New Articles

Just to keep you up to speed, if you are interested, here are two new articles I have written for The Link, one of Concordia's papers.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Random Act of Poetry?

D.D.O. Mayor Doesn't Want Competition

How to get over writer's block - according to me.

I am learning that someone who identifies themself as a writer must just write. I have heard it said before and just like other sensible things like "plan ahead" and "wake up early" folks like me don't really get why until we do it.

When writing is what satisfies and fulfills you it is the act that matters more than what it produces. I expect when you are getting a pay check in exchange for the final product the weight of importance shifts some but I think, really, it has to be for the act if it is going to stay satisfying.

It is easy to get caught up in what you want to write, what you think you should write and what others think you should or can write. That, in my opinion, is when writer's block begins - the moment when you are no longer writing to write. At that point you start editing before you even put down the first word. You are choosing what is good and bad before it has even been created.

I did a writer's workshop some time ago with an amazing Canadian writer, Ivan Coyote, and the message was just that - write; just write. Do it often and do it without editing anything until later because the writer's ... what would you call it? Mojo? Muse? It's a muscle that needs to be exercised and the only way to keep it agile is through regular use.

So, how do you fight writer's block? You write. You barf out all the debris that has been clogging the conduit and stretch that scribbler's limb and eventually you get to the place where you are executing wordy triple back flips and if you keep at it maybe someday levitating.

So for anyone out there who wishes they were writing but are not, the answer is very zen; let it all go and just write. The rest will follow.

Fate

Please visit this link.

For John, who dislikes travel and mingling in general.

Mother and Father, Bookends of Me

The branch bends away, always away.

My father is a stilt walker
and his father was a farmer.
My father uses reason as a weapon
and his father used corporal punishment.
My father works in the theater of the heart
and his father's hands were calloused most of his life.

My mother is a healer
and her mother used pills.
My mother meditates
and her mother slept.
My mother knows there is something bigger
and her mother never wondered.

It is stunning where we come from
and what we do with that.

The branch bends away, always away.

Good freinds shine like stars without knowing it

"...The Space Marauder comes in different shapes, sizes and sounds. Sometimes, she's 15 feet tall and walks along the street toward the grocery store to get some trail mix and some toilet paper. She ducks her head to avoid tree branches. You walk next to her and your head comes up to her knees. Residents slowly turn and stop conversations in mid-flow and gape. The Space Marauder smiles, nods to them and greets them with a friendly 'hello'. Her stride isn't too exaggerated but you have to take three steps to her one. After a block, you don't even notice the resident's stares. That's the effect of the Space Marauder. You feel calm and everything is the way it needs to be."

Excerpt from Sept 18th entry of The Age Of Raisin

Making note of ...

According to Monkey milk smells like clouds.

Courtesy Not So Common

I think perhaps we, as a society, are in need of a refresher in Miss Manners common courtesy etiquette. In all domains from traffic to chat rooms people seem to have forgotten that there are other people around them effected by what they do. We seem to have forgotten that anger and entitlement are not decent reactions to every day minor annoyances. Perhaps what we need is to have it spelled out for us in a concise list of appropriate behavior so we become more aware of what it is we do and why we keep getting those sour faces and rude replies. I would not be against it being taught in school for a generation or two.

Image found here.

Few things

There are few things I can think of more inviting than this.

Sigh.

The ability to deal

i warn you against falling prey to the “but it’s not like i imagined it” syndrome.

this actually applies to any and all art. it will be one way in your head. then it will look different on the canvas. you deal, you adjust, you change your head-picture, you adjust.

the ability to deal is the talent, not the perfection in your head. nobody will ever see the perfection in your head. sorry.

this is why some artists kill themselves.
—Amanda Palmer

To learn more about Amanda Palmer go to:
http://blog.amandapalmer.net/post/179940893/introducing-the-who-killed-amanda-palmer-dvd

This quote was found on this site: http://theanticraft.com/blog/

Home Made Bathroom Cleaner

This is a recipe I came across on a now canceled Canadian daytime talk show. The host was really into promoting green living; how to compost, eating local, reuse, recycle, be kind to the environment kind of stuff. At the time I was looking for some cleaning products that would address the concern I had about having a dog and a baby who would be constantly coming into contact with surfaces that I needed to clean ie; floors, table tops, windows, mirrors etc. This show had a on guy who demonstrated how to make your own bath and tile cleaner. Everything in this recipe is edible, maybe not tasty but not poison by any means. I realised that from that moment on every surface in my house had to be "lick test" worthy which is to say that if my baby licked it there was no possibility that what I had cleaned it with would make her sick. This cleaner works really well and I would never go back to store bought products. The other bonus of this recipe is that it is dirt cheap to make and you likely already have everything you need to make it in your house right now.

Equipment:
Large Bowl
Fork or Whisk
Measuring Cups
Tablespoon
Funnel
Empty Bottle (approx 500ml with a nozzle if possible)

Ingredients:
Baking Soda
Liquid Soap (I use Dr Bronner's Magic Soap which can be bought at most health food stores but any environmentally friendly, natural all purpose liquid soap will do. I don't suggest dish soap, shampoo or laundry soap as they all have additives that may leave a film)
Water
White Vinegar

Instructions:
Mix in a bowl
1 2/3 Cup Baking Soda
1/2 Cup Liquid Soap
Dilute with
1/2 Cup Water
Mix well.
Add
2 Tablespoons Vinegar
At this point there will be a lot of frothing and foaming due to the vinegar and baking soda combining. This is totally normal grade 3 science experiment stuff. Enjoy the show.
Make sure there are no lumps. If it is too thick add small amounts of water until you get the consistency you want. It should be thick but not a paste.
Use the funnel to pour the mixture into your empty bottle.

To Use:
Always shake well before using. Use just as you would any liquid bathroom cleaner. You can even use it to clean the toilet. It also works well on chrome fixtures. Rinse well after use. That's it, that easy.

In the bottle this cleaner will dry out slowly over time. Whether because the vinegar or the water or both evaporate I am not sure. If it does thicken or dry out it can still be used if you just add a bit of water and shake well. If the nozzle gets clogged simply unscrew it, wash the nozzle out and put it back on.

I hope you like this stuff as much as I do.

Haiku poetry contest!

Can't beat a poetry contest that caters to those of us with a short attention span.
This contest is linked to technology and the iPhone so if you have qualms with mixing art and microchips stay away but if you think that poetry should participate in the progress of technology go here. The contest will award one haiku the honor of being featured in an Ann Marie Fleming short animated movie. So another reason to participate is to support a Canadian woman film maker. If you haven't heard of her and want to know more about Ann Marie Fleming look at her bio and noodle around her site. Be sure to check out some of her movie clips.
The contest closes September 1rst so shake a leg people, start bangin' out pearls of wisdom and beauty!

You can't make this stuff up.

While My Dear was settling Monkey down for bed the other night they had the following conversation:

Daddy: You have to go to sleep, my little bear.
Monkey: I'm not your little bear.
Daddy: Oh no?
Monkey: No. I'm Mommy's ... and Mommy is mine.
Daddy: Well who do I belong to then?
Monkey: Uuuhm. Avis ...... and Bhyrn.

Avis and Bhyrn are friends of ours who come over for dinner sometimes. I must inform them of their new charge.

Notions of Grandeur

Click on image to enlarge.

Bath Day

When I was small, small enough that I needed a step to brush my teeth, had to stand on a chair to help with the dishes and was as tall as the kitchen counter, we made a chocolate birthday cake by melting chocolate bars in a pot for the icing. It was my grandfather's birthday. He was coming all the way from Vancouver to visit us.

I had a green chalkboard with the alphabet and numbers one through ten painted all along the top. As a welcome message I wrote a birthday greeting for his arrival. I wrote it all by myself and was proud of it.

"What's a ... bathday?" my brother asked.

"It's not bath day" I sneered. "It says happy birthday, Grandaddy."

My big brother, five and a half years older than me, now in sixth grade, his strawberry blonde hair darkening as it always did with the onset of winter, hugged his sides and honked with laughter. Growing red with rage I could now see the obviousness of my mistake. Bath day, how stupid.

Lactating has made me soft

I was talking with a friend today. This friend and I met in mechanics school. This is almost a decade ago now. At that time I was newly my own person and on a dream filled road to restoring vintage cars in my own garage in some back water town. That was the dream. Not for everyone to be sure but it fit me like a jumpsuit. At that time I shaved my head a lot and the biggest Italian guy in the school confessed to me during a smoke break that he was kinda afraid of me. I smoked back then too. I was still kind, still smart, still witty and sharp but I was perhaps sharper. I was willing to bathe my hands in toxic chemicals and endure crass sexist jokes. I reveled in dark bruises acquired through hard work and wanted to prove that I could hack it just as much as any guy.
My friend is still in the mechanics biz, in fact he has graduated to larger machines and diesel engines. Me, I left it all and eventually had a kid. After that I couldn't imagine putting myself in a toxic environment (literally, not the emotional kind) as that would mean bringing some of that home to my kid. I was not okay with that. So my tool box of impact sockets, torque wrenches, drum brake tools and the like stayed in the basement waiting for the unlikely day that I would for some reason need them.
So after two floods in our basement I was yet again drying off my unused, unloved tools and wondering why they were still in my life. As I was saying I was talking to my friend today and I asked him to come over and take what he wanted from my tool box. He said "you don't want them any more?" And I said that they were just taking up space and that I was never going to use them again. I jokingly told him that lactating had made me soft. We both laughed and agreed that that was just fine. In fact it's great. I wouldn't trade my life for anything

That time again

It's time again to think about winning whacks of cash and accolades for the letters you string together. CBC holds this contest every year and the prize includes getting published in En Route magazine, appearing on CBC radio and being handed a cheque of no less than $6000 for first prize. What have you got to loose? I mean really! They want short stories, poetry and creative non-fiction (I'm thinking of you, Voo). So go to the website and look it over then root through your bag of words and send your latest masterpiece! Here is the link.
CBC Literary Awards

Something you don't see every day

It's not every day you come across a call for poetry, prose and non-fiction submissions on the theme of "dinosaur porn." You read that right, my friend. I have been looking around for something interesting to post, something to do with submitting writing somewhere and boy... doesn't get more singular than this. Ferno House is based out of Toronto. Now, the call ends August 6th but don't dilly dally with your tales of prehistoric dalliances, people.

Salmon in the stream, all.

I spoke to my mother on my 36th birthday and she told me that she had experienced a sea-change in her 36th year. A great shift occurred in her life. She left journalism and teaching and began a long and fruitful career in alternative health medicine which she still enjoys doing. She reflected on how I was now going through my own big shift by going back to university and how ironic or fitting it was that I had chosen journalism without realizing the path I was following, the footsteps of my mother that I was walking in - in my own way.
There was a time when I would have screamed and pulled my own hair out rather than be compared to, mistaken for or in any way resemble my mother. Sounds strong to say, perhaps but we really did not get along for a long time and in many ways we are very different. As I get older however the less I mind being like her. Doing things that she has done and gravitating to places she has been. It is fitting in a "completing a circle" kind of way. The more mature I get the more I see my mother as a woman and a human being before seeing her as my mother. I have come to the conclusion that I am not my mother but I am my mother's daughter. And that is just fine with me.
It makes me curious about the road that Monkey will go on and how it will reflect the roads that the women in her family have walked before her. Will she be unlike any of us ever could have ever dreamed to be or will she follow the river we were all born in to the same ocean we all were drawn to? I expect it will be surprising measures of both. I look forward to finding out.

I'm in!

I'm in. I'm in. I'm in-I'm in-I'm in! I have just received my official acceptance into the Journalism program. (insert dance of joy here)
Yay!

A Gift From My Father

Almost ten years ago my father gave me a piece of paper with his "recipe for happiness" written on it. It was nothing fancy and there was no pomp in the giving. I found it years later in a box and only then realized just how sweet and loving a gift it was. I framed it and look at it from time to time. It always make me warm to read it. Here is what he wrote (in the original french and then translated).

Salut ma fille chérie,
"petite recette" de BONHEUR
1. Être disponible aux changements
2. Savoir équilibrer instinct et raison
3. Vivre l'instant présent
4. Cultiver un connaissance de soi,
des autres et de l'univers par une vision ouverte et perméable
5. Agir précisément et au bon moment
6. Savoir s'abandonner aux gens et aux evenements: faire confiance

Voila c'est tout ce que tu as besoin de t'inquiéter. Je t'aime
-----------------
Hello my dear daughter,
"a small recipe " for HAPPINESS
1. Be open to changes
2. Be able to balance instinct and reason
3. Live in the present moment
4. Cultivate knowledge of self,
of others and of the world through
an open and unrestricted perspective
5. Act precisely and at the right moment
6. Be able to give oneself to people and to events: trust

There is all you need concern yourself with. I love you