Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Day 239: I have to praise you like I should.

Vulnerability and Praise.
I notice as I struggle to write, practice guitar and sing in the privacy of my own home that these two words seem to continually battle it out.
Being vulnerable is just part of being an artist. I know that.
But it is a frightening thing.
Hence my writer’s block and the retiring of my guitar and microphone.
Stage fright, in every form.

Why this mental block and lack of confidence?
What reason do I have, when I have been lucky to receive much praise?
Not just from family and friends but complete strangers who have sent letters, cards, flowers and emails demonstrating their support of my endeavors over the years.

Why instead did I choose to focus on the ones who didn’t encourage?
Like that one, slimy A&R guy that didn't want to sign me…
Or that one teacher who said I wasn’t a good writer…
And even recently, why did I fixate on the folks that laughed at my blog as a trivial journal, when I know that it has been the best practice and stepping stone towards finding my written voice again?

It’s so interesting how selective our mind, heart and ego can be.
And what we choose to sabotage.
Why would I let any negative comment or person factor in on the creation of my biggest dream?
Why would I want to suffocate or abolish the things that make me feel the most alive?
As I move through this creative reawakening, I can appreciate the value of genuine praise.
And it is a beautiful, beautiful gift.
To give and receive.
It’s water on the plant.
To tell someone sincerely, “Hey, I believe in you. This is good work. You’re something special. Don’t give up, because you will succeed.”

It’s tough out there.
Believing in your own talent and potential is an uphill battle.
Blocking out criticism that isn’t constructive is bloody hard.
And vulnerability is a scary, scary thing.
But it’s so good for you, too.
And we should all praise it a little more.



Monday, May 30, 2011

Day 238: Weather Permitting


I’m not a fan of “What if” and “Maybe”.
So I’ve banished them both.
Yep.
I put them in a box and sealed it shut with crazy glue.
And then I mailed that box to a land far, far away.
(A land called Ch√Ęteauguay, I think).
Because what is the point of wondering?
It’s futile.
It’s depressing!
Is it not better to live in the now – in what is? 
To act or not act and be done with it?
Yes, I say.
That’s a much better way to live your life.
And love your life.
Decisiveness is key.
And that key will magically open a new door.
Or close and lock one up for good.


Sunday, May 29, 2011

Day 237: ...soon

Lipstick stains left on the glass.
The breeze on my skin.
A pebble shaken out of my shoe and onto the beaten path.
These are the last of the details I can call to memory.
And they too will be lost.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Day 236: I ain't ever met a noodle I didn't like.


When the doctor told me I may have a gluten allergy my heart cracked.
He may as well have said the sky was falling and we’re all going to die.
Or that my house burned down and everything was lost.
That’s how much I love pasta.
And to say this one month before my trip to Rome was an unbearable tragedy.
They won’t let me in the country, I thought.
I’m not a real Italian if I am allergic to pasta!
It’s not just a food to me; it’s the nostalgia of my childhood.
It’s the smell of nonna’s house on Sunday.
Tomato sauce was one of the first things I learned to cook as a teen out of a sheer passion for it.
And although I watched people make it, my ingredient selection was an inborn skill.
I had a discerning palate for it.
Pour that sauce over perfectly al dente farfalle and mmmmmm – happy me.
If this doctor was right, I would have to give up one of my life’s simplest pleasures.
I went for the blood test, and commiserated with everyone I knew while waiting for the results.
How could this be?!
Is this the Universe saying I eat too many carbs?
Have I become too curvy?
*Sigh*
Then the fateful day of meeting with the stomach specialist for the verdict arrived.
I cringed as he began to speak but he said, “Well, Tanya. That’s not it. No gluten allergy.”
I leaped from my chair and kissed him passionately on the mouth.
OK, I didn’t.
But nobody has ever uttered sexier words to me. EVER.
I sighed with relief that it was only IBS.
I tuned out to whatever else he was saying and leaned closer to the window.
Was that angels I could hear singing?
I exhaled happily.
Because I may not know how to bake a cake to save my life, but I make a mean plate of pasta.



Friday, May 27, 2011

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Day 234: And I'm wondering more every day.

I just got home from work.
For the last twenty minutes I have been sitting on my stoop with the neighbor’s cat.
Just getting some air, rubbing my aching feet and contemplating.
You know, stuff.
And by stuff, I mean ‘men’.
I’m thrown. Again.
At an event tonight, after a really nice and stimulating conversation with this very rich (and very married man) he felt comfortable enough to move in closer and say, "You know, a great girl like you should be set up in a nice apartment with nice things.”
I answered that a ‘great girl like me’ is set up in an apartment.
The one I set up for myself.
I called a waiter to refresh his drink, and then smiled and excused myself.
Dude, are you kidding me?!
Set me up in an apartment?
What is this, 1981?
Do I look like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl?
I can hold my own with almost anyone.
I pride myself on that.
I work for a very powerful financial giant and he speaks with me as an equal.
I run a company for Christ’s sake!
But talk to a guy at a business cocktail, and you still have to put up with the macho bozos who treat you like a piece of ass.
Put the canary in a cage and have her sing for her supper.
Oy!
It was all I could do to keep myself from setting my bra on fire and tossing it in a waste bin!
And I know all men are not like this, but lately... it ain’t looking so good.


Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Day 233: Opposite Day


There is a lesson in doing the opposite of what you really want to do.
I just haven’t figured it out yet.
(exhales)


**Note: I know you won't believe me, because I barely believe the coincidence...but I posted this and then found out that today is IN FACT Opposite Day. HA! Of course.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Day 232: Ouch. Ouch. (Ouch).

Ladies and gentlemen:
I am the cautionary tale of overzealous non-athletes everywhere.
Too much.
I did too much yesterday.
And it almost didn’t happen.
Oh, that I wish it didn’t!
I woke up resigned to being lazy all day.
I deserve it, I told myself.
Then, from my cozy position on the sofa, I could see my running shoes gleaming in the corner of the room.
Did I want to run?
Nope.
Did I have any reason not to?
Nope.
Was I going to be on a beach in a week and half?
Yep.
Shit. Bikini trumps every time.
So Laziness and I fought a dirty dual and I won. 

Sort of.
I bounced out the door and was greeted by some hot sun.
Once again, I made it around the perimeter of the park, but the unleveled path was hard on the knees so I decided to take to the streets.
Ah yes, this is smoother.
About ten blocks in, I really hit my stride. It burned, but it felt amazing.
It was the first time I got into that kind of groove running, and I didn’t want to stop.
So I decided to go the entire 22 blocks to another big city park.
(What a dumbass. Did I even stretch?!).
Then the rookie mistake turned into colossal blunder.
I ran the perimeter of that park, too.
Until I collapsed onto the grass barely able to drink my water.
Oh. My. God.
What the hell was I thinking?
How am I gonna get home?
Someone – anyone- air lift me please.
I’m a fraud.

(No one heard me).
I made it home. Slowly.

But it took a lot of convincing to get up the three flights of stairs to my place.
I hate stairs.
Next time, Laziness, you win.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Day 231: "You keep handing out horseshoes. Horseshoes have gotta be tossed."




For years I thought it was OK to just wait for things to fall into my lap.
Artistic opportunities, jobs, lovers…
And they did.
Strangely enough.
My sister always said, “You are the luckiest person I know, things always come to you!”
She was right.
I was just a lucky person.

Until I wasn't anymore.
And things stopped falling into my lap.
$10,000 development deals with Warner Records turned into corporate gigs with a latino band.
My day job was no longer a part time thing but a daily ritual to pay off accumulating bills.
And I was suddenly single in an unfamiliar dating world that had become shallow, tricky and complicated.
What happened to my horseshoe?
All this time I had been holding onto a lucky star, and I never realized it let go of me.
I got lazy, didn’t pull my own weight and it dropped me.

I soon gave up on what I wanted.
I was repeatedly drawn to people that I thought had a special spark or talent.
And I bent over backwards to help them, I wanted them to succeed at what I hadn’t.
I started to ask myself questions:
Why wasn't I throwing this energy into a project of my own?
Why didn’t I believe in myself the way I believed in them?
Why wasn't I in a job where I was valued for my leadership and ideas?
And why the hell wasn't I in a relationship that was a partnership?

After much soul searching I figured out that sitting in the backseat is not as exciting as driving.
Slumps can and will extend themselves into years and years of questioning.
Waiting for your lucky shot…
But one day you wake up and you are just ready to do the work yourself.
The hard work required to accomplish the things that mean something to you.
The changes you need to make to attract the love you want.
The way you have to live your life so that you command respect.
That means being vulnerable.
That means being open.
That means getting off your ass.
No more riding coattails of lucky stars.
Luck is not just for the lucky.
It’s for the brave ones that throw horseshoes every chance they get.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Day 230: The Real Goodbye


Who invented the ‘encore' at concerts?
It’s such a funny tradition.
The band says goodnight after a strong number and exits the stage.
The lighting is still set, and the crowd goes into hysterics chanting their name.
We know they haven’t performed their biggest hit, so they have to come back.
Yes, we know the drill by heart… but we don’t know why it’s still done.
Bathroom break?
A chance to high five eachother in secret?
A quick round of “Go Fish” stage left?
After all these years, both as spectator and performer, I still don’t get it.
It feels kind of silly.
But I feign a triumphantly surprised expression when the band comes back onstage anyway.
Because, well, that’s tradition too.

**Saw my girl crush live in Montreal yesterday, and she was well worth the encore.
It was something like this...**

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Day 229: The Sun is Bright. And I'm happy.

Today the sun was on my face.
Bright and hot.
And my bare shoulders were exposed outdoors for the first time since last September.
The heat was nice.
So, so nice.
It has been a long winter.
Too many layers have been worn until now.
And I shed them like a snake sheds skin.
Slowly.
But surely.
And I catch myself smiling like a little girl.
Happy and filled with desire for all things true.
Part of me will always be in the Fall.
Falling for something out of reach.
But I’m thrilled that Spring is making new promises.
I can hear them in the rustle of the trees.
Restless to get started.


Friday, May 20, 2011

Day 228: Well, I'll be damned! (Pardon the pun).

This Rapture/End of Days stuff is very entertaining.
I am continually astounded by what some people need to believe in order to exist coherently.
(Or exit coherently, for that matter).
According to an eighty nine year old religious fanatic (Harold Camping) tomorrow is the end of the world.
Judgement Day! ...echo, echo, echo...
(But, you know, without any action heroes or pro-wrestlers).
Tomorrow is exactly 7,000 years since Noah sailed off into the sunset on his zoo-TV ark (with Bono and the guys).
And I don’t really know the specifics as to why but apparently (according to bible numerology)  May 21, 2011 is the date that the world implodes.
A massive global earthquake.
And all the ‘believers’ will be beamed up to heaven Star Trek styles and the ‘sinners’ will be left behind to battle plague, famine, and taxes for the next five months until the mother implosion of all implosions occurs and there is no more Earth.
(Wait a second? Wasn’t Bruce Willis in that movie?).
I wish I could be a fly on the wall wherever
Harold Camping is at around 11:45 p.m tomorrow night.
All these bible belters looking at him the way Desi Arnaz used to look at Lucy after she had been up to some mischief and say: 

“Camping, you got some 'splainin' to do!” 




Thursday, May 19, 2011

Day 227: a solid investment

I own a timeshare property.
It’s a really lovely French country style home.
Tall cathedral ceilings.
Exposed beams.
Rich wooden floors that creak from hundreds and hundreds of happy footsteps.
Large rooms filled with antiques bought on my many trips abroad.
And a bright and massive kitchen to satisfy even a culinary wizard.
But my absolute favorite part of this exquisite property is the secret garden overrun with wildflowers, grapevines and peonies.
It’s magical!
I even had the greenhouse converted into a semi-outdoor library with first edition classics.
And right next to it, under the old ficus tree, is an oversized stone bench with pastel colored plush pillows.
The perfect spot for reading in the late afternoon when both the sun and your bones have become weary.
The location of this amazing property you ask?
Why, Dream Land, of course!
Yes, Dream Land.
I spend a lot of time there.
Who wouldn't want to?
Everything is as fantastic as you can imagine.
And the possibilities are limitless!
The weather, the place, the scenario, the company…
I bought a piece of it as quickly as I could, the minute I could.
Because dreams sell fast.
If you don’t grab the opportunity to buy one now, you might never find the chance to again.
And if you think you don’t have the means for your own right now, please feel free to visit mine tonight.
I built the extra guest room just this minute, and it's pretty damn fabulous!


Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Day 226: That's a really long time to be out to lunch...


Dear Crazy People Out There,

Do you seek me out?
Is this an experiment on how white my hair can get before I hit 35?
I feel like I’ve met all of you.
If you’re not having a hysterical fit about some trivial matter then you are creeping me out with your creepiness.
It’s a bit much.
Just saying.
Today after experiencing yet another nutjob go bananas, I actually said out loud: “Is this a joke? Am I being punked? Cause if so, I’d like to refresh my makeup before seeing Ashton Kutcher.”
But no-- not punked.
Just run of the mill cuckoo shaking off some loose screws with lil’ old me.
In private.
Where no one else can witness it.
Why is that always the case?
Let me at least have some normal company to laugh or raise my eyebrows with when you decide to perform your version of the Mad Hatter.
Am I too smiley?
Is that it?
Does that make me the quintessential target of Crazies everywhere?
Because I have now racked up enough frequent crazy miles to use for a much needed vacation.
(Thanks for that).
But please, when you get my out-of-office response, feel free to move on to the next poor schmuck.
A girl can only dye her hair so many times...
Sincerely,

Looking For The Marbles You Stole



Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Day 225 (2nd post): a slick fix

It fell.
To pieces.
Still salvageable.
But it will never be the same again.
You can try to mend it.
And you do.
You cement it together.
But your analytical eye will see every little fractured line.
Hiding carefully there in plain sight.
You won’t let on.
You will wear your best poker face.
Earnestly and wholeheartedly.
Because you understand that anything can take on a different shape.
And that even things that break can shape you.
But you know how easy it is to slip through the cracks.
You know that, too.
 

Day 225: good, good, good...good vibrations

I have been holding back a secret smile all day.
I can barely contain my excitement.
For no particular reason.
I just have this sneaking suspicion that something great is right around the corner.
I woke up with this feeling and it’s still buzzing.
Like butterflies are dancing with bumble bees in my stomach.
And they're stinging my intuition with the soft and fiery heat of the extraordinary.
It’s still raining, it’s still grey, and life is not perfect.
But I love it.
I love waiting for the best to come marching in.
Even when it’s just a hunch.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Day 224: in the movies

If life were like a romantic comedy, bikini shopping would be a fun and breezy 80’s montage (and not a really small change room with scary overhead neon lighting).

If life were like a romantic comedy, when my umbrella flipped in the rain and wind, I’d accidentally bump into the man of my dreams (instead of a metal garbage can).

If life were like a romantic comedy, when the cute guy showed up at the office today I would look fabulous and fresh (and not like a drowned cat with smeared make-up).

If life were like a romantic comedy, I would sit here and write a best-selling book about something spectacular (instead of a daily blog about nothing in particular).


Sunday, May 15, 2011

Day 223: "A moon that came too early had no folk name."


It was a blue moon that night.
Did you know that?
I bet you didn’t know it was.
I didn’t either.
I only found out the next day.
But it didn’t surprise me.
Of course it was, I remember thinking.
Blue moons burn brighter.
Don’t they?
Only once every few years.





Saturday, May 14, 2011

Day 222: back step


When you see people from your past (thank you facebook) moving on and you still feel kind of stuck in neutral, you start to wonder about your decision making.  I don’t know. Maybe it’s all this gloomy rain, but I’m taking a good bit of the blame tonight for the things that didn’t work out. My stubborn mindset. My fancifulness. I think about the real progress I’ve made individually, and how crucial those independent steps have been. But I guess the question tonight is: when you hold onto your freedom so tightly, are you really free? Or are you just alone? 

Friday, May 13, 2011

Day 221: how I see it all depends on the angle.


What if it happened exactly the way we expected it to?
And by “it”, I mean life.
Comforting.
Safe.
Both good words.
But now think of all the unexpected things that happen daily.
Instability.
Detours.
Scarier words perhaps, because they hinge on risk, delays and chance.
Underneath all my dreaming, I’ve never liked my life to fit neatly into a box.
I take pleasure in the extraordinary way the world opens up because something went off course.
Or because I took one job over another.
Or because I took a wrong turn while driving.
Or because I fell in love with a more complicated person to fall in love with.
They all led me to new places.
Figuratively, physically and emotionally.
I may not like how it feels when it’s happening, but hindsight tells a better version of the story.
So now I don’t cringe at change.
I don’t exhale in frustration at the orange cones ahead bringing me somewhere other than expected.
I don’t chastise myself for going with a feeling and letting my guard down.
It’s good.
In the end, it’s all good.



Thursday, May 12, 2011

Day 220: The next time you hear an offbeat trumpet solo…


**Google Blogger was down all day on May 12th. Determined to NOT let them ruin my 220 day streak in this crazy 365 day challenge…I posted to facebook instead. It's not a great post. But it's a post. (That I wrote before midnight. For the record).**

I have two bright crimson blotches on my cheeks from blowing my nose every five seconds.
I look really hot.
You want to know what’s hotter than that…?
Getting home and rubbing lots o’ Vaseline on my face to relieve and moisturize the redness.
Oh yeah, boys…I’m a red, shiny, germ- ridden mess!
And the sneezing!
My God!
When did I become such a spirited sneezer?
The force and velocity of it practically propels me to the other side of the room.
(A horrifying experience when driving a motorized vehicle at 100km an hour).
But, I have to say, the most abominable thing about having such a nasty cold is the imposed need of blowing my nose in public.
You see (oh brother, I’m just going to say it) 
When I blow my nose I sound like a trumpet.
A really loud trumpet.
I could pretty much audition for a blind jazz band.
And get the gig.
I blame my mom for this.
When I was a kid she would hold a tissue up to my nose and hiss in Italian,“Soffia forte! Forte!”
Which means:   
Eh! Oh! Stop sniffling and get it out or you’re an embarrassment to our ancestry!
Ok, fine. It really just means: ‘blow with strength’.
But I was 4, and impressionable!
The idea that zero sound meant 'disgraceful empty Kleenex' stayed with me!
And I was never able to delicately blow my nose again.
I’ve now grown accustomed to the raised eyebrows and muffled giggles in public washrooms.
My niece and nephew still crack up every single time, assuming I’m just being silly to make them laugh.
And my friends have warned, “You really shouldn’t blow your nose in public if you ever want a boyfriend again.”
That’s how much they know!
They don’t realize the comic relief my nose blowing has brought to tense situations in past relationships.
We could be fighting, yelling or crying and then I would blow my nose… and instantly we would burst into laughter.
Heavy discussion swiftly obliterated and we would kiss and make up.
So you see? I use my unfortunate gift to do good! 
Unless, of course, I’m genuinely mad.
Then I avoid tissue at all costs.
It’s all about timing, I've learned.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Day 219: launch

if I decided 
to escape 
to outer space,
would you come 
and avoid gravity 
with me?
for just a short while,
we could jump high
and dance 
freestyle
with air
with love
with being lost 
in time...
and when we've had enough
of feeling 
the stars align,
we could come back down 
to earth,
to feet on ground
and to hearts
unbound.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Day 218: Case of the missing light bulb.



UGHHHHHH!!!
I can't.
I can’t write anything.
I just saw my dictionary pack up a suitcase and slam the front door behind him.
He gave up on me.
And all without a Dear John letter.
(Guess he expects me to write that, too).
I have a feeling ol’ dictionary is shacking up with my thesaurus.
That’s where you go to get some action.
Such a hussy, that thesaurus!
She'll fool around with any word.
Sigh.
Who cares for synonyms, anyway?!
(I do. God, I have a freakish love for synonyms!)
Anyhow.
Words have escaped me again tonight.
I’m pretty sure the English alphabet is planning a revolt against me.
While I’m sleeping, in the dead of night, I hear shuffling and whispers.
I haven’t been too kind to them lately, I don’t blame them.
 


Monday, May 9, 2011

Day 217: it's science (I think)




I have a theory, it’s not scientifically proven, but I believe you can tell a lot about a person by the way they drink a cappuccino or how they eat their corn on the cob.
Let’s imagine for a second:

Someone serves you a cappuccino with a luscious mountain of foam.
What’s your next instinct?
Do you sprinkle some sweet chocolate on top?
Do you sprinkle some spicy cinnamon, instead?
Do you pour the sugar packet on top and watch it melt through, then drink it while it’s hot?
Do you spoon up the foam and let the bubbles pop on your tongue?
Do you stir in the sugar and foam in one big sweep, cooling it down?
Do you take a sip and make people laugh at your foam moustache?
If you don’t drink cappuccino (heaven help you!) then let’s imagine how you eat corn on the cob.
Someone serves you a hot cob of corn.
What is your next move?
Do you butter it up?
Add salt?
Do you eat it with your hands or using a fork on each end?
Do you bite in the middle and chew off in every direction missing kernels on the way?
Do you eat it Bugs Bunny Style like a typewriter-- in one clean line from left to right?
Do you start on one side and circle around the width of it?
Do you leave kernels behind?
In my mind, every small detail is a big hint on how that person approaches life, sex and finances.
I’ll let you think about it.
‘Cause I know I’m really sick tonight (with high fever and stuff) but I think I’m onto something, here…
(Oh, and I'll try not to stare the next time we go for coffee or head to a BBQ).





Sunday, May 8, 2011

Day 216: What I Know

I don’t think I’d value the bond of family ties.
I don’t think I’d recognize sincere friendship.
I don’t think I’d understand what strength and love really entail.
I don’t think I would know what it means to reach for my dreams.
I don’t think I’d appreciate how significant it is to be grateful about each new day.
The reason I know these things is because I have a good mother.
A really, really good mother.





Mom & I (Stevie Wonder show 2009)











Saturday, May 7, 2011

Day 215: Evolution


Yesterday I had a nice catch up chat with an ex-boyfriend. 
He played a major part in the evolution of my personality as a woman.
He was my biggest fan.
Front and center of all my shows.
Always telling me I was beautiful, talented, and making me feel sexy.
He pushed me out of my cocoon and my traditional upbringing--challenging the boundaries.
And he gave me the confidence of never doubting for a second that I was loved.
As fiery and passionate as our relationship was, we too often were two roosters in a cage.
And eventually that stopped us from evolving as a couple.
But the woman I am now would not be possible had I not left him.
And the man he is today would not be possible if he had not met the women he did after me.

And then today I spent time with an amazing woman.
Out of all my friends, she has evolved the most.
Leaps and bounds!
I can remember walking about town with her while she struggled to find her place in this big ol’ world.
But with a bit of time and the courage to listen to her gut she found her way--in a big way.
I asked her, “If you were in a couple, do you think you would have made this choice?”
And she responded, “I highly doubt it. I would have stayed lost and leaned on my boyfriend.”
She’s glowing, happy, independent, and doing what she loves.
It’s as though she knew it all along.
And she did it all by herself.
I’m so proud of her.


I guess what I’m trying to say, is that when we’re in a couple we take on a different shape.
“I” becomes “we” and you can grow in that… or get lost in that.
It’s a beautiful thing to evolve with another person.
But it’s a miraculous gift to grow and evolve all on your own.
How many people have faced being lost, and then found their way with their heart?
How many people walking this earth know themselves?
Sometimes a broken heart is an open door.
Sometimes going off track brings you home.
Thanks to two special people, I remembered that.




Friday, May 6, 2011

Day 214: conversations with my cursor (part 3)

Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: You know, the daily white glare from these Word docs is starting to give me 'computer tan'. Is there a cream for that?
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: I think the well has dried up. I have nothing to say.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: NOTHING!
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: And my posts this week have made me want to kick myself. So revealing. I'm such a moron.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: I told my friend yesterday that I don’t think I want to do this anymore.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: It’s hard.
Cursor:  Blink. Blink.
Me: I need a break! How can I write anything decent in the few hours I get everyday. And I don’t want to write about my hurt anymore. But it still hurts. What can I say...
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: Yeah, I know. That (like this) is a conversation with myself. Kind of like sitting at the see-saw in the playground alone. The highs and lows are up to you.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: I feel a little defeated.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
             Blink. Blink.
Me: I need a change of scenery.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: And even then, I’m still stuck with you and your incessant blinking. That’s if I follow through with this insane idea…
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: (exhales) I’m just tired, you know. I’d love a distraction. Preferably the tall and handsome variety.
Cursor: Blink. Blink.
Me: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Day 213: You choose. You chose.

The spotlight glared on my face and the crowd hushed.
I closed my eyes for a second to hear my thoughts. 
My head whispered, “Pick Door Number 1, trust me, it’s the smarter choice”.
But my heart…
My heart had already chosen.
As I walked towards Door Number 2 a bead of sweat dripped from my brow. 
I touched the handle, turned it slowly, and opened the door.
The crowd voiced their disappointment.
There was nothing there.
By default, the other contestant got the prize behind Number 1.
Her friends and family rushed over to celebrate with her.
Balloons fell from the ceiling, and the band played.
The host put his arm around me and said,
“That’s the game, kid. Better luck next time.”



Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Day 212: Weighed In The Balance


You know.
Yes, you understand.
Mediocrity follows you around like a shadow you can’t outrun.
Doesn’t he?
And because of him you never quite get what you want.
Every corner you turn, there you are.
Standing in your own way.
Doing what’s right.
Saying what’s wrong.
Watching passion parade past you.
Horns blaring.
Sky falling.
Like a feverish dream you lived inside your head, once upon a time.
Yes.
You understand that every small thing could change everything.
But you know best how nothing comes of nothing.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Day 211: snail mail, break my fall


I am very close to throwing my laptop out of the window.
It is working fine.
I’m the problem…
I’m too edgy.
One rash move away from losing complete credibility in myself.
(There is so much hair twirling going on between my fingers.
A sure fire sign I am nervously contemplating doing something I shouldn’t).
Oh look!! They sent me a Census Form.
Wow.
Now, that’s good timing.
I shall expend all this nervous energy nonsense onto those questions and answers.
Soooooooo…
“Not tonight dear, I have to fill out my census form.”

Monday, May 2, 2011

Day 210: headlines --suspension of disbelief

Prince marries commoner on Friday and lives happily ever after (hmmmm...) riding off into the sunset in vintage Aston Martin.

Osama Bin Laden is dead on Sunday (hmmmm...) at the hands of brave Americans and everyone hugs and rejoices while dumping said body into the sea.


Canadians head to the polls again on Monday (hmmmm...) to vote for the lesser of three evils (kind of like they did for prom king in highschool).


I have a question: 

When did CBC News become a big After School Special?





Sunday, May 1, 2011

Day 209: marketing.


I spent the day hunting for treasures at an antique market outside the city.
It’s one of my favourite things to do, and I can spend hours perusing.
But then I come home and question the fact that I purchased a vintage brass pastry cart.
Even if I got it for $20.
I should be buying nice new things.
Instead, I buy quirky old things.
Everything in my place is either from another era, or designed to look that way.
Maybe I surround myself with antiques because they are a comforting contrast to the modern world.
And the modern world doesn’t want to stop changing!
It’s bigger and badder and faster…
Too fast, sometimes.
And it feels, to me, like it is losing a touch of authenticity.
Of workmanship.
Of class.
Of good.
Lately, more than ever, I feel a need to be reminded of a simpler time.

…and that is how I will justify purchasing that expensive (gorgeous) vintage floor lamp.