Friday, February 27, 2009
ugh...
It’s raining today. In February.
I’m sure that this may not sound surprising to some but this is Ottawa. It doesn’t rain in Ottawa in February! Normally, we would either be buried in four feet of snow or enduring temperatures that are so cold, it’s not actually able to snow! But it never rains!
I’ve been home sick for the past two days and ending the week on a rainy note seems appropriate in its own lazy and lethargic way. Being sick is really frustrating to me because I’m normally such a busy and active person that the idea of being cooped up and forced to sit on the couch just upsets me! Ironically enough though, in the midst of my healthy, busy life…I often catch myself thinking how dreamy it would be to have an afternoon to just sit on my couch doing nothing. Funny.
Given that I was caged at home, I took the opportunity to watch countless episodes of Sex & the City. I have to admit…it was fun! I started watching it back when I was still single and living on my own. I happen to be at the video store one night when I stumbled upon it. It was a really hot summer night in mid-July and I had just come home from having dinner with some friends. It was already late but for some reason, the night hawk in me felt compelled to stop and rent a video on my way home. I can remember sitting in my sweltering bachelor apartment, with my curtains blowing in the breeze, until all hours of the night. Long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I found myself perched up in my bed with my favourite ice cream in hand, laughing hysterically at the dating mishaps of my new friends.
And so it began. The girls have been a permanent structure in my life ever since and they never fail to remind me of those long summer nights when I lived vicariously through them on the streets of New York City. Of course, watching it curled up with a heating pad and a sore throat isn’t quite the same but it does bring some cheer to an otherwise miserable reason to not be at work!
Thanks girls…you’re fabulous!
I’m sure that this may not sound surprising to some but this is Ottawa. It doesn’t rain in Ottawa in February! Normally, we would either be buried in four feet of snow or enduring temperatures that are so cold, it’s not actually able to snow! But it never rains!
I’ve been home sick for the past two days and ending the week on a rainy note seems appropriate in its own lazy and lethargic way. Being sick is really frustrating to me because I’m normally such a busy and active person that the idea of being cooped up and forced to sit on the couch just upsets me! Ironically enough though, in the midst of my healthy, busy life…I often catch myself thinking how dreamy it would be to have an afternoon to just sit on my couch doing nothing. Funny.
Given that I was caged at home, I took the opportunity to watch countless episodes of Sex & the City. I have to admit…it was fun! I started watching it back when I was still single and living on my own. I happen to be at the video store one night when I stumbled upon it. It was a really hot summer night in mid-July and I had just come home from having dinner with some friends. It was already late but for some reason, the night hawk in me felt compelled to stop and rent a video on my way home. I can remember sitting in my sweltering bachelor apartment, with my curtains blowing in the breeze, until all hours of the night. Long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I found myself perched up in my bed with my favourite ice cream in hand, laughing hysterically at the dating mishaps of my new friends.
And so it began. The girls have been a permanent structure in my life ever since and they never fail to remind me of those long summer nights when I lived vicariously through them on the streets of New York City. Of course, watching it curled up with a heating pad and a sore throat isn’t quite the same but it does bring some cheer to an otherwise miserable reason to not be at work!
Thanks girls…you’re fabulous!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
ash wednesday...
I was very surprised last week when I got an invitation to attend an Ash Wednesday service at our church. Could it be that Lent was here already? Sure enough, a quick glance at my calendar reminded me that it was indeed that time of year!
I always love Lent. I consider it a bit of a “second chance” for all of the resolutions that fail to last much beyond February! It was six years ago that I did my first communion in the Catholic Church and Lent was the last stretch of a year spent contemplating and questioning.
I get asked a lot why I chose to do such a thing as an adult. So many people are turned off by the church and for those that weren’t raised in religious families; it seems even harder for them to comprehend why I would make the conscious decision to pursue religion at all.
The only answer that I can provide is that I didn’t choose the Catholic Church…it chose me.
As “vague” as that may sound…it’s true! I used to go into churches all the time when I was young. I would sneak in when no one else was there and just sit in the pews for as long as I could. I was captivated by the silence and the peacefulness. I felt as though it literally radiated grace.
It didn’t go to my first Mass until the year prior to my communion and after that, there was no turning back. I proceeded to spend the next year preparing myself to join the church. It wasn’t always an easy road; some days I left in tears and other times I left in doubt but at the end of the day, the month, the year…I left a better person. I wasn’t just a better person for having followed through but more so for having challenged myself along the way.
I find that a lot of people bail on things at the first sight of imperfection; the first tinge of uncertainty or conflict, whether it be internally or not. I think that we tend to surround ourselves with things that support our beliefs and not often enough, allow someone or something to question the very things that hold us together. The more challenged I was…the stronger my conviction became, though certainly not without plenty of consideration. Some issues were harder (and still are) to grapple with than others but ultimately…it is an imperfect institution made of imperfect people that has made me, a better person.
But alas, I digress…
Lent is here and it’s time to pull out the more disciplined side of our selves, which for me, isn’t always easy! I’m a girl who really responds well to structure and limits but deprivation…not so much! Even though it’s only forty days, the very thought of what I’m not allowed to have tends to leave me craving it even more. Though I suppose that is indeed the entire point! I’ve decided to give up coffee this year for Lent. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about this but I feel the need to make up for our lack of participation during last year’s Lenten season! It was almost shameful how indulgent we were last year! Between our house, our trip and all the wonderful food in between...it may have actually become the first official "anti-Lent"! Truth be told, while I certainly love my morning mocha on the way to work, I’m also eager to give my body a break from the artificial vitality that comes with coffee. I figured that with all of the other changes I’m making in my life right now, letting my body go back to it’s natural rhythm for a while seems appropriate.
Now, I say this having been only two days into Lent…but we’ll see how delightful an idea it really is in another two weeks!!! We’ll also see how delighted my co-workers are with the idea in two weeks!!!
I think that there was a reason why Jesus spent forty days in the desert alone…
I always love Lent. I consider it a bit of a “second chance” for all of the resolutions that fail to last much beyond February! It was six years ago that I did my first communion in the Catholic Church and Lent was the last stretch of a year spent contemplating and questioning.
I get asked a lot why I chose to do such a thing as an adult. So many people are turned off by the church and for those that weren’t raised in religious families; it seems even harder for them to comprehend why I would make the conscious decision to pursue religion at all.
The only answer that I can provide is that I didn’t choose the Catholic Church…it chose me.
As “vague” as that may sound…it’s true! I used to go into churches all the time when I was young. I would sneak in when no one else was there and just sit in the pews for as long as I could. I was captivated by the silence and the peacefulness. I felt as though it literally radiated grace.
It didn’t go to my first Mass until the year prior to my communion and after that, there was no turning back. I proceeded to spend the next year preparing myself to join the church. It wasn’t always an easy road; some days I left in tears and other times I left in doubt but at the end of the day, the month, the year…I left a better person. I wasn’t just a better person for having followed through but more so for having challenged myself along the way.
I find that a lot of people bail on things at the first sight of imperfection; the first tinge of uncertainty or conflict, whether it be internally or not. I think that we tend to surround ourselves with things that support our beliefs and not often enough, allow someone or something to question the very things that hold us together. The more challenged I was…the stronger my conviction became, though certainly not without plenty of consideration. Some issues were harder (and still are) to grapple with than others but ultimately…it is an imperfect institution made of imperfect people that has made me, a better person.
But alas, I digress…
Lent is here and it’s time to pull out the more disciplined side of our selves, which for me, isn’t always easy! I’m a girl who really responds well to structure and limits but deprivation…not so much! Even though it’s only forty days, the very thought of what I’m not allowed to have tends to leave me craving it even more. Though I suppose that is indeed the entire point! I’ve decided to give up coffee this year for Lent. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about this but I feel the need to make up for our lack of participation during last year’s Lenten season! It was almost shameful how indulgent we were last year! Between our house, our trip and all the wonderful food in between...it may have actually become the first official "anti-Lent"! Truth be told, while I certainly love my morning mocha on the way to work, I’m also eager to give my body a break from the artificial vitality that comes with coffee. I figured that with all of the other changes I’m making in my life right now, letting my body go back to it’s natural rhythm for a while seems appropriate.
Now, I say this having been only two days into Lent…but we’ll see how delightful an idea it really is in another two weeks!!! We’ll also see how delighted my co-workers are with the idea in two weeks!!!
I think that there was a reason why Jesus spent forty days in the desert alone…
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
the confidence of youth...
Did you know that I used to figure skate when I was younger?
I have been in love with the sport for as long as I could remember. As a little girl, I found myself mesmerized by the elegance of such a sport. I just couldn’t get enough of the speed, the gracefulness, the music…it seemed like the perfect union of art and athleticism, and it was certainly all too much for my little self to bear. So I started skating.
I have a picture of myself as a child bundled up in my snow suit, delicately balancing myself on the ice and having the biggest smile a four year old could possibly muster up. It turned out to be just one of many photos proving that being on the ice was one of my happiest places.
I spent a good few years skating as much as I could get away with; I would watch countless hours of tapes so I could see spins and jumps in slow motion; During high school, we had an outdoor rink across the street from us and any moment that wasn’t spent in class was spent there; Almost each night of the week, my Mom would drive me around to free skates at various arenas in town and spend two hours in the cold while I spun myself in circles determined to get each move right. Collectively, my parents nurtured my passion as though it was one of their own!
What compels me to think about this though is the fact that I didn’t have a coach or any formal training at all. In fact, just about all the odds for a competitive career were against me; most skaters are very small and petite…I was very tall and lengthy; most skaters start training at six or seven years of age…I was already in high school. And yet, all the while, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. In fact, I don’t even remember caring at all what the “conventional” course of a skater’s career was…I just wanted to learn.
In time, I did end up getting formally trained and I also spent one evening sharing the ice with some of our country’s most celebrated figure skaters! In time, injury also prevailed and choices had to be made. In the end though, I’m well aware that it was my desire skate and not my fear of failure that enabled my love affair to exist at all.
Looking back, this fascinates me because I’ve discovered that I’ve grown out of this confidence. Sadly, I consider more the probability of something instead of the possibility and I realize now just how dangerous that can be. In my younger days, I just thought “someone has to do it…why not me?” and on I went…and it worked. I propelled myself into a determination that left no other options. It wasn’t necessarily the most conventional or the easiest…but it was my five loaves and two fishes; it’s what I had to offer at the time and God provided the rest.
I’m trying really hard to find that part of me again. My new endeavor, albeit exciting, feels so intimidating and overwhelming sometimes and I just want to find that unwavering conviction that that tells me anything is possible again. Learning something new as an adult seems so much scarier and daunting than it once did, and fear, in and of itself, provides its own obstacle when trying to acquire new knowledge. I feel like everyone around me knows so much more and that the only thing that I really do know…is that I have so much more I need to learn. This isn’t as encouraging a thought as it once was when I had fifteen extra years to learn it!!
Ah well…as Vincent Van Gogh once said “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
I have been in love with the sport for as long as I could remember. As a little girl, I found myself mesmerized by the elegance of such a sport. I just couldn’t get enough of the speed, the gracefulness, the music…it seemed like the perfect union of art and athleticism, and it was certainly all too much for my little self to bear. So I started skating.
I have a picture of myself as a child bundled up in my snow suit, delicately balancing myself on the ice and having the biggest smile a four year old could possibly muster up. It turned out to be just one of many photos proving that being on the ice was one of my happiest places.
I spent a good few years skating as much as I could get away with; I would watch countless hours of tapes so I could see spins and jumps in slow motion; During high school, we had an outdoor rink across the street from us and any moment that wasn’t spent in class was spent there; Almost each night of the week, my Mom would drive me around to free skates at various arenas in town and spend two hours in the cold while I spun myself in circles determined to get each move right. Collectively, my parents nurtured my passion as though it was one of their own!
What compels me to think about this though is the fact that I didn’t have a coach or any formal training at all. In fact, just about all the odds for a competitive career were against me; most skaters are very small and petite…I was very tall and lengthy; most skaters start training at six or seven years of age…I was already in high school. And yet, all the while, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. In fact, I don’t even remember caring at all what the “conventional” course of a skater’s career was…I just wanted to learn.
In time, I did end up getting formally trained and I also spent one evening sharing the ice with some of our country’s most celebrated figure skaters! In time, injury also prevailed and choices had to be made. In the end though, I’m well aware that it was my desire skate and not my fear of failure that enabled my love affair to exist at all.
Looking back, this fascinates me because I’ve discovered that I’ve grown out of this confidence. Sadly, I consider more the probability of something instead of the possibility and I realize now just how dangerous that can be. In my younger days, I just thought “someone has to do it…why not me?” and on I went…and it worked. I propelled myself into a determination that left no other options. It wasn’t necessarily the most conventional or the easiest…but it was my five loaves and two fishes; it’s what I had to offer at the time and God provided the rest.
I’m trying really hard to find that part of me again. My new endeavor, albeit exciting, feels so intimidating and overwhelming sometimes and I just want to find that unwavering conviction that that tells me anything is possible again. Learning something new as an adult seems so much scarier and daunting than it once did, and fear, in and of itself, provides its own obstacle when trying to acquire new knowledge. I feel like everyone around me knows so much more and that the only thing that I really do know…is that I have so much more I need to learn. This isn’t as encouraging a thought as it once was when I had fifteen extra years to learn it!!
Ah well…as Vincent Van Gogh once said “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
camera happy...
I took this picture yesterday on my way to meet Steve after work. I was passing Major's Hill Park on my way across the river when I felt compelled to stop and get my camera out. What I love most about it is that if I had zoomed out just the tiniest bit, the picture would have been filled with buildings from Gatineau and downtown Ottawa!
I just love our city!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
my happiness...
One day when I was about nine or ten years old, I dragged my little cousin out to the local park in our neighborhood with me so I could take pictures. I had been given a dinky little disposable camera earlier that week and I couldn’t wait to use it. My poor cousin was so patient with me and at the tender age of five years old…that’s a lot to ask! The pictures were awful! Truly…they were just terrible! But I continued to love beautiful images and spent my life staring at them longingly.
I have an entire box full of totally random pictures that I’ve pulled out of magazines for the last ten years. I had no reason for keeping them other than the fact that they were beautiful and I couldn’t live without them. Steve and I collect photography from all over the world and have filled our home with images that someone else once saw and thought to capture. Photographs have permeated my life and sometimes, without me even knowing it!
I have to admit though that since I was young, I’ve seldom picked up a camera. My Mom gave me a beautiful camera when I graduated from university and I gave it back to her because it stressed me out to have it and not know how to use it…but I never bothered to learn! Even when we bought our SLR camera, it took me months before I would even go near it. I was afraid. I was afraid of not being good at it. It’s hard to explain but I was afraid of loving something so much and not being able to contribute to it in my own way. I seemed easier to me to imagine that I would be good at it then risk the possibility of actually being bad at it! I know, it’s not easy to rationalize but for lack of a better explanation, my camera scared me...it still does sometimes!
A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was getting married and asked me if I would take pictures of her wedding. Terrifying? Yes. A sister that I can say no to? Not so much. So I agreed, along with my brother-in-law, to tag team her wedding in hopes of capturing images that would somehow do justice to their beautiful occasion.
She loved them! And because she was happy…I was happy! And I had fun! I was happy with my camera in my hand and free reign over everything happening around me.
Here’s the thing though…in the last month or so, I’ve been asked to photograph two more weddings! Back to back weekends in late May and early June. And though the very thought of it makes me want to throw up (because I’m just that nervous)…I can’t seem to say no. How could I? How could I tell the universe that I’m not going to repay my little cousin’s (not so little anymore!) efforts when I was manically clicking away on a disposable camera? It would almost seem rude!
So off I will go, camera in hand, to try to make something beautiful of an even more beautiful day. I will pull myself up by my bootstraps…tell the little girl in me to not be afraid and just let my eyes do the talking.
But still…a shot of tequila couldn’t hurt!
I have an entire box full of totally random pictures that I’ve pulled out of magazines for the last ten years. I had no reason for keeping them other than the fact that they were beautiful and I couldn’t live without them. Steve and I collect photography from all over the world and have filled our home with images that someone else once saw and thought to capture. Photographs have permeated my life and sometimes, without me even knowing it!
I have to admit though that since I was young, I’ve seldom picked up a camera. My Mom gave me a beautiful camera when I graduated from university and I gave it back to her because it stressed me out to have it and not know how to use it…but I never bothered to learn! Even when we bought our SLR camera, it took me months before I would even go near it. I was afraid. I was afraid of not being good at it. It’s hard to explain but I was afraid of loving something so much and not being able to contribute to it in my own way. I seemed easier to me to imagine that I would be good at it then risk the possibility of actually being bad at it! I know, it’s not easy to rationalize but for lack of a better explanation, my camera scared me...it still does sometimes!
A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was getting married and asked me if I would take pictures of her wedding. Terrifying? Yes. A sister that I can say no to? Not so much. So I agreed, along with my brother-in-law, to tag team her wedding in hopes of capturing images that would somehow do justice to their beautiful occasion.
She loved them! And because she was happy…I was happy! And I had fun! I was happy with my camera in my hand and free reign over everything happening around me.
Here’s the thing though…in the last month or so, I’ve been asked to photograph two more weddings! Back to back weekends in late May and early June. And though the very thought of it makes me want to throw up (because I’m just that nervous)…I can’t seem to say no. How could I? How could I tell the universe that I’m not going to repay my little cousin’s (not so little anymore!) efforts when I was manically clicking away on a disposable camera? It would almost seem rude!
So off I will go, camera in hand, to try to make something beautiful of an even more beautiful day. I will pull myself up by my bootstraps…tell the little girl in me to not be afraid and just let my eyes do the talking.
But still…a shot of tequila couldn’t hurt!
Monday, February 16, 2009
for my texan friend...
"In the depth of winter I have finally learned
that there within me lay an invincible summer."
~ Albert Camus
that there within me lay an invincible summer."
~ Albert Camus
Friday, February 13, 2009
how do i love thee...
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
monkey mind...
I haven’t been sleeping very well this past week. I have, as my favourite author would say, Monkey Mind! When the lights go out, my mind seems to swing from one branch to the next in a flurry of random thought until I suddenly notice that it’s the middle of the night and despite my rapidly closing eyelids, I’m still wide awake! I have a lot on my mind right now and it appears that my conscious is in a rather big hurry to figure these things out. My currently exhausted body is starting to pay the price for it.
Anyways, as I was awake last night, I started to think about my Grandma Mae. It was actually in the midst of reading a new book that made me think of her; Steve was sleeping soundly next to me and when I opened up my book, the spine make a little creaking sound and I could suddenly smell the fresh new pages. I felt like I was instantaneously brought back to my childhood!
My grandmother lived with me and my Mom for awhile when I was in elementary school. Her bedroom was at the front of our house and she had this one chair that she sat in all day long. It was strategically positioned in the corner of her room so that she could look out the front windows onto the street as well as look out her bedroom door at what else was going on in the house. My memories of my grandmother are numerous and plenty but because I was so young, they are also rather selective. My time spent with her was always wonderful but the time that she spent with us in our home was what I remember most.
My grandmother was a hilarious woman! She was always very old to me – very fragile in her own way. Her skin seemed thin, almost translucent, and her frame seemed so tiny. She moved slowly and spoke quietly…she was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. Contrary to that though, she also smoked like a chimney, was content to live off a diet made up only of chocolate chip cookies and she could drink anyone under the table! I’m not kidding…this woman knew how to hold her liquor!!
What I remember most though was her love of stories. She loved books and she read all the time. She would sit in her brown chair in the corner with one of her cats on her lap and she would literally read for hours on end, going through countless books at any given time. Her room was always filled with books from the library that had those plastic protective covers on them and the card in the back that had the return due date stamped on them! Her room smelled like books and I loved it!
I’m sure that my love of the written word has so much to do with having had her in my life.
When her eyesight started to go, she acquired this huge magnifying glass with a light on it to help her read. Eventually her eyesight disappeared all together and she was forced to listen to books on tape instead. I know that she still enjoyed the stories but I also know that she missed feeling the pages between her fingers, seeing the words in front of her and most of all, that unique smell of ink on paper. Her hearing faded with the time but she listened to her books on tape until the very end. It was sad for me to know that old age cost my grandmother one of the things that she loved the most. She still had her taste buds though and that meant that she still had her chocolate chip cookies!
So I found myself thinking of her last night as I cracked the spine of my new book. I’m reading Water for Elephants right now. The author, Sara Gruen, grew up in London, Ontario and went to the University of Ottawa…just like me! I wonder if our common journeys and the fact that I received three copies of it for my birthday means someone is trying to tell me something?!?! Clearly, the universe is insistent that I read this and what can I say…I’m always happy to oblige!
My book doesn’t quite smell the same way that my grandmother’s books did but few of them ever do. You have to dig deep in the old piles at the library to get that smell anymore. But I certainly enjoyed my Monkey Mind a little bit more yesterday as I remembered that wonderful woman who unknowingly brought literature and stories into my life.
It’s comforting to know that anytime I feel sleepless in the night, I can simply crack the spine and know that I’m not reading alone. She probably would have been up in the middle of the night too! Reading a good book no doubt!
Anyways, as I was awake last night, I started to think about my Grandma Mae. It was actually in the midst of reading a new book that made me think of her; Steve was sleeping soundly next to me and when I opened up my book, the spine make a little creaking sound and I could suddenly smell the fresh new pages. I felt like I was instantaneously brought back to my childhood!
My grandmother lived with me and my Mom for awhile when I was in elementary school. Her bedroom was at the front of our house and she had this one chair that she sat in all day long. It was strategically positioned in the corner of her room so that she could look out the front windows onto the street as well as look out her bedroom door at what else was going on in the house. My memories of my grandmother are numerous and plenty but because I was so young, they are also rather selective. My time spent with her was always wonderful but the time that she spent with us in our home was what I remember most.
My grandmother was a hilarious woman! She was always very old to me – very fragile in her own way. Her skin seemed thin, almost translucent, and her frame seemed so tiny. She moved slowly and spoke quietly…she was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. Contrary to that though, she also smoked like a chimney, was content to live off a diet made up only of chocolate chip cookies and she could drink anyone under the table! I’m not kidding…this woman knew how to hold her liquor!!
What I remember most though was her love of stories. She loved books and she read all the time. She would sit in her brown chair in the corner with one of her cats on her lap and she would literally read for hours on end, going through countless books at any given time. Her room was always filled with books from the library that had those plastic protective covers on them and the card in the back that had the return due date stamped on them! Her room smelled like books and I loved it!
I’m sure that my love of the written word has so much to do with having had her in my life.
When her eyesight started to go, she acquired this huge magnifying glass with a light on it to help her read. Eventually her eyesight disappeared all together and she was forced to listen to books on tape instead. I know that she still enjoyed the stories but I also know that she missed feeling the pages between her fingers, seeing the words in front of her and most of all, that unique smell of ink on paper. Her hearing faded with the time but she listened to her books on tape until the very end. It was sad for me to know that old age cost my grandmother one of the things that she loved the most. She still had her taste buds though and that meant that she still had her chocolate chip cookies!
So I found myself thinking of her last night as I cracked the spine of my new book. I’m reading Water for Elephants right now. The author, Sara Gruen, grew up in London, Ontario and went to the University of Ottawa…just like me! I wonder if our common journeys and the fact that I received three copies of it for my birthday means someone is trying to tell me something?!?! Clearly, the universe is insistent that I read this and what can I say…I’m always happy to oblige!
My book doesn’t quite smell the same way that my grandmother’s books did but few of them ever do. You have to dig deep in the old piles at the library to get that smell anymore. But I certainly enjoyed my Monkey Mind a little bit more yesterday as I remembered that wonderful woman who unknowingly brought literature and stories into my life.
It’s comforting to know that anytime I feel sleepless in the night, I can simply crack the spine and know that I’m not reading alone. She probably would have been up in the middle of the night too! Reading a good book no doubt!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
a million little pieces...
A few years back, I was walking through a bookstore and stumbled upon this book that caught my attention. This is not an unusual occurrence for me as it tends to happen often but usually, I just take note of the book title and add it to my list of “must reads” for the near future. This one captured me though and I bought it right then and there on the spot. I began reading it that night and for the next week, I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster that left me completely captivated by the resilience of the human condition.
This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.
Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.
But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!
How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.
I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?
I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?
We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.
This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.
Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.
But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!
How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.
I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?
I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?
We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
25 random things about me...
{for those who aren't on facebook...}
1. When I was a little girl, I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers
2. My name (Genevieve) is Gaelic for "White Wave"
3. During a psychological profile done during our marriage prep courses, it was concluded that my animal alter ego is a white wolf
4. I spent an entire year after the release of the movie American Pie being asked if I was related to Shannon Elizabeth
5. I have surprisingly long legs for my height...My husband is three inches taller than me and our legs are the same length!
6. My pet peeves are automated telephone systems and people with weak handshakes
7. My Mom once gave me a psychic reading for my birthday and the lady told me that I had been a very high profile political leader in a past life!
8. If I could live a totally different life without sacrificing anything I love...I would move to Maui and teach surfing (and maybe be in the sequel of Blue Crush while I'm at it!!!!)
9. I have a secret admiration for the inner workings of the drug trade
10. I talk to my cat a lot and there are moments when I'm sure he knows what I'm saying!
11. I want to go to Texas!
12. When I was young, I could recite, word for word, all six hours of the movie Anne of Green Gables (if you don't believe me...ask my Mom! She had to endure the torture of it any time we were in a car for long periods of time!!)
13. I have extreme Obsessive Compulsive Disorder about my hand writing. In university, I would re-write all of my notes after classes and if I made a mistake, instead of using white-out, I would start them all over again.
14. I once met a man named William Wallace!
15. I wish that I had blue eyes
16. Listening to rock music always makes me want to do one of two things; get drunk or run (I just can't explain it!!)!
17. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 25 years old
18. I think that Tom Cruise = CRAZY!
19. I have a rather irrational fear of flying over large bodies of water (that started around the same time I started watching LOST!!)
20. I am so in love with string music that I can seldom listen to it without crying
21. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had constant and repetitive dreams about my teeth falling out
22. I have an uncontrollable addiction to bookstores!
23. I am VERY self-conscious of my smile
24. I ran 863.7 kilometers in 2008 (it was a slow year!)
25. I can't remember life without the internet...
1. When I was a little girl, I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers
2. My name (Genevieve) is Gaelic for "White Wave"
3. During a psychological profile done during our marriage prep courses, it was concluded that my animal alter ego is a white wolf
4. I spent an entire year after the release of the movie American Pie being asked if I was related to Shannon Elizabeth
5. I have surprisingly long legs for my height...My husband is three inches taller than me and our legs are the same length!
6. My pet peeves are automated telephone systems and people with weak handshakes
7. My Mom once gave me a psychic reading for my birthday and the lady told me that I had been a very high profile political leader in a past life!
8. If I could live a totally different life without sacrificing anything I love...I would move to Maui and teach surfing (and maybe be in the sequel of Blue Crush while I'm at it!!!!)
9. I have a secret admiration for the inner workings of the drug trade
10. I talk to my cat a lot and there are moments when I'm sure he knows what I'm saying!
11. I want to go to Texas!
12. When I was young, I could recite, word for word, all six hours of the movie Anne of Green Gables (if you don't believe me...ask my Mom! She had to endure the torture of it any time we were in a car for long periods of time!!)
13. I have extreme Obsessive Compulsive Disorder about my hand writing. In university, I would re-write all of my notes after classes and if I made a mistake, instead of using white-out, I would start them all over again.
14. I once met a man named William Wallace!
15. I wish that I had blue eyes
16. Listening to rock music always makes me want to do one of two things; get drunk or run (I just can't explain it!!)!
17. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 25 years old
18. I think that Tom Cruise = CRAZY!
19. I have a rather irrational fear of flying over large bodies of water (that started around the same time I started watching LOST!!)
20. I am so in love with string music that I can seldom listen to it without crying
21. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had constant and repetitive dreams about my teeth falling out
22. I have an uncontrollable addiction to bookstores!
23. I am VERY self-conscious of my smile
24. I ran 863.7 kilometers in 2008 (it was a slow year!)
25. I can't remember life without the internet...
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
pandora's box...
I’ve been reading a lot about Barack Obama lately and trying to see what this guy is all about. I have to say, the man impresses me! His disposition alone really makes an impression and having spent three years getting a bird’s eye view of politics, I’m interested to see what’s going to unfold in the coming months.
Some friends and I were discussing Obama’s views on abortion recently and found ourselves in the midst of a very interesting debate; Obama appears to be a very Christian man and all the while, he supports the right to choose. This didn’t sit well with many of my friends! Personally, I try to steer clear of this topic because frankly, my own opinion doesn’t sit well with most of my friends either and I do what I can to keep a fair distance between me and the firing squad whenever possible! I guess my issue is that abortion tends to be defined, and judged, as any intentional termination of a pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances. This covers a very broad spectrum of motives; from the teenage girl using abortion as a means of birth control to the woman who, for medical reasons, must choose between her own life and that of her unborn child. It’s a very fine line and there is, in my humble opinion, a great distance between each end.
The debate took a very interesting twist though when we realized that the group discussing the topic was mostly made up of men…a gender that would never and could never experience the result of such decision making in the same capacity as their female counterparts. The question quickly came up about whether or not this should entitle men to the same degree of influence regarding this topic as they would have in matters such as the economy or education? Some men felt that by no means should they have any say at all when it comes to the issue while others strongly felt that men were the only ones who could provide a voice of reason to an otherwise emotionally charged topic.
Personally, I had never given it much thought. I still spend a lot of time just trying to figure out my own feelings regarding the matter nonetheless how much input others should have. Yes, it’s true that a man can never be privy to the physical and emotional experience of being pregnant and in turn, can never experience the grueling agony of having to make such a decision but, on the other hand, there is still a piece of them in that life…in those choices…in the consequences that remain.
And so I’m left baffled at the questions that my friends have managed to stir up and feel compelled to put it out there in the universe to stir things up some more!
So, any thoughts…??
Some friends and I were discussing Obama’s views on abortion recently and found ourselves in the midst of a very interesting debate; Obama appears to be a very Christian man and all the while, he supports the right to choose. This didn’t sit well with many of my friends! Personally, I try to steer clear of this topic because frankly, my own opinion doesn’t sit well with most of my friends either and I do what I can to keep a fair distance between me and the firing squad whenever possible! I guess my issue is that abortion tends to be defined, and judged, as any intentional termination of a pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances. This covers a very broad spectrum of motives; from the teenage girl using abortion as a means of birth control to the woman who, for medical reasons, must choose between her own life and that of her unborn child. It’s a very fine line and there is, in my humble opinion, a great distance between each end.
The debate took a very interesting twist though when we realized that the group discussing the topic was mostly made up of men…a gender that would never and could never experience the result of such decision making in the same capacity as their female counterparts. The question quickly came up about whether or not this should entitle men to the same degree of influence regarding this topic as they would have in matters such as the economy or education? Some men felt that by no means should they have any say at all when it comes to the issue while others strongly felt that men were the only ones who could provide a voice of reason to an otherwise emotionally charged topic.
Personally, I had never given it much thought. I still spend a lot of time just trying to figure out my own feelings regarding the matter nonetheless how much input others should have. Yes, it’s true that a man can never be privy to the physical and emotional experience of being pregnant and in turn, can never experience the grueling agony of having to make such a decision but, on the other hand, there is still a piece of them in that life…in those choices…in the consequences that remain.
And so I’m left baffled at the questions that my friends have managed to stir up and feel compelled to put it out there in the universe to stir things up some more!
So, any thoughts…??
Sunday, February 01, 2009
the best of australia...
At this time last year, not only were we packing our boxes to move into our new house, but we were also packing our sunscreen and our passports for our trip to Australia! Visiting the "Sunburnt Country" has been on my list of things to do ever since I was a little girl and when the opportunity presented itself, neither Steve nor I could resist. So, after nearly a year and a half of saving profusely, we booked a month off work and planned our dream adventure!
I did the best I could to capture in words what our trip was like but experiencing it for yourself is genuinely the only way to truly understand what being down under is really like. We came back very different people than when we left...as it tends to be the case with travelling!
We took nearly two thousand pictures while we were in Australia and I started going through them this weekend in hopes of making an album that best sums up our Aussie experience. It was so much fun going through all of them again and remembering what it was like spending an entire month doing brand new things for the first time; We saw kangaroos for the first time and ate crocodile. We bought our first piece of registered art from a good friend of Mel Gibson and we saw the Southern Cross under the most magnificent sky I've ever seen. Travelling changes who you are! And thanks to digital technology...it's now a lot easier to record the transition!
While our pictures in no way do the scenery any justice...they do at least remind me that while all our friends and family were buried in fifty centimetres of wretched snow, we were here...
For the rest of our Australia album, click here.
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