i'm not sure yet

emotion is bad

This is what came out of my Life Coaching session today.  This is how I’ve been living my life up until now.  This is how I was taught to be.  This is what I believe.

 

I hate bringing up the past for fear that I sound like I’m blaming someone or something for the way that I am now, but in this instance, I think it has a significant bearing. In simple terms, I was raised by a mother who doled out severe repercussions for having emotions.  Growing up, I cannot recall an instance of being hugged or consoled when I was upset, nor was I ever asked what may be upsetting me. Instead, any tears or sad faces were met with yelling from my mother demanding that I smile and be happy. 

 

So, I developed a coping mechanism: to smile and be happy on the outside (but not too much because that would arouse suspicion) and keep any negative emotions and feelings tucked away.  And that strategy seemed to work throughout my childhood.  I compromised the person I was or could have been in order to satiate my mother’s constant bad mood and mood swings.

 

But this strategy didn’t work so well for me in the real world when I started coming into adulthood.  It didn’t work with other people.  It kept me from developing deep relationships with people, kept me from talking about myself, kept me from connecting with people, kept me from experiencing life fully. I didn’t know how to handle all the emotions that come with growing up, with change, with the adult decisions that I had to make and how to be in adult relationships.

 

Suddenly, what had once proved to be an effective coping mechanism was about to burst – everything I had so skillfully masked was about to be exposed for all to see and that was not something I was ready or capable of dealing with at the time.
 

Hello eating disorder. You saved me from emotional catastrophe.  For over six years you kept me focused and unfeeling.  I had you to tend to during my every waking moment which freed me to continue to bury anything that resembled emotion.  Even the good stuff (in time it became difficult to even distinguish good feelings from negative ones). 

 

I have been recovered from my eating disorder for a long time now, but I’m still going through life unaffected, or trying to be.

 

So, I’m sitting there in my Life Coaching session today reluctant to fully participate for fear of this or that, you know how it goes.  It took everything in me to share with my life coach that I believe that I was raised to not show emotion.  Now I’m at the point where even if I did try to express it, I fear that it wouldn’t come out genuinely.  I don’t know how to let myself do that.  Not only did I reveal this information, but along with the revelation came tears.  Here I was, doing exactly what I have been taught not to do.

 

And now I don’t know what to do with this newfound insight.  It’s like there is this gigantic, messy clump of emotion sitting beside me staring at me and willing me to look at it, however, I’m reluctant to make eye contact with it. 

 

Okay, yeah I KNOW you’re there.  You’ve been there all along, but today is the first time I’ve been able to become acquainted with you.  Just give me sometime to let this sink in before I deal with you head-on.  I’ve let you get so big and unmanageable that, right now, you look very scary to me. 

seed

Daisy loves three things the most in the following order: me, eating, going for walks.

Used to think that eating was at the top of his list, but one day I found out that I was #1 when I had put his food in his bowl and went to the front door. He freaked out because he thought I was leaving and he left his food and followed me.

I coloured this pen drawing in photoshop which now I am thinking was definitely not the way to go.  I thought that it would look cleaner and neater, but I like the messiness of watercolour. 

this plus this equals that

Me + Daisy = Art!

Daisy has, for a long time now, been a huge inspiration to me and my art.  I just finished making 16 cards in 2 evenings, each featuring Daisy.  He wasn't my only inspiration though...I just finished reading Julia Cameron's memoir.  It was laced with references to one of her books, "The Artist's Way" in which she urges artists/writers to write three pages per day.  In one month, three pages per day will equal to roughly 100 pages -- easily the beginnings of a novel. 

Now, I don't write novels, but I did start off with three cards per day and used older art to make the rest of the cards.  If my cards were a novel, it would be titled "Waiting for January...".  The "waiting" part is because Daisy is seems to always be waiting for me...waiting for me to wake up...waiting for me to give him breakfast and dinner...waiting for me to come home from work...waiting for me to go to bed...waiting to go for a walk...waiting for me to say something in my conversations with him that he recognizes, like the word "treat" or "walk" or "car" or "grandpa".  The "January" part is because that month always holds some hope of new beginnings for people, or a renewed sense of hope --  everything old suddenly seems new in January.  And that's the way Daisy (or any dog for that matter) lives.  Each day to Daisy is like January 1st.

So now I have 16 cards.  I have no idea what I will do with them all.  And I have no idea what I will do with the ones that I create in the coming days...months...years.  But I do know that I don't want them stuffed in a closet like the rest of my art. 

choose

Choice.  Choose.  Chosen.  Hmph...how easy is it to choose?  There is a huge web of thoughts behind each choice.  From the apple you choose at the grocery store...to the absorbency of tampon you purchase at the drug store...to the people you choose to have in your life...to what the latest possible time you choose to wake up in the morning and still make it to work on time.  Choice is usually a quick, messy calculation in my mind.  I think I choose well.  I don't know.  I choose and hope for the best.  So far, so good. 

blanket

Snow has blanketed everything in sight today.  Cars are encased in it...tree limbs are sagging under the weight of it...the sounds of the city are muffled by it. 

Normally I despise winter, but today was different.  Today was the day I fell in love with winter.  I left work early, came home and took Daisy out for a walk.  Usually during the winter months I get annoyed that he takes so long to do his 'business' and I just want him to hurry up and finish so that we can go back inside.  But today Daisy discovered that he could eat snow.  It was the cutest thing ever. He was hyper-energized eating snow and running around in circles.  And I discovered that Daisy loves to chase snowballs.  We were out in the back alley for the longest time eating snow and chasing & throwing snowballs and it didn't feel cold and we didn't mind the snow.  Whodda thunk that after all these years together we would discover new things about each other.

ice

I despise winter.  Well..I like it when I'm snowboarding, but I haven't been snowboarding in ages, so I can safely say that I completely dislike winter 98% of the time (I do, however, enjoy it when it is so treacherous that I can not make it into work).

I perhaps wouldn't hate winter so much if it wasn't so hard on Daisy.  In this cold, icy weather his delicate little paws can't take much.   He starts to limp from the freezing cold snow and the sharp ice and salt.  Most times I end up carrying him home because he can't walk anymore.  It breaks my heart. 

Now that he's getting older, it breaks my heart even more.  I keep thinking that I hope that he'll make it through the awful winter so that he can run  freely through the green grass again.  Morbid.  I know.  But I think about it a lot.  Seriously, Daisy is the reason I'm here today. Still.  He came to me when I was at a really horrible time in my life.  And throughout all following horrible times, he has always managed to make me smile.  I just want him to be happy all the time, just like he's made me. And I know that this crap winter weather doesn't make him happy. 

Trick or Treat

Probably not a good idea to veer off the path when trick-or-treating, as she soon found out...

hats

Touque weather is upon us.  I will be wearing one tomorrow morning when I walk my dog.

birds

Birds.  Yup.  I like 'em.  Unfortunately, the sound of their singing in not what wakes me up in the morning, instead its the sound of traffic streaming through my bedroom window that gets me up in the morning.  But once I step out of my bedroom,  I can hear their songs floating into the kitchen where my neighbours have a two-storey bird feeder just outside my kitchen window and I can see them if I crane my neck just so. 

illustration friday: juggle

I was in a meeting at work this week and suddenly I blurted out aloud, "I'm not happy.  I'm really hating my job right now." 

There was a moment where I thought to myself that I probably shouldn't have said that out loud.  But I'm practicing a new philosophy....say what you honestly feel and see where the balls may land.

artist trading cards

Goodbye summer.  These  cards are dedicated to you.  I will miss the butterflies, the dragonflies and the feeling you gave me...as though I, myself, had wings.  I am sorry that I could not spend more time with you this year.  I spent my days longing to be with you whilst chained to a desk in a building determined on making me forget that you were even there with its horrid climate control that forced me to wear a sweater and tinted windows that would not allow the sun to penetrate.  Now you are leaving far quicker than I had imagined you would.  I'm not ready for you to leave just yet. 

These artist trading cards were done in ink and painted with watercolour on watercolour paper.  The wings are tissue paper.  Tissue paper I will be using to wipe away the tears of summer's departure.

procrastinating

I'm supposed to be cleaning my apartment tonight, so instead, I'm playing around in Photoshop and posting pictures of Daisy. 

comic book jam

It goes like this....one person draws something and hands it over to another person who draws something who then hands it over to the next person who draws something else and so on -- a bunch of people who barely know each other creating a singular piece of art together.  This is the Comic Book Jam.

I was worried when I first arrived, not knowing a single thing about comics and not knowing how to draw 'comic-book-style', but James assured us that it didn't matter.  And it didn't.  It was so interesting to see the story unfold with all its twists and unexpected turns.  My character, a cute girl innocently taking her dog for a walk, ended up getting struck by a meteor, a car and a lawn mower, then turned into an angel and ended up in an alien space ship.  Just a typical day in comic book land, I guess.

illustration friday: alphabet

                                                                                                                                                     This was a fun one.  I couldn't find and animal beginning with the letter "i", however.  Is there one?

fun & games

I've been wanting to post this photo for a long time now...since last winter, probably.  Kyle and I had played Scrabble (my favourite board game...i don't understand why not everyone loves it as much as I do).  After we had finished our game (I think I won, but I'm not entirely certain, as I like to think I'm a better Scrabble player than I actually am), Diablo (Kyle's cat) nestled herself (comfortably?) within the lid.

How incredibly cute.

My favourite game.  My favourite cat.  And I happened to have my camera handy.  Perfect.

That night I also had the idea of "Scrabble Stories" -- a story based on the words that were spelled in the Scrabble game.  I was so excited about writing my first Scrabble story.  But when I actually sat down and looked at the words and tried to formulate a witty, fluid, comprehensive story...well...apart from a few sentences scribbled onto a mostly blank page...it didn't go much farther than that.  Not as easy as I had imagined. I will try to write a Scrabble Story again one day.  Perhaps when I have an opponent not only in Scrabble, but in story writing.  Competition is often my motivation. 

The word "Scrabble" appears 10 times in this post.  That's 140 points (minimum).

 

watercolour

You sit down to paint and at the end of it, you end up with this.  "It's okay..." you tell yourself, "Not everything you paint has to be a masterpiece."  But, at the end of it, you recount your formative pieces and it hits you that you have never created a masterpiece.  A masterpiece implies that you have created one piece of art that you are truly proud of and will compare all others to.  Nothing of this sort exists in your collection of things you have painted.  Mainly because you never keep what you have painted.  But you seem to recall one painting that you created a long time ago and think that you perhaps were quite proud of, but it ended up in either with a friend you never see any more or a garbage dump somewhere.  And the image of what it may have looked like is blurred in your memory like a chalk drawing on a sidewalk in a rainstorm. 

So, after you have finished your little watercolour painting, you hold it in your hands, turning it this way and that, wondering if there is any way to make it look better.  Nope, you think.  So you scan it into PhotoShop and chop it up in hopes that it will help.  Nope, you think again.  You're embarrassed about putting it up on your blog. 

But you post it on your blog anyway.  You put it up there not because you, in anyway, think its even remotely good.  No, not at all.  But you put it up there because it reminds you of a two year old that, whenever he sees you, always asks you to draw something -- a helicopter, a boat, a triangle, a heart.  And when you do, it always ends up looking like whatever he asks for.  You think its so terribly cute that he is so extremely delighted that your scribbles resemble whatever object he has asked you to draw.

So, you post your painting of a fish, flowers, the sun, seaweed and bubbles.  You are proud that they actually look like what they are supposed to.  And it doesn't matter to you that all those things, together, look odd are floating behind a window in which the panes don't line up. They don't make sense, but its fun to paint with abandon.  Like a two year old.

breakfast and bed

What a life -- wake up, have breakfast, go for a quick walk and then back to bed again.  I wish I could do that some mornings.

moon

I should be used to it by now, but I'm not.  The moon inspires awe in me.  If I happen to be with someone when the moon is illuminated, I can't help but say, 'Oh! Look at the moon!'  And when I'm alone and the moon looks especially beautiful, I have the urge to call people and tell them run to their window and look up at the moon.  Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to be on a planet that has more than one moon and how amazing that would look.  Everything looks so pretty bathed in moonlight. 

seven

This is just seven types of many animals that hang out in my neighbourhood.

The one laying on the ground is, by far, the most popular.  Daisy is (i think) the most popular dog on the block.  In the seven years (almost eight) that he's been in my life I have never been on a walk with him where he hasn't made someone smile.

And I can count on smiling at least seven times a day when he's around.

illustration friday: twist

I wonder how it is possible to mourn something that I have never had.  Tonight my mind and heart are at the beginning of the end of their tether.  And it is contorting the rationale that I have spent many years trying to cultivate.

Unrelated to that thought, but as long as my mind is meandering and pushing its way through hallways that have been long blocked with rubble, I will make a confession and admit that today I said something to the effect of 'Poetry is so highschool'.  As soon as those words escaped my mouth, I could see them hanging in the air in front of me and I wanted to quickly pluck them out of the air and stuff them in my pocket with the intention of throwing them in the garbage as soon as I got home.

...and I wonder....'at what point did I abandon myself?'

Had it been five years ago, a thought like that would have never crossed my mind.

At what point did I attain this armour that keeps me from being connected to words...to thought...to feeling...to people?

Where did I go?

Anyway, this doodle was done with gouache, which I have never used up until today.  My strokes were tentative, as I was afraid of it. My medium of choice has, for the past few years, been watercolor.  Gouache is okay.  Perhaps one day I will be daring enough not to water it down so much.

illustration friday: your paradise

Ideally, my paradise consists of animals.  Pigs, sheep, giraffes, lions, tigers, groundhogs, deer,  elephants,  zebras...the list is long.  Here I have limited myself to just a few.  The birds in my neighbourhood who sing the loveliest songs...Diablo (Kyle's cat)...Daisy, my precious pug whom I love more than anything.  And finally, the little pug beside Daisy, who is still nameless because he is not in my life yet, but I hope that he will become a part of my family in the very near future.

plural effusion: memories

I walked to my old apartment tonight.  The one I used to live in with my parents as a little girl.  I was instantaneously flooded with memories of myself playing outside...climbing the gas meter on the side of the building and thinking I was so high above the ground...playing red-rover with my friends in between the apartment buildings.

I remembered my dad teaching me how to ride a bike in the back parking lot as though it was just the other day.  I remember him setting off fireworks across the street at the park on Victoria Day just for me.  I remember him hastily pulling me out of the bathtub because he thought I was drowning, but really I was just counting to see how long I could hold my breath underwater (I was an avid swimmer at the time).  In those moments I truly felt that my father loved me.

These childhood memories bombarded me so hard and so quickly I couldn't help but cry standing there between the apartment buildings tonight.  So vivid and clear were those memories.  What I also remember so clearly is that in those moments which were so memorable for me, my mother was not there.  I still wonder where she was. 

What I do remember about her, though, is a photograph.  It was of her and I on the sidewalk.  She was crouched down beside me and I was holding a bouquet of wild flowers I had picked.  I think I was about five years old.  And I remember vividly how uncomfortable I felt posing with her in that photo.

signs: circles & squares

I've always been one for straight lines and squares.  Maybe I should give circles a chance?

illustration friday: citrus

For months I'd been making this face every time I stepped outside because it was so cold outside.   I'm so happy that  spring is here and summer is close behind and the only thing that can make me make this face is lemons.

settle me

Here I am sitting in what is now my office.  I am facing the window and can see the sun setting slowly behind the escarpment.  In the background flamenco music is playing and the smell of butter chicken fills my apartment as it cooks in the oven.  Ahhhhh...I am here.  Finally.

 

paint me

14 hours of washing walls and painting.  I alloted two days for painting.  Its a small apartment.  Originally I had thought that it would only take one day.  This was day one and we managed to wash most of the walls and paint the living room and kitchen. Two more to rooms to go plus all the doors and the baseboards.

My feet are aching  I am in desperate need of a massage.  I'm longing for sleep.  I have less than eight hours before I start painting again.  I think a drink is in order tomorrow evening when all the painting is finally done.  Maybe two drinks. Or three.

move me

So, here it is.  Finally.  It may look a little drab in these photos, but come this weekend, it will be full of vibrant colours.   It's been  a month and a half since I first went to look at this apartment, and upon my  arrival today,  I was a little bit disappointed.  It seemed smaller than I had remembered.  I even second guessed whether I had made a good choice.

But looking at these photos now and envisioning what its going to be like, I'm beginning to get excited again.  Oh, no...now its gone.  Oh wait!  Yes, yes I feel it....its back again.  Yes, I'm excited about this again. 

Change is weird.  You can be looking forward to a particular change in your life more than anything, yet, when it actually happens you just want to crawl back into that cave you've spent so much time trying to get out of.  Know what I mean?  I guess this is just the "adjustment stage".  Is that even a term?  I don't know.  Probably.  I'm in the adjustment stage. 

Anyway, back to the apartment.  I know what you're wondering.  "What colours will you paint it, Bozena?"  Well, the living room will be "Maple Leaf" and the kitchen will be "Myhic Forest".  You would think (if you are Canadian) that "Maple Leaf" is red, but in fact, it is an orange with the slightest hue of brown mixed in.  "Mythic Forest" is the deepest shade of teal that you will ever see.

Currently the bathroom is a horrid purple, but that will be painted white and accented with my navy blue and lime green accessories (I even bought a lime green toothbrush to match).

And the bedroom is a mystery.  I have no idea what colour I will paint it.  Any suggestions?  I'm open to any colours other than any shade of pink, burgundy, hunter green or yellow.

The painting party commences this Friday and ends Saturday evening.  The moving party is Sunday from 10am to 3pm and beyond.  I am so grateful for all the people who are helping me paint and move my furniture this weekend.  So, a big shout out goes out to everyone.  Thanks!

summer skin

I've been waiting for this for months and months....to be able to be outside and not have to put on two pairs of socks, a bulky sweater, a winter coat, a toque, gloves, and an extremely long scarf that I wrap around my neck four times ensuring that not even the tiniest bit of skin is exposed.

T-shirts and capris are back!  Yesssssss!

I am in awe how this wonderful weather has quickly thawed my bitter, cold, angry moods.  Suddenly it is summer, and suddenly I am happy.

I spent the weekend in celebration of this warm weather.  Kyle and I spent probably two hours just sitting on a park bench just being entertained by the trees and the warm breeze.

Here we are laying under a tree in front of the Aviary.

 

And here are a couple of the birds we saw at the Aviary.  I didn't get a chance to take a picture of my favourite bird there.  He was grey and tiny and his eyes were beautiful...his irises were red.  It was an amazing feeling to have him push himself against the cage so that I could rub his neck -- I could feel how delicate his bones were...and it gave me shivers that this little fragile bird would trust a huge human like me to stick her finger through the bars and allow me to pet him.

plural effusion: consequence

Pin me to your bulletin board like a butterfly whose wings can no longer.  It is in those constrained moments that I am truly free.  When my hands aren't able to do anything to distract me.  When I am forced to be. With. Myself. In front of you.  Spent and helpless.  That's the only way you will see me completely naked in front of you.  My colours drained, leaving only an echo of words that I didn't say.

I am scared to tell people what I am thinking.  Always thinking of the consequences.   Waiting for the question first.  Waiting for a safe moment.  Never wanting anyone to be uncomfortable in my presence.  Dammit!  I want to tell them the answer before they even ask the question and take the consequences as they come rather than worrying about them!  That's what I really want to do.  Offer something up without waiting for an opportunity to do so.

It's funny, because that's the way that I used to be.  But something happened.  There were people in my life that taught me that being  completely and fully myself wasn't acceptable. 

And in my adult years, I have somehow come to accept this.  And have lost the ability to ask myself the question, "What do I want?" 

Now, a mere two days before my 28th birthday, I've made a promise to myself.  To allow  myself to speak freely.  Take the consequences as they come.  And remember that the word 'consequence' isn't always negative.

i blog

I haven't blogged in a long time.  Well...I never actually "blog"...I post periodically.  But there is a reason I've been so absent lately.  A couple reasons, actually. 

I've been working on a real-life version of my previous post.  Previously, I drew the below picture with a "deep-space black" pen (really cool) on a 11"x14" piece of paper and coloured in each mosaic tile in PhotoShop.  In total, it took about three and a half hours.

The real-life version was outlined in a "deep-space black" pen and coloured in with acrylic paint and then outlined once more with the special pen on a 24"x30" canvas.  It's not quite finished yet -- I've been working on it for two weeks and have probably put 40 hours into it.

Almost finished....  I had a New  Year's resolution this year ...it came about while sitting on Bar on Locke sipping wine with a friend of mine...to sell a painting this year.  Perhaps this is the one?  We'll see.  I'm thinking of auctioning it off at a Habitat for Humanity silent auction.  Or, I could take the more difficult route and shop it around to different galleries around town...but I really don't think much of my art, so I'm not sure that I would have the guts to do that.

Oh...and did you notice the empty bookshelves in the background?  I've given up 48 books so far to a Habitat for Humanity book sale I'm running this month.  This was one of the hardest things I've ever parted with -- my books.  For weeks now I've been trying to figure out why I am so attached to my books.  I'm not sentimental about anything in my life.  But books...well...I don't know what it is about books, but they are difficult for me to give up. After much deliberation, I decided that giving up some of my books will give me the opportunity to invite new books into my life.   I am finally at peace with this.

The rest of my books are currently residing in boxes which brings me to the other reason that I've been absent lately.  I'm moving.  Finally.  I've been shopping for my apartment and packing.  This a momentous step for me because it will be the first time in my life that I will be living completely alone -- no parents, no roommates, no boyfriends.  Just me and Daisy. 

And a big shout-out to Kyle who found this place for me.  After months of looking for the almost-perfect-place, and when I was ready to settle for an almost great place with a flighty landlord and a loud, party-hard tenant on the first floor, Kyle made an unexpected appointment for me to see this place and it is perfect.

art & architecture

This was a true test in patience for me.  It lasted three-and-a-half hours from start to finish -- only taking two five-minute breaks to take the Daister out for  a pee.  I'm not sure that I've ever spent that much time on one thing before.  I'm the person who will finish your sentence for you because I just want to get to the point.

I think that one thing that kept me going was the music I was listening to -- a mix of Sia, Snowpatrol, K-OS and Death Cab for Cutie.

And while I outlined each mosaic tile and filled in each colour making sure that each shade wasn't side by each, yet monochromatic within its own boundaries...I listened to the music, my mind wandered and I had thoughts and ideas that I may  not have had otherwise.

And just the other week I said to someone, "I've never meditated before".  But I think that this was a form of meditation for me.  And I didn't rush to get to the point.  I just enjoyed the journey.  That's new for me.

illustration friday: communication

 

                                                                                                                            I wasn't thinking about anything in particular when I was drawing this.  In fact, after the final pen stroke, I sat there staring at this wondering -- what does this mean?

So, I started painting and  in the middle of painting the pants, I realized what my subconscious was telling me.

This illustration stems from a conversation I had with someone just the other night in which the person posed an idea.

The content of the conversation can be bypassed here, but what the point is -- the point is I wasn't entirely receptive to this new idea.  And I really wanted to be, but in that moment, I just couldn't pick up that receiver.

illustration friday: red

You know those days?  The ones where nothing is wrong, yet everything just feels wrong?  And you're crawling in your skin...uncomfortable...want to just hide under your desk, your blankets, your chair...whatever.  And you want to fade into the background, but you can't because people keep asking you, "Is everything okay?"

And you say, "Of course, I'm fine."  and smile wanly in hopes that it will pass as a genuine smile and they will go away.

This is what if feels like.  This is one of those days.

illustration friday: super hero

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    This is me and my crime-fighting dog battling the forces of evil in Hamilton.   What's my super hero power?  Well...psychic communication with all the animals of the world, of course.  We're gonna band together and take over. 

illustration friday: 80's

Hmmm.....I'm not sure  if this is entirely accurate.  I may be mixing up my 80's with the very early part of the 90's. 

But what IS accurate is that this is pretty much what I looked like in the 80's (or very early 90's) apart from the Vuarnet shirt (never had one of those, but I was envious of friends of mine that did) and I never had a t-shirt with shoulder pads,  but I know that they existed.

illustration friday: buzz

My subconscious was hard at work with this painting. After the final brush stroke, I realized what it meant to me.  Two people were fired from my place of employment this week.  And I'm not fearful that I will lose my job because...well...I like to think that they couldn't get by without me, but there must be some part of my brain that fears getting the SWAT.

illustration friday: peace

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Is it possible for these two to get along?  I've portrayed Diablo in a bad light here.  She's actually a very lovable and affectionate cat.  She doesn't normally look this angry unless Daisy is around.  She's slowly getting better, however -- no longer tries to swipe at Daisy's face with her fierce claws.

I drew and coloured this in while watching 'Family Stone'.  I committed myself to one Christmas movie this year.  Much to my surprise, I really enjoyed it and it even made me shed a tear or two.  It was sappy, but not in the way that I had thought that it would be.

this christmas...

Mmmmm....fudge, caramel, skor bit and peanut butter filled chocolates for Christmas this year.  Probably the most labourious Christmas gift I've ever made.  And Kyle and I got into probably a hundred arguments and disagreements while making these together.  Would I make these again?  Well...I'm not sure.  Perhaps I would, but only if there was some wine drinking involved next time.

Friendship in the Making

Click HERE to see the story of the beginning of this special friendship.

illustration friday: help

a few of my favourite things

                 Here are some of my favourite things...not only do they allow me to take a zillion photographs of them without complaint, but they offer an endless supply of cuddles and kisses. 
 
 

i will steal your dog if you are mean

Is the way people treat their pets indicative of the way they treat/will treat their children/family?

I was walking Daisy one day and there was this man on his front lawn with his son hanging about and their dog tied to a post.  The dog got  excited at the sight of Daisy which angered the man.  So, being the alpha male that he was, he roughly wrestled his dog to the ground, choking him and yelling at him until the poor dog whimpered for something near unforgivable in his eyes -- wanting to greet another dog.

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared the man straight in the eye for a few seconds barely believing what I was seeing.  "Do you beat your wife and kids too?"  I wanted to ask, but I bit my tongue for fear that he would do the same to me.

And I have always regretted not saying anything.  And I walk past his house often and always hope that I will see him again treating his dog the same way so that I can ask him the same question OUT LOUD this time.  And I will.  I am waiting for the day.

And then I will wrestle HIM to the ground and choke him until he whimpers and then I will steal his dog.

plura effusion: media, anorexia and starving third-world countries

Pressing question: Was Flavor Flav tested for STDs before getting his own reality t.v. show which affords him the freedom to stick his dirty dick in numerous desperate women? Judgmental? You bet I am. Judgment isn’t always a bad thing, though. We judge. I judge. You judge. A rushing blur of assumptions within the first hello, quickly making an assessment as to whether the person you just met is worth keeping in your life in some way – if they will add value to your life.

And we contradict ourselves all the time. I do. You do.

There are things and ways that I want to be, but haven’t unlearned the things that I am that I want to change.

And just the other day I was struggling with someone else’s ethics because they contradict themselves so much. And the person that I was complaining to asked, “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘Born a liberal, die a conservative?’”

We have this idealistic view of the life that we want for ourselves and the world around us. So much so that we want to change the people in our lives that we love, yet we complain about incessantly.

And we want to save trees…help the penguins…feed starving people in third-world countries. That’s the right thing to do, right?

I have always believed that the there are too many people on this planet and then someone lent me a book called, Ishmael and in it were all the truths that I believed, but hadn’t learned yet – we are doing Mother Earth a dis-service by feeding the hungry. It is the REASON they are hungry. We have given food to starving nations which has created more mouths to feed – an endless cycle-- so we send them more food and, therefore, create more mouths to feed and never allow our planet to balance itself out. And we keep feeding people so that they starve more and here in

North America

we feed talentless, uneducated people like Flavor Flav riches, and money and women and fame.

So, which is worse: Feeding hungry mouths which in turn is aiding in the imbalance of our planet which is inevitably detrimental to our survival or corrupting values, morals and ethics via idiot celebrities and media which is equally detrimental?

Or should I phrase the question in another way? Which is worse: Starving people because we feed them rather than give them the knowledge and resources to feed themselves or starving girls and women (and men) because skinny = beautiful according to North American standards?

Which brings to mind Mariah Carey’s thought provoking quote, "Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff."

(“Plural Effusion” is just a random thought spurred from another random thought that stems from any thought and not meant to have a logical, diffinitive train of thought.)

on quitting

Day #3 of quitting smoking and I want to hit someone. Anyone who brings attention to that fact that I’m not smoking, I want to hit. Hard. These past few days I’ve wanted to hit anyone who as so much as glanced in my direction, actually.

DON’T TALK TO ME. DON’T LOOK AT ME. DON’T COME NEAR ME. CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I’M TRYING TO QUIT SMOKING, ASSHOLE?

There isn’t much I can do to ease this rage that I'm feeling right now. I’ve tried counting slowly to ten. I’ve tried deep breathing. But the only thing that I am certain can lull this withdrawal induced anger is a cigarette…a fresh, long cigarette…oh, how good it would feel…how comforting…we’ve been friends for half my life…you’ve always been there for me through good times and bad…my faithful friend, how can I ever abandon you? 

STOP!!

I can go shopping to ease this discomfort. I can simply replace on addiction with another. So, lets see…by not smoking, I have saved $16 thus far which means that I should have $16 to spend, theoretically, on items not including cigarettes. But I can’t GO shopping because sometimes shopping stresses me out which in turn makes me want to smoke, therefore, shopping is out of the question.

Oh, if I could just have ONE. Just one tiny, little cigarette would make me so happy. The panic would go away. The teeth grinding and jaw clenching would stop. The constant, frantic jerking and shifting of my thoughts would cease and I could be CALM…

i want to kill myself #1

illustration friday: clear

It isn't exactly CLEAR to me what this illustration means.  My CLARITY was diluted by too many glasses of wine, conversation and laughter.  YOU were supposed to remind me to do something this morning.  I'm sure that it will be perfectly CLEAR to you just as soon as the hangover wears off.

i must've missed the memo: Women = Tidiness in the Workplace

Today my boss asked, "So, how are things?"  And sitting across from him at his desk I said, "Well, things are just blah".

So, then he told me that I should really take into consideration hanging up my coat instead of throwing it on the "guest" chair in my cubicle.  I said, "Well...that's really not my thing.  I like to have my coat handy."   He said, "I would come over and visit with you more if I didn't have to sit in that chair with your coat digging into my back."

*Silence*

I think he got the point.

Then he told me that I should also consider keeping the fax area more tidy.  I said, "I am not a house keeper".

And I know for a fact that the fax area is untidy due to one male in my department that is 30-ish years old and his mother still makes his lunches and washes his underwear. 

I refuse to clean up after him.

illustration friday: ghost

illustration friday: no illustration

I just don't think that I can do this anymore.  At least not for a while. I can't do this.  I just can't.

illustration friday: phobia

P is for Parking.  I have an irrational fear of not being able to find a parking spot. 

Other irrational fears include the dark ... driving in Toronto by myself ... getting lost while driving by myself ... insects with an excessive number of legs ... telling people that I love them ... driving beside transport trucks on the highway ... holding newborn babies while standing ... knick-knacks ... shorts ... saunas ... being in the basement at night ... certain stores where the staff have a 'too-cool-for-you' attitude -- although I'd like to browse through them, I just walk past because the staff scare me (e.g. Aldo) ... swimming in lakes because I'm afraid that scary things will touch me, like water snakes, fish or plant-life ... cemeteries at night ... eels.

These fears make me feel small and vulnerable.  But when, on I on occasion, I look them straight in the eye and defeat them (even if for just a moment) it feels sooooo good.  (Apart from the eels and water snakes.  I have never encountered either one and would be quite content never having to overcome that fear via direct contact).