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Muddling Through

I’m not even sure how to begin the first paragraph of this blog post. My mind seems to be in a million places these days, not to mention the last few weeks of my life have been odd, a puzzle, confusing and stressful.  In a mad mix of trying to fix my personal life, trying to get my professional life back on track, things have been well, a box of a 1000 puzzle pieces scattered all over the place.  Over the weekend I have started putting pieces back together and in the process have been also putting my mental 1000 piece puzzle back together.  Needless to say, I feel like all I’ve been doing is muddling through.

I’m not going to write about the dealing of my personal life here.  I’m still trying to figure that out, work in progress shall we say and leave it at that. Professionally, I was getting tonnes of work, editing, pr stuff, finally getting my writing out to calls and BOOM!  my hard drive failed.  Foolishly I hadn’t backed up in months, all my hard work… is on the hard drive.  I now have my computer back and minus a few glitches that I’m still trying to fix, it’s back in working order. Though Apple pretty much made the process even more painful for me (not ordering parts right away, almost losing my old hard drive, taking 3 weeks to fix it), they did add the latest operating system for me, something I was needing to do anyway… however, now my printer and scanner won’t work.  Both things I need to do my This Girl Friday work.  So… I need to go find a printer scanner combo… sooner rather than later.  But… but!  the most painful thing I’m dealing with… my files.

I’ve shopped around for quotes and have had $50 as long as the hard drive isn’t damaged to $1000 plus if it is.  I can’t afford to spend $1000 to get my files back and am at a loss as to what to do.  Three big projects I was writing are on there.  I can rebuild all my This Girl Friday Stuff, I can get all the last versions of editing back from clients… my writing, I can’t.  Is the universe telling me to go back and do it all over again from scratch.  Fortunately, a lot of my short stories were on my old laptop, I can take those and revise if need be, but the projects… UGG!  I have to make a decision on this.

I’ve learned a few things in the process of all this:

1. I hold on to things and people that I shouldn’t.  I need to do a major life purge.  I need to purge my apartment and my personal life.  I’m what’s know as a nurturer, a fixer.  I will keep trying to make things work until the worlds end and must stop.  Some things aren’t meant to be and some people just aren’t meant to be in your life.  I have to realize when things and people in your life don’t reciprocate, move on.  why the hell should I always be the one doing 90 percent of the work?  Especially when it comes to friendships and relationships.  Since the summer I’ve realized this and am becoming better at it.  Better at letting go, better and no longer doing the work.  If people are meant to be in my life, they will give back.

2. I have too much crap. My closets are full of it. Starting Sunday I will be purging material belongings. Growing up we made fun of my packrat father… I’ve now become just like him, keeping things just incase… Maybe I will fix it, that outfit will fit again one day… Um NO! Time to clean house! I used to be able to fit all my stuff in a couple boxes and some garbage bags… Now, not so much!

3. I need to work harder.  Yes, believe it or not, this work horse isn’t working hard enough.  I need to write more, try harder to get grants, get back on track.  Tomorrow I start the 12-8 shift, which is a blessing.  I’m a night owl and at my most creative when it’s dark.  I am also going to attempt to get up earlier in the morning and write for at least and hour then each day.

4.  I’ve come to the conclusion I do need to find a cheaper place to live, or get a roomie.  Am trying to come to a final decision on this.  This is a tough one for me. I have nothing but nightmare roommate stories. The only times it has worked is when I’ve lived with a boy… Relationship or otherwise. Not such a simple answer.

Time for a purging! Let the games begin!!!

Do over…

In the last few weeks, I’ve been asking the Universe for a do over.  Certain aspects of my life haven’t been going as I would like them to and as a good friend has told me over and over, when you put what you want out to the Universe, you will get it. Of course, be careful what you wish for…

Has the Universe been listening, it most certainly has, and I seem to be getting second chances in my personal life and things are beginning to fall in place, though slowly, in my career as a writer/editor/pr person.  I received a much needed grant, jobs are coming in, I am rebuilding… but the Universe doesn’t seem to want me to get things easily.  Anything I’ve ever wanted in my life I’ve had to work for and work hard. I guess the Universe figures I have strong shoulders.  I’m tired of having strong shoulders.  I’m tired of working hard.

When the proverbial car is finally purring like a well fed kitten… the wrench magically finds it’s way into the gears…

… possible jury duty…

… computer  death and unexpected costs..

Jury duty… not so bad.  It’s an education and experience that I can use in my writing and now knowing my contract job will pay me if I get chosen, that stress is now gone.  I’m ok if I get picked, as a matter of fact PICK ME PICK ME!  But.. but… and here is where I get ferclempt…  after a lovely Friday night… I woke up to a dead computer… dead… done.. finito.  The hard-drive crashed, for reasons still unknown.  The hard-drive that contains all my files.  Files that are my writing.  Everything else I can rebuild.  Photos are on Facebook. Databases, address books, lists, though work, can be rebuilt… Editing, I can be resent the last versions of.  PR stuff, if need be can be redone.  But my writing.  The possible loss of my writing is making me sad and ill to my stomach.

Though my gut was telling me the day before, it was time to back-up, I didn’t.  8 months of new creations and revisions of older stories were on my computer.  I am kicking myself daily for not listening to my gut, a gut that is ALWAYS right!  The computer is being fixed, I’ve bought an external hard-drive so it doesn’t happen again the data can be recovered, for a cost.  A very, very expensive cost.

I’ve been calling around for quotes and have discovered, data recovery people… take advantage of those of us in a desperate situation.  Quotes beginning at $1000 is making me wonder, how badly I want my work back.  Getting a few files back… shouldn’t equal rent.  I don’t have $1000.  I can barely pay my bills as is.  I may have to admit, my writing is lost and start from scratch.  Maybe this is the Universe telling me all of this stuff wasn’t good enough and it needs to be redone the right way.

Everything that has happened to me in the last few weeks has also made me realize, I need to also make some other changes in my life.  I need to accept that come spring, I have to work part-time to keep above water and I will need to change my living situation.  Though I love my place, I need to be downtown and I need to live with a roommate.  The life of an artist, doesn’t have to be a starving one!

After all of this, I am finally getting the message.  I’m being given a do over, but am expected to do it correctly this time.  If I’m going to work so hard for something, I’d better make it worth my while as this might be the only do over I get.

Brave New World…

Recently I did something that’s been scaring me for a really, really long time. Something I’d built up in my head to be harder than it really was. Though encouraged by others I put it off, made excuses and ultimately hid from my own creative development. Finally, last Thursday I found my inner balls and did something about it.

I used to be fearless… Any excuse to be on stage, sing out loud or show off to an audience and I was there. One day, during a presentation for work, I was ultimately humiliated in front of my peers by a senior manager and something inside me went into hiding. The thought of revealing my own creations to the pubic caused me panic attacks, stifling the artist in me. I was missing out on something that gave me joy, due the actions of one unimportant person.

It took me months of building up the nerve, but I finally did it. Last Thursday, at The Beautiful and The Damned, I read my work to an audience. 2 poems and a Haiku was all it took to cut the ropes that held me back. I put myself in a situation where I had to nut up, posted on Facebook that I was doing it, told someone to put me on the open mic schedule, friends came out for me. I felt like my entire body was shaking the entire time, but I did it!

Now that I conquered this… What’s next… Wiping out the rest of my fears. No more baby steps. This girl is taking one great big leap forward!

That was an interesting night…

Exhausted! And not because fun was had, no… no fun here and of course the events of last night… DID NOT HELP!  This blog post comes to you courtesy of my adventures with one very drunk, very angry, very possessive woman… and from a Northern Ontario number.

First came the hang-ups. After number 5 or 6 I finally had to turn my phone off.  This now adding to my sleeplessness, because I became paranoid that my only working alarm… on my phone may not go off and what if there is an emergency and someone was trying to get a hold of me? My alarm went off, but after 3 hours sleep, I wanted to throw my phone against the wall.

Did I mention I’m exhausted?  After stumbling to the shower, trying to wake myself up, I now have a cup of coffee in hand and turned my phone back on to see what else to expect… golly gee… of course there is more.  3 very nasty voicemails.  Thank the gods my phone plan only allows 3 of them, I can just imagine!!!  But, it get’s better… oh… it truly does…

These were the best drunk, angry, crazy ass bitch voicemails EVER!  EVER!

  • They took place at either a party or a bar, familiar loud music was playing in the background.
  • One of the voicemails even had you tag teaming with one of your girlfriends.  Rather drunk girlfriends I might add.  Who by the way, was so incoherent, I hope you sent her home in a cab.
  • One took place in the bar/party’s bathroom cause… the toilet flushing… NICE TOUCH!
  • The second call, which led to the third I’m sure… the message part stopped abruptly when the person you were so angrily calling about started having a conversation with YOU!  At this point of the game, you should have turned your phone off.  Instead, I’m assuming you put the phone on the table and I got to hear your conversation.  It may have been for my ears, cause yes, I recognized the voice.  Bravo to you {sarcasm font needed here}!!!
  • The third call, with all the laughing in the background.  I think you’ve found your calling… YOU are your friends entertainment!

Just a few pointers for you, for the next time you decide to go all crazy ass bitch on someone.

  • You can actually trace cell phones to the city they are registered in.  So ya, I know what Northern, Ontario city this came from.
  • The ‘man’ you kept referring to… Honey, he’s all yours.  Keep him, because trust me, when I start getting crazy ass bitch calls because of a man… he’s not worth my bother.  As a matter of fact, keep him there!  Let him entertain YOU for a while.
  • You might want to block your number next time, cause, well… now that I have it.   I will be calling you at 3… 4… 5 am, FROM A BLOCKED number.
  • NOTE to the guy… You might want to be careful where you leave your cell.  Apparently crazy ass bitches like to snoop.  I shouldn’t even be helping you out here but…

Nuit Blanche

I’m exhausted.  I just want to crawl into a ball on my couch, cover myself with the threadbare quilt my grandma made me and watch movies all day.  I will in a few hours, some work must be done, errands run. I’m exhausted but last night was worth it.  5 hours of wandering, watching, wishing.

The last few years that I’ve attended Nuit Blanche I never made it as far as the West End.  I always concentrated on Midtown/Downtown and a bit of the east.  This year I promised myself to go west first, over and over I’d heard about all the brilliant installations in Parkdale and needed to take that route on the Nuit Blanche adventure train instead.  Along with the company of the most amazing Cathy McKim, we started our night at the Vaudeville Hotel- A Burlesque World Record  Marathon and a marathon it was.

I love everything there is to love about Burlesque.  What I love the most are the sexy ladies, ladies that come in all shapes and sizes.  Ladies who are proud of their bodies and shake, shimmy and strip with amour for a seductive style of entertainment, that has taken over our city, thanks to people like Chris Mysterion, Tanya Cheex and troupes like Skin Tight Outta Site and Glamour Puss Burlesque.  Hosted by the ever Ghoulish Mullet the Clown, the non stop flow of Burlesque, magicians and musical acts, such as The Howling Bullets, had Cathy and I spending a good chunk of time at the Gladstone.  But, it wasn’t just about the Burlesque Marathon.

On the 2nd/3rd and 4th floors there were art installations.  However, it was something on the second floor that blew us both away.  Everyone who knows me well, loves my quirky little obsessions.  One of them is my passion for silent movies and the Edwardian/Flapper era.  I collect silent movies and though my collection is still quite small, it is dear to my heart.  Who knows, maybe in a past life I was a silent film actress.  One of the installations we saw was a 6 minute movie called The Roots Of The Tree.  An experimental film by director Britt Randle.  In the style of a silent movie, it was beautiful and haunting.  So haunting, Cathy and I talked about it all night.  It was the best 6 minutes I’ve spent in a very long time!  I would love to find out more about this director!

After a pit stop at Baccus Roti (finally filling my Roti craving) we made it to my next favourite installation on our 5 hour journey that never left Parkdale… Bondage Art at 442 Dufferin Street. After waiting for about 30 minutes in the chilly air to get in, we entered a room of rope bondage, some soft core S&M and beautiful art.  The room was packed with art lovers and photographers, though it was really hard to move around, it was so worth it.  I would liked to have stayed longer, we got there as they had finished the process and were untying everyone, but we wanted to get back to the Gladstone to see more Burlesque and hopefully see more installations.

Even thought the evening was amazing, there was a disappointment. I wanted to see the Guillotine installation, but when we got there, it was nowhere to be found.  When I arrived home, I looked it up, apparently there was a whole slew of installations in the alley the runs behind the Gladstone and that was one of them.  Too bad the information pamphlet we had didn’t indicate this, otherwise we would have wandered back there.  This was one of my irks the last time I did Nuit Blanche and is a continuing pet peeve.  They need to be a bit more specific.  I know Nuit Blanche is supposed to be a bit of an adventure, but the crowds are missing out on installations.  Cathy and I found a few by mere serendipity.  Had we not questioned a few opens doors and wandered in, we would have missed out on some amazing art.

All in all, it was the best 5 hours I’ve spent in a long time.  Had the weather been more co-operative, I may have lasted a few more hours and gotten to a few more of my friends installations, but the chill got in and the steam blew out.  I love this city for events like these and hope we continue to fight against the rats at city hall. This city is  filled with incredibly talented musicians, actors, artists, writers, poets.  We are all here to live our dream, please don’t take this away from us. Though Nuit Blanche is still an event in it’s infancy, I can’t image it no longer existing.  The first weekend of October wouldn’t be the same.

Bounty

2 weeks ago I was at my parents.  Listening the sounds of crickets and silence.  I bitch a lot about not liking my hometown, but always love being with my parents.  I had an amazing visit with them and before I left, I made a trip to their awesome garden!  I’ve been living off the bounty since!  Tonight I had to use up the last of the tomatoes, I didn’t want them to go bad… This is what became of them.

Before…

After…..

GIT IN MA BELLY!!!  I was going to make a pie, but ran out of steam….  Maybe tomorrow…

Letter to lost or forelorn spirits

Dear Ghost,

You’ve been on my mind of late.  I’m not sure if due to the resurgence of television shows about ghost hunters or psychic detectives, or maybe I’m thinking too much about the demons of my past and the ghosts of my future that may never be.  My brain is over stimulated these days, thoughts of money not in my wallet, love or lacking from the foolish humans and that fork in the road that continues to block my path.  Why oh why have you suddenly found a crook in my gray matter.

I have questions, so many questions.  I’m requesting you answer them without vagueness. I request that you make the writing on the wall clear. I request clarity. I would be ever so grateful if at least this one loose end in my life could be tied up into a nice tight, clean knot. Then I could finally move onto other things, things I may never have answers to.

You’ve been murdered and your soul, essence, spirit, what have you, can’t move on till your death has been avenged, the killer caught and punished.  Along comes Miss or Mister medium who become mental cases due to your mind numbing, information missing dreams and messages.  Seriously, if you can contact them, couldn’t you just give them the person’s name? Don’t you want to find peace and happiness?  Is there some messed up Ghost code that only lets you play dead charades?

Another thing that’s been haunting me, in both the real and paranormal world.  If you can become corporeal enough to bang on the floor, open cupboard doors and levitate beds, why can’t you hold a marker in your hand and write a detailed message on a wall?  Give the poor humans a hint already. Then again, maybe part of being a ghost is you get to play head games without guilt.  I’m starting to think it’s fun for you.

What’s the deal with the dark?  Is this you or are the ghost hunters just fixated on night vision equipment?  Personally, if I had night vision goggles, I’d find better and kinkier ways to use them.  Maybe this is ghost foreplay and kink for you?  I know you can make yourself visual during the day, movies like The Changling and The Sixth Sense say it’s so.  Are you afraid of the light?

Step into the light
remove your fear
and let the truth be seen.

Shadows of a long dark sadness
are washed away
white chalk, simple words.

Life, love, death
affirming, attainable, unavoidable
all slipping to the latter.

Breath in my soul
release your old ghosts
together we find answers on the wall.

Music that matches your mood…

Ever hear a song that screams out to you?  Lyrics that shadow and match the things that are going on in your life.  Music, not just for angsty teens anymore.

I saw this video posted on friends Facebook, then shared it on mine.  Once I really listened to it and really heard what they were saying, I realized how right they are.

The lyrics

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I’d say I’d rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

But I don’t, I don’t know what that will be
I’ll get back to you someday soon you will see

What’s my name, what’s my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don’t need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you
Or bow down and be grateful and say “sure, take all that you see”
To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me

And I don’t, I don’t know who to believe
I’ll get back to you someday soon you will see

If I know only one thing, it’s that everything that I see
Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak
Yeah I’m tongue-tied and dizzy and I can’t keep it to myself
What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?

And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf
I’ll come back to you someday soon myself

If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m raw
If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
And you would wait tables and soon run the store

Gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn
If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
Someday I’ll be like the man on the screen

Cluster Fuck!

chaotic sleep
heavy, nervous chest
bed more appealing
days restart naught

panicked dreams
palpitating beats
moments of reconsideration
must not falter

sit-up, sigh
sit-up, breath
sit-up, pull back
these covers will not save you

standing erect
finally moving in paces
wet, yellow, foamy dog vomit
wake up call

head connects with freezer door
stars, pain, consider
hit harder
walk away

moving, yet standing still
moving, chest heaving
moving, tunnels colliding
fork in the road

cyberspace hell
messages vanish
24 of nothingness
running running escape

days before here
yesterday’s regrets
images of past darkness
messages of eternity

reinstall, curse, reboot
reinstall, curse, reboot
reinstall, curse, reboot
1500 creeping back

rent must be paid
avenues exhausted
frustration evolving
restructure, rethinking

moving in circles
return to beginning
chipping with patience
failure unforgivable

Beware of the dark little girl on a dark and rainy night!

I will start posting soon!  Very… very… soon!