Legacy

I was reading a book written by a poet friend of mine who is around the age of 70.

He quotes Dylan Thomas at the beginning of the book:

"Poetry.
I like to think of of it
as statements made on the way to the grave."

This quote is appropriate, I suppose, since my friend's book is a commemoration of his own life. However, it is sad to me that my friend is already thinking about his eventual death and writing his poetic autobiography so the life he lived will be left behind, remembered in the pages of his book.

Failure

Halifax poet Don Domanski, 57, won the Governor General award for poetry this year for his book All Our Wonder Unavenged (Brick Books). It took him seven years to write the book.

When interviewed by the Globe and Mail, Domanski said "all poetry is failure in the end, because you never reach what you want.”

Oh, how true.

Keeping it to yourself

I don't like it when I run into people I know while grocery shopping. They always look into your cart and, I'm sure, judge you based on the type of shampoo you use or the amount of vegetables (or lack of vegetables) you have.

The other day, I ran into someone I know, who is rather on the short side. She asked for my help getting her Oxy face scrub off the top shelf. I didn't want to know that she uses Oxy to wash her face. I guess I have no desire to know the personal and, in a way, intimate details of someone's life.

Time lost.

I hate those days when I have plans to get a lot done, but then circumstances beyond my control take over. I wake up feeling under the weather or my computer crashes. Such inconveniences can eat up valuable hours. And it sucks.

For fall

Leaves "die with style:
as the tree retreats inside itself,
shutting off its valves at its
extremities
to starve in Technicolor, then
having served two hours in a children's leaf pile, slowly
stir its vitamins into the earth."

- Don McKay, "Some Functions of a Leaf"

Plans

I've lost my ability to be spontaneous. I usually turn down any last minute invitations.

For instance, my sister invited me to go to the bar on the spur of the moment. I said no. Partly, because I was in the middle of working on a poetry project and partly because I don't know if I have what it takes to stay out until 3 a.m. anymore.

However, had she asked me a few days in advance, I might have said yes. I would have had time to mentally prepare.

Sunday mornings

Since when did Sunday morning television get so offensive. First there are the usual religious types telling you that you're going to hell, and then there are the hunting shows where you watch men shoot birds and stick them in their pockets. I can't even watch the music channels anymore, because I find women who market themselves by wearing minimal clothing to be insulting to my intelligence.

Books

My first book is to be released in about a month. The editor sent me a draft copy. It's a surreal feeling seeing your name on the cover of a book for the first time. There is, of course, a sense of accomplishment and then a dreaded sigh. Mainly, because you have to proofread the damn book one last time. Good God, books are a lot of work. And it's not over yet, because I have to promote it too.

The spotlight effect . . .

"Even in waking life, many of us operate as if Simon Cowell is doing a play-by-play of our work, wardrobe, and snack choices . . . in the beam of imaginary spotlights, many of us suffer untold shame and create weaker, less zestful lives than we deserve." - Martha Beck

The breaking point of the mind...

Have you ever worked on a project and worked on a project and worked on a project until your mind feels that it has turned into mush?

Why is it that our brains can only do so much thinking and working until they become exhausted.

Brains aren't muscles. They just sit in our heads, so why do they tire out? They should be able to keep going and going . . . like the Energizer bunny. It would make meeting deadlines easier.

Hurricanes

Do you ever wonder why hurricanes get people names, like Katrina and Dean? It's humanizes a force that causes mass destruction.

Can you imagine sharing your name with a hurricane? Should you be flattered to be associated with so much power? Or upset to be associated with the destruction?

Maybe they should name hurricanes after military figures that nobody likes, such as Hitler and Napoleon. Or maybe Bible names of murders and evildoers, like Cain and Lucifer. Or villains in comic books, like Lex Luther . . .

Dreaming: The Great Equalizer

"Anyone can escape into sleep. We are all geniuses when we dream. The butcher's the poet's equal there." - E.M. Cioran, The Temptation to Exist.

Same Old

If you've been to one tourist town you've been to them all. Skagway, Dawson City, Jasper, Banff, Canmore and Old Sacramento, they all look the same to me. Even the tourist merchandise is the same.

Journalist Tantrums

As a journalist, I have made an oberservation: Journalists have an expectation that everyone will do an interview.

People, of course, have the right to refuse interviews. When they do, I've seen plenty of journalists get irrate. Journalists won't easily take "no" for an answer.

A lot of journalists feel they are entitled to information and a person's story. Democracy, afterall, is built on freedom of information. It is also built on the right to say "no."

While I respect a person's right to say "no," it certainly messes up a story. For instance, say when you lose the "other side's" perspective because of a refusal to do an interview. When people say the media is one-sided, well, sometimes that's because the "other side" doesn't want to talk. What's a journalist to do? One side is better than no sides.

On typewriters...

I don't understood the appeal of the typewriter in this day and age where computers rule supreme. Typewriters make edits pure hell. Yet I've met a number of young writers who are using old typewriters they've dug up out of their grandparents basement or bought on eBay.

I didn't understand the appeal of the typewriter until I read David Streit's poem: "untitled, november 23, 2006:"

"everyone loves a typewriter." Streit writes:

"it has the word writer in it.
no one wants to grow up to be a "puter."
eventually typing is a skill set that is being lost. this is the
recovery.
pause thought. scroll. type. type."

Karate Curse

Karate ruins a person's feet.

You aren't allowed to wear shoes in karate. And so, over the years of doing karate, sliding my feet along cracked gymnasium floors, I have got some nasty callouses. My heels are cracked. I have a callous on the side of my one baby toe that is starting to grow over the nail. (I know. It's disgusting).

I've had two pedicures since I've been doing karate. But when you remove the callouses, doing karate hurts, and the callouses come back thicker than ever.

Aside from the callouses, I've lost a toenail and cracked many others.

I've seen pictures of dancers' feet, and they are even worse than mine.

It's amazing what we do to our bodies in the name of sport.

Keep it to yourself...

There are some conversations you shouldn't have in public.

I was out at a restaurant once and was seated beside a mother who was loudly lecturing her 15-year-old daughter about the hazards of premarital sex.

Talk about ruining the innocent bystanders' appetites.

I was almost tempted to ask to be moved to another table, because I didn't really want to listen in, but couldn't help it. It was like I was unwillingly transplanted into this family's living room.

Awkward conversations are better kept at home, or at least kept to a low whisper.

On the lot...

Has anyone been watching the new show On The Lot?

Aspiring filmmakers air their short films each week and America votes on the best. A few of the earlier episodes followed the filmmakers as they made their films, but making films is actually more boring than it sounds. It's actors doing the same scene over and over again and long hours spent putting sound and picture together in an editing suite. It's only slightly more exciting than watching someone write a book. And it's a surprise On The Lot has low ratings?

Films, like writing, are about finished product. The process is quite dry and a bit of a slog. It's not like So You Think You Can Dance, where dancers put their bodies to the test and face injury in rehearsal.

Short films are not popular with the masses either. They are like the poetry of the film industry. They have a limited market.

That said, maybe there should be a So You Think You Can Write Poetry show. They have everything else. And are ratings really that important? Really?

Just not that into you...

Social situations can already be awkward and complicated enough in real life, but taking them into the virtual world makes them even more so.

Take Facebook for instance. You write a question on someone's wall and, through the "news feed," all your shared friends can see you wrote that question. Then that question just hangs there unanswered. The friend, you wrote the question to, has logged on since. You know this because you can see they've commented on other people's walls. You, however, are being ignored by them.

Do you take this personally? Are they deliberately snubbing you? Do they not feel your question relevant? Do they just not have the time to answer? They've had the time to write back to other friends and maybe even upload photos onto the site.

They wouldn't have ignored you if you had asked the question in person. That's just plain rude.

Do social networking sites, which are supposed to bring people closer together, encourage rudeness, given the impersonal nature of such sites?

Given that you're snubbed on Facebook by a friend, what does that mean for your friendship with that person? If they can't make time to answer your question, maybe they're just not that into you, because your true friends will write back right away.

And what to do with those friends who are not that into you? Do you just not bother to make time for them. Certainly, you won't be asking them any more questions on Facebook, because it's no fun being ignored.

Bringing friendships into the virtual world is complicated.

Rude, much?

Today, I got the most insulting piece of spam. It said: "Loose weight, fatty," or something to that effect.

Now, I can see why it would be funny to call a million random strangers fat via e-mail, but it's also incredibly cruel. Weight is a very sensitive issue for a lot of people.

There were definitely some people crying this morning when they saw that e-mail. Ouch.

Reality TV

I'm one of those sad people who is a reality TV addict. And let me say, it takes some serious commitment to keep up with them all. That's why I'm thankful for VCRs. (I haven't caught up to the 21st century, which means I don't have a digital recorder. I wish).

Watching reality TV is tough, because you get attached to certain people and then they get the boot and you have to keep watching anyway... even if it means watching someone you totally hate take the prize. Like I said, it takes commitment.

The meaning of life.

I've been thinking about living life to the fullest lately and what that really means. To live a full life, do you have to live to the extreme--travel the world, sky dive, bungee jump, cure AIDS, and I don't know what else?

How much do we let fear rule our life and prevent us from following our dreams? How many artists are just hobbyists because they are scared to take the plunge into their craft professionally? "That's just not practical," some would say. How many people are government paper pushers, begrudgingly? For what, a large paycheck? Does money really mean anything if you're chained to a desk your whole life?

How am I holding myself back? That's the question I'm asking myself these days. What is it that I really want to do with my life?

The Real Environmentalists.

There is such a stigma against dumpster divers--the people who dig the pop cans and scrap metal out of back alley garbage bins. But these people are another one of society's unsung heroes.

Dumpster divers reuse and recycle for lazy people who can't be bothered. I think such lazy people should be paying the dumpster divers more than the 10 cents deposit for each bottle. It's a lot of work to sort through the trash to reduce the amount of waste someone else is sending to the dump.

On backwards and inside out...

"Only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty." - Sicilian Proverb

I once went a whole day wearing a shirt inside out, and it was on backwards. It was the kind of shirt where it would have been pretty obvious to anyone I met. Yet, no one, not even my friends, told me. When I got home and saw how I was dressed, I was completely embarrassed I had been out in public looking that way. (Sometimes, if I'm running late, I don't have time to look in the mirror before I step out the door).

According to the Sicilian proverb, does this mean I have no "real" friends?

A league of one's own

Have you ever seen the movie Shallow Hal?

It's about a superficial ugly man who only wants to date pretty women. Eventually, he learns that beauty is more than skin deep and falls in love with an obese woman because of her personality.

Sure, looks aren't everything, but I think this movie is saying more: that ugly people should date within their own league. To go after good looking people will only lead to rejection and disappointment. It shows good looking people as shallow and only able to love other good looking people. According to the movie, only ugly people have depth.

By trying to break down stereotypes, as this movie claims to do, it only enforced more stereotypes. The movie would have been more challenging to our societal views if Brad Pitt had the lead instead of Jack Black, I think.

Unforgettable poetry

I am reading an old Harper's Magazine from 1999. There's an article in it where five well-established American poets talk about poetry.

According to these poets, (Donald Hall, Cynthia Huntington, Paul Muldoon, Heather McHugh and Charles Simic) a poem is considered great if, once you are finished reading it, you want to go back and read it again.

A good poem should be disappointing, or deflect one's expectations, says Huntington.

"If a poem has no obvious destination, there's a chance that we'll all be setting off on an interesting ride," said Muldoon.

"I think one of poetry's functions is not to give us what we want," said McHugh.

To me then, poetry is like Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There are so many unexpected plot twists in that show, and characters you least expect die.

The trick is to be able to think differently than your audience. Become a mind reader and anticipate their thoughts. It's tough.

Driving, Ms. K.A.

I didn't have a car until I was 24-years-old, which means I had to mooch a lot of rides.

I always figured when I finally did get a car, I would offer rides to any friend in need. But now that I have a car, I realize how annoying it can be to drive other passengers around.

People are inconsiderate. They leave garbage in my car--pop cans, used tissues and a number of other disgusting items. If my car were messy, maybe this would be allowable, since I likely wouldn't notice. But my car is ridiculously clean, so it actually drives me nuts.

To be polite, I keep my music turned off when I have a passenger, since I can appreciate that not everyone likes the Beastie Boys. However, some passengers feel the need to turn on my stereo, unasked, and then dig through my glove compartment, also unasked, and flip through my CDs and complain about my taste in music. I think this is outrageous.

I also hate it when people invite you somewhere and then expect you to drive. My rule is: if you invite someone, you drive. Agreeing to meet at a location is also acceptable. I hate it when I get invitations like this: "Are you going to the rock concert? If so, it would work really good for me if I could get a ride with you?" Way to make a person feel used.

Trends

“Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.” - Jack Kerouac

That's not funny.

There's a video going around of a toddler who runs on stage during a break dancing show.

Long story short, the break dancer accidentally kicks the child in the head while doing a back flip. The child is knocked unconscious as a result.

The message on the subject heading of the e-mail I got read "funny." At first, I wanted to laugh, but then I was like: "No, that's not actually funny. That's a real person that got hurt."

It's interesting that we, as a society, find accidents funny. Talk about adding insult to injury. So remember, the next time you slip on ice and break your wrist, you might end up as an Internet joke, thanks to some jerk with a camera.

Life is funny.

It's interesting where life takes us. What we never thought would happen to us in a million years sometimes randomly happens.

Like last year, I watched a few shows referring to the Napa Valley--Sideways and Sex and the City. Then, one day, I accidentally ended up there on an unplanned trip. (It's a long and uninteresting story).

Or I recently started watching The Amazing Race and then one day I inadvertently meet the show's host. (It's a long and uninteresting story).

Of course, there are bad things that you never thought would happen to you in a million years too, like when I did some damage to my car by hitting a water-filled pot hole. (It's a long and uninteresting story).

Life is funny.

Doom and gloom

"Like the frog swimming in water that starts to boil, drip by drip, we get used to it," said author Joy Kogawa about how Earth is dying without causing alarm to the human race.

I think we have the "can't happen to us" disease. Sure, there's global warming, but it won't wipe out the human race. We're invincible.

I'm sure the dinosaurs didn't see it coming either.

Knees

Occasionally you meet a guy who makes your knees weak. He distracts you with his presence. And you always have to watch him out of the corner of your eye.

He, of course, seems to take no interest in you at all.

I hate that.

The drunken cat.

I took my cat to get her teeth cleaned today.

Although she tends to get gingivitas, I sometimes wonder if getting her teeth cleaned is worth the trouble.

For one, animals don't have their teeth cleaned in the wild.

And two, after my cat's teeth cleaning, she is so doped up, it's unsettling. She stumbles around my apartment, bumping into furniture, before finally hiding under the bed. I feel bad for putting her through that.

Right now, I'm just waiting for my cat to return back to normal.

Thinking it out.

It’s always good to step back from your crushes for a brief moment.

Sometimes it turns out you don’t really like the person. It is just there have been so few options in your life lately that you’re practically ready to jump on any new eligible male who comes into your life, even if he is dull and boring or a total jerk. You can blind yourself to his flaws just so you can keep an open option for yourself, which is the only option you might have at the moment.

An awkward moment.

I was in the bathroom today (what are the odds?) when the woman in the stall next to me had her cellphone go off.

To my surprise, she answered it. From what I could gather, it was a business call from her boss.

The bathroom had one of those automatic flush toilets, so I was like should I get up and reveal to her boss her location? Would that be considered poor bathroom/cellphone etiquette?

But when she started going through her agenda and scheduling meetings, I was like, I can't sit here forever. So I got up, let the toilet flush and blew her cover.

Grey Matter

Dating would be easier if you could keep things black and white. He forgets to call. It’s over. He says something inappropriate. It’s over.

If he doesn’t have a university education, you don’t go out with him. If he lives with his parents, you don’t go out with him.

If it were that easy, there would be no emotional messes.

But then again, you probably would never go out with anyone. And if you did, your relationship wouldn’t last a month.

There needs to be room for exceptions and forgiveness—the shades of grey.

But it’s the shades of grey that bring the heartache.

I spy . . .

I am really amused by the fact that the U.S. Defense Department thought Canadian "poppy" quarters contained radio frequency transmitters. (You know which quarter I'm talking about--the Remembrance Day commemorative one with the red poppy in the middle).

I can just imagine the American military contractors looking down, with horror and excitement, at the quarter staring up at them from where they found it, in the cup holder of their rental car. Finally, it was their childhood spy fantasy coming true.

Their discovery sparked a false espionage warning. Damn Canadians and our funny money. Serves us right for making commemorative quarters.

And p.s., this is why investigative journalism is important. It brings us important stories like this one. Good work Associated Press.

A little crush...

Do you ever have those crushes you shouldn't have?

Like the person is a total geek, but for some odd reason you are strangely attracted to them?

Or the person is a total jerk . . .

Sometimes our hormones go against our nature.

mySpace and Facebook

At the urging of some friends, I decided to finally set up a Facebook account and mySpace account.

It's amazing who is on those sites and who isn't. There are people you want to find, but aren't there, and those you haven't talked to in 15 years. And if you haven't talked to someone in years, it's like should you really invite them to be your friend.

There's no need to go to my 1o-year high school reunion now. I think I just went. Wow. What a time killer these sites can be.

Visit me at mySpace here.

Tough love.

Can we ever begin to really understand love?

The ancient Greeks had four different words that meant love.

"Eros" was one of those words. It refers to erotic, sexual love.

"Storge" refers to family love, like the love between a parent and child, or perhaps between a husband or wife.

"Philia" is the third word for love. It speaks of a brotherly affection that one might have while in a deep friendship or partnership.

"Agape" is a love that loves without changing. It is a self-giving love that gives without expecting repayment. It is a love so great that it can be given to the undesirable. It is love that loves even when rejected. Agape love gives because it wants to.

So perhaps, when it comes to our so called soul mate, we will love them in all four of these ways. And if we don't, then maybe they are not our soul mate.

Bad Timing

Have you ever had a crush on a guy? You hung out with him many times. You did everything you could to show him that you were into him.

It was like you were dating him, except he didn't know it.

And then you gave up and moved on. Disgruntled towards him, you decided you dislike him. You now despise his habits you thought were so cute. He gets on your nerves. You break up with him in your head.

Then, finally, he decides to like you. But you've decided you don't like him at all. You wouldn't date him now. His very presence makes you ill.

A case of the blahs.

Is there a certain point that you just give up on finding love?

Does it ever feel like in a sea of men there are none that are really that interesting? There is no one out there you can form a real connection with.

Perhaps finding love is like finding a needle in a haystack - a task that some would consider near impossible.

So do you give up? Some would say never.

Marry me.

Once women get into their late 20s the pressure to marry begins to increase.

A girl's grandparents, if still alive, will complain that they'll never have great grandchildren. They ask the priest to say a special prayer during mass for their single granddaughter.

A single girl will start hearing crazy cat lady jokes from her friends . . .

Even today, when a woman is capable of supporting herself, there is still a lot of pressure for a girl to get married. And if she can do it before she is 30, the pressure's off.

If she makes it to 50 with no ring, all bets are likely off.

Puzzling Poems

Poetry is like a crossword puzzle without the clues.

In a poem, every word must fit on a line and pull its own weight. One wrong word and the completed puzzle will be wrong.

Poetry is more challenging than a crossword puzzle, because you're using sound and trying to give words new meaning (sometimes anyway).

Revolting

"Nearly every thinking person nowadays is in revolt against something, because the craving of the individual is for further consciousness and because consciousness is expanding and is bursting through the moulds that have held it up to now." - Mabel Dodge Luhan

Proper Etiquette

If you're talking to a male co-worker who is blatantly staring at your chest and it's making you uncomfortable, how do you respond?

Do you say something?

Or do you cross your arms over your chest to not-so-discreetly say quit looking?

It's not a crime to look, or even blatantly stare. . . But girls do sometimes notice guys looking, and it can make us cringe, just a little, because it can be horribly inappropriate, such as in a work situation.

Socks N' Things

Everyone at karate is an exhibitionist, or at least that seems to be the trend lately. Both the men and the women change with the door open.

Apparently, it's not a big deal to anybody but me. Not even to the little kids, or their parents who pick them up. (Although, I heard some people were disturbed when one of the men demonstrated a side thrust kick naked in front of the change room door. Thankfully, I didn't see that, otherwise I would be blind right now).

As a result, at karate, I change in the bathroom alone with the door closed, because I don't even like it if someone sees me changing my socks.

When did public nudity become acceptable? Did I go to sleep for 20 years and wake up to find that everyone has adapted a whole new set of social norms?

If karate starts to become like ancient wrestling, and is done in the buff, I think I'll have to take up something else.

A raw deal.

"Men get laid, but women get screwed." - Quentin Crisp

Celebrity Crushes

When we have no real prospects of our own, we turn to celebrity crushes to fill in the void.

Most of us, as Average Joes, would never stand a chance in hell with any celebrity, even if we stalked them to the end of the earth.

But still fantasies about celebrities help fill in the void when life gets desperate.

Tired Excuse

I am not a fan of people who cancel plans under the "I'm too tired" excuse.

Unless you're getting in on an all-night flight from London or you just ran a marathon, how tired could you possibly be?

To me, the "I'm too tired" excuse is basically someone trying to politely say: "I don't want to go for no good reason at all, other than I lack the enthusiasm to be at said activity." Or rather, they are saying: "I'd rather be doing anything else right now than hang out with you."

The "I'm too tired" exuse is a bit rude, I think.

Coatman says...

"Dating always has been similar to applying for a job: asking somebody out is the application, the first few dates are the interviews, and the early stages thereafter the internship. And, just like being in a job, if one does really, really well, eventually, one can become a partner." -Coatman, author of Celibacy and the Suburbs.

Looking for what exactly?

Can we really know what our ideal partner looks like before we meet them?

I bet most people are looking for someone who is intelligent, kind, witty, generous and attractive - whatever that means.

Beauty and intelligence are in the eyes of the beholder.

But what other characteristics beyond that are we looking for? Can we really know what we are looking for before we meet him or her?

Haven't you met someone who you really didn't think was that interesting or attractive, but then over time that person won you over?

Life is full of surprises.

We could all be like Charlotte York on Sex and the City. She ended up marrying the character Harry Goldenblatt.

Harry was the total opposite of what Charlotte desired. He was bald and chewed with his mouth open.

Charlotte started dating him because she knew she could let her guard down around Harry, since she would never fall for anybody like him.

Her initial relationship with him was about sex. And even then she was embarrassed about being with him.

Overtime Charlotte fell for him, although she kept denying her feelings for Harry, both to herself and her friends.

Charlotte kept using his hairy back and lack of social skills to justify not wanting to be with him, but deep down, her feelings grew every single time they got together.

Eventually she confessed her feelings for Harry after he told her he couldn't marry anyone who wasn't Jewish. Charlotte converted and the two were married.

The moral of the story is never say never.

Just because you think you know what you want doesn't mean you do.

Life is full of surprises.

Making Up

"No matter how much cats fight, there always seem to be plenty of kittens." - Abraham Lincoln

The same can be said for humans too.

Ruined Songs

Thanks to the TV show Arrested Development, I can't listen to the song "Final Countdown" without laughing.

Thanks to the movie Coneheads, I can't listen to the song "Tainted Love."

Such song associations make it very tough to get through fitness class when those are the songs playing. I'm sure my instructor thought I was crazy. That's right I'm that one in the corner who silently laughs to themselves for what appears to be no reason at all. I blame it on the music.

It's all in a day's work.

How far does your job carry you in the world of dating?

Do doctors have easier times finding dates than funeral directors?

Some people would find a funeral director just plain creepy. It wouldn't matter how nice a person the funeral director was.

There are a few male television reporters who think telling women what they do is a good pick-up line. "That's right baby. I'm on TV."

And many a woman likes a man in uniform, unless she has a criminal record, a problem with authority or political views opposing military operations.

Are we education snobs? Do high school drop outs have a tougher time in the dating world? Do people with more than one university degree have an easier time picking up?

How much of what we do for a living plays into who we date?

Personal Mount Everest

You don't really notice how many flights of stairs there are to a building until you have to carry something really heavy up them. Suddenly three flights of stairs becomes a lot. The stairs, then, can become an almost impossible climb.

Avoiding Johnny Appleseeds

There are countless men out there who would say flirting with women is like planting seeds.

Like a good farmer, a man doesn't just plant one seed fully expecting that one to survive all the bad weather and poor conditions of the land. Instead the man plants hundreds of seeds in hopes that a few will survive and flourish.

At the end of the growing season, the man will have several plants he can eat. And when those plants are all gone, he can plant some more seeds.

Well, women are not seeds.

I don't like being one of several woman a man is planting his interest in.

If a man is truly worthy of my respect, I should really be the only person he is interested in.

Because in the words of Saturday Night Live's Stuart Smalley: "I'm good enough, smart enough, and - doggone it - people like me!"

And if a guy can't see that, and wants to write me off as one of many generic seeds he is trying to plant, then good riddance.

I demand to stand on a pedestal because I am worth it.

But with such a demand like that I'm going to be single for a long, long while.

End Notes.

I've been thinking a lot about how people sign their e-mails and letters. "Sincerely," "best," "ciao," "cheers," "regards," "from," "love" are words that precede our names in correspondence.

"Ciao" and "cheers" sound friendly and informal.

"Regards" and "best" are formal and polite, at least to me. Although, most formal letters from lawyers write "sincerely," which to me implies an emotionally heartfelt letter that they sincerely meant, which is probably not the spirit in which they wrote their dry formal letter.

"Love" is a loaded ending, because the person might then think you're in love with them if you use that one.

And "from" just seems cold.

Can you tell a lot about a person by how they sign a piece of correspondence?

What about "peace," "keep on rocking" and endings like that? Are these people trying too hard to be cool?

No time like the present...

"Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of." - Benjamin Franklin

I'm one of those people who is always ridiculously busy. There is rarely ever down time for me, as long as I have deadlines that keep pummeling towards me, I'm productive. I can get a lot done in a short period of time.

When I do have down time (or take down time) I feel like that time is squandered, because I am not getting anything done.

Am I turning into a workaholic?

I like living to deadlines though. I don't know that I would enjoy just sitting around.

Fashion Trends

I went to see David Usher recently. He was wearing a double-zip sweater, done up to reveal his navel.

Are midriff-revealing shirts for men coming back?

David's turning 41 this year. David, you're supposed to be a role model for men your age. Don't encourage men in their 40s to wear such shirts. Most of them can't pull the look off.

A few weeks later, I was in the grocery store, I saw a guy fashionably dressed, wearing butt-crack-revealing jeans, which were popular with the girls a year or two back.

Is androgyny going to be big again?

Are the 80s coming back? Really?

Forgetting...

Why is it, when someone does something stupid or wrong, we don't let them forget?

We think it's funny not to let them forget too.

For instance, ever since my karate instructor knocked out that kid's tooth, when sparring him, I'm like: "Careful, don't knock out my tooth."

Everyone else laughs, but my instructor says: "That's not funny."

In the air...

Spring is here, although you can't tell by all the snow being dumped on the Canadian prairies right now.

Last week, before the snow, every single member of my poetry group, coincidentally, brought a poem about some sort of dead animal. Death isn't often associated with spring. Usually spring is connected with new life, birth and rebirth. But leave it to writers to try to twist and challenge society's standard associations.

Poet gillian harding-russell writes: "Spring is an uncovering of old wounds."

If this is true, it's not that hard to connect spring with death. Although, death goes with any season.

Tasty Treats

I was feeding my cat some tartar-control snacks when I noticed that the side of the bag read: "Tasty Treats."

How was it decided that these treats were tasty?

Did someone taste the treats? Was the food given to a sample population of cats for testing? How did the cats provide feedback? They can't talk.

Was it assumed that because cats eat it that the food is good? I eat a lot of things put in front of me that I don't like, asparagus, for instance. I don't like it, but I eat it because I assume it's food. And because it's green, it must be good for me. Right? Maybe cats make the same assumption and eat something that tastes bad.

The Trap

Women used to, and still do, trap men into marriage with pregnancy. Since single parenthood and abortion have become more acceptable, this may be harder to do.

If you want to trap a man, find one who is struggling with his rent and literally move in. Once you start living with a boyfriend your relationship takes on a whole new "serious" tone. It will be harder for the guy to break up with you. Even if he wants to, he will be reluctant, because he knows he'll feel bad for throwing you out on the street. Besides, he needs your half of the rent to make ends meet.

I know more than one person stuck in an unhappy common law relationship because they got stuck in the rent trap. Now they're having trouble getting out. I also know people who are in unhappy marriages because of the pregnancy trap. Of course, some of those traps come with happy endings too.

If you think of a guy as something to be trapped or hunted, I think your relationship is off to an unhealthy start. Why are the words trapped and hunting used in dating speak? I think the fairy tale ideal of getting married and living happily ever after has reduced the idea of a significant other as a random animal to be caught and domesticated.

Flattery

I made an observation while out window shopping the other day: You know an outfit isn't going to be flattering on you if it makes a mannequin wearing it look fat.

What I'm saying is very few people, or mannequins, can wear an empress waist--which was a very popular style in Mark Twain's day--without looking fat and/or pregnant.

Understanding

I went to a panel discussion on racism today, which opened with this question, posed by a First Nations woman.

"How come First Nations people are called savages? We smoke a pipe and have the smoke carry our prayers to the creator. In Christianity, people eat a piece of bread representing the body of Christ, which sounds like cannibalism to me. Why aren't Christians called savages?"

I thought that was interesting, because anyone being called a savage would say their culture isn't being fully understood.

A lot of problems are caused by misunderstandings or the failure to at least try to understand. And, even if people do understand, they might not care about the other people's feelings or beliefs.

If people tried to truly understand where each other is coming from there might be less name calling and fighting.

When a speeding driver cuts me off, I try not to get angry, because what if that person is in a rush to get to the hospital or something. Of course, maybe if I did understand that they were actually just being a jerk then I might get angry and call them a nasty name.

Okay, understanding won't work either. Who am I kidding? There will always be name calling and worse, with or without understanding. That's just how the human race likes to do business on this complicated web we weave.

Rushed.

I hate those days when I leave the house in such a rush to get somewhere that I know I must have forgotten something. There is just no way I can leave the house fast without forgetting something.

Today, I even looked down to see if I remembered my pants, which I did. Thank God. Is it possible that I could actually forget my pants someday? I really hope not.

The Injury Report.

Today, at karate, this eight-year-old kid had a molar knocked loose by the instructor. And it was an adult tooth too. There was blood running out the side of the kid's mouth. It was pretty nasty.

All the instructor did was turn around and the kid, who was standing right behind him, took an elbow to the face. It was an accident. The kid will definitely need a trip to the dentist.

Karate can make you feel like an abused spouse or child. While getting a tooth knocked out, or even a bloody nose, is rare, bruises are common. When I first started and had sensitive forearms, I had to wear long sleeves to hide the ridiculous amount of bruises I was getting, just from blocking punches.

I bruise less now, but every now and again I still get some ugly bruises. Three weeks ago, at a provincial team training session, I had a bruise complete with blood blisters that ran from my elbow to my wrist. I had another large bruise on my stomach. I couldn't even tell you where the bruises came from. Obviously, I took some hits. I also had a large scratch under my arm, as well as some pinch marks, from some grappling we were doing.

I'm glad I'm not a wrestler, because I hear breaking the cartilage in your ears is a common injury in that sport. And the cartilage never heals right. You get what they call cauliflower ears.

Workshops

The dilemma I often face when going to a writing workshop is: "What work should I submit?"

Should I submit something good that might impress other writers? Or should I submit a horrible piece of writing that has been grating me and is in desperate need of workshopping?

I go with the latter. As a result, I'm sure there are a lot of writers I respect out there going: "Really? That girl's a published poet? Really? But did you just read what she submitted at that workshop? What a piece of crap!"

There can be no ego when it comes to battling your own worst nightmares . . . I mean poems.

The Unsung Hero

There are the obvious heroes in society--the police, fire fighters, the neighbour that pulls you out of your house in a fire...

I would add the tow truck driver to that list. Who else is going to come at 3 a.m. to rescue you after you've done something stupid, like hang your car up on a meridian?

Tow truck drivers risk their lives helping you in your stupid moments. I recently met one tow truck driver who got hit by a speeding car while trying to help another person out of a ditch. The tow truck driver flew through the air and landed on top of his tow truck, breaking his back. His nine year career as a hero ended. After three back surgeries, and two years of recovery, he now cleans used cars at a sales lot.

A few weeks ago, a submerged pot hole took my car out. Even though I know enough to drive through puddles slowly, my rim was bent and my tire was damaged. The tow truck driver who came to my rescue was able to assess the damage, which later saved me from being ripped off from the first mechanic where I took my car. That mechanic said my car was far more damaged than it actually was, in hopes of earning a few extra bucks from my stupidity. I got a second and third opinion and realized the tow truck driver was right and the first mechanic was a con.

Tow truck drivers, they're heroes. Because I'm not going to be able to pull you out of a ditch at 3 a.m., even if you offer me $80.

Life

"Life consists not in holding good cards, but in playing those you hold well." -Josh Billings

Terrifying.

They built a glass skywalk over the Grand Canyon. While I'm not typically afraid of heights, the thought of standing on a glass platform over the Canyon freaks me out.

Although, if given the chance, I would take the walk. Apparently, it's like floating on air, until the wind starts to blow and you have to grab onto the railing to steady your knees.

Get this. You only get access to the glass deck if you sign up for a $50 tour package. Steep.

Down with the sickness...

I've been really sick lately with a throat infection, which came with a fever. At my worst, I couldn't talk at all and my left eye was swollen shut. It was pretty disgusting. I'm only now starting to get better.

What I hate about being sick is that you have to vanish off the face of the earth. I've missed a week's worth of karate and I'm still not up to going again yet. Not unless, I want to risk having some sort of uncontrollable coughing fit or just plain out collapsing.

When I first started getting sick, it was pretty hard to slow down the momentum of my life. There was too much on the go. "It's just a soar throat. I'm fine," I said. But when people started telling me to go home, I had to pack it up. Now I'm just sitting and waiting for my body to give me the go ahead to resume my life.

Sickness is like an annoying house guest. It doesn't call in advance to let you know it's coming. At the very least, sickness could tell you when it plans to leave. But it keeps saying "just one more day."

Fatigue

You know you're tired when you almost fall asleep standing in a grocery store line up.

The asylum...

Do you ever feel like you've seen something that cannot possibly be real?

The other day, I saw a guy trying to clear the frost off his car windshield by blowing on it with his mouth.

No kidding.

And then the day after that, I saw a guy running down the street in minus 20 degrees Celsius weather with no shirt on.

I mentioned this to a friend of mine and he said he's seen all that before.

Really?

The straight and the curly of it.

There are two kinds of people in this world. Those with straight hair and those with curly hair.

I have curly hair. Up until very recently, my hair was very long. When it was wet and brushed straight, it was down to my butt. When dry and curly, it was more than midway down my back.

When curly hair starts to dry, the hair starts to curl more and shorten up, because the water isn't weighing the hair down anymore.

Most hairdressers have straight hair, so they don't get this concept.

So today, when I asked a hair dresser to cut my wet hair so it would hang two inches below my shoulder, it ended up hanging above my shoulder when it dried. Luckily, my hair looks okay. And, as a bonus, I'll spend significantly less time doing my hair in the morning.

Straight-haired people don't understand that really long thick curly hair can take up to an hour and a half to do in the morning. Most of that time is spent brushing it out. Today, it took two hair stylists 20 minutes to brush out my hair.

Now that my hair's short, it might take me 10 to 15 minutes to do my hair.

Straight-hair people don't understand that curly hair is a curse. I'm always told I have such beautiful curly hair, but people have no idea how much work goes into my hair.

Anyhow, the 11 inches of my "beautiful" curly locks that were cut off today are going to be donated to a wig maker.

The stylist just couldn't let my hair go to waste.

So weird.

The winner is...

I watched the Oscars for the first time in quite a while.

What made them enjoyable was the people who are overjoyed when they win. You know, the people who cry or jump up and down. It's nice to see people so genuinely thrilled, which can be a rare sight anywhere.

Back to the future...

Some predict that, in the future, computers will be smarter than humans, possibly within my lifetime.

Does this mean one day I can expect to be chased down by a Robert Patrick look-a-like, just because a computer nerd wants to live out some Terminator fantasy of his?

Damnit! This world is screwed up.

In scope...

A useful thought from my horoscope the other day . . .

"What others think of you is just a projection of what you think of you."

Buble Boy

I hate celebrities that whine publicly in an attempt to garner publicity, since any news is good news.

Recently, Michael Buble made headlines when he told Canadian Press he was going to boycott the Grammys because the award he was nominated nominated for -- best traditional pop album -- was not going to be given out during the live televised portion of the show. He also said Tony Bennett, who was nominated in the same category, was likely going to win, so there would be no point in going anyway.

Boo hoo Buble. Most musical artists aren't good enough, or don't have the sales, to be nominated for a Grammy, so quit whining.

Plus he said: "Red carpets suck . . . (People) don't know me. They don't want to talk to me."

Of course, people don't recognize you. You're a crooner and big band singer, plus you're Canadian. A lot of Americans aren't going to recognize you.

If you want to be recognized, join a boy band. Or you could just enjoy the privacy of being a lesser known celeb and shut up.

Buble decided to go to the Grammys in the end. The whole thing was probably a publicity stunt. But I say, if you're going to run your mouth, stand by your words.

Say when...

"My aunt would say, 'say when,' and of course, we never did. We don't say 'when' because there is something about the possibility of more, more tequila, more love, more anything, because more is better ."

Although . . .

"There's something to be said about the glass half full, about knowing when to say 'when.' I think it's a floating line, a barometer of need and desire. It's entirely up to the individual and depends on what's being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste, other times there is no such thing as enough. The glass is bottomless, and all we want is more." - Dr. Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy.

Ashes to Ashes.

Did you know when you die you can have your ashes painted into a picture?

You can have them embedded into a man-made ocean reef. You can have them put into jewelry and given to a loved one to wear.

Motorcycle Memorials provides a whole line of motorcycle fuel tank urns.

Some people like to have their remains packed into shotgun shells and given to a hunter, who will presumably shoot them into a deer.

Check out Funeria for urns shaped like a rocket and others shaped like a cigar. Talk about putting fun back into the funeral.

Remember folks, coffins are not called coffins anymore. They're vessels.

Weathering People.

There needs to be a weather forecast system for people.

One you could check before meeting up with someone. It would be nice to know if someone is going to be sunny and clear.

Storm warnings would be particularly helpful. That way no one could unexpectedly come in like a tornado, blow you over and be gone again, leaving you to clean up the disaster area.

Mind you, it's not always easy to predict the weather. Those dark clouds can sneak up from anywhere. It seems they can follow you.

Pain and Anger.

"There is no pain. Pain only exists if you allow it," says one of my karate instructors.

I agree completely.

Lately, I've gotten good at compartmentalizing both my physical and emotional pain.

It doesn't mean I don't feel. I just take a few deep breaths and let it go.

If you give into your pain, you run the risk of losing control.

I suppose the same is true with anger.

A crazy wacky world.

There are about 540,000 words in the English language, which is five times as many words as there were in Shakespeare's time, according to Richard Saul Wurman, author of Information Anxiety.

You can thank science and technology for this.

Wurman also says a week's worth of New York Times contains more information than someone in the 17th century was likely to come across in a lifetime.

In one year, an average person will read 3,000 notices and forms, read 100 newspapers and 36 magazines, watch 2,463 hours of television, listen to 730 hours of radio, talk on the telephone for 61 hours and read three books.

Add to that what you read on the Internet and it gets pretty crazy.

Purity and Beauty.

Albert Einstein wrote: “Mozart is of such purity and beauty that one feels he merely ‘found’ it–that it has always existed as part of the inner beauty of the universe waiting to be revealed.”

If only art were created that way.

If only we could stumble upon beauty or a sadness and turn it into art so easily.

I wonder how hard Mozart had to work to make his music seem so simple and transparent. Creating the illusion of simplicity often takes the most work of all.

When art is complex, it's easier for its creator to hide behind those complexities.

Dinged.

In life, always expect the unexpected--the annoyingly inconvenient type, not the happy good kind. (Expecting the happy goods, only leads to disappointment).

My car was backed into today by a monstrous SUV. It did some damage.

Luckily, the lady who did it was honest enough to go door knocking to find the owner of the vehicle (me).

I later spent an hour on the phone talking with an insurance person--most of that time was spent on hold, of course.

I now have to wait two weeks in order to have the damage assessed by an adjuster before I can take my car in to be repaired.

And I need to find a shop that does decent body work.

Damn the unexpected.

It's not easy being a fluff ball.

It's not easy being a cat with the whole hairball thing and all.

The other night I woke up to the sound of my cat retching. She was on my bed, so without thinking I pushed her off so she could throw up on the floor.

Afterwards I thought that wasn't very nice. I wouldn't like to be pushed off the bed if I were trying to throw up.

It's a good thing cats can land on their feet.

Shut-up and bring me my food!

I hate creepy middle-aged men who obnoxiously flirt with young waitresses like they have a chance.

Today, this loud-mouthed jerk, who was sitting between the kitchen and my table, kept trying to chat up the waitress while she was en route with my water, then my food and later the bill.

The guy probably delayed my meal by 30 minutes by grabbing the waitress and asking her a stupid 20 questions while she was trying to bring out my food. Questions like if she'd ever been to Mexico before. He had been.

I was ready to get up and punch the guy out for her, so I could get my food and eat it in peace.

Thanks a lot. Really.

I checked next week's forecast online.

I have an old friend coming in from out of town next week, and I was curious to see if the weather was going to be nice to him during his visit.

Well, there's a high of -4 degrees Celsius and a low of -22 degrees Celsius. That's pretty much the forecast for the whole week.

Basically, it's going to be kind of warm out or kind of cold out. It's good to know the weather could go either way. Though I already knew that before I checked the weather.

That's why meteorologists get paid the big bucks, folks.

Friendship

"The only way to have a friend is to be one." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friendships are a lot of work. It's very easy to get wrapped up in the here and now of your own life and lose touch with a friend.

And it's easy to assume that everyone already has their own life and isn't interested in hanging out with you, but you don't know until you ask.

According to Life's Little Instruction Calendar Volume XI: "The words, 'Would you like to join me for coffee?' can result in one of the greatest romances of all time." I would add to that friendships as well.

Premature

I am not a fan of toilets that flush automatically, mainly because of premature flushing.

If a toilet flushes while you are sitting down, instead of standing up, you end up getting a bidet experience.

Rest in Peace.

Why is it we get so attached to our favourite actors and the characters they play? It's not like we know them personally.

I've been watching the TV show Angel lately.

In typical Joss Whedon style, one of the main characters, Doyle, was killed off unexpectedly.

I was so upset, I almost cried. Whedon builds characters so well. I felt like I lost a friend.

Anyhow, Doyle was played by Glenn Quinn, probably better known for his role on Roseanne. He was Mark, Becky's husband.

Anyhow, like his character in Angel, Quinn killed himself. Except instead of a heroic act to save a group of immigrants, like in Angel, Quinn killed himself by overdosing on heroin at the age of 32.
When I found that out, I was even more depressed.

Whedon, by the way, got his start writing for Roseanne.

A new beginning...

Beginnings are always rough as you struggle to gain familiarity.

I've been doing karate for five or six years now. My intensity and skill have gone up significantly enough that last spring I was invited to train with the provincial team.

I was feeling pretty good about myself, because it was a long sought after dream of mine. Then I showed up at the first team practice and it was a nightmare. I couldn't keep up and I had my butt kicked by all the team veterans.

So finally I decided I was going to get into better shape, to at least keep up.

Cardio fitness and core muscle strength are important parts of karate. So this year, I signed up for aerobic classes and ball stability classes.

I've always said the more I train karate, the more I feel like a beginner. (There are only so many moves in karate, but there is always something new to learn about executing those moves.) But I forgot what it was like to be a real beginner.

On the first day of aerobics, which is basically an intense dance class, I was stumbling all over my feet. And the ball stability class . . . well, at one point, I fell off the ball, dropping my barbells.

When I started karate I was bad, a stumbling idiot. It took me a year and a half to really catch on.

And now, luckily, by the second aerobics class, the steps were a little easier.

Love/Hate

I hate food that has a smell that lingers on your clothes.

I just came back from having Indian Food. It tasted good, but, two hours later, the smell is starting to get to me.

I'll probably have to change my clothes.

Behind these walls...

Neighbouring apartment tenants are always interesting to listen to through the walls. It's not that you want to listen to them. It's just that apartment walls are so thin.

I used to live beside sadomasochists once. That was disturbing. I used to live beside a guy who talked to himself while playing video games, which was also disturbing.

Now I live beside someone who watches Friends around the clock. And my other neighbour has two-day long parties with all of his closest male friends.

What's my contribution to my apartment's noise pollution?

Well, lately, I like to sing James Blunt songs in falsetto, with or without the CD to accompany me. I'm sure my neighbours love me, especially since I can't sing.

On Sex and the City, they would call my singing "secret single behavior," an activity you engage in when no one else is around.

For me, I like to sing, but I'll never let anyone hear me do it. Well, hearing me through the walls is okay, as long as I don't know the people listening.

Living for the weekend...

Why do weeks with stat holidays in them drag?

You get a short work-week. It should go by quickly, but it never does.

Keeping it real.

Someone just e-mailed me these fine words of wisdom:

"People seem normal until you get to know them, so be brief with people."

Quiet Time.

After having to rescue a total stranger from a drug overdose last New Year's Eve, and having a party guest throw up in my washing machine two New Year's Eves ago, I decided it would be best to spend a quiet New Year's at home this year with my family.

I was in bed by 11:59 p.m. and enjoyed the moonlight pouring in from my bedroom window, as well as the sound of fireworks from some distant party down the street. That moment was probably the best New Year's Eve I've ever had.

New Year's Eve Party

I don't get the whole "drinking yourself stupid on New Year's Eve" thing.

Who wants to start the New Year off with a hangover?