.
pretty impressive, hunh? oh wait, it gets better: he's married. at least this one wore a ring. man, i have a knack for attracting the real winners, eh.
so there you have it, the new "all-time worst pick-up line i've ever be subjected to."
(shakin my head)
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Sunparlour Players, revisited
i'm listening to an album, the recorded effort of the Sunparlour Players (the band i raved about in this post: http://like_you_care.blogspot.com/2006/04/sunparlour-players.html ) and wow - being catapulted into smiles i despaired i'd forgotten. oh, how all-consuming can heartbreak seem... but tonight, it is the musical bliss that is all-consuming.
smoking a stress-soaked cigarette, smelling the born-again air, grinning madly, stomping a wild foot.. oh the sunparlour
players!!! i love it i love it i love it!!
and yet.. their album is good. it has all the energy and musicality and vigour i love in them. and yet... it lacks that mad onslaught of cacaphonous glee! i can't taste that charge in the air, smell the sweat on the necks of head-bobbing throngs, feel the kick drums through my bones. i think the real problem is that i'm longing to see them perform again.
and it's not just a desire to see them. it's a low deep rumbling. i felt it the other night, when i was hanging out with that young hottie, the perceptive james dean type... he saw it. he asked, and i ask myself: is toronto truly calling?
a part of me feels i left it prematurely...
shrug
who knows what's to become of me.
smoking a stress-soaked cigarette, smelling the born-again air, grinning madly, stomping a wild foot.. oh the sunparlour
players!!! i love it i love it i love it!!
and yet.. their album is good. it has all the energy and musicality and vigour i love in them. and yet... it lacks that mad onslaught of cacaphonous glee! i can't taste that charge in the air, smell the sweat on the necks of head-bobbing throngs, feel the kick drums through my bones. i think the real problem is that i'm longing to see them perform again.
and it's not just a desire to see them. it's a low deep rumbling. i felt it the other night, when i was hanging out with that young hottie, the perceptive james dean type... he saw it. he asked, and i ask myself: is toronto truly calling?
a part of me feels i left it prematurely...
shrug
who knows what's to become of me.
james dean
okay, okay: time for a little frivolity, for fuck's sakes!
grin
___
i'm a girl who likes crushes. i find them invigorating, stimulating, fun and healthy. and generally, they happen at work - so they're also a great way to find a few giggles in an otherwise long day...
for the longest time, i had fairly unwaivering standards to my crush-recipients. they were generally either uninterested or otherwise involved (and actually faithful, so being otherwise involved actually meant something). the benefit to this was that i could engage rather freely in unabashed flirtation without any fear of consequence. it was always playful, never with expectation or weirdness. just good, clean, light fun.
well this year, in my many crushes, i strayed from my standards twice. both times, i was seriously affected. blushing, diverted eyes, shuffling feet, tongue-tied - the whole bit. once was in may, a fellow crew member during kids fest. the other was this past month, a bartender at the restaurant i was working in.
now.. what's particularly fascinating about these two fellas, other than their ability to render me useless in their presence, were their similarities. they both have this great, thick, messy blonde hair (for some reason, i haven't dated nearly as many blondes as i have brunettes).
and they were both Young. i joked in may of exploring my inner cougar, but the basic idea was that it would help keep the flirtations light, as per code. well, it was the idea anyway, until they opened their gorgeous mouths and became so damned interesting!! kids these days, i tell ya... anyway, the may hottie was 19, the december one, 23. i just turned 33. it was quite shocking to me! most especially because, since i first discovered lust in my early teens, i've mostly dated guys who were way too old for me - as most recently demonstrated by my 49 year-old lover.
the exceptional crushes were also both very... well... shy. quiet. and... oh, i don't know... they had this uncomfortable and yet superior nonchalance about them. a way of standing, looking, being that was just.. very cool. if i had to sum it up in two words, i'd say: "james dean."
and so it seems i've developed a bit of a james dean fetish! i dunno, but i find this interesting. i mean, there is a strong possibility that a big part of what i found attractive was just how opposite they were to my aged, dark-haired, loud-mouthed, socialite lover.
or maybe i'm rediscovering a long-forgotten, full-on james dean fetish. see, i was pondering all this the other day, when i suddenly remembered a poem i'd written when i was around 14, about james dean. oh man, i wish i had it with me, i'd transcribe it for you! (it's currently in storage, where all my shit's been living in cold loneliness since march.) i'm sure it's terrible, but very earnest and passionate! perhaps i'll try to remember to share it, when i'm some day reunited with my estranged life... i'm sure it would give you all a good shudder/giggle!
but for now, i'm just ponderin... i dunno, maybe i've just come full-circle. maybe it's time for me to be 14 again...
GASP! e-fucking-gads, i hope not!!!
but dreams
of being kissed by james dean
make lonely nights so much funner!
grin
___
i'm a girl who likes crushes. i find them invigorating, stimulating, fun and healthy. and generally, they happen at work - so they're also a great way to find a few giggles in an otherwise long day...
for the longest time, i had fairly unwaivering standards to my crush-recipients. they were generally either uninterested or otherwise involved (and actually faithful, so being otherwise involved actually meant something). the benefit to this was that i could engage rather freely in unabashed flirtation without any fear of consequence. it was always playful, never with expectation or weirdness. just good, clean, light fun.
well this year, in my many crushes, i strayed from my standards twice. both times, i was seriously affected. blushing, diverted eyes, shuffling feet, tongue-tied - the whole bit. once was in may, a fellow crew member during kids fest. the other was this past month, a bartender at the restaurant i was working in.
now.. what's particularly fascinating about these two fellas, other than their ability to render me useless in their presence, were their similarities. they both have this great, thick, messy blonde hair (for some reason, i haven't dated nearly as many blondes as i have brunettes).
and they were both Young. i joked in may of exploring my inner cougar, but the basic idea was that it would help keep the flirtations light, as per code. well, it was the idea anyway, until they opened their gorgeous mouths and became so damned interesting!! kids these days, i tell ya... anyway, the may hottie was 19, the december one, 23. i just turned 33. it was quite shocking to me! most especially because, since i first discovered lust in my early teens, i've mostly dated guys who were way too old for me - as most recently demonstrated by my 49 year-old lover.
the exceptional crushes were also both very... well... shy. quiet. and... oh, i don't know... they had this uncomfortable and yet superior nonchalance about them. a way of standing, looking, being that was just.. very cool. if i had to sum it up in two words, i'd say: "james dean."
and so it seems i've developed a bit of a james dean fetish! i dunno, but i find this interesting. i mean, there is a strong possibility that a big part of what i found attractive was just how opposite they were to my aged, dark-haired, loud-mouthed, socialite lover.
or maybe i'm rediscovering a long-forgotten, full-on james dean fetish. see, i was pondering all this the other day, when i suddenly remembered a poem i'd written when i was around 14, about james dean. oh man, i wish i had it with me, i'd transcribe it for you! (it's currently in storage, where all my shit's been living in cold loneliness since march.) i'm sure it's terrible, but very earnest and passionate! perhaps i'll try to remember to share it, when i'm some day reunited with my estranged life... i'm sure it would give you all a good shudder/giggle!
but for now, i'm just ponderin... i dunno, maybe i've just come full-circle. maybe it's time for me to be 14 again...
GASP! e-fucking-gads, i hope not!!!
but dreams
of being kissed by james dean
make lonely nights so much funner!
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
shhh...
i spew
vitriole
and venom
on everyone
i bury
hurt
with violence
i channel
everestian self-loathing
into armageddian rage
i'm feeling sorry for myself. there is no love. there is no beauty. i hate myself and everything. i hate i hate i hate i hate i hate i hate.
shhh... the brain is whispering again:
"shit sister, you need a reality check. you have friends, family, food, shelter. you're healthy, smart, resourceful. and you're feeling sorry for yourself because you have a broken heart. ok, it hurts and i'm sorry for that. but a heart broken by someone whose oldest friends gently warned was selfish and immature.. a heart broken by someone who didn't know how not to lie and hurt all the women who loved him.. a heart broken by one like this is something you'll get over. you'll survive it, and you'll survive it more easily than you could ever believe right now.
"but this hatred? it will consume you, rob you of all the things that make you beautiful, like compassion and a lust for life. it will make you ugly, unable to see all the beauty and power and mystery in the world. it will rob you of your ability to feel, and offer love. so shut the fuck up and get your shit together and lighten the fuck up. there's more important and interesting shit in the world."
my brain..
she's so smart.
vitriole
and venom
on everyone
i bury
hurt
with violence
i channel
everestian self-loathing
into armageddian rage
i'm feeling sorry for myself. there is no love. there is no beauty. i hate myself and everything. i hate i hate i hate i hate i hate i hate.
shhh... the brain is whispering again:
"shit sister, you need a reality check. you have friends, family, food, shelter. you're healthy, smart, resourceful. and you're feeling sorry for yourself because you have a broken heart. ok, it hurts and i'm sorry for that. but a heart broken by someone whose oldest friends gently warned was selfish and immature.. a heart broken by someone who didn't know how not to lie and hurt all the women who loved him.. a heart broken by one like this is something you'll get over. you'll survive it, and you'll survive it more easily than you could ever believe right now.
"but this hatred? it will consume you, rob you of all the things that make you beautiful, like compassion and a lust for life. it will make you ugly, unable to see all the beauty and power and mystery in the world. it will rob you of your ability to feel, and offer love. so shut the fuck up and get your shit together and lighten the fuck up. there's more important and interesting shit in the world."
my brain..
she's so smart.
the last noel
this year i've really done it. at the age of 32 (almost 33!), i have stopped believing in santa claus.
the man in red, the son of someone's god, the pc alternative nomenclature de choix, the 25th of december: i'm done with it all. after years of playing the pro side, i'm now a con. no - i'm not the con: xmas is the con. a delusion we feed our kids so they can be miserable when they grow up.
well no more, i say! i'm through defending a fat man in a red suit that flies animals that frankly, taste a little gamey to my delicate palate. i'm done giddily counting down the days to inevitable disappointment. i'm finished with those bright beautiful packages, torn open with bared claws. the gifts may be perfect and generous and joyful, the turkey may be moist and the gravy divine, but it doesn't matter. nothing can save this day. we crowd together under a veil of bright bohemian ideals, but none can escape that weight in the air, thick as back alley urine.
no more dying tree shedding pine tears all over the living room. no more bright and fucksmiled carols. no more sitting around family tables, overstuffed and oppressed. no more twinkling lights. no more stupid grins on inflated snowmen. no more, i say.
oh, and bah humbug.
the man in red, the son of someone's god, the pc alternative nomenclature de choix, the 25th of december: i'm done with it all. after years of playing the pro side, i'm now a con. no - i'm not the con: xmas is the con. a delusion we feed our kids so they can be miserable when they grow up.
well no more, i say! i'm through defending a fat man in a red suit that flies animals that frankly, taste a little gamey to my delicate palate. i'm done giddily counting down the days to inevitable disappointment. i'm finished with those bright beautiful packages, torn open with bared claws. the gifts may be perfect and generous and joyful, the turkey may be moist and the gravy divine, but it doesn't matter. nothing can save this day. we crowd together under a veil of bright bohemian ideals, but none can escape that weight in the air, thick as back alley urine.
no more dying tree shedding pine tears all over the living room. no more bright and fucksmiled carols. no more sitting around family tables, overstuffed and oppressed. no more twinkling lights. no more stupid grins on inflated snowmen. no more, i say.
oh, and bah humbug.
Monday, January 01, 2007
live by the fire...
how nice, to be sitting with a fresh computer in your hands, gazing at a new-dollar-bill dawn, contemplating the greater things in life. pondering interesting and amazing things! like how differently people, or even the same person at different times of his/her life, can measure time. how they can all live their different schedules. take, for instance, how one schedules one's leisure time.
for many people, work happens consistently from roughly 8-9 am to 4-5 pm, always on monday through friday. always has been, always will be. for this breed, the work week ends with.. well.. weekends. that's when they get to immerse themselves in a range of stimulating activities, from family fun at science world to 3am martinis with friends.
for people working on a theatrical production, mondays are the fabulous woohoo days - only they call them "dark". it's a great day to get some laundry done, call your agent, surf youtube. it's also your one chance to stay up all night drinking red wine and waxing philosophical about who the fuck knows - or remembers. well, it's your one chance to do it without it hurting too much the next day. it's hard, you know, to be great when you're bloated and belching up last night's bourbon.
some people's schedules are directed by weather or season, some by contract opportunities.. there is a wealth of unique rhythms.
well, i'm currently working in a restaurant near the saddledome. you know, down over there, in the red mile. (do i even have any calgarian readers? does anyone else know what the red mile means? well if you have no idea, and hey, why would you, the calgary flames are a hockey team that dazzles fans in an arena called the saddledome. and as far as i understand, the red mile is the part of the trendy 17th ave that juts out from said saddledome.)
so these days, i have to consult a hockey team's game schedule when determining the activities that will enhance my leisure time. it is a pele mele pattern, a constellation of home vs road games. it is complex and it is based, i think, on the language of dolphins. and it's my life.
so... i guess that means i'm "living by the Flames?"
for many people, work happens consistently from roughly 8-9 am to 4-5 pm, always on monday through friday. always has been, always will be. for this breed, the work week ends with.. well.. weekends. that's when they get to immerse themselves in a range of stimulating activities, from family fun at science world to 3am martinis with friends.
for people working on a theatrical production, mondays are the fabulous woohoo days - only they call them "dark". it's a great day to get some laundry done, call your agent, surf youtube. it's also your one chance to stay up all night drinking red wine and waxing philosophical about who the fuck knows - or remembers. well, it's your one chance to do it without it hurting too much the next day. it's hard, you know, to be great when you're bloated and belching up last night's bourbon.
some people's schedules are directed by weather or season, some by contract opportunities.. there is a wealth of unique rhythms.
well, i'm currently working in a restaurant near the saddledome. you know, down over there, in the red mile. (do i even have any calgarian readers? does anyone else know what the red mile means? well if you have no idea, and hey, why would you, the calgary flames are a hockey team that dazzles fans in an arena called the saddledome. and as far as i understand, the red mile is the part of the trendy 17th ave that juts out from said saddledome.)
so these days, i have to consult a hockey team's game schedule when determining the activities that will enhance my leisure time. it is a pele mele pattern, a constellation of home vs road games. it is complex and it is based, i think, on the language of dolphins. and it's my life.
so... i guess that means i'm "living by the Flames?"
resolutions
it's that time of year when we western types like to take stock of all we've accomplished and blown in the last solar cycle. and then we like to make decisions designed to improve our state and lot. some people call it a crock, a cliched delusion. a lie we tell ourselves so we can feel like we're doing something productive with our sad little lives. like there's a chance we'll get our shit together. i don't know, perhaps it is a delusion. but it's also a ritual, and you know how i love ritual. and new year's can be a very intense and powerful time for a ritual reassessment. (it also doesn't hurt that i've just had one of those life-altering experiences that beg for a shift in perspective.) and so... i have some new year's resolutions.
i'm gonna wash that rage right out of my hair
i have been drowning in a consumptive rage for over a year now. sparked by a series of unfortunate lovers, fanned by a neglectful soul, it has become an inferno. i want to stop hating the world: strangers, friends, myself. i want to love, not scorn. i want to be consumed with compassion and warmth, not spite and ugliness. but i don't know how to do that. i have some ideas, like less booze. i am bruised and bleeding, beaten senseless by my crutch. but sobriety isn't the whole solution. booze is one of the symptoms, but it's not the illness. i've spent a fistful of grey hairs self-analyzing, and it's brought me some understanding. but i don't know what to do with it. i need strategies. i need external wisdom. i need help. i need a therapist. or a teacher. or guru? i'm feeling alarmingly wide open to spiritual guidance, for the first time in over 10 years.
willing more word's worth
less wallowing, more writing. i already have a handful of ideas for my next project. new ideas, and ideas i had abandoned in the fog of love. after two stunted years, i will be writing about something other than him and us. and i'm sure it means that for the first time in two stunted years, i will be able to complete something.
retirement
for my whole little life, my heart and her flaming emotions have been telling me what to do. well you know what? she's a fucking bully! and like most bullies - she's not that smart. it's time to retire my heart and see if my brain can do any better. imagine the possibility: making decisions based on rationality, not emotion! my first step toward that ideal was my decision not to disappear in a haze of melodrama. oh the heart's hurricane - a spoiled infant thrashing and gnashing in the grocer's aisles. when he broke up with me, the banshee bellowed: go home, go now, go go go curl up in your friends' laps!! run, don't walk!!! but then, right there underneath it all, i could feel this frequency. a slow, steady, throbbing hum: "shhh. breathe. now then kaen," my brain whispered, "it's going to be a busy week at work. and you have no idea what the fuck you're going to do for home, work, life... who knows where your next income will be coming from! wouldn't it be nice to go home with a bit of money in your pocket?" and for the first time in the history of my decision-making, my brain won.
finding true love
ok, so even though i'm submitting myself to the brain's dominion, i can't totally ignore my heart. pretending she doesn't exist is as stupid as crowning her queen. i'm heartbroken, and i have to feel that. let it wash through me. (the operative word being through.) and i have low moments when i wish to never again to be lured into this mortifying coil we call love and relationships. but come on - you know
my mantra: love is a fairy tale for fools and dreamers, and i just happen to be both. i have a deep hunger, a hollowness that has spread since i first learned to cry; i don't think i'll ever be able to give up on dreams of romantic love. but i need a respite. i need to learn how to direct all the energy i waste on love and sex, toward friends and family and myself instead. and maybe, just maybe i'll realize the companionship and love i seek already exist. well, of course i already know: my friends and family love me. they know me, they accept me, they understand me. i know this, i first discovered this a few years ago (and even recorded my epiphany in this post: http://like_you_care.blogspot.com/2005/01/friends.html). but then i got lured into lust, and then i became consumed by love. and i forgot. but now that i'm listening, my brain is reminding me to be fulfilled by all i have. i was deeply hurt when my last lover would take me for granted. and yet is that not exactly what i do with my friends: abandon them for months or years, only to return broken and frail to their nurturing arms. i need to tilt the viewfinder, redirect my gaze. i need to spend some time falling in love with my friends. and myself.
i'm gonna wash that rage right out of my hair
i have been drowning in a consumptive rage for over a year now. sparked by a series of unfortunate lovers, fanned by a neglectful soul, it has become an inferno. i want to stop hating the world: strangers, friends, myself. i want to love, not scorn. i want to be consumed with compassion and warmth, not spite and ugliness. but i don't know how to do that. i have some ideas, like less booze. i am bruised and bleeding, beaten senseless by my crutch. but sobriety isn't the whole solution. booze is one of the symptoms, but it's not the illness. i've spent a fistful of grey hairs self-analyzing, and it's brought me some understanding. but i don't know what to do with it. i need strategies. i need external wisdom. i need help. i need a therapist. or a teacher. or guru? i'm feeling alarmingly wide open to spiritual guidance, for the first time in over 10 years.
willing more word's worth
less wallowing, more writing. i already have a handful of ideas for my next project. new ideas, and ideas i had abandoned in the fog of love. after two stunted years, i will be writing about something other than him and us. and i'm sure it means that for the first time in two stunted years, i will be able to complete something.
retirement
for my whole little life, my heart and her flaming emotions have been telling me what to do. well you know what? she's a fucking bully! and like most bullies - she's not that smart. it's time to retire my heart and see if my brain can do any better. imagine the possibility: making decisions based on rationality, not emotion! my first step toward that ideal was my decision not to disappear in a haze of melodrama. oh the heart's hurricane - a spoiled infant thrashing and gnashing in the grocer's aisles. when he broke up with me, the banshee bellowed: go home, go now, go go go curl up in your friends' laps!! run, don't walk!!! but then, right there underneath it all, i could feel this frequency. a slow, steady, throbbing hum: "shhh. breathe. now then kaen," my brain whispered, "it's going to be a busy week at work. and you have no idea what the fuck you're going to do for home, work, life... who knows where your next income will be coming from! wouldn't it be nice to go home with a bit of money in your pocket?" and for the first time in the history of my decision-making, my brain won.
finding true love
ok, so even though i'm submitting myself to the brain's dominion, i can't totally ignore my heart. pretending she doesn't exist is as stupid as crowning her queen. i'm heartbroken, and i have to feel that. let it wash through me. (the operative word being through.) and i have low moments when i wish to never again to be lured into this mortifying coil we call love and relationships. but come on - you know
my mantra: love is a fairy tale for fools and dreamers, and i just happen to be both. i have a deep hunger, a hollowness that has spread since i first learned to cry; i don't think i'll ever be able to give up on dreams of romantic love. but i need a respite. i need to learn how to direct all the energy i waste on love and sex, toward friends and family and myself instead. and maybe, just maybe i'll realize the companionship and love i seek already exist. well, of course i already know: my friends and family love me. they know me, they accept me, they understand me. i know this, i first discovered this a few years ago (and even recorded my epiphany in this post: http://like_you_care.blogspot.com/2005/01/friends.html). but then i got lured into lust, and then i became consumed by love. and i forgot. but now that i'm listening, my brain is reminding me to be fulfilled by all i have. i was deeply hurt when my last lover would take me for granted. and yet is that not exactly what i do with my friends: abandon them for months or years, only to return broken and frail to their nurturing arms. i need to tilt the viewfinder, redirect my gaze. i need to spend some time falling in love with my friends. and myself.
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