stella's gettin her groove back but the song keeps changing by the hour

holy cow, it's been awhile! just saw the date of my last entry and can't believe that over a month has passed. i suppose that's a good sign and that i've been doing more living than documenting.

i'm in a very strange place at the moment where i find myself on the verge of a life change where new options for the direction of my life are bubbling up to the surface and i feel like i need to listen to the voices of influence and do something to make a change. the difference this time is that the change in question is not necessarily about a job or a new fitness regime, it's about creative energy.

have seen some incredible films lately and a part of me really feels the urge to pick up a camera and start playing around or to put pen to paper and get a screenplay going. feel like i could be part of that world. understand it on some level. don't get me wrong, i don't fancy myself the next big thing in terms of directing it's just that i am so enamoured by people's life choices and how they deal with the bends in the road that i somehow want to add some of the stories i've heard over the course of my life to the mix. i guess part of it is that i love being in the company of people who have devoted themselve to the telling of the small stories. the unglamourous. the messy and complicated. love that the plight of a single individual who is not really "important" in terms of power or prowess is seen to be worthy of listening to and getting to know.

have also been feeling pulled to leave the classroom and explore another avenue of education. am suddenly more aware of the possibility to help shape ideology and practice within the field by participating in research and planning on a greater scale. have been encouraged and acknowledged by others as having the potential to be successful here but, until now, have felt unprepared to do so. now, after having heard about others around me dip their toes in these proverbial waters i am wondering if i haven't missed the boat for next year by accepting a classroom position.

am also feeling the need to develop my participation in the creation of ideas outside of work. am craving a yin to it's yang. have started reaching out to like minded friends and have found willing participants there. am starting to take this desire more seriously and feel like now's the time to really turn a whim into a regular practice.

incredible what a little sunshine can do. all of these things have only come to the surface since blue skies have returned. am convinced that there's a connection despite my lack of buy in to all things granola. whatever it is, i'm grateful for it. i needed to feel moved to do something more than i think i realized.

strength in numbers

have you ever noticed that when you focus on something that it suddenly pops up everywhere in your life? you know, like you read a book, decide you'll travel to a locale it mentions and suddenly every news story you see, every random conversation you have somehow comes back to that locale?

well, i've been thinking a lot about the life of those who live according to their ideals, who strive to make their life's work about something that means something to them. i've been comforted to find that i'm not alone in my struggles to find another way of carving a path for myself that feels right.

i've been incredibly inspired by the work of a crazy bulgarian (christo somebody, starts with a j and has f's in it..) and his socialite crazy parisienne wife who have mounted large scale art exhibitions across major cities like paris and new york. masterworks, a program on tvo has been airing documentaries about their struggles to stage an interactive art experience with no other goal than to bring pleasure to the people who interact with the space. they spend all of their own money, only have the work up for two weeks and hire local people to do all of the prep and take down work.

it's been amazing watching these kooky free spirits stand up against people like jacques chirac and go to town hall meetings with people who state that central park is a piece of art itself and to stage something there would be like painting over a renoir with a degas. so interesting to see the incredible resistance to pleasure for the sake of it. the suspicion toward these people who "must" have an alterior motive of some sort.

the first project was to wrap pont neuf (bridge in paris) in white silk. this one took several years to make happen. the second involved putting up hundreds of orange gates in central park which had orange fabric billowing out from under them. this project, proposed in 1979 was not approved until 2005! talk about perserverence! was incredible to see them get up each time they were shoved down by bad press, angry artists, unsympathetic mayors. the best part was watching all of the footage of people stopping to stare at the fabric as it moved in the breeze. the smiles, the serenity, the magical way it transformed the space in the dreary winter. it was so moving to see so many visibly moved by the experience. i wondered how christo and his wife kept their faith, marveled at how they could even have conceived of such a project in the first place.

then i went to a book club meeting focusing on the novel eat, pray, love where a woman quits her job to get her internal house in order, starting with a mission to teach herself how to allow herself to experience pleasure for the sake of it. again, this theme of stepping of the beaten path to listen to the part of you that can't fake it anymore.

a couple of friends also shared their reactions to into the wild. film about a young man who wants to face life on his own terms and literally goes into the wild alone to test his limits. while many who see the film feel that his is a story of misguided youth i saw it as a story told about a point of view that is seldom discussed, written about or mentioned in film. we don't really celebrate our dreamers and visionaries, those whose struggle is an intellectual/emotional one that doesn't always yield the kind of results we feel are to be examined.

personally, i also found myself itching to do something to satiate my own need for doing something that would 'fill me up' so i got together with a friend and painted for a few hours one evening. we were all calmed and rejuvinated by the experience, grateful for the process moreso than the product. all found ourselves eager to make opportunities to tap into that kind of experience more often.

to round out this recent flurry of experiences surrounding the celebration of ideas and idealists, i watched a friend's film that he'd prepared for his thesis. it spoke to the dangers of idealizing a past and how it can limit a future. he spoke openly about the burden of glorified ideals as well as their beauty. he documented his struggles to make things make sense, to find an authentic way to be in the world that wasn't marked by other people's fingerprints.

in all of these things i saw equal amounts of pleasure and pain. saw heartache, felt confusion and the messiness that comes with writing your own script. still, i am feeling a little more encouraged, a little more comfortable with the discomfort.

"my kid could paint that" -see it!

ohmigod!

not since capturing the friedman's have i walked out of a theatre and been so abuzz with ideas, emotions and reactions to a film.

once again, the documentary has proven to kick scripted film's ass in terms of drama and emotional investment.

as i was watching i was literally thinking on four different levels, constantly seeing things in a new light as the film progressed and another point of view was introduced. was so stirred and provoked that i wanted to talk to the screen, turn to my seatmate and break into discussion about a point that was made.

but i digress..here's the premise: a four year old girl whose dad's a low level manager at a freeto lay factory by night, amateur painter by day gives her a canvas to keep her occupied while he paints. She takes a liking to it and creates something a family friend thinks is great and wants to hang it up in his bar. people express interest in it, the family thinks it is hilarious and agree to sell it. a gallery owner (read shifty, insecure frustrated artist) sees the painting at the home of the person who bought it and wants to exhibit her work.

don't want to ruin it for you, but basically, people pick up on the story and a fascinating chain of events ensues.

among the concepts i found most interesting were: a) point of view of mom and dad. their fundamental differences in approaches to the hype become almost iconic by the end of the film. they are so pointedly representative of two social constructs that they start to seem constructed. i mean, you couldn't write it better if you tried. watching the documentarian ask the same question to the two separately effectively establishes these points of view and then, at a critical juncture of the film we finally see them together, asked a probing question at the same time. watching them react to each other on film, in the moment, was so intimate and telling that it felt painful. as an audience member you watched the penny drop in the subject's minds as it drops in yours. so powerful.

b)film as a comment on voice of women-(this one didnt even come across my radar until a scene where an older woman with poorly dyed orange hair and a pink gingham dress spent 12000 on a painting she didn't want.) as i watched, i started to notice that the women in the film all had strong instincts that drove the way that they made decisions and defined themselves. in all four cases -local journalist, mom, marla-the young painter, and the woman who reluctantly bought "ocean", the women had a clear sense of what it was that drew them to the art/story. as things became more complicated there was a moment where each overtly struggled with the course things were taking. each voiced her concerns and dis-ease in her own way. it was incredible to watch these people go from a place of assured contentment to a point where they denied their 'gut' instincts to appease the men in the film-dad, slimy art dealer, documentarian, husband of gingham dress woman...again, incredible to see it play out-materialism and pseudointellectualism on one side and integrity on the other.

c) proof of talent-this was a biggie. after having been immersed in the world of this family for a certain ( and i'm sure very thoughtfully plotted) amount of time, it was incredible as a viewer to find myself suddenly rethinking everything i'd seen based on one piece of 'evidence'. it took me by surprise and i actively fought the impulse to suddenly jump camps, shift loyalties. still, once revealed, the 'evidence' made a neutral movie going experience from that point on, impossible. it brought to mind bigger questions, of our fickle relationship with faith. of our competing desire to want to celebrate human achievement and unique self expression and our distrust of the unusual.

d)what is art? the biggest thing i took away from this aspect of the film was that it was the amateur artists themselves that made the most effective argument against the validity of the very art they make! watching these guys sell their souls for some artistic street cred was sad. no moral compass whatsoever. they were lost. made to seem all the more so in contrast to the women and their certitude.

most interesting was they way that one statement by a psychologist (not an art critic) turned the tide of public opinion in one fell swoop. to hear the opinion parroted across contexts was like watching a flu virus spread. people are so unsettled by abstract art that in order not to say the wrong thing in response to it, they cling to what an 'expert' says and claim their comment as their own, secure that, even if not popular, their stance is at least legitimate in some way.

was also great to see ridiculous way that people interviewing the four year old as a means to gage the authenticity of the true greatness of her work totally missed the point. at one point, the documentarian asked her how she knew when a painting was finished. ridiculous! she's four! when she can't give an answer she's not revealing the fact that she's not a true artist, she's being four! she's reacting the way most people do when they create something with no end goal in mind other than enjoyment. it blew my mind that her developmental age never seemed to factor into an explanation for a less than desired response to a "probing' question. we are seriously regressing on the critical thinking scale...find myself longing for real journalism, for the days of donahue...

e) documentarian as voice in film-while i am used to this technique with political pieces like sicko and supersize me,or when the subject of the film is family or is autobiographical in some sense, but hearing the reflections of the filmmaker during the film , breaking the fourth wall so to speak really added a new dimension. there's a moment where the lens that has been a source of comfort to the family being filmed becomes tainted. once the mom realizes she's been had the betrayal she feels is palpable and the guilt expressed by the documenatarian became my own, felt equally culpable for having gone along for the ride on his heels.

so, as you can see, it's pretty provocative stuff. hope haven't ruined it for you. do see it though, would love to hear what you think!

there are still some musicians in the music industry...who knew?

now, while i do love awards shows, i'm not usually motivated to write about them afterward. usually sharing the moment live with my favourite actor or some random underdog in the foreign film category, does the trick. but today, watching the tacky e! rundown of the best and worst dressed of the evening (i swear there was nothing else on!!) i was remided of how drama free the whole event was and how, for the first time in a long time, i was really entertained by the music.

as a musician of sorts myself, i was blown away by alicia keyes. the girl can sing! she's flawless. great intonation, phrasing...she's got an incredible musicality that's informed by a bunch of different genres, so intelligent. her delivery is incredible too. just mindblowing.

must say that i found myself a big fan of the foo. have always loved dave grohl. true rock and roll guy. gives'er every time. really takes me back to my hair thrashing high school days. nice to see him keeping the torch of rock alive.

while i love feist's musicianship and the way that she really plays with her voice like an instrument, i was a little disappointed that there's not more depth to it live. saw her on snl awhile ago and felt the same thing. was great to see her among the throng of performers though, as she really is doing something special.

loved the grobin and boccelli duet. made me long to sing italian again. something about singing that stuff that gives you a chance to channel sound in a way that no other genre can.

kanye's a great performer and is one of those guys who would have been a charming but annoying kid to teach. incredible that the same creative mind that can create great hooks and visual looks can write such crap as "you can be my black kate moss tonight"...love how he slammed fifty cent instead of thanking his mom in his speech. the guy has cajones the size of saturn.

also love the cirque beatles tribute. stunning. even if it did go on a bit long.

all in all was great to see music celebrated and performed by bona fide musicians.

good on ya!

walk down memory lane

whenever i've read anything about the structure of early native societies, i've always been interested in that person whose job it was to be the guardian of the tribes' lineage. that guy who could trace families for generations and could recount the causes for change and upset in the structure of the village.

i'm always impressed by people who have the unique ability to remember names, first and last. am stunned when someone tells a story and is able to include not only the year something happened (skill i lost when i was no longer able to mark years by the grade i was in...) but the season as well!! incredible!

i recently had occasion to spend some time with a "time tracker" in the form of my aunt. she's visiting from ireland. swapping stories one evening she proved to have an encyclopedic knowledge of not only our family's history in each of the regions in which it's taken root, but the histories of our neighbours and relatives thrice removed.

as she spoke, effortlessly weaving names and dates into anecdotes, i began to wonder what her secret was.

a bit of a backseat thriver myself i immediately speculated that, like me, she's always just had her feelers out wherever she's been, taking it all in, unnoticed. i wondered, did she collect these names and connections like i did images? did she write them down or make a mental map when she'd meet someone new, pencilling in a connective line from one to another already embedded in the web?

and how do these lines become etched? are they rehearsed over tea in a neighbour's kitchen when there's nothing on tv? is the information swapped like trading cards on a schoolyard?

women's work it seems. as the idea emerges, i take stock of my previous encounters of these "social web savants" and note that there's not a man in the bunch.

i think of my own trunkful of memories that serves as my coffee table. constant reminder of things past. ever present in my present.

when i question her about her abilities, she shrugs, confused. simply survival. would've been chastised and shut out by the local women if she weren't able to keep the connections straight. wouldn't be able to participate in the conversation if she couldn't keep up. when you're in a small irish town there are rules, scripts to follow.

guess it's like an organizing pattern, a tool , a schema you can use across situations to get yourself sorted, to put things in their place, to determine your place...

as she spoke i kept thinking that someone should write it all down, should film it. felt like hers was a knowledge that couldn't be constructed from paper at a later date by a less skilled hand. listening to her was like watching a skilled craftsman of a trade that few apprentice anymore.

i've lived in my building for five years and don't know a single neighbour by name. ours isn't a shared story anymore. my history isn't stored by those whose walls border mine, it's in cyberspace and digital cameras, happening in parallel with the person at the other end of the telephone line, or email or camera.

who will tell the street's story? where will the new lines be drawn?

don't know that i have answers for that one, don't know that it's necessarily something to be upset about (would be the first to bitch about being stifled by a community that had decided who i was before i opened my mouth..).

just know that i have a sense that i was in the presence of something more than just a storyteller.

these boots are made for more than walkin!

so it's thursday and thanks to some nasty salt damage and some fallen hems i ran out of pants for the week and had to wear a skirt to work. for those womanly women out there who wear tailored suits daily with cute fitted jackets and gorgeous heels this may seem an odd conundrum, but let me explain. as an elementary teacher my outfit on any given day has to take me from sitting in a rocking chair-where kids have a prime view up said skirt if not the proper length, to teaching a gym or dance class where i am required to cavort with the rest of them demonstrating a grand jetee or lying down and doing crunches, to supervising students at recess on yard duty. given these conditions i have to choose my outfits carefully and skirts usually only come out on non yard duty, non gym days, which is why this was a bit of an occasion for me.

but i digress...

so i am wearing a skirt. a black skirt. a black skirt and i only have comfy brown boots. which means that if i don't want to be shamed on the subway i have to wear my black boots. which is fine except that they're my "make my legs look long and my feet womanly" boots with high heels and pointed toes which are only meant to be worn for a couple of hours, tops. i decide to bite the bullet and pray that i can prolong the hobbling phase of the anticipated pain until noon where i can walk around in my socks for awhile until my students get back from lunch.

as i walk toward the subway my feet make that click clack sound and my girly shoes beget a girly walk and before i know it i feel fantastic. like i actually am one of those polished women i see and marvel at from time to time.

when the kids arrive they're full of compliments, "miss, i like your boots, yeah your skirt is nice too,"...so sweet. it's one of the things they don't tell you about in teacher's college, they notice every detail of your being. i cant work a new ring into rotation without it being noticed. i remember the first time i wore open toed shoes with painted nails i had to publicly address it and have everyone have a look because they were so distracted by looking at my toes that my lesson was going nowhere. so today i caught them staring at my feet while they were at the carpet, some of them reaching out to touch them at one point.

so i'm feelin good, havin a good day, knocked eight items off my to do list and decide that i am going to reopen my lavalife profile and see what's out there.

not two minutes in, while checking a message i received from a guy in atlanta addressed "hello dear"..(groan) i get an instant message "hello" from a guy in mississauga. now instant messaging kind of freaks me out. i don't mind the chat it's just that ending the chat is very awkward and sometimes i'm not ready for the sudden diversions in direction they sometimes take.

so i tell myself i'll just make conversation. period. just breezy and non committal, what the chill crowd calls fun! so i dive in and after asking me what i am doing mr. romantico (his name, not mine) replies that he's just chillin followed by the letters "oic" for about four of my other responses in the conversation.

while the text messaging lingo is making my language loving soul cringe, i overlook it and try to focus on the message...except that the message "oh, i see" is not giving me much to hang my hat on.

just as i am composing something sweet yet definitive to free myself of the awkward situation he types "so do you want to get together for a coffee or dinner?"

wha?!!!

so now i have to backspace my exit clause and think fast on my feet. i thank him for the offer but say that it may be a little too soon just yet....

he then asks a couple of questions about where i live in mississauga. clearly didn't read my profile.

i'm confused and stalling and then he asks if i have instant messenger and offers his address.

i'm clicking on his backstage pass to try to glean some more information about this kamakaze dater and before i know it, he's giving me his phone number!

i keep turning him down as gently as i can and am running out of diversionary tactics.

such a strange situation. most times i am waiting for a guy to make a move after drawn out get to know you random but safe questions and "lol"s and now i've got one who's ready to go, out of the gate. so complicated.

not sure what's worse, feeling a connection with someone who doesn't ask you out, or chatting with someone that isn't into knowing you, that does.

ah well, at least i tried.

damn boots are more powerful than i imagined!

reconnecting

one of the things i love best about my job is the fact that it affords me regular opportunities to take a break every few months in the form of holidays.

the first few days are always about running errands and slowly winding down. then, once i've had some me time where i'm not accountable to anyone but my couch i get to make dates with friends who i keep in touch with but rarely see in person.

so important to invest time in friendships, create new memories rather than rehash old ones. luckily, at this stage of my life i have the kind of friendships that allow me to step in and pick up where i left off. good people are good people and are who they are despite what the years or circumstance have thrown their way.

remembered this year through visits with friends that there's a depth of strength and fun and inspiration in these people that i've not really turned to enough. too busy, too tired to drag my ass out of my hood and my routine sometimes to take advantage of it.

it's been great seeing how we're all trying to make our way in the world the best that we can and that everyone's just as unsure about it all as i am. there's comfort in our collective struggle to live our lives meaningfully.

hard to believe another year's upon us. i'll be 35 in march. scary. so foreign. still get it wrong when i'm asked how old i am, don't identify with the number that represents me and my journey so far. feel about 26. feel like there's still so much to learn and do and be and experience. thought i'd be further along that mental list than i am but don't know what i would've had to give up in exchange for a different path.

that said my resolution for the year is to try to get my feet a little bit dirtier by getting out into the world beyond my cozy world even when i'm tired. going to try to build upon what i have instead of what i feel i lack. going to try to face the age that scares me to death with a brave face instead of a defeated one. going to try.

more raves about some recent faves

don't know if it's my catholic upbringing but i find that the whole ritual of threes creeps up in my life from time to time. most recently i've being going through a bit of a sad spell and have sought solace in three sources of entertainment, all of which have hit that emotional sweet spot i was looking for.

the first was my last entry about lars and the real girl (the part where he takes his new girl to his favourite spots and reveals his hidden talents...loved!). the second was re-watching eternal sunshine of a spotless mind. again, lost souls colliding with awkward and poignantly lovely results. the third is a novel given to me by a friend that she'd heard good things about-three day road.

the novel is about a couple of native men from Moose Factory and their experiences in world war one. apparently it's loosely based on a true story. the protagonist is a quiet guy who translates his hunting skills into being an incredible sniper. his counterfoil is a childhood friend with a flair for storytelling and killing the enemy. while both are side by side during decisive victories, only the louder of the two gets the credit. the pairing of the evils of war and the character's personal journeys are beautifully crafted and intimate. as an extrovert, i appreciate any opportunity i get to get into the mind of someone who feels deeply but says little. was also surprised by how much i loved all of the war related aspects of the story. have never really gravitated to war stories before.

so there you have it. three recommendations for those who like to dwell a little in their funks before they move on to the brighter side of life. also recommended for anyone who just enjoys good writing, be it on the screen or on the page.

lars is so real, you forget the girl

every year around this time i do a little research and start seeing all of the films that are receiving oscar and golden globe buzz. i figure if my entertainment chat shows are going to be referencing them all of the time, i need to know where i stand.

first on my list was lars and the real girl. i loved ryan gosling in half nelson and tried to get tickets for it at the film festival this year but was unsuccessful.

was pleased that the film lived up to my expectations that it would be muted and introspective. looks like it was filmed in southern ontario. immediately recognized the landscape and many of the extras. one of them lived in my residence at university!

ryan's character is incredibly complex. he's chosen to play him in a quiet way with quirks that aren't distracting. he doesn't speak much in the film but his eyes speak volumes. you can read the backstory he's developed in them, fill in the blanks of his silences on your own, so clear are his gestures.

the film speaks to loneliness and emotional neglect beautifully and honestly. it's absolutely heartbreaking to watch.

hope he's recognized this time around. can't imagine how draining it must have been to film. really seemed to embody the character fully.

go and see it if you can, just be prepared to sit with it emotionally a little while afterward!

art imitates life

don't you love it when there's nothing on tv and you flip throught the channels and land on something on a whim and it turns out to be the most riveting thing you've seen in months?

just got home and the office was a repeat so i turned to tvo thinking there might be a decent documentary on. i was rewarded in spades.

to my sheer delight, they were showing a film called forever which documented random people visiting pere lachaise cemetary in paris. having spent innumerable hours in cemetaries myself in my visits to paris i was instantly intrigued that mine was a common obsession.

the director would focus on a tombstone that someone was maintaining or stopping to visit and we would learn about their personal connection to the person whose tomb it was. it was fantastic! most were artists' tombs. it was incredible to see how a piece of art (song or painting or film or poem) touched people so deeply that they felt a need to come and honour the creator. amazing how a shared idea can bring people close, connect us in such a powerful way.

i loved hearing the stories, witnessing the reverence and value of ideas and of beauty. loved, too, the way that local women with no connection to the deceased made it their personal responsibility to maintain the graves. thank god there's a little bit of old school reverance still humming in our communities. such an important role to play.

am always struck by this when i go to paris. the historic coincides with the present. it has an equal place in the esthetic of the place. it's all around you, breathing still. am also perplexed by the two faces of the coin this inevitably reveals, the bloody past and the beautiful exteriors. how can a society that was merciless and murderous also produce exquisite objects of art? are the two intertwined by necessity?

as always, was mesmerized by the people in the film and their stories, equally as compelling as those of the people they held in such high esteem. so great to see the graves of the common man acknowledged and explored. found myself drawn to these tombs as well. the little ones hidden in the corners, names almost indiscernable. like the people in the film, my experience in the cemetaries of paris was peaceful and positive. rejuvinating even. felt more spiritually fulfilled there than i did sitting in either sacre coeur or notre dame. feel as though you are dwelling in the paris of your romantic imagination in a visceral way.

funny how something i thought was unique to me and my sensibility was directed back at me through another's lens. incredible to see such a private experience the subject of a film. can't help but feel like i've been winked at by a secret society of sorts.

variations on a far too popular theme...

and for a moment,

the breath went deep

and stirred

something

alive,

instantly animated and tinged with tingles

here was hope

a crazy cousin, sweeping through town on a bender.

she hummed and sang and unpacked a few things

ruffling a few feathers along the way.

"too loud", "too soon", cried the neighbours.

hadn't she received an invitation?

wrong again, apparently...

in the zone

i am many things but an enthusiastic housekeeper is not one of them. in my mind, weekends are for sleeping, not sweeping. after a crazily paced week where i am picking up after 29 ten year olds all day, the idea of coming home and rolling up my sleeves to give the floors a good scrub is just not one that lingers too long on the radar.

of course i do laundry bi-weekly (though i have stretched that time frame by buying some extra socks and undies on occasion...) and keep on top of dishes but the big stuff, the hands and knees, get into the corners and dust the knick knacks happens when i've created a situation where it would be socially unseemly not to have floors that you could eat off of. i call it, the christmas party.

it's the one time where people will literally be hanging out in every square inch of my apartment, where they may sit on the floor, where they will likely use the bathroom, where new found friends are getting their first glimpse of what my nest looks like.

aside from the cleaning factor, the party allows me to look forward to picking up a new piece or two for the apartment. gives me an excuse to change my bedding, to buy that curtain or serving bowl that i've had my eye on but couldn't possibly rationalize spending money on at any other time of the year.

having given myself carte blanche to indulge today rubbed off on all of my errands as i galivanted about town. in one store i found four christmas gifts that were perfectly suited to their recipients! everything i found was in my price range and matched my vision. very rewarding. hard to explain to someone who dreads shopping.it's like a zone that you can only tap into once in a blue moon. typically, the moment you get a sense of what you want or need it somehow magically disappears from the shelves.

all told i got six christmas presents, two curtains, two serving plates, fantastic decorations for my fireplace and half of the food for my party this weekend!

so thrilled was i by my retail successes that i rushed home and hung the curtains and three pictures i've been meaning to get around to, wrapped some gifts and put away the groceries.

and on a sunday no less!!

it's been a good day, this. a good day.

baby boom

ironic, my last entry was about death and this, about life...

don't know if it's me but there seems to be a baby boom going on. everyone around me seems to be sporting a baby on the hip. incredible to see my friends become mothers. to watch them find their way. amazing that despite the sleep deprivation not a one is snarky or crusty. not one has cloistered herself up in her bedroom.

once again i am awed by how amazing women are. how strong, how hard working. am so inspired by the open, let's just take it as it comes kind of attitude. amazing, too to see in the most concrete of concrete ways, that a living human being sprang from their loins. biology is truly incredible. so crazy that a piece of them will literally be walking the earth after they have passed on. pieces of their personalities and mannerisms will spring forth in another.

am encouraged by the role the men in their lives are also playing in this crazy ride. very hands on and openly affectionate. informed and involved they too have bonded with these micro versions of themselves.

am so not there yet. am tired for them. feel the weight of the responsibility whenever i am around them. see the way that time and energy almost dissolves in their presence. hope that i will be as strong, as brave some day.

lessons in loss

one of my student's parents died yesterday.

she's one of my best and brightest and is probably one of the most well adjusted people i have ever met. i look at her all the time and marvel at her abilities and the ease with which she navigates through her life, balancing it all incredibly well.

i was dumbstruck upon hearing the news. felt personal, felt the weight of it deep in my chest. understand why they call it shock. it is shocking to see someone one day and within a matter of hours know that their entire life has just drastically shifted direction.

literally felt the hand of some higher order being tear through the heavens and rip up the pathway by its foundations.

felt like i was suddenly living in a novel. this was the kind of thing that you read about. i was in the middle of witnessing a seminal moment in someone's life. one that would come up later in therapy, in her choice of mate, in that quiet part of herself that is herself.

it was insane. it was surreal. felt the intensity of the impact as though it were happening to me.

felt myself mourning the life i had imagined for her. found myself worrying that this might somehow thwart her confidence, her balance that has so inspired me.

of course these are my projections and fears. being the person she is i'm sure she'll do and be all of the things that she was meant to.

find myself gobsmacked by the randomness of it all. talk about a rug being slipped out from underneath you...how do you cope, how do you just keep on keeping on, as they say...

found myself welling up with tears throughout the day, thinking about how she'll likely take it in stride and soldier on, worrying that she won't allow herself the luxury of grieving, of unravelling for a little while ...again, projections...still, hope that i say the right thing, that i will be able to support her in a way that is somehow helpful.

so want to protect her somehow.

kids were great, let me cry my tears, shed a few of their own out of compassion. wrote some incredibly sensitive things in their cards. we shared our experiences of death with one another, our fears, regrets and sadness. felt comfortable and natural. hope i was able to help.

know that it's said you can't predict the future with any certainty but never truly believed it. this is my first real brush with some cold, cruel evidence.

grrr...

ever been so pissed at someone that you literally feel sick about it? kind of like acid reflux but more queasy than prickly?

had a confrontation with someone friday that had my blood boiling. he's got a bunch of his own crap going on that has spilled over into my life and threatens to jeopordize something that is, at the moment, the only thing keeping me going.

hate it when other people's agendas blindside you. hate it when something that was your safe place gets tainted. there are so few stress free things in my life that when drama rears its ugly head, i feel defeated in its presence.

to top it all off, the drama included this person's critique of my abilities. he didn't know who he was messing with. i haven't worked for twenty years to be told by someone having their own crisis that my sense of my own skills is somehow naively misinformed.

hate being condescended to more than anything else. hate not being taken seriously by guys with the same/less experience that think they know better.

hate that i saw through his passive aggressive bullshit and lecturing, and posturing and attempts to preserve his image as the good guy and let him have it straight up. hate that it was me that looked the bad guy for calling him out on his calmly presented crap.

what's with that anyway? not the first time i have met the 'want everyone to think i am good so i do my manipulating in a more muted, highly crafted way to disguise it' guy. i have so much more respect for someone who is who they are all the time.

anyhoo, blood's boiling again and know for a fact that i am the only one twisting here in the wind...

oh to be able to be pissed off and release it to the source without getting it splashed all over myself....one day...

kids say the darndest things

dont let the title fool you. what follows is not an account of a corny kiddy quote, the likes of which used to appear in reader's digest.

no, this is more of the where the hell did that come from variety.

i was teaching a grade four class music and was doing a preamble to a remembrance day song i had prepared.

since it's also holocaust awareness week, we're going to touch on it at our assembly on friday so i wanted to give them a bit of background so that it wouldn't catch them unawares.

so when i announce that in friday's assembly we will be addressing the holocaust a young girl smiles broadly and says yes!while making the arm pump movement that humble pro atheletes make after scoring a goal. i look at her, perplexed, and continue. so i go into a spiel about how a powerful, persuasive politician named hitler only wanted people that looked like him and believed what he believed to be part of his country and how he segregated those who he didn't like...blah, blah, blah, and as i am mentioning the groups that he persecuted the same girl pipes up, proudly "and black people too, right?" (her mom is black and dad is white and mom has her go around to classrooms to do black history month psa's all february long) when i told her no, she looked confused and deflated, suddenly losing interest.

oh multiculturalism, where have we gone? what a strange thread we have woven...

anyway so after that little detour i mention that we're also going to focus on the contributions of women during the first two world wars . i explain that while the men were away at war women had to keep the economy going and entered the workforce in large numbers for the first time, marking a significant change in the options that were available to them. from out of nowhere another girl puts up her hand and says that she saw a movie called edward scissorhands where all the women stayed at home to look after the kids and they all had the same houses and dressed the same.

it's precisely these tangents that keep things fresh for me. never know where an introduction to a song will lead you. i went in planning to teach a sombre verse about uniting for peace and ended up talking about how screenwriters and set designers will exaggerate aspects of the truth to make a point.

good times. good times.

hooray for halloween!

don't know about you but the older i get the more i grow to love halloween.

for the past six years or so i've looked forward to dressing up and shopping for a costume. my friends have started throwing parties and for the most part people have responded to the opportunity wholeheartedly.

so much fun to play! i've never been into makeup much but look to halloween as a chance to experiment with false eyelashes and outrageous colour. bought a hair extension to try out this year. love it! one of the benefits of being a girl.

i think it's the chance to glam it up (or ham it up) that i love. as a performer there's something i inherently connect to in playing dress up. love to allow myself to feel more confident in a pseudo self. to push that envelope to a place that my everyday self is just inches away from actually trying to pull off.

noticed that i'm not the only adult that's into the whole dress up phenomenon. was walking down bloor last week and found myself shoulder to shoulder with a sea of zombies. there was a scary film fest at the bloor cinema and the moviegoers were all decked out in their finest bloody trenchcoats. the get ups were really fantastic. the makeup was incredibly realistic and obviously well thought out. definitely not the result of a last minute glance at the closet to see what you could throw together.

there was a real pride in their gothed out faces as they marched down the street in droves. they really owned these alter egos and wore them comfortably. as geeky as i think it is, there's also a part of me that kind of respects the creativity they put into their gear.

guess suits are a sort of costume too when you think about it. just don't seem to notice it as much as such.

hope you give yourself permission to stretch your limits, even just a little, tomorrow. enjoy!

oliver love

how much do you love jamie oliver?

fantastic grin, cute little lisp and dishevelled little kid like locks.

since his first show as a young pup whipping together recipes for his mates before riding off on his moped i've been hooked. have followed him on his journey from school dinners to creating his own restaurant, to giving down on their luck kids their own restaurant.

he's a visionary fuelled by passion, committed to change, and undefeated by obstacles. am constantly amazed at the way that he repeatedly makes time for those who have let him down. rolls up his sleeves when things run off the rails.

love the patience, the reverence for those he admires, his thirst for knowledge and respect for those who he feels he has something to learn from.

as an idealist myself it's comforting to see someone finding a way to make it work. it can be done.

girl interrupting

played my regular friday night gig last night and had an odd visitor.

we're in the west, queen west neighbourhood which is a true mix of the uberhip and those living on the proverbial edge. as a result we sometimes find ourselves in some rather bizarre situations where the clientele does a little more than smile and nod when showing their appreciation for the music.

we were about two hours into our set and the table of rocker chick lesbians directly next to us seemed to be having a wonderful time. couples on first dates and a huge party at the back that were celebrating a birthday were enjoying one another's company and clapping intermittently when one of our tunes really hit the sweet spot.

then a woman in her early thirites came in. she entered the restaurant determinedly and chose a spot one table away from where we were. she put down her back pack and looked in the mirror on the wall beside her, fluffing her weave, on its last legs from what i could see quite vigorously. all seemed fine at first. then, when she got her glass of wine, we saw that she was having words with one of the waiters who then sent for his mom, the owner. her actions became more animated and she started searching through items in her bag. she then got up and started wandering around, randomly striking up conversations with people as though she were at a cocktail party. people looked at her strangely but she was undeterred. she wobbled a bit as she wove through the tables and eventually made her way to my chair, just next to us.

she was directly in my line of sight as i sang a slow and sad number called "i'm a fool to want you". it's a moody piece that usually gets people's attention and quiets the chatter. at first, this woman closed her eyes and swayed a bit as i sang. a smile spread across her lips and she threw her head back bursting into a fit of laughter that came straight from her belly. her shoulders were shaking and she covered her mouth as she laughed, having the time of her life.

we stared at one another with one of those "what the hell is this one on" kind of expressions. since i've been with the band we've had more than one brush with craziness. a couple of months ago a guy walked in off the street from the patio doors and plunked himself down at the piano while we were in the middle of a tune and started to play, only to get up and leave a couple of bars later mumbling that he wasn't as good as we were. a while before that a woman, drunk and ornery and convinced she was a diva got up and pushed me out of the way while i was singing,she was endearing at first but i really had to strongarm my way back in once her efforts had simply become embarassing.

shortly after her laugh attack, our hair flicking social butterfly started swatting in the air at insects that weren't there. so it was drugs, then we said to ourselves. after trying to high five me with her pinky at one point, she then tried to get out the side door where our trumpet player stood to get to the waiter she'd been following around the restaurant. she almost knocked over a chair and practically fell into the door. so sad.

after a trip to the washroom she abruptly left the restaurant and the owner put her belongings outside.

tragic.

was a really attractive woman too.

strange how her presence made the atmosphere prickly. how her energy was like a glow that buzzed around making everything else in its wake seem eerily still. no one knew where to look. we were sharing a space physically but were living parallel rather than intertwined moments together.

uncomfortable to see someone's pain and unravelling so up close and personal. was like a collective holding of the breath.

when she was gone the energy redistributed itself again and before long it felt as though she had never been there. as though the incident had already woven itself into a memory, into the compendium of crazy nights we've accumulated along the way.

wonder which parts of the evening she will remember. wonder what brought her to us of all places.

must have been the music. so powerful. immediately connects the disconnected.

a snub, a quest and a step into a parallel universe

my hair was at that still looks ok but is kind of scraggly near the ends phase so i decided to take the afternoon and stumble upon a salon i'd never been to before and get it cut.

normally a haircut wouldn't be fodder for an aimless adventure but a recent negative experience at my ol' faithful, house of lords, caused me to taste what was out there before i'd line their wallets with my hard earned cash again.

essentially, i walked in for a cut, which usually takes about twenty miutes tops because they have so many staff there, and waited for an hour and ten minutes. why wait so long you ask? well, the place was busy and there were about five people there when i arrived. i really wanted the cut so i was willing to wait forty minutes if necessary. in between magazine articles, i'd glance up to see how things were progressing and for the first little while things went as i had predicted. familiar faces of those who arrived before me were served in sequence.

then, walk ins from the street started getting served.

i caught the eye of the apathetic, gum chewing, magazine page turning receptionist and made a "what the fuck?" kind of gesture at her. she blew me off. i let it go because one walk in was a family of young boys. i figured they got in cause they'd be a nuisance if they waited too long and that boy hair was faster to cut than girl hair and better to use up one stylist for a family than a whole row...

when the third walk in (and 8th person in the room by the way)was served and seen by the stylist i normally go to, i approached the desk. am i even on your list? i asked. that guy was just served cause he had a request for someone specific, she replied. so you mean you let me sit here for an hour because i didn't ask for someone specific? how many more people were you going to let past? i demanded. she rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders and stared down at her appointment book, sipping a slurpee. i was furious. nice, i said staring at her, my words venemous, nice. i then walked out vowing never to return.

now, while boycotting the place feels like the just thing to do, it also put me in a situation where i'd have to pay a bit more as a consequence. it's tough to find a place where a long haired gal such as myself can get her locked shampooed, cut and lovingly blown dry for thirty two bucks.

i decided i would look at it in a positive light and take it as an opportunity to treat myself. i've been working really hard and could use some pampering. i told myself i would be willing to spend sixty bucks, tip included. so i went to queen street and started walking. went to civello thinking it'd be perfect. i hear they even massage your hands while your hair is being cut. loved the smell of the place, too. sorry, said the chic looking greeter, we're all booked up today. undaunted i turned back about a block to a small place my sister had been to before and said she'd liked. all three stylisits were busy but one, gorgeous young asian girl with peroxided hair that looked gray with black roots told me that if i was willing to wait a little while her top stylist would be available. his fee,one hundred dollars. yeah, not so much.

so i continued down the street toward john. a couple of years ago i had an up do done for a friend's wedding at a salon on the second floor of the starbucks building. before i crossed the street i looked upward and discovered the salon had been taken over by an internet cafe. foiled again! seems to be happening a lot on queen. its character has completely transformed and new businesses that aren't chains really seem to be struggling to stay afloat.

out of luck or leads, i made my way to a streetcar stop near spadina. thought i would go to a place i remember seeing just before trinity bellwoods park that has a mork from ork kind of chair in the window. one of those tres chic places with no name on the front and a white shag rug in the interior.

as i was standing on the platform i looked at a sign directly across the street for cooney hair design. was a cool looking cut on the sign and from the street the second floor salon area looked chic so i thought i would check it out. better to try this than go further west and be told it'd be a million dollars again.

as i mounted the stairs i wondered if it was open, could barely hear a sound. as i entered the salon, a sea of asian faces greeted me. this is remarkable not only because i am a white woman and am not used to being in a minority, but because toronto is so diverse that it is unusual to be in a room with only one kind of ethnicity represented. they seemed as shocked to see me as i was them but after the initial hang in the air moment passed, i was told that i could get a wash,cut and dry for forty five dollars. sold.

a young, hip guy approached and indicated that i sit down. i told him what i wanted and he just nodded. then he held up a chunk and motioned that he wanted to do something to it. realized he didn't speak english but loved his style so just gave him the go ahead and hoped for the best. was strange. so much of the hairdresser experience is about the small talk that i felt a little awkward without it. the other clients, also asian, were silent as well. thankfully there was a beatles album piping through the speakers to distract me. the room itself was open and clean feeling with black and white photos of asian models in large frames cast against bright yellow walls.

was a great people watching opportunity. loved the personal stamp everyone seemed to have put into their outfits. there were cowboy boots, sequined shirts, layered looks and luis vuitton bags. marveled at the level of artistry involved and wondered if it was a cultural thing. arts are hugely supported and practised in many asian countries. wondered if this was the link. then wondered if was being ridiculous. wondered if most people just walked around in what was comfy and available like the average canadian. these are probably a sampling of cool elite that exists in any culture. they did leave their home country after all, doesn't that already suggest a certain kind of personality and income level...

was so happy to be finally getting my hair tended to and to be surrounded by so much style, i let him cut off more than my usual two inches. felt liberated, carefree (it's all relative :) ) . amazing how the world opens up and new possibilities emerge when you are relaxed and comfortable and being pampered.

long story short, i like my hair and am glad that fate prolonged the experience enough to let me land in an interesting spot to have a transformation made.