Category Archives: life

time staggers on

I’m standing at a cross walk waiting for the light to turn green. A double-decker bus races past. I catch my reflection in the window.

How has it been four years.

I look taller.



Less sad eyes.

Yet more reasons to be sad. How does that work?

The light turns green. I walk quickly into the underground. The dust of the day hits my face, I slide my card across the sensor, as though I’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe that’s why people always ask me for directions – I look like I know where I’m headed.

I hop on the train after descending the 78 steps to the platform. My stop comes quickly and before I know it I’m climbing the steps back up to the light.

She’s waiting for me at the cafe. If we were to press rewind, it would have been the other way around. She is early. This makes me smile.

Bear hugs are exchanged.

Five minutes into our walk to the pub, she exclaims, “It doesn’t feel like any time has passed!”

I know.

Yet, it has.

Not in her or I’s connection, but in that reflection I saw in the bus window.

It showcases itself in the tiny details.

I can keep my eyes happy, even if I’m sad, as my heart itself knows happiness. This has only come through the comfort of being truly loved.

I know I’m worth it, and I didn’t know this before.

I know it’s not my fault for things beyond my control.

And in the million other different ways he changed me.


Today you learned?


Filed under honeybees, life, london, love


The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.

~Excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit


This was a great film. You should watch it.


Filed under films, life

straight from the airport, cut through the customs line

I’m alive.

No more bruised than usual.

Don’t you hate it when real life gets in the way of blogging. Geez. Alas, I’m here, just been feeling ill lately. In addition to what happened in Vancouver that is.

Much like how things took hold of me in December, although it happened in reverse order this time. Started when I went to see Super 8 last Saturday, the camera motion did not agree with me; enter projectile vomiting. I really must stop being ill in public places, eh? The nausea was just a catalyst for the migraine and dizziness to set back in. Couldn’t have picked a worse week (or best?) I had specialist appointments with my Neurologist, followed by an afternoon long diagnostic test, or tests rather, to deal with the inner ear problems. I felt as though I was in an episode of House mixed in with a few hours in Dr. Bishops’ lab on Fringe. Electrodes placed everywhere! Odd goggles and hot water shot into my ears for various intervals. During which I could not close my eyes, because the purpose was to measure my eye movement during these induced dizzy spells. That my friends, was hard.

I doubt very much I’ll hear back about the tests anytime soon. However, on the migraine front they have one more drug to try on me, and then the next alternative…botox. Apparently this is a common treatment for migraines. Did you know this? I didn’t. I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect, and still have a lot of questions, but if I don’t try that the next alternative is really more invasive. With the botox they’d inject a non cosmetic dose into the base of my neck, and then the temples and across the brow. My biggest concern is still being able to do “blue steel” – so we’ll see.

Still those are not the main reasons for my lack of posting.

I have been putting in a lot more time on Skype these days with the parentals. My mom has recently been diagnosed with a condition that has forced her into early retirement, and shortly will have to undergo spinal surgery, which will very much impact the quality of her life; for the better or worse is yet to be determined. She is still a bit uncertain about the surgery, as along with the risks, it’s not a permanent solution. Right now she has no feeling, and only slight mobility on her right side, and this is just the start. Basically, her spinal column is narrowing and the nerve endings are getting cut off. It’s as painful as it sounds.

So that’s where my head has been lately; worrying about her and wishing there was something more I could do.

Since there’s not, here’s a funny picture. Couldn’t think of a song.


Filed under life

today i loved…

the sound of leaves crunching under my feet

dancing in the kitchen, listening to s.cooke whilst baking

finding a honey crisp apple the size of two of my fists together

hearing random whistling in the market from strangers

neon felt

valencia peanut butter on rye crackers

that my decision to move flats was the right one

a conversation that lasted into the early hours of the morning with an old friend. pondering life is much more fun with someone who calls you on your shit, but who also lets you dream

lately…you’ve loved?


Filed under friends, honeybees, life

all the people going places, smiling with electric faces. what they find the glow erases, what they lose the glow replaces, and life is love.

I heard about Alex Chilton’s death yesterday from my dad via email.

I was shocked, he was gutted. Rightfully so, Chilton left a huge mark on music and will be missed greatly.

I’ve been listening to The Box Tops and Big Star from the womb, my earliest memories are dancing on the shag carpet in the living room to my parents record collection.

I think what’s hitting me most about this one, is that it’s racked my parents, too. I know when my dad gets wispy over the phone that its a big deal. I remember visiting Memphis when I was a teen, and him being positively giddy over all the music history. I hope to pass along as much enthusiasm to my offspring one day.

Perhaps because I’m getting older, or had a rough year of my own loved ones passing away, but I feel like this past year (in music especially) everyone is dying, and so young.

RIP Mr. Chilton.


Filed under honeybees, life, music

if you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered

Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourite writers. He is one of the only authors whose catalogue of work I have read in its entirety, and one of the only ones I often keep going back to.

I fast-tracked most of my English courses (and some Fine Art) while in high school. Meaning I took everything a year, to a year and a half ahead of the rest of my grade. I did this because I wanted to fit in as many arts courses as possible, and my school had advanced English and creative writing. English was mandatory, creative writing was an elective. So while my others opted for free periods, I spent my time in class or at the library studying Poe, Goethe and Blake. A time-turner really would have come in handy, considering I was also working 24 hours a week at this time as a coffee wench.

There were times when I hated being the youngest one in the class, but I also loved it, even though I did come up against some resistance from a few teachers along the way who thought I was “too young for the material.” I remember specifically getting into an argument with my grade eleven teacher who thought I was too young to understand Macbeth (then I would have been just 16). She never truly elaborated on her reasoning, I remember a lot of “because” in the conversation. As punishment for me talking back to her, I had to write an extra essay on the different types of tragedy in Macbeth or something of that nature. I remember her comment on the paper was so flippant and along the lines of “Best of luck with Hamlet”, which was the Shakespeare play on the grade twelve reading list.

I never understood the “too young for the material” remark, as I’m a firm believer one is never too young for anything if the subject is explained properly, and questions are allowed. Do I think you may have a different understanding reading something at 15 then you do at say 25, 40 or 50, etc? Sure. But that doesn’t mean the first time you read it means anything less than the last. If anything it provides more layers.

I digress. Back to Poe.

I first read Poe at the start of high school, and every time I have read his work since I’m finding new things, catching new references and still having that feeling I did the first time I read anything by him – a bit of awe mixed with sadness.

It’s the 201st anniversary of his birth today, and I wish there were more clips on the web besides The Raven. Alas…

And speaking of literary greats…thought this was rather interesting.


Filed under life, literature, poetry

wild card inside

“You’ve changed…you’re so much more mellow, softer? I know it’s you, but I just can’t believe these things are coming out of your mouth.”

This past week through catch-ups over tea, and long distance phone calls with three good friends that sentence above was something I kept hearing, over and over. These are people who have known me for years and years, and have seen me through many different stages and changes in life, so what was so perplexing to them now?

I’d have to say the most hilarious repeated phrase this week was:

“I guess I’ve been used to seeing you so jaded for so long, it’s weird to see the difference. It’s wonderful…just different.”

My response to all of that of course was laughter and listing the points where I haven’t changed. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder, have I really changed that much? Perhaps my hard outer shell has soften, but I think it’s been for the better. I’m still a jolly cynic, these days just more jolly than cynical.

Perhaps it’s because I have been listening to ‘pop’ radio again on my drives into the city?

Yeah, we’ll say it’s that.


Filed under choices, friends, life