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oops december caught up to me...
November 25th 1999
"i could not ask for more
than this love you give me
i could not ask for more than to be with you
all my prayers have been answered
all the dreams i had came true"
i used to celebrate my joy loudly and with circumstance!
now, as years cloud my mind with the weights of life,
i sit more quietly and with less exuberance!
as i begin to understand and by humbled by how truly blessed
i am
for even one moment of true bliss; however sublte,
however exalted.
hollywood has de-volved from a size 14? to size 0.
now where do they go?
where do WE go?
hAPPY saturday
happy vacuuming
happy pant-hemming
happy shopping
as i sit quietly and celebrate a truly magical,
emotional moment
"you taught me to run
taught me to fly
helped me to feel the me inside
helped me hear the music of my heart
you opened my eyes
you opened the door
to something i'd never known before
your love is the music of my heart"
November 25th 1999
good grey morning to you. warmth prevails.
life swirls windy windy windy around us now; illnesses notwithstanding.
an end of a millenium sings a toast to us and we respond by joyfully
giving thanks (!) and it's not even thanksgiving in this country.
well although the thoughts are many and the love overflows,
the words won't come and the fingers still.
this week was a whirlwind of activities, with more yet to come
and the big 2 approaches as if slow-motion, with momentum.
are we ready in more ways than one?
are they just numbers or have we constructed numbers in
such a way as to cause great significance in our minds and
therefore our lives too? i would tend to think so, yes.
i wish you well for it, wherever you are, and especially if
you're a 12-year old girl sitting in your bedroom listening
to CKGM and stamping the date every time you sit down.
Your distinct personality, The Benevolent Ruler might be found in most of the thriving kingdoms of the time. You are the idealistic social dreamer. Your overriding goal is to solve the people problems of your world. You are a social reformer who wants everyone to be happy in a world that you can visualize. You are exceptionally perceptive about the woes and needs of humankind. You often have the understanding and skill to readily conceive and implement the solutions to your perceptions. On the positive side, you are creatively persuasive, charismatic and ideologically concerned. On the negative side, you may be unrealistically sentimental, scattered and impulsive, as well as deviously manipulative. Interestingly, your preference is just as applicable in today's corporate kingdoms.
November 23, 1999 swoosh
swoosh! no time to eat
ah, November. vitality shines through. i'm being chased and i'm winning
the battle! L.A.-like temperatures surround us in the warmth of a late-
november chanook, socializing abounds, workplaces buzz, and there's not
enough time to sleep. what i wrote last year is all too applicable even
now,
which is scary, and since i haven't the time to come up with it again,
i won't.
phonecalls, inside and out; nephews to march in RoseBowl parades, invitations,
swoosh! swoosh!
we've barely got time to eat!
and i'm off to work.
November 14, 1999 1990 was not long ago - scribblings of then
[all of what is transcribed for
this date was taken from my personal notes
written while i was working at mcgill university in a research lab]
"this is all real. i have to keep telling
myself that because if i
don't believe it then it really is a dream. and i love licing in dreams.
dreams are where we are really you and me. dreams are where
we are passionate. where women can love women and brush
their hair. dreams are where daphne hugs and cries. dreams
are where we are born - and where we die. dreams are where
we can go when the big dream is boring or hard. dreams are
where dreams are not dreams. where life is not life. where
lovers hate, where enemies embrace, where children are
grownups and adults hold hands. dreams can be real.
in my dreams i do ballet in the mouse room.
a dream is a dream when it does
not feel real. were all
the others dreams? a contagious smile, a face that lights
a room, and probably some kind of inner confidence
problem. they all have this in common. they are all teachers.
please Lord let my ecstasy be real.
let it be the real flash of life that i feel.
the passion of a young woman
who is living out her dreams with this pen
without the rest of the 20th century.
she understands the old ways, thoughts, fires.
mysterious yet clear, frightful yet welcome."
i came upon that treatise quite by chance.
by chance, it was writ november 14, 1990.
1990 was not long ago, except it was almost
ten years ago now.
"a rhyme, a warm-up for her pen
easier than this, and easier then.
a friend, a warming for her life
she will return, so what's the hype?
a boss, a start in her career
four months can feel
just like a year.
a poem, a thought, a moment when
all freedom comes
between my pen"
january 1990 for daphne
-10-10-91-
she'd been thinking alot lately. about the love of a father and mother;
the love she had for them. a personal love, for each of them separately
that seems to renew itself, growing stronger as she grows weaker.
a motherly love, with huggig and kissing, and not just because she knows
how much her mother wanted to hug her, but real touching, real kissing
goodbye that means 'I love you'. and the fatherly love, minus the hugging,
communicated via jazz discussions and comments about beer drinking,
when mother would rather she keep her thoughts to herself. then she
began to understand the age-old clichés about the things that are
really important in life.
but how come they call them clichés if they're true???
F R E E D O M 1
F R E E D O M 2
November 13, 1999 Glen Campbell knew
November 12, 1999 an acceptable level of crazy
the java was ruined this morning and i am not really awake.
the fine line between me in my get-up walking
down the
street humming blindly through my accomplishments of
the day, and the what the middle people call 'crazy',
is a fine one.
ally mcbeal knows what it's like to be an acceptable
level
of crazy. acceptable to ME is all that really matters. i like
being different. i like having my space to myself. i like my
rich inner life, my vivid fantasies and wild imaginings...
without them i'm just everyone else...
there are places full of middle people, made for them.
the people on the edge feel more at home in very
small towns and in large cities. both of these places
allow me to walk down the street singing wearing a
crazy yoga getup in the middle of november in montreal...
there are several issues im frustrated with just
now,
a friendly co-worker defending his selfish rights to the
bone; when i am no more less selfish than he. i was
taught not to say those kinds of things. is there a difference
of course since i was taught so, i believe there is...
that is not something i am going to deal with now
in my watery-java ways and in a hurry but i just
wanted to write them here in my safe place
chewing chewing chewing when i drink the bad java
it just makes me twitchy
chewing chewing chewing.
Christine Habyrl's birthday, wherever she is.
gray clammy day.
i twitch.
whoa! it's a big big coffee buzz but my feet
are still still. it's probably warm enough out
there for me to be walking, but i remain in
here seated. weeks fly by.
a large younger me photographed in
black and white reminds me that my
hair was once. long, i mean. moving
energy i had back then. moving even
more contstantly.
"in the arms of the Angel
Fly away from here
This stark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear"
i want to say that either i'm becoming
a sucker; or just someone who has to
decide if she's being treated like a
regular woman or not.
either way this one has me lashing out
because although i know my place
on a grander scale, the little scales
aren't going to topple my way, no sir...
http://www.vif.com/users/louern/398.htm
November 7, 1999 a fair enough day for groceries.
fear.
much of it is about fear. i fear death. you fear me.
codependance, i'd go much further than that.
what phrase shall we coin when so many people
fear what is different? what was at the root of
their experience that left them battered and bruised,
sheltered and so godamned frightened of everything
and everyone that is different? i stretch and struggle
to understand how similarity breeds contentedness.
does it take energy for me to seek that is different?
can't be, because i've decided that i am ultimately
lazy. so much so, that when i mention this to a close
friend she laughs and agrees. now that sends some fear
into my bones.
i was feeling rewarded and contented just then,
earlier, today, working outside in the cold to
bring in the plants. food thawing in preparation
for the dinner meal, my life had purpose. the
energy was being expended. i can't be lazy.
now as streaks of winter sunshine illuminate
the dust all over my screen and desk,
i feel the 'manque' once again. even with plans
by the millions running thru my head, dinner
parties; weddings; Y2K chick reunions, the
Garden gathering, all the plans we are making,
together and apart; i still feel like i'm wasting.
even now, sitting here in this chair typing my
life away, typing the words i plan to save in
a large indestructable box for my grandchildren
and theirs to read, i feel like there is something
else i should be doing. something more fulilling
something adding purpose to my life. this is
the free time i always seek when i don't have it,
get up and do all those things that you want to
do, Poots. get up. get up. not going to happen.
i don't even have the energy to re-focus my
frozen eyes as my fantasy world runs thru
my head. all those things that cannot be...
those moments that cannot be created,
those few and fleeting breaths that make
magic believable.
all of the plants hoarded;
the sauces stirred;
the servers maintained;
the words writ here;
for those few and fleeting seconds
that i believe in magic...
i'm playing. i'm playing with you, and with me.
who's there to let me know when the game stops?
how can i know when i should lean the intertia
just a little bit over thata way, not really pushing it
but nudging it a bit. will it all come to me if i wait?
what if time runs out? history repeats itself.
a fair enough day for groceries.
"Dreams can seem
to have some hidden meaning,
Stickgold argued, because once in a while, just by
chance, they really fit with a person's view of life.
Sickgold likened the symbolism in dreams to finding
significance in a computer's spell-checker's sug-
gestions. What if, he said, the spell checker suggested
substiuting 'grinch' for 'Gingrich'? IF you're of a
certain political bent, you could react by thinking,
'that really fits, that's incredible'. But of course,
that's bad reasoning. "Your sxpell checker doesn't
have a political axe to grin."
"Do they have meaning? Yes, as soon as you wake
up and create the meaning." On that much,
psychoanalysts agree. -excerpt
from the Montreal Gazette
November 5, 1999 her name is said 'shivon'
the cold comes and we get better in our skin.
a sense of knowing, familiarilty passes through the air.
waiting is over, it is done. we know this, it comforts us
in a wintery-canadian sort of way...
the website, the entire thing, has been stripped from
the planet in one fell swoop, and been re-posted,
bandages missing, last night. there are now holes
in my four-year old art. some of it, i did not even bother
to repair. Moonpals is really and truly over. i cannot
even link to it from that sentance...
my cinq saison espresso comforts me in the big orange
mug from the periodontist. the case from the broken CD
still has the yellow designjet user version sticker, the only
remnant and tell-tale sign that the case was once broken too.
there's a shot of ern and i at the Rustik, both smiling with
pursed lips not showing our delight, beside the newspaper
ad for network specialists, project managers, and software
developers...
it's too cold for a walk this morning, but last night's yoga
is keeping me limber. i'm in 'mid-form'. a little bit of too
much candy sitting over my belly muscles, but i'm sitting
up straight, and the dishes are 7AM clean and the lamb
is waiting to begin to thaw.
the striped orange mug is empty, it's a nice match for this page.
i'm feeling bullish now, something in the november air is giving
me a confidence i've been missing for a few months now. shall
i write a novel? climb a mountain? give birth? the crying baby
downstairs, once a complete and utter nuisance, now beckons.
project manager, mother?
Siobhan's name, although you couldn't pronounce it
without being very Irish, rings thru my head. her work,
her lifestyle, her bright teal polyester suit, they intrigue me.
could i work in film? where would i be now had i not been
raised in a large catholic family in the white suburbs?
she had knots in her hair.
her name is said; shivon.
late
i have, in fact, 'manqued' my whole life.
since i left school - and my dream of
being Quincy, i accepted second-best for
myself. then i decided not to make more
firm decisions, goals, but to take where
the wind carried me. hoping all the while
i would still become a famous singer, dancer,
writer, painter, sculptor, journalist, etc.
i ended up here - a network administrator.
playing the days away with toys that have
about as much personality as this one.
pretending all the while, manquing, making
believe that it is something i love.
it is not. Quincy would still be nice,
but that just isn't going to happen.
i ended my medical career by dropping
a glass vial in a waste paper bin.
my research career, although still thus
far the longest of my various professions,
was successful only by the guage of the
relationships i nourished in that place.
pharmaceuticals was a branch, a launching
pad to get me out of one field and into
another, but did i actually achieve
anything in that place, no. i suppose
one could say i honed my otherwise absent
corporate bullshit skills, so let's count
that as achievement number one. the only
real computer skills i have are the ones
that afford me the luxury to say that i
have some. now as a true computer geek with
no true computer skills or passions, i set
forward to make yet another global shift.
i have failed. at some things, succeeded at
others, i have survived. i may be among
the fittest but this modern day guages of fecundity
is not true to my soul, to my X factor, to WHO
i am.
all of this should be very difficult for me
to admit; it's not. i guess that means i really
am ready for this shift, i guess it means i'm a
big girl now. maybe that's why i survive.
early
the city is about extremes.
all things on the edge are welcome.
holding ground for the ones who want
to hide; showing case for the ones
to be seen; and a wonderful looking glass
for the analytical.
back-straight, poots, make your own motives,
choose yourself, smile for the camera,
don't let this one get the best of you.
