just a closer walk with thee

we have come to count on each other’s fearful silences. we wrap those silences in blankets of cynicism, cleverness, inconsequential observation.

you don’t want to do it. you don’t want to hold my gaze. you don’t want to stand toe-to-toe with me in a way that lifts me up/ challenges me/ makes you see yourself.

in drama class, i was made to stare into the eyes of a man i barely knew. we were not to speak. my eyes laughed. my eyes hid. my eyes told him that everything was going to be all right. my eyes told him that i loved him as best i knew how. - - - the silence we had was not fearful, but brave.

and so, with you and i, i wonder what we are doing here. why we walk out of step, reminding ourselves of what we do not have together.

our silence doesn’t work.

i want to kick you in the face, break your legs and throw you from a train (because you're such a fucking girl)

There is a difference between being an intuitive and being a mind-reader. Keep that mind, folks.

Anger is bubbling over every which way. It is startling me.

The thing with anger is that, in the end, you have to find a way to get it out – to deal with it – without convincing yourself that anyone (let alone the person/ people/ things the anger is directed towards) has to even care about your anger. People have an uncanny ability to duck anger. If they see it coming their way, they will often pay any price to avoid it. To refuse it, people will walk away from friendships, sexual relationships, jobs, teams, marriages.

And so I warn you, my friends, anger is here. I am a little bit dangerous these days.

I can’t count the number of times that I have wanted to grab someone by the shirt collar and scream in their face “FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK! DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT ANYTHING BESIDES YOURSELF??!! YOU ARE SO FUCKING TRANSPARENT – IT KILLS ME!!” this week. I will keep you posted on how next week goes.

This time, a hug just isn’t gonna cut it.

jesus built my hotrod

The following excerpt is from the Criminal Code of Canada, which can be found at: http://laws.justice.gc.ca/en/C-46/41584.html - you know, if you are interested or whatever:


PART VIII
OFFENCES AGAINST THE PERSON AND REPUTATION

Blasphemous Libel

Offence
296. (1) Every one who publishes a blasphemous libel is guilty of an
indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding
two years.

Question of fact
(2) It is a question of fact whether or not any matter that is
published is a blasphemous libel.



So, based on this description…. If one was to publish something like – “Jesus Christ eats fetuses” or “Buddha fucks corpses before rigamortis sets in” would be considered Blasphemous Libel.

**(Disclaimer: The examples above do not represent the opinion of the author(s) of this public online journal.)**

Regardless, I reckon a few of us are guilty of a little Blasphemous Libel, n’est pas?

And that’s one to grow on.

PS did you know that there is a very official thing called ‘reputation management’? I wish I had known about that during junior high.

pirouette, por favor

in rereading my last post, i am reminded of the following quote from Martha Graham. who knew the words of a ballet dancer would stick with me for so many years?...


" There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it.

It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. you have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.

No artist is pleased...there is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. "

lily white hands

I’m not sure what to be proud of these days

This morning, as I was waiting for D to babysit me all the way to work, I picked up a book that had been lent to her. It is called Wildly Sophisticated. It is one of those books that is not quite a guidebook, not quite a self-help book, and not quite a lesson plan. Somewhere in between, Wildly Sophisticated appears to be a book (written by and for women) on how to be fearless, poised, relentless, humorous, self-accepting, creative, and gentle with themselves in their pursuit of their dream career.

And though I only reached page 20 before we had to run to catch a bus – I get the feeling that this book expects that as young, empowered women that we *have* some idea about what our dream careers are. Personally, I have no idea what my dream career is. If I knew, I am sure that I would be taking more dramatic leaps towards it (but then again, maybe not).

I was recently speaking with a mentor of mine. He was talking about how his brother had always wanted X career (ie the fun and interesting and creative and unstable and artistic career) but that for the past 20 years he had been working in the Y industry (ie the pay is okay and he gets steady work and has benefits for his family and he doesn’t really have to put himself into his work to get by). This is a story that you have heard a thousand times. Gas station attendants that want to be marine biologists. Shoe store clerks that want to be tap dancers. Secretaries that want to be weavers.

And so, what is it that makes some of us feel that we are ‘lucky to have our jobs’ while others demand something more? Some of us feel that we are being ‘realists’ by accepting the fact that there is grunt work to be done in the world and that ‘someone’ (namely us) has to do it. A bunch of us paralyze ourselves by believing that if we make the smallest career change/ mistake that our entire resume is going to cave in (good grief!). my favorite thing lately has been the slew of 20-somethings that feel they are gaining ‘punk points’ by claiming “I am young and I have no interest in starting a career yet ::yawn::” when the truth is that they have no self-esteem, no confidence, no plan, and no skills aside from criticizing other people’s work. For some of us, it is just easier on our egos to pretend that we don’t want anything, that there aren’t things about ourselves that we really need to start changing, that we don’t have secret dreams – than it is to deal with hard work/ possible rejection/ possible success.

As Wildly Sophisticated points out – most of the time, socio-economic background tells us nothing about how someone will pursue and achieve their career goals. In my life it happens to be that many of the people who were not given great opportunities for education, career advancement, and mentorship have been the ones who sought out what they wanted and grabbed a hold of it. That is not to say that people with big educations, lily white skin, and independent wealth are not also the ‘type of people’ who create their own opportunities - - - I am just sayin’ that it is tough to predict who is going to make their wildest dreams come true.

Yesterday, I was told by one of my many doctors that I should be proud of myself for going back to work after three years at home. I didn’t know what to say. Proud? PROUD? From my point of view, I sought to go back to work out of necessity. I was so bored, so unmotivated, so directionless, so numb sitting at home all day. I was tired from poverty and desperation and fear that I would never wake up from the nightmare that I was living in. So, I dunno if I can be ‘proud’ of going back to work. I purposefully chose a job that did not challenge my self-esteem or capabilities. I chose a job that was permanent, that pays well, and that gives me medical benefits. And I love my job… despite the fact that it is not my ‘dream job’. When I figure out wtf my dream job is – I will get back to you… I am sure that I will need your help along the way to getting there.

If you are someone who has even a vague idea about what their dream job is, I implore you to make use of that knowledge. You have a gift, and it would be irresponsible for you not to use it.

The rest of us will keep searching for that illusive dream job. When we figure out what it is, hopefully we will pick up our skirts, grab our balls and just fuckin’ give ‘er.

Proud of you.

this place is a prison

The suburbs.

I say these words and most people cringe. People conjure up visions of SUVs, 9-5 jobs, identical houses, Walmart, nonsensical and horrifically long bus rides, ill-spent youth, boredom, suffocation, upper-middle-classness.

I understand all that. Really, I do. But I guess how I differ from the vast majority of my friends (aside from the ones who have actually high-tailed it out of the lower mainland in search of *greener* pastures) is that, while I feel that suburban living leaves much to be desired, I prefer it greatly over being in the city.

I have been told again and again – subversively + also in no uncertain terms – that I am somehow less of a person because of my life in the suburbs.

The suburbs are:
- too privileged
- too vast
- not ‘hip’
- not ‘cultured’
- not close to anything important
- are boring
- lack community
- are inconvenient
- are for people who haven’t matured enough to realize how crappy suburbs are

I could go on… I have heard it all.

I recently blew up at a friend of mine because he made an innocent comment about how much more ‘connected’ I will be now that I am moving to Vancouver (yes kids, I am moving to Vancouver-proper – but only for a couple of months). He made comment about how ‘convenient’ it will be (for people to spend time with me) now that I am moving to the city.

It’s not his fault that I threw a hissy-fit. He deserves an apology, and he will get one. He felt the wrath of anger that I have about being told for 27 years that urban is superior to all else.

Take the time to apply all the well-meaning anti-oppression politics that you gathered during your activist years to the situations of people living in the suburbs - - - and you will soon realize that what you thought you knew – was wrong.

In my case, I live in the suburbs (with my mom) because of poverty. As someone who spent the majority of the last 3 years on welfare – staying in a suburb, where rent is still not low enough to allow any sane human to live on the (max.) $325/m ‘granted’ to people on social assistance, has really been my only option.

The assumptions that are held about what suburban living is all about – and what the character of suburbanites is - is totally bunk. I stand as living proof to refute it.

Did I think that at the age of 27 I would be living in Coquitlam with my mommy? No. I am sure that I would have been voted ‘most likely to move out before reaching the age of majority’ in junior high. Were it not for the fact that I got bitch-slapped with a debilitating disease at the age of 23, I would be living in a lovely little house, on the water, far far far away from the concrete, nauseating capitalism, rugged individualism, and corporate-whorishness of the city. These are *my* feelings about the city, and I do not use them as a reference point of judging the character of people who live in the city.

I respect my urban friends. They have found something that they love, that feeds them, that drives them, that nourishes them, that turns them on about living in the city. But I also assert that being city-dwellers doesn’t make them better people. It does not make people more cultured or genuine or informed or right or good or learned or vivacious.

For the next few months, I will be living in the city. Because of the health-issues that I face – this will actually be a *harder* way for me to live. My day to day life will be more filled with panic, will be laced with uncertainty, will be tangled in disorientation. Getting to work and doctors appointments and volunteer shifts and friend’s houses and grocery stores and meetings and events will be mountains to climb... without the peacefullness of a suburb that I have almost managed to wrap my abilities around.

I think to myself - - - if people look so far down their noses at the suburbs, I wonder what it is going to be like when my plans to move to a rural place finally come to fruition.