Seriously folks... I'm being tortured....
I love surprises. The Girl knows that I love surprises.
She's planned something for my birthday. But she won't tell me what it is...
I have the following information at my disposal:
- I will be away from home for at least one and possibly two nights, so I need to pack a bag.
-I need to pack something nice to wear (being the emerging femme that I am, I plan on bringing something completely sexy so that I can torture her as much as she's tortured me). I'm sure she's okay with that.
-I may or may not need a passport but I should bring one just in case. (I live about 2 hours from the US border)
-I have three more weeks to wait until I find out what's happening. I love surprises, but suspense drives me completely and totally up the wall.
So, gentle readers, how do I get through the next three weeks without driving myself crazy?
(It's a good thing that life is busy right now - Toronto pride next week, family birthday the week after, so I have many things to occupy me while I slowly go insane).
I'm off to Wild Ginger Witchcamp this weekend. Hope you all have an amazing time, whatever you do.
PS I can`t even begin to tell you how absolutely wonderful life is right now.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Honor the Earth
The Indigo Girls, Amy Ray and Emily Saliers, co-founded Honor the Earth with Winona LaDuke. For the past few days, the Indigo Girls have been in Montana touring and promoting the amazing work that Honor the Earth is doing in aboriginal communities.
Amy's been keeping a diary. You can read it here.
She is a powerful writer with a poignant message. This is the sentence that grabbed me: We owe it to the earth, to ourselves, and to Native communities to do the work to support and to heal the eco-system and the human family.
I've been thinking about it all day. Outside in the sun and wind with the kids, watching them catch bugs, and roll in the grass. They are so eager to learn whatever they can about the world around them. I've been sent home with assignments, all from playground observations - to identify bugs we found, to confirm that a bush in the corner of our lot really has edible berries...you'd think that I was the student. And in fact, they teach me as much as I teach them.
Whenever I think about the oil spill in the Gulf, my heart breaks. The more I read, the sadder I become. It appears that the spill is still largely uncontained, and looks to be much bigger than many politicians and BP officials are letting on. All that destruction, for the sake of satisfying worldwide greed and dependence on fossil fuels.
It's almost too big to comprehend. And while it may be easy for us to fool ourselves into thinking that this is not our problem, and really there's nothing we can do, we will all feel the impact of this disaster and others in the years to come. But we can all make a difference, just by changing a few simple things in our lives and in our lifestyles. Because if we don't reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, the natural environment will be slowly destroyed. Oil in the Gulf. Drilling in environmentally sensitive natural areas. Mountaintop removal coal mining. Tar sands operations that waste and contaminate soil and water.
Amy wrote:
Let me just say, it starts with something so easy, we just don’t believe it could make a difference - conservation. Conservation is the beginning and it’s something we can all start doing today. Educate yourselves on where your energy comes from and at whose expense. Grow some of your own food. Shop less. Drive less. Give money and support to the folks out there developing renewables. Find a way to use clean energy. Fight bad energy projects.
It is easy. And it can make a difference. Most of us have probably already made some changes in our own lives, in order to use less fuel, to support viable alternatives, and to make this world a better place. Little changes can make a big impact.
Here are some of the things that I do, simple, little things that are small steps towards big change. Perhaps they will inspire you....it may also inspire you to know that my life, and my health have been vastly enriched by the changes I've made. Rather than suffering for the sake of my Mother earth, I am reveling in her abundance.
1. In spite of the fact that I am a city dweller, I grow a lot of my own food. I have a community garden plot, and I've devoted a fair amount of space in my back yard to gardening. This year I'm growing tomatoes (and more tomatoes), peppers, zucchini, lettuce, onions, beans, eggpant, squash and melon. What I can't eat in season, I'll preserve. Last year I used my freezer, and this year I want to try canning. It's all new to me - while my grandmothers knew the secrets of preserving, they were unable to pass the knowledge on to me. There is nothing, absolutely nothing better than eating a tomato that was picked three minutes before it went in your mouth.
2. What I can't grow in season, I buy locally as much as I can. Buying food within a 100 mile radius ensures that the food is fresh, and that our dependence on fuel is reduced. My city has two excellent markets, and because I live in an agricultural area, I can often buy food at the farmgate. But even with markets, it's better to be careful...if the vendor can't tell you where the food was grown, even though it's advertised as local, chances are good that it's not as local as you would like. "Locally grown" has become a selling point that many are taking advantage of. I also try to buy organic as much as I can, as long as it's local. There's not much benefit in buying organic food if it's been transported three thousand miles by truck. I've found local sources for eggs, and the small amount of meat that I eat.
This year, I'm going to try and buy more local foods in bulk, to can and freeze for the winter months. Strawberries, and strawberry jam. Yum!
3 I have issues with the way animals are treated in commercial operations and slaughterhouses, but besides this, meat production is a huge waste of natural resources. It takes 2500 liters of water to produce a single pound of beef. I do eat meat, but most of the time I eat chicken that has been locally raised in humane conditions. Yes, it's a bit more expensive, but once you taste the difference....
4. I've reduced my consumption of commercially prepared, prepackaged foods. Simply put, I make it myself. No more cans of soup and Kraft Dinner. I bake my own bread, from organic flour, and my friends will tell you that I make the best cookies on the planet. It does take time. But even with a full-time job and a budding career as a writer (and a girlfriend, don't forget that I have a social life) I manage to make it work. I take one day and cook, and make what I need for a week or more. The food I make myself tastes better. And I know what's in it.
5. Reusable shopping bags. They are incredibly easy to find here. And I hate plastic packaging of any kind. Birthdays and kids' toys drive me crazy.
6. Composting keeps garbage out of the landfill and can keep your gardens rich in nutrients. I have a smallish composter in my nonexistent back yard. But even if you live in an apartment, you can compost, using a vermicomposter and worms. My city also has a municipal compost program.
7. In summer I dry all my clothes outside. In winter, I put my socks and underwear in the dryer.
8. I can't remember the last time I bought a new piece of clothing for myself. I always said that when I lost weight, I'd buy myself a whole new wardrobe. Well, I had to, since I lost 125 pounds. I think I bought myself a pair of new dress pants, at my daughter's insistence. But I find the most amazing things at local thrift shops, and I really don't need anything new. There is so much waste in the world (just wander to the toy section in a thrift shop and look at the junk that people accumulate and then throw away....). But there's a lot of good stuff out there. Just ask The Girl, who convinced herself that nothing from a thrift store would fit her. She was wrong. As a society we've convinced ourselves that buying stuff is good for the economy. Keep the money circulating...buy Canadian (or American as the case may be). But what are we actually accomplishing?
8. I live in an area that is central to almost everything. Sadly, I still need a car for work, but I can walk to the grocery store, and just about everywhere else, except for wal-mart. And I don't shop at wal-mart anyways. That being said, I think this is an area where I fall short.My drive to work is about fifteen minutes, that's okay. But my girlfriend lives in a city that's a two hour drive away. And I have a summer full of road trips ahead of me, which I don't want to give up.
9. I don't drink bottled water unless I absolutely have to. Like, if I'm stranded in the desert and I've forgotten my stainless steel water bottle. Plastic is a petroleum product and recycling doesn't completely right the wrong. I also try, really hard, to use a travel mug for my morning Tim's. What I really should do is give up my morning Tim's altogether and make my own coffee, but I'm not quite there, yet.
10. Educate. Our friends, our family, and most especially the children.
This isn't an exhaustive list by any means. And there is more that I can do. The co-op I live in is looking into purchasing solar energy panels. The way it works here is that the government buys the energy you produce from solar panels, and deducts that money from your hydro bill. I would love to live off the grid someday - at least partially, but my dream home is a few years away, yet.
So, what do you do to conserve, to cut back on consumption? I'm sure that some of you have good ideas to share with me...
Amy's been keeping a diary. You can read it here.
She is a powerful writer with a poignant message. This is the sentence that grabbed me: We owe it to the earth, to ourselves, and to Native communities to do the work to support and to heal the eco-system and the human family.
I've been thinking about it all day. Outside in the sun and wind with the kids, watching them catch bugs, and roll in the grass. They are so eager to learn whatever they can about the world around them. I've been sent home with assignments, all from playground observations - to identify bugs we found, to confirm that a bush in the corner of our lot really has edible berries...you'd think that I was the student. And in fact, they teach me as much as I teach them.
Whenever I think about the oil spill in the Gulf, my heart breaks. The more I read, the sadder I become. It appears that the spill is still largely uncontained, and looks to be much bigger than many politicians and BP officials are letting on. All that destruction, for the sake of satisfying worldwide greed and dependence on fossil fuels.
It's almost too big to comprehend. And while it may be easy for us to fool ourselves into thinking that this is not our problem, and really there's nothing we can do, we will all feel the impact of this disaster and others in the years to come. But we can all make a difference, just by changing a few simple things in our lives and in our lifestyles. Because if we don't reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, the natural environment will be slowly destroyed. Oil in the Gulf. Drilling in environmentally sensitive natural areas. Mountaintop removal coal mining. Tar sands operations that waste and contaminate soil and water.
Amy wrote:
Let me just say, it starts with something so easy, we just don’t believe it could make a difference - conservation. Conservation is the beginning and it’s something we can all start doing today. Educate yourselves on where your energy comes from and at whose expense. Grow some of your own food. Shop less. Drive less. Give money and support to the folks out there developing renewables. Find a way to use clean energy. Fight bad energy projects.
It is easy. And it can make a difference. Most of us have probably already made some changes in our own lives, in order to use less fuel, to support viable alternatives, and to make this world a better place. Little changes can make a big impact.
Here are some of the things that I do, simple, little things that are small steps towards big change. Perhaps they will inspire you....it may also inspire you to know that my life, and my health have been vastly enriched by the changes I've made. Rather than suffering for the sake of my Mother earth, I am reveling in her abundance.
1. In spite of the fact that I am a city dweller, I grow a lot of my own food. I have a community garden plot, and I've devoted a fair amount of space in my back yard to gardening. This year I'm growing tomatoes (and more tomatoes), peppers, zucchini, lettuce, onions, beans, eggpant, squash and melon. What I can't eat in season, I'll preserve. Last year I used my freezer, and this year I want to try canning. It's all new to me - while my grandmothers knew the secrets of preserving, they were unable to pass the knowledge on to me. There is nothing, absolutely nothing better than eating a tomato that was picked three minutes before it went in your mouth.
2. What I can't grow in season, I buy locally as much as I can. Buying food within a 100 mile radius ensures that the food is fresh, and that our dependence on fuel is reduced. My city has two excellent markets, and because I live in an agricultural area, I can often buy food at the farmgate. But even with markets, it's better to be careful...if the vendor can't tell you where the food was grown, even though it's advertised as local, chances are good that it's not as local as you would like. "Locally grown" has become a selling point that many are taking advantage of. I also try to buy organic as much as I can, as long as it's local. There's not much benefit in buying organic food if it's been transported three thousand miles by truck. I've found local sources for eggs, and the small amount of meat that I eat.
This year, I'm going to try and buy more local foods in bulk, to can and freeze for the winter months. Strawberries, and strawberry jam. Yum!
3 I have issues with the way animals are treated in commercial operations and slaughterhouses, but besides this, meat production is a huge waste of natural resources. It takes 2500 liters of water to produce a single pound of beef. I do eat meat, but most of the time I eat chicken that has been locally raised in humane conditions. Yes, it's a bit more expensive, but once you taste the difference....
4. I've reduced my consumption of commercially prepared, prepackaged foods. Simply put, I make it myself. No more cans of soup and Kraft Dinner. I bake my own bread, from organic flour, and my friends will tell you that I make the best cookies on the planet. It does take time. But even with a full-time job and a budding career as a writer (and a girlfriend, don't forget that I have a social life) I manage to make it work. I take one day and cook, and make what I need for a week or more. The food I make myself tastes better. And I know what's in it.
5. Reusable shopping bags. They are incredibly easy to find here. And I hate plastic packaging of any kind. Birthdays and kids' toys drive me crazy.
6. Composting keeps garbage out of the landfill and can keep your gardens rich in nutrients. I have a smallish composter in my nonexistent back yard. But even if you live in an apartment, you can compost, using a vermicomposter and worms. My city also has a municipal compost program.
7. In summer I dry all my clothes outside. In winter, I put my socks and underwear in the dryer.
8. I can't remember the last time I bought a new piece of clothing for myself. I always said that when I lost weight, I'd buy myself a whole new wardrobe. Well, I had to, since I lost 125 pounds. I think I bought myself a pair of new dress pants, at my daughter's insistence. But I find the most amazing things at local thrift shops, and I really don't need anything new. There is so much waste in the world (just wander to the toy section in a thrift shop and look at the junk that people accumulate and then throw away....). But there's a lot of good stuff out there. Just ask The Girl, who convinced herself that nothing from a thrift store would fit her. She was wrong. As a society we've convinced ourselves that buying stuff is good for the economy. Keep the money circulating...buy Canadian (or American as the case may be). But what are we actually accomplishing?
8. I live in an area that is central to almost everything. Sadly, I still need a car for work, but I can walk to the grocery store, and just about everywhere else, except for wal-mart. And I don't shop at wal-mart anyways. That being said, I think this is an area where I fall short.My drive to work is about fifteen minutes, that's okay. But my girlfriend lives in a city that's a two hour drive away. And I have a summer full of road trips ahead of me, which I don't want to give up.
9. I don't drink bottled water unless I absolutely have to. Like, if I'm stranded in the desert and I've forgotten my stainless steel water bottle. Plastic is a petroleum product and recycling doesn't completely right the wrong. I also try, really hard, to use a travel mug for my morning Tim's. What I really should do is give up my morning Tim's altogether and make my own coffee, but I'm not quite there, yet.
10. Educate. Our friends, our family, and most especially the children.
This isn't an exhaustive list by any means. And there is more that I can do. The co-op I live in is looking into purchasing solar energy panels. The way it works here is that the government buys the energy you produce from solar panels, and deducts that money from your hydro bill. I would love to live off the grid someday - at least partially, but my dream home is a few years away, yet.
So, what do you do to conserve, to cut back on consumption? I'm sure that some of you have good ideas to share with me...
Friday, May 28, 2010
two years
I started blogging two years ago this week.
It's been a hell of a ride. Thank you all for sharing it with me.
This is not my swan song, nor is it a retrospective.
If you've been following me for any length of time, you know that if one thing happens in my life, that several things will follow in short order. It's been a calm and peaceful few months, and I've been grateful for that. But things are a-stirring again.
My new puppy was a bit too much dog for a small townhouse, so I found him a great adoptive home. Two days after he left me, I rescued a tiny kitten who was crying under the bushes outside my work(a day care center). Her name is Jake. The kids at the day care wanted the same name as the day care and this was a compromise. She's a female ginger tabby - most ginger tabbies are male, which is why she ended up being called Jake. I refuse to change it. She'll be gender-neutral very soon anyways. And the name suits her - she's a combination of purr monster and little hellion.
Last weekend (Victoria Day weekend in Canada, fondly known as May 2-4), the girl and I took on a smallish project in the house and started painting the two rooms I hadn't painted before I moved in. The object, in part, was to create a better writing space for me, but also to give Emily a larger, brighter room. She's 6. Ergo, the room is pink. It took longer than we thought. We ran out of paint and couldn't get more because of the holiday. While the painting is done, my bedroom still holds the contents (considerable) of my office bookshelves and various paraphernalia that does not yet have a home.
In the middle of our painting weekend, Emily decided that it was time to get the chicken pox. Trauma. And spots and itching, and sore throat and sleepless nights. I was reminded that shared custody does not always translate to shared responsibility, as the ex was adamant that he would not care for her during his oh-so-precious working hours. Apparently my working hours are less important. On the day in question, my oldest was taking a first aid course, and I was scheduled for my weekly ten-hour day. The ex was working at home that day. I ended up taking most of the day off- I was tired of arguing, and I want what`s best for Emily. The simple fact that she is sick and needs someone to look after her seemed to escape her father.
The day I was home with Emily was the day my grandmother passed away. She was almost 99. She had a long, full, and wonderful life. I am grateful to have shared so much time with her, but I am sad that she is gone.
My rooms are unfinished, my kid is still scratching, and there are sad funeral plans for this weekend. I was supposed to go to Michigan for Ferron`s birthday weekend - obviously that won`t be happening, and it`s okay. I`ll be at the Fen another time. Instead, I will be surrounded by family and rememberances.
And on Sunday The Girl is whisking me away for a little day trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake. It`s exactly what I need.
It's been a hell of a ride. Thank you all for sharing it with me.
This is not my swan song, nor is it a retrospective.
If you've been following me for any length of time, you know that if one thing happens in my life, that several things will follow in short order. It's been a calm and peaceful few months, and I've been grateful for that. But things are a-stirring again.
My new puppy was a bit too much dog for a small townhouse, so I found him a great adoptive home. Two days after he left me, I rescued a tiny kitten who was crying under the bushes outside my work(a day care center). Her name is Jake. The kids at the day care wanted the same name as the day care and this was a compromise. She's a female ginger tabby - most ginger tabbies are male, which is why she ended up being called Jake. I refuse to change it. She'll be gender-neutral very soon anyways. And the name suits her - she's a combination of purr monster and little hellion.
Last weekend (Victoria Day weekend in Canada, fondly known as May 2-4), the girl and I took on a smallish project in the house and started painting the two rooms I hadn't painted before I moved in. The object, in part, was to create a better writing space for me, but also to give Emily a larger, brighter room. She's 6. Ergo, the room is pink. It took longer than we thought. We ran out of paint and couldn't get more because of the holiday. While the painting is done, my bedroom still holds the contents (considerable) of my office bookshelves and various paraphernalia that does not yet have a home.
In the middle of our painting weekend, Emily decided that it was time to get the chicken pox. Trauma. And spots and itching, and sore throat and sleepless nights. I was reminded that shared custody does not always translate to shared responsibility, as the ex was adamant that he would not care for her during his oh-so-precious working hours. Apparently my working hours are less important. On the day in question, my oldest was taking a first aid course, and I was scheduled for my weekly ten-hour day. The ex was working at home that day. I ended up taking most of the day off- I was tired of arguing, and I want what`s best for Emily. The simple fact that she is sick and needs someone to look after her seemed to escape her father.
The day I was home with Emily was the day my grandmother passed away. She was almost 99. She had a long, full, and wonderful life. I am grateful to have shared so much time with her, but I am sad that she is gone.
My rooms are unfinished, my kid is still scratching, and there are sad funeral plans for this weekend. I was supposed to go to Michigan for Ferron`s birthday weekend - obviously that won`t be happening, and it`s okay. I`ll be at the Fen another time. Instead, I will be surrounded by family and rememberances.
And on Sunday The Girl is whisking me away for a little day trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake. It`s exactly what I need.
Monday, May 10, 2010
I hated it
I took The Girl for a drive on Saturday, to my hometown. I was dropping Emily at her grandparents' for a sleepover, and it was lovely to have her company. I've written a lot about my experiences as a kid. Before we moved to the town my parents now live in, I had a most awesome childhood. Three brothers, a bike, the run of my suburban neighbourhood, and the freedom of childhood.
It all changed when I moved. Small, closed community. A neighbourhood with few kids. We found things to do, of course, as kids do. We spent our summers wading in the river, or hiking along the river road. We spent our winters on the toboggan hills and at the rink. But until I was halfway through my teen years, my experience with my peers was mostly horrendous. I was ostracized and bullied - back then, hardly anyone new moved into town, and when they did, they were treated with disdain. The only people that mattered were people who had always lived there, who had parents and grandparents that grew up in the same insular community. I think that a lot of small towns are like this. Or they were, before technology made the world much smaller. When I go back now, I see a community that has doubled in size, that is rich and somewhat diverse. Even when I lived there as a young single mom, it was a more accepting place.
I try not to think about high school, really. Much of it is best forgotten anyways. Who wants to remember rotten lunches in their locker, or the french fries that got spit on when I went up to the counter for salt? Or the endless name calling that took place before, during and after school. When I turned sixteen, I stopped caring what people thought - I grew a tougher skin, and I started holding my head up a wee bit higher. But I couldn't get past it - it took me years to realize I was not the names they called me. I am not ugly, I am not stupid, I am not useless, I am not better off dead. I moved away from home and found people that could accept me - in spite of the massive social anxieties that I'd developed after years of being bullied.
I have a love/hate relationship with my hometown. It is a beautiful place. Most of my family lives there - my parents, my brothers and their wives, my nieces and nephews, some of my aunts and uncles. I feel simultaneously at home and alienated when I am there.
I wanted to show The Girl some of the places that I loved, the houses I lived in, the hills I sledded, the river that was my second home. So after dropping Emily off, we took a little tour. Through town and across the main street bridge, past the waterfalls. Over another bridge, where the limestone rock was flat enough that we could wade all the way across the river. Past the little white house that my parents bought when they first moved...a tiny two-bedroom house for four children and themselves. We turned around in the driveway of the prefab that they had built on the extra-large lot...ruining the best toboggan hill in the neighbourhood, I might add. And then we crossed town to the house I lived in as a teenager.
I had to drive by the high school to get there. Exactly the same as it always was, institutional red brick. Big field and running track at the side of the school. Parking lot devoid of cars and smokers, because it was Saturday. I glanced over my shoulder as we drove past, and I said "There's my high school. I hated it."
And then it hit me. I hated it. I really did - not in the casual way that people hate sauerkraut or math class. I hated it with a visceral, physiological hatred that I could feel in my body. I said it over and over again.
I hated it.
I hated it.
I hated it. I hated it.
The Girl was so amazing. She made me stop the car, and she rubbed my back and held me while I cried. I thought I was over it, I thought that I could go back there and face the memories with the barrier of time between myself and the rawness of my pain. I guess not.
I don't hate the people that went to school with me. Or the misguided teachers that perpetuated the bullying. Or the town. I don't even hate the building that houses so many memories. But the experience? My fear? My self-loathing? My belief that I was not worthy, never good enough to have friends, to date, to experience the things that other kids were able to do - you know, dances, house parties, hanging out on the street corner? I can hate that.
When I changed my relationship status on my facebook, one of my high school friends was very excited, because now I would have a date for Homecoming (think about a high school reunion for an entire town...that's homecoming). I know there's a reunion of some kind. On one hand, I'd really like to show up and show them what success looks like. On the other hand, I don't want to remember, and I'm terribly afraid that I'll spend the entire reunion walking up to the people that caused so much pain and telling them exactly what I think of the way they treated me. Because you know I'll do just that.
It's ironic that such a beautiful place can hold so much sadness.
It all changed when I moved. Small, closed community. A neighbourhood with few kids. We found things to do, of course, as kids do. We spent our summers wading in the river, or hiking along the river road. We spent our winters on the toboggan hills and at the rink. But until I was halfway through my teen years, my experience with my peers was mostly horrendous. I was ostracized and bullied - back then, hardly anyone new moved into town, and when they did, they were treated with disdain. The only people that mattered were people who had always lived there, who had parents and grandparents that grew up in the same insular community. I think that a lot of small towns are like this. Or they were, before technology made the world much smaller. When I go back now, I see a community that has doubled in size, that is rich and somewhat diverse. Even when I lived there as a young single mom, it was a more accepting place.
I try not to think about high school, really. Much of it is best forgotten anyways. Who wants to remember rotten lunches in their locker, or the french fries that got spit on when I went up to the counter for salt? Or the endless name calling that took place before, during and after school. When I turned sixteen, I stopped caring what people thought - I grew a tougher skin, and I started holding my head up a wee bit higher. But I couldn't get past it - it took me years to realize I was not the names they called me. I am not ugly, I am not stupid, I am not useless, I am not better off dead. I moved away from home and found people that could accept me - in spite of the massive social anxieties that I'd developed after years of being bullied.
I have a love/hate relationship with my hometown. It is a beautiful place. Most of my family lives there - my parents, my brothers and their wives, my nieces and nephews, some of my aunts and uncles. I feel simultaneously at home and alienated when I am there.
I wanted to show The Girl some of the places that I loved, the houses I lived in, the hills I sledded, the river that was my second home. So after dropping Emily off, we took a little tour. Through town and across the main street bridge, past the waterfalls. Over another bridge, where the limestone rock was flat enough that we could wade all the way across the river. Past the little white house that my parents bought when they first moved...a tiny two-bedroom house for four children and themselves. We turned around in the driveway of the prefab that they had built on the extra-large lot...ruining the best toboggan hill in the neighbourhood, I might add. And then we crossed town to the house I lived in as a teenager.
I had to drive by the high school to get there. Exactly the same as it always was, institutional red brick. Big field and running track at the side of the school. Parking lot devoid of cars and smokers, because it was Saturday. I glanced over my shoulder as we drove past, and I said "There's my high school. I hated it."
And then it hit me. I hated it. I really did - not in the casual way that people hate sauerkraut or math class. I hated it with a visceral, physiological hatred that I could feel in my body. I said it over and over again.
I hated it.
I hated it.
I hated it. I hated it.
The Girl was so amazing. She made me stop the car, and she rubbed my back and held me while I cried. I thought I was over it, I thought that I could go back there and face the memories with the barrier of time between myself and the rawness of my pain. I guess not.
I don't hate the people that went to school with me. Or the misguided teachers that perpetuated the bullying. Or the town. I don't even hate the building that houses so many memories. But the experience? My fear? My self-loathing? My belief that I was not worthy, never good enough to have friends, to date, to experience the things that other kids were able to do - you know, dances, house parties, hanging out on the street corner? I can hate that.
When I changed my relationship status on my facebook, one of my high school friends was very excited, because now I would have a date for Homecoming (think about a high school reunion for an entire town...that's homecoming). I know there's a reunion of some kind. On one hand, I'd really like to show up and show them what success looks like. On the other hand, I don't want to remember, and I'm terribly afraid that I'll spend the entire reunion walking up to the people that caused so much pain and telling them exactly what I think of the way they treated me. Because you know I'll do just that.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
I should be
-walking the dogs
-writing something substantial
-cleaning the house
-thinking about serious, important issues (actually, I am...oil slicks and floods, and a Canadian government that refuses to provide funding for abortion even though it has touted maternal/child health as being oh-so-important)
-taking that darn bone away from the dog because his chewing drives me crazy. He farts, too...anyone want a dog?
-standing still underneath the maple tree outside my office and just breathing in the energy of spring
-saving money for all the places I want to go this summer
-behaving as a mature adult with responsibilities - well, I do....except
that I'm completely and totally distracted. Who knew dating could be this much fun?
And more. She is an amazing person with a beautiful heart. I like her a lot.
I am so gushy. Is this better than angst-ridden introspection? Depressive phrases that chase each other around and around the page? Happiness...and inspiration. Who knew?
I think I'd better give her a name. In an unabashed absence of creativity, I shall call her "The Girl." She reads the blog. In fact, she went back to the beginning and read each and every post because she wanted to understand me better. How cool is that? At this point, she doesn't write her own blog - being far too busy with things like work...and hockey (no, I'm not a hockey fan, but if she can survive my Amy Ray obsession, I can survive hockey)...and spending time with me...but who knows?
There's a robin singing in the tree outside my window. The sky is the indigo of early darkness, and the light of the setting sun is reflecting off the buildings across town. I need to go spend some time with mother earth before I get completely lost in my own words.
All I can wish is that everyone is feeling the same sense of joy and wonder that I am in this moment.
-writing something substantial
-cleaning the house
-thinking about serious, important issues (actually, I am...oil slicks and floods, and a Canadian government that refuses to provide funding for abortion even though it has touted maternal/child health as being oh-so-important)
-taking that darn bone away from the dog because his chewing drives me crazy. He farts, too...anyone want a dog?
-standing still underneath the maple tree outside my office and just breathing in the energy of spring
-saving money for all the places I want to go this summer
-behaving as a mature adult with responsibilities - well, I do....except
that I'm completely and totally distracted. Who knew dating could be this much fun?
And more. She is an amazing person with a beautiful heart. I like her a lot.
I am so gushy. Is this better than angst-ridden introspection? Depressive phrases that chase each other around and around the page? Happiness...and inspiration. Who knew?
I think I'd better give her a name. In an unabashed absence of creativity, I shall call her "The Girl." She reads the blog. In fact, she went back to the beginning and read each and every post because she wanted to understand me better. How cool is that? At this point, she doesn't write her own blog - being far too busy with things like work...and hockey (no, I'm not a hockey fan, but if she can survive my Amy Ray obsession, I can survive hockey)...and spending time with me...but who knows?
There's a robin singing in the tree outside my window. The sky is the indigo of early darkness, and the light of the setting sun is reflecting off the buildings across town. I need to go spend some time with mother earth before I get completely lost in my own words.
All I can wish is that everyone is feeling the same sense of joy and wonder that I am in this moment.
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