Buns Sore

I'm back from another exciting weekend in Moncton, this time for the Writers' Federation of New Brunswick Annual General Meeting. Earlier I wrote a bunch of stuff about it in the blog, but lost the whole thing when the power flickered and my computer went dark. Tried using the Blogger "Recover Post" function, but nothing happened. Yeah, I know, you would think I would learn to save things when I'm working on them . . . maybe I just haven't lost enough stuff yet.

I took the train to Moncton on Friday the 13th and was met at the station by my friend and fellow Miramichier, Dorinda. We had fun hugging and exclaiming how nice it was to see each other again, even though we both left Miramichi around the same time and had spoken on the phone a couple of times that week. I probably should have just driven in with her, but I couldn't change my ticket or get a refund plus I kind of wanted the hour and a half of complete peace and nothingness to decompress from my crazy week and recharge for my crazy weekend.

After Dorinda picked me up at the train station we drove to the University and checked into our dorm rooms. We were in the "nice" rooms, the ones with the private bathrooms and kitchenettes. Still . . . they weren't what we had expected . . . I felt an overwhelming urge to scrub the floors and knew I'd need massive quantities of wine in order to be able to get any sleep. But it was under a hundred bucks for two nights, so I'm not complaining.

Dorinda and I spent the afternoon shopping for supplies and then just hanging out around the rooms sipping wine and chatting before heading out to the restaurant for the evening event I was hosting. I was in good mental form all weekend, not at all nervous about any of my duties, not at all shy when meeting new people. I felt like myself again, like I used to feel when I worked in radio or hosted an event at the club, completely comfortable and natural in front of the microphone. This was an excellent feeling, because in recent years I've been showing plenty of nerves when it comes to these things and been baffled by it. It would seem that I'm back!

Friday evening I hosted the readings at the Cafe Felix on Main Street. I began by thanking everyone for coming and then making a joke about how cold it was, reminding people of the previous AGM in Miramichi when we walked around the French Fort Cove and nearly froze to death. I told about how Laurence had made fun of me for not wearing my winter coat but I had come prepared this time. And it was just as cold. I had my winter coat and I was ready to walk around the park or wherever in the freezing cold.

Our special guest author hailing from Ireland and coming to us all the way from Manitoba was Gerard Beirne. Gerry had written a story called "Sightings of Bono" about Bono from U2, which was later made into a film that Bono starred in. I was pretty excited about this and mentioned in my intro that I hadn't been able to get U2 tickets in Toronto but I hoped I'd get to see the Rolling Stones in Moncton. Some people hadn't heard about this concert and thought this was a riot . . . the idea that the Rolling Stones would be in Moncton. So, that got me an easy, albeit unplanned, laugh.

It turned out that Gerry had been invited to be guest speaker at the Manitoba Writers' Guild AGM happening the same weekend as ours but he had to decline as he had already committed himself to our event. Since he works for them as a mentor, this was kind of funny and he joked that he was in trouble with them now. I remarked after his reading that their loss was totally our gain and I was glad he stuck with us. He read from his novel Friday night and the following evening at the banquet, he read poetry. He's a very dynamic performer — he doesn't simply read his texts but brings them to life with emotion and feeling. I've always found the mark of a good reading is the confidence to hold a silence. He has this in spades. I enjoyed him very much.

He gave a workshop on Saturday morning that was another life-changing event in my writing life. I love when that happens! And doesn't it seem like things like that are happening to me more frequently these days? Or is it just me? In the workshop he said that sometimes in order to get to the truth of the story, the facts weren't good enough. That blew me away! I realised that's been a major obstacle in my writing. I've been unwilling to let go of the facts ("But that's the way it really happened!") even if the facts made the story fall flat. This was a major revelation and insight into my work. There was much more of course, Gerry is wise beyond his years when it comes to writing. I was very impressed by him and could see how he must be so good at what he does as far as mentoring goes. I've never thought I would like to have a mentor. I've always thought doing workshops and studying the craft on my own would be enough. But now I see where working with someone like Gerry one-on-one would be so beneficial to my work. Should I ever have the financial means, I would consider finding a mentor to work with me.

To top it all off, he's just a really nice guy, a true Irish gentleman, what I would call a real sweetheart. I got to spend a lot of time with him because of course there was much going out for drinks after events and staying up until the wee hours. I was fascinated by his tales of travelling in China with his wife and children, about the Bono story, about Irish politics and history, and so on. I bought his book of poetry and a CD of him performing a bunch of poems. I wanted his novel but he was all out of copies so I'll have to get one ordered into the bookstore. He told me not to be alarmed when the shopkeeper didn't know who he was ;-) Yes, he's very humble and gracious as well. I'm glad to have met him.

When I introduced Allan Cooper on Friday evening I mentioned that he lives in one of my favourite villages in the country where every summer you can find me holed up for at least one weekend in the Alpine Motor Inn. Allan got a great kick out of that and was quick to tell everyone I hadn't mentioned that the Alpine is one of the more seedy motels in Alma. I rebutted that hanging out in seedy motels was the best source of great characters. This led to a weekend long running joke about my escapades at the Alpine Motor Inn. I believe the now infamous motel may see a rise in curious writers seeking seedy characters amongst their clientele this summer.

I knew I was going to screw up the introduction of an Acadian writer that night. I had written a bio that was predominantly in English and practised the one French part with Laurence until I got it down pat. Then a few moments before I was to introduce her, the poet handed me a piece of paper with the bio she wanted me to read. The event was already underway, I had no time to prepare and this bio was filled with French. Oy! So, I figured if I was going to totally screw up anyway, I might as well make a big production out of it as a joke. I prefaced the introduction by exclaiming that I was English. "I am soooo English." I told them I never really realised how English I was before coming to Moncton a few weeks before for the Northrop Frye Festival. The festival is a true multicultural event of a scale I'd never seen the like of before. I had a fantastic time and couldn't wait to come again. I went on to add that many people had laughed at me as I said good night each evening — "Buns sore! Buns sore!" This got a good laugh from the crowd and I concluded my preface to the introduction by saying I meant no disrespect when I mispronounced the words, I simply did not know any better . . . Then I pronounced every French word wrong, including the one phrase that I had practised with Laurence, and even some English words as well. That was the only part of the evening where I was a bit flustered, but I think it came off okay . . . I hope.

Introducing Jo-Anne Elder was fun because she's written a fantastic book, Postcards from Ex-lovers, that I've read and loved. It's published by Broken Jaw Press and I was at a launching of it in Moncton during the Northrop Frye Festival. I was still a little flustered when I did her intro, so I didn't get into any banter. But after she read some of her stories including the one called "The List" and a few of her business card pieces of fiction, I was more relaxed and recovered. "The List" is a wonderful postcard story about how every woman has a list. Jo-Anne is just brilliant really, very intelligent, and her stories are sharp with wit. After thanking her for coming I said that I had a list . . . and it was long . . . and seedy. This got some guffaws as I rolled my eyes mysteriously.

Overall, the evening was a success. Many people came up to me after and congratulated me on being a great host. Some were shocked that I had this sort of thing in me because I always appear to be so mild and subdued. Some asked if I had ever considered doing stand-up or writing for Comedy Television. Some wanted to know if I was ever going to take French lessons, and assured me I needed them. And of course some just wanted directions to the Alpine Motor Inn.

The WFNB people said that now that they know what I'm capable of doing, they will be asking me to host more events . . . which is good . . . right?

A bunch of us went out to an Irish pub for drinks after the readings, but retired relatively early because we all had a long day ahead of us on Saturday. Getting into Mary's car to catch a ride back to the dorm, I climbed into the middle beside Gerry. Dorinda remarked that I had got to sit beside the "cute Irish guy" and this started a running joke about Gerry's cuteness, which had him blushing by times. So then on Saturday evening at the banquet when I also found myself seated next to Gerry, Dorinda said about me getting to sit beside the "cute Irish guy" again, to which Gerry muttered that there'd be none of that tonight. It was funny, though you probably had to be there to hear the brogue in order to appreciate it.

Saturday morning I woke up at 5:30 am, completely on my own. I guess because I had gone to sleep before 1 am (way early for me) and I was worried about oversleeping because I didn't have any alarm clock or wake-up call. I watched the sunrise from my window on the eighth floor. I don't often get an unobstructed view of the sunrise. I mean I'm up and about and around for lots of sunrises, at least twice a week if not more often, either because I haven't gone to bed yet or I'm up early. But you can't really see it from here because there are too many trees in the way. There were no trees blocking my view of the horizon in Moncton. The dawn was beautiful and I realised I was facing the east straight on, with nothing disturbing my line of sight. It's been so long since I've seen the sunrise like this that I had forgotten how quickly it happens, how the sun suddenly pops into the sky like a jack-in-a-box. One second it was just a hint of orange, the next a half-circle, and then in a blink it popped into the sky, a perfect circle of the brightest orange. How majestic! The sky was overcast, covered in a thick grey blanket of cloud. For one moment the sun filled the small opening between land and sky. It paused there for a heartbeat while I worshipped its splendour, and then as suddenly as it appeared it was gone, unable to penetrate the grey sky. I was thankful for the opportunity to begin my day in this way, touched by the bright orange rays.

After the sunrise I realised I was famished, which was another unusual thing, as I usually don't eat breakfast. So I got ready for the day, grabbed Dorinda and we headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. As I licked my plate clean I once again made a promise to myself to eat breakfast more often, which I do every time I have breakfast, but which I never stick to for some reason. I haven't had breakfast since Saturday . . . maybe tomorrow.

After breakfast we went to the building where the meeting and workshops were to be held. I helped Mary set up as best as I could and settled into a comfortable place on the aisle so I wouldn't have to be climbing over people when I gave my report and I could sneak in and out if the need be without causing too much distraction. I got to meet Bob, the new WFNB president, for the first time. He seems like a lovely man, easy going, diplomatic. I think he'll do a good job and it'll be good to work with him. The meeting got a little tense by times because a couple of discontented members seized the opportunity to air their grievances in a surprise appearance. Completely inappropriate for the AGM, in my opinion. If there is discontent I think members should collect themselves, organise, ask to be added to the agenda of the next board meeting and give a formal presentation. In other words, follow the usual meeting protocol. One of the people hadn't even renewed her membership, so technically had no right to be in the meeting at all. But there's always politics involved in any group or organisation, there's always disagreement. It's to be expected I guess. That's what makes the world interesting. Anyway, so despite a few tense moments in the meeting we got through it okay and I'm now a member of the Board of Directors. I also gave a brief report on the website, nothing much really, just that the hosting is good, I added a calendar, I'm a little bit more proficient in Dreamweaver, any questions? No. Ok, carry on then. Took all of two minutes.

After the meeting was Gerry's workshop. I've already said it was life changing for me. We talked about so many things, seemed to touch upon so many things that I needed to be thinking about right now. The universe sent me that workshop, the way she provides me with all that I need at just the time I need it. There was a reason why my ass was in that seat and it has everything to do with Callum's story and my need to tell it. Everybody always says that you need discipline, you need to write an hour everyday, you need a schedule . . . everybody always says this and I know it is true and I know that's why I don't write more and why I'm not publishing any fiction. Allan Cumyn's workshop in the fall really helped me to get past the idea that I need to write at least an hour everyday in order for it to be of any value. But Gerry took it to a whole new level. He said if you get an idea in the middle of the night, don't get up and write it down. If it's really a good idea it'll come back to you later when you're in your writing space and settled down to the business of writing. There's a time for sleep and a time for family and a time for writing — and if you're mixing up these times nobody benefits. Your sleepy time writing will not be as strong as your writing time writing. Your family time will suffer if you're running off to write things down. This was a huge revelation for me. HUGE! I've never heard it put quite this way before and this was the way I needed it to be explained in order to resonate within me.

After Gerry's workshop we all went to the cafeteria for lunch where I had Shepherd's Pie that was not nearly as good as the stuff Mom and them make at the high school, but was sufficient and again I was ravenous and ate almost everything placed before me. I cannot remember the last time I've had two square meals under my belt by 1 pm. I did find that I had more energy and less foggy brain . . . could these things be related?

After lunch Michael O. Nowlan gave a workshop on the 'job' of the reviewer/critic. I want to start writing more reviews for BnM and maybe even for freelance sale to pick up some extra cash. So this was a workshop I was looking forward to and I wasn't disappointed. His session was exactly the sort of 'how to' discussion of ethics and guidelines that I needed in order to begin. He shared some of his personal experiences including being sued by one author and receiving a rare and wonderful letter of thanks from another. Dean R. Koontz said he was not in the habit of sending letters to journalists or reviewers but he wanted to thank Michael for being honest, fair and accurate. In this letter, Koontz said he had become accustomed to being misquoted at least a dozen times in every interview he gave, and congratulated Michael for not misquoting him even once. This was pretty cool I thought.

The final workshop of the afternoon was with Carol Bruneau about creating characters. She was more hands-on than the others and actually had us do some writing. Normally, I'm not a fan of workshops where I must write and then share what I've written. I find it difficult to produce under pressure and I'm such a perfectionist when it comes to my fiction that it makes me physically ill to share work that hasn't gone through the editing and rewriting process. But maybe it was because I've been sharing more and more rough work with my writing girls or maybe it was because creating characters is something that comes easy for me, I don't know, but I was completely comfortable doing the exercises and sharing my results. I actually found that I was one step ahead of her all the way through, which was weird. The first step was to think of someone we had met in early childhood, someone who left an impression upon us but not someone we knew really well. Once we thought of someone we were supposed to make a list of all the character traits that we remembered about this person — physical attributes, temperament, station in life, etc. We were to write for 10 minutes, but I soon found that what I remembered about this person wasn't very much at all, so naturally I just started making things up. The next step was to fill in the gaps with our imaginations — what is the person's problem? Desire? Flaw/ redeeming quality? But I had already worked most of this out in the first 10 minutes, so I just continued on writing, gave the guy a name and wrote a scenario. Which was the next step, to name your person and write a scenario with him or her in it. We did a bunch of exercises and I actually came out of it with a character and a story idea. A character and a story that I really feel compelled to write.

With the workshops over it was back to the dorm to get ready for the banquet. I had a glass of wine, relaxed and got ready, singing the entire time. Have I mentioned how much I've been humming and singing lately? It's a rather unusual and yet delightful development, a bit of a stress reliever I think. Try it. It's difficult to be angry or stressed when you're singing a happy tune. Dorinda and I took a taxi to the restaurant. The Chateau a Pape restaurant that I've ALWAYS wanted to go into, always looked at longingly in the distance and figured I could never afford to eat anything there. Saturday night was my lucky night. We had a three-course dinner with three choices per course. I chose the Caesar salad for an appetiser. I didn't really fancy any of the other choices — a lobster bisque or chicken fricot. The salad was very good, a bit heavy on the garlic though. My entree was the filet mignon and it was spectacular! Very yummy. The other choices were the seafood platter and a chicken dish. For dessert I had an Acadian pastry that was like a cinnamon bun. There was another Acadian pastry that was more like a fruit tart and then there was a chocolate caramel cake that looked to die for. Everything was home-made onsite and scrum!

After dinner Gerry performed some of his poetry, which was really cool. I bought his CD and now I get to listen to them all the time. Then the winners of the Literary Competition were announced and any who had attended read excerpts. My friend, Elizabeth, won third prize in the short fiction category, which was nice. I was so proud of her. And her kids were there to share the night with her, which was great. The dinner was really good, really well done. It was the best banquet dinner I've ever been to anywhere. Great stuff!

Dorinda was tired after the dinner and couldn't wait to get back to the dorm and sleep. A lot of people seemed really subdued and tired. But I had my second or third wind and was horrified at the idea of going back to the empty room and trying to entertain myself until I fell asleep. It was kind of funny, I don't know if Gerry could see the panic on my face or not, but as Dorinda kept saying she was going back to the room and gathering her things and saying how tired she was, he didn't look around at her or anything but said, "I've got a bit of a second wind myself." I quickly agreed and then we agreed that we'd go for drinks even if nobody else was, though I figured Mary and Laurence would be. Noeline and her husband also joined us and we went to the quietest pub we could find in the vicinity, which wasn't that quiet, but still not a dance bar or anything outrageous like that. We ended up staying out until almost 2:30 and having a fabulous time. I drank much too much wine and no doubt talked Mary's ear off. I had a really good time though and despite the long day, the late hour getting to bed, all the wine, and not having any alarm clock, I woke up bright and refreshed at 7 am.

We checked out of our rooms and went back to the Cafe Bistro Felix for brunch and the open readings. I had the waffles, home-made on the spot, with fresh fruit . . . yummy!! Melt in your mouth delicious. I would definitely like to go back there again for breakfast and try some of the other dishes I saw being served. I read portions of my short story Midday Caller, which is a bit lighter and more fun than most of my stuff. Everyone laughed and thought it was great fun. It went really well and I was happy. I really couldn't have asked for a better weekend. Other than that nasty business during the meeting, everything was perfect. I'm looking forward to this year, serving on the board and being more involved.

Mood: Sleepy
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: Tiny Dancer, Elton John
Hair: I'm the Bo Bice of Barnettville Road

My Daily Horoscope

Dear Kellie,
Here is your horoscope
for Tuesday, May 10:

It's not your imagination. You really are attracting attention from all kinds of people. Everyone you meet may actually want a bit of your time now -- or at least one of those world-class grins.

Listening to the Universe

I'm one of those people who believes that if you listen and pay attention to the universe, the world you live in, all the answers you seek will be revealed. For someone who doesn't put much stock in organised religion or the church, I've got a lot of faith.

For me the most common question is, "Am I doing the right thing?" From time to time I think everyone questions where they are in life, whether they're on the right path or lost in the bushes someplace. You don't need to have doubt about your place in the world. If you pay attention to what the world is telling you, you'll know for sure whether you're doing the right thing or not.

Like the time I was trying to date that boy . . . the REALLY young one . . . remember him? We had a fantastic movie date that went off without a hitch. I felt really good about the whole thing and by going on that date I realised I was truly baggage-less for the first time in my life and ready to embrace the idea of getting close to someone again. That date was something I needed to do, the very thing I was supposed to do at that time in my life.

It was such a great date in fact that the boy and and I continued to talk and planned a second date . . . that never happened. He cancelled because of unexpected family visitors. I cancelled because of unexpected financial hardship. He cancelled because of unexpected automobile woes. I cancelled because of unexpected work events. Try as we might, we just couldn't seem to connect a second time.

Finally, months later, we were both in the same general area with the right amounts of cash and cars and family and work . . . we spoke on the phone and said we'd meet a few hours later when we were both free . . . he was supposed to call me again to see where I was in order to pick me up . . . the entire Rogers cellphone grid for our region went down that night for a few hours just when that boy would've been trying to call me. This is not a common thing. I've never heard of the system crashing before or since. No calls could be placed or received. All I had was a Rogers cellphone. There was no other way for us to communicate.

When I talked to him next I told him the universe had spoken loud and clear. I thanked him again for the great evening, wished him luck in life and love, and said I wouldn't be seeing him again. I have never regretted breaking off that communication. The universe had to go to some pretty drastic measures to get me to stay away from that boy, lol, but knocking out the cellphone system was a pretty good frying pan over the head.

Years ago I would've never taken the hints. I'd struggle off my path and into the woods, ignoring the signs the universe would put up to try and lead me back, and wonder why life was always so hard, why everything I touched fell apart, why everyone seemed to want only to hurt me. Why me, Lord? Why me?

I'm glad I remember what life was like then, the way it felt to go against myself at every opportunity. Remembering helps me to pay even more attention now. When the universe speaks to me now, more and more, I listen.

Today I was asked to host the Friday night reading event at the WFNB AGM in Moncton this weekend. One of the authors I'll be introducing is Irish and has written a story about Bono from U2 that has been made into a film in which Bono stars. The man knows Bono! I will meet him this weekend, shake his hand, perhaps spend the night drinking with him and listening to stories about Dublin. I will then be one degree of separation from Bono.

Also today I emailed a friend to congratulate her on winning a prize in the WFNB literary competition and she wrote back to ask me if I would help with the Frye Festival next year. If I would co-ordinate an event at Mount A. An event that they hope will be covered by Daniel Richler and Book TV. A panel discussion between an English and an Acadian author . . . the English author they're trying to get is none other than Ann-Marie MacDonald! If you've been reading my blog very long you'll remember how crazy I was to meet her last fall at the Alden Nowlan Festival and the history we shared with me selling t-shirts at a Sunday matinee of Goodnight Desdemona.

Also today I was asked to edit an anthology of work by the Miramichi Writers' Guild and I made plans to get together with a friend of mine and discuss the particulars during the AGM this weekend.

In other bits of positive reinforcement, my father bought me a microwave and a fly swat for my new apartment (the latter to kill any spiders I might run across, since being so traumatized by the ones living here) and he actually apologised for saying something not so nice to me, explaining that he was just kidding and thereby killing the usual mega-fight that I've grown so used to.

Have I mentioned that I've taken an apartment with a loft and a skylight, on a street straight from a Stephen King novel, and with a landlord who drinks California Merlot and is a journalist for the CBC . . .

I tell you the universe speaks to me everyday lately, and she says I'm doing just fine.

Mood: Excited!
Drinking: Nothing
Listening To: Blue Skies, Betty Hutton
Hair: Greasy around the edges

Are You a Republican?

I am: -1% Republican.

"You're a damn Commie! Where's Tailgunner Joe when we need him?"

Are You A Republican?

Thanks, but no thanks

I have a concern. There's something going on in my house . . . something not so good . . . something kinda downright nerve-wracking by times. Be afraid. Be very afraid to come to my house in the wee hours of the night. I noticed the change a couple of days ago . . . I was reluctant to believe it, accept it for what it seemed to be. Kevin insisted gifts came this way and I should welcome them into my life . . . and I admit a little one every now and again is no problem. A little one I can live with -- I have lived with.

But this is too fucking much. If this is a gift I don't want it. Thanks, but no thanks. Take it to someone else. I'm done!

I'm talking about spiders. And not just little cutesy fun to hang out with do I really have time to fish him out of that corner spiders. I'm talking about mother fucking big ass monsters of spiders. EVERYWHERE! The house is full of them. One darted out into the hall tonight, in the dark, and I could see him! Like a mouse or something!! THAT'S how big he was. I was afraid to step on him. Afraid not to. I was too worked up to clean up and dispose of the body. AND I MEAN BODY!! Not a little tissue deal, a full blown paper towel burial after a huge scraping.

It's crazy. I'm having a nervous breakdown from it. Last night I killed three and Mom killed one. Tonight I killed two. The last one, the unlucky bastard who accosted me in the hall. They probably came in on the wood, hung out in the basement snoozing most of the winter, but the spring is bringing them to higher ground like all the other bugs. Something has got to be done. I can't live this way, and I still have some time left to live here before the move.

After the slaughter in the hallway, I turned on all the lights in the house and made a lot of noise. Can spiders hear? I thought maybe they would stay away, because I don't see any in the daytime, only at night after everyone is gone to bed. I was freaked out. I mean seriously freaked out. Mom got up and told me to have a glass of wine to calm down, because I was so freaked out she was worried I was going to have a heart attack or something. So I had a glass and it did nothing. So I had another. And I'm still freaked out. So I brought the bottle to bed with me and hope I don't have to go out and pee later. I feel like if I'm in here with lights glaring, music blaring, tapping my foot, nick snoring and barking and just generally rattling around the room . . . then maybe I'll be okay in here and not have to see anymore. Because I can't deal with the stress of it. I HATE them! And whatever it is they're trying to bring me, I don't fucking care how big the delivery guy gets, I'm stomping him into the ground cuz I don't want any!! You hear me spirits?! I don't want any! So, abort any future missions right now. You DO NOT want to go to war with me on this, they didn't call me Killer Kel for nothing -- I'm armed, dangerous and deadly . . . and a little drunk.
Mood: Nervous
Drinking: Cheap Chilean Merlot
Listening To: Just Friends, Gavin DeGraw
Hair: Straggly ponytail

Penguin's Word of the Day

FRENETIC
/ fre'netik/ adj
frenzied or frantic

Mood: frenetic
Drinking: coffee, but still falling asleep
Listening To: nothing cuz i'm too paranoid
Hair: full of static

Give Me Your Strength

I'm a bit stressed. Can't sleep. Can't read. Having some wicked stomach cramps . . . like I've eaten something questionable . . . again. Ever since Mickey Dee's yesterday actually. So maybe it's just the crappy mac. I've got all this stuff swirling in my brain and I can't turn it off. Wanna peak inside? Okay, here goes nothing . . . from my brain to the page . . . here's a little Sunday Night anxiety for you.

I should be typing a story to give the girls this week. They need a story. It's this week right? The meeting at the library. Wednesday? Yeah. I NEED a story. Which one? Hmm. What was up with that guy today about the cyberbullying summit? He cc'ed the Prime Minister for godsake. The Prime Minister of Canada!! Like how crazy is that? What is up with people like that. OH, what about The Writing Through the Wall, never workshopped it before. Yeah, gotta type it in. Need to pack some stuff. Books. Think I'll leave Michael Crichton, just take the literary stuff. Noticed a Book Crossing section in the coffee shop down there. I could leave some books there maybe. Take Paul Reiser. Oh my God!! I've got to finish Frank's book before I go and that one from Judy. Got to finish reading those books right now, so I can return them before I leave. Yeah. Lots of stuff to do before I leave. Need to get back all my dvds, buy the furniture, don't forget a garbage can and laundry basket . . . although, I wouldn't really need a laundry basket, just a hamper. Gotta get a hamper. Need to write that down. So what am I gonna do about the Computer guy who keeps emailing me? Need to sort that out. He's either in or he's out. The other day on the train I sat with the Emergency Hammer. The fucking emergency hammer! $300 fine for using that tool for any other reason other than an accident. Never saw anything like it before. Emergency exit, yes. Emergency window, of course. But a freaking Emergency Hammer. It was red and really quite small. You wouldn't think it could help in the event of a big emergency let alone a major accident, still 300 clams for casual usage. But hey what do I know. MUST SLEEP! Gotta get up early. Gotta do laundry. Everything I own is dirty. Yesterday I wore dirty clothes to Sackville, dirty, out of the suitcase I've been living out of since Moncton . . . the first time. Man, I spent WAY too much money that second time. What the hell was I thinking!? But hey, the landlord gave me a break . . . bit of a break . . . really not much of fucking break considering I'm only gonna be there for a week and a half all month. Oh well. Googled him and he is for real. Gotta do the WFNB press release. Gotta do that first thing tomorrow. Gotta get up early. Do the press release right after I straighten out the bnm list. The list is screwed I think. Take forever to administrate it. Changing servers is not fun. DAMN! I forgot to put those stories in bnm this time. SHIT! Gotta do that ASAP. Have to get another email out to the list as soon as I can. Can't forget the poetry I've got hidden on there. And didn't he send me something else. Check in with A and see if she's done. What am I going to do without Nick? Can't even think about it. And the kids! They'll grow up without me. They won't know me anymore. We won't be close. Is it worth it? Gotta remember to watch that discussion on the forum, that could get out of hand. Think that guy is back under a different name, stirring the pot. What are all those racial posts about? That's crazy. Saturday morning I saw three leaves caught in a mini-whirlwind. Fodder for Callum. Just three leaves and they were clicking along the ground, ragged edges, beat around, bouncing along the ground like kids running and holding hands. Can't forget that. Gotta use it. Good visual. Also, can't forget the ring scene. Need to get that in there someplace. Think I'm psychic. Thought of Sandra and there she was. Thought of Herb and there he was too. Crazy the way that happens. Herb sent me an ebook. Should read it. He probably wants feedback. Need to find a minute to do that. At least skim. Never found a Catholic church. Surely there must be one. I need a Catholic Church. An old priest. A bunch of Catholic fanatics. Must have them. ANd a carpenter. Need a carpenter if I am to proceed. OH! Hey, wasn't he building things in that shed? Yeah, I think the journalist is a carpenter too. Maybe he can tell me how to build a nice coffin. Gotta get the coffin done for the kid. That's pivotal. Gotta get the blog fixed. Haven't been able to blog about Frye. Stuff is there but can't publish. Damn server! Tomorrow night gotta remember to tape The Shield for Mom. Almost forgot last week and she missed Bosco. Gotta do that for her. No more AI for me! CONSTANTINE!! I should be reading. I should be listening to poetry or Chopin. I should be relaxing. My hip is still killing me. Stacy wants to do a treatment on me, could be good, could fix. I have faith. Can't go on like this. Can't walk right. Haven't been able to since just after Moncton, the first time. Damn tradeshow! I can't cancel on the writing girls because it will be the last time before the move. Heaven knows when I'll see Susan again! Judy at the AGM probably. Judy in school. OMG! What the hell is wrong with you, you've got to remember to get the application ready for the workshop in July. That is due soon. And another story out. Must be five this month to stay on track. Haven't heard about the others yet. God I love Cameron Crowe! Watched Say Anything commentary last night and it was fabulous. John Cusack is genius too of course. Dad's getting me a microwave? What's up with that. Where are all those email? Those ones for bnm? Where did I put them? WFNB newsletter for June, should start a blank one and get ready so it's not a rush job. Gotta do that. Wonder if he's getting the INternet put in or do I need to do something about that. Should call him maybe. When did he say he was going away? And when are those kids coming? Were they kids? Faculty? Daniel Richler!! IMagine. Fingers crossed. Gotta sleep. So late. Up so early this morning . . . and yesterday morning. Can't sleep. Too crazy. Even after PJ party. Drank too much. Slight headache and dry mouth. Couldn't sleep worth nothing. Up all night, up way too early. Is this a sign of things to come? Is this the amazing energy of living your dream? I would love to get up early every morning there and walk around the park. Come home and do yoga, have coffee and maybe even a bagel. Shower and working by 8 am. HA! I'd even like to try life without coffee, more green tea. It almost seems plausible. I'm semi-concerned about starvation . . . there is the food bank . . .could I do that? I will eat cheap and less. Much less. AND never out. Never. It'll be okay. I've been eating like a pig this past week, like I'm fattening myself up for the winter. Except it's spring. ALmost summer. ANd I'm a cow. A bloody cow. Need to sleep, cow. Need to close those eyes and get some rest. Okay. Even if I just lay here with my eyes closed and focus on breathing, this will help me rest. I will get up in a few hours more rested than if I lay here rolling all over and cursing. yes. Focus. Breathe. Close your eyes. . . breathe in, breathe out. Imagine a babbling brook . . . Aww shit! I need to pee.

Mood: Neurotically Ill
Drinking: 7-Up
Listening To: Gavin DeGraw, Chariot
Hair: Fading fast

Moving on Up

Well everything is final. Yesterday I signed a lease and paid my first month's rent. I'm not able to actually do the move until the long weekend, but it's official -- I'm really going!! I've got a couple of weeks to pack and get myself together.
Mood: Hyper
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Etta James, I Just Want to Make Love to You
Hair: flowing

Checkin' In . . . Briefly

To dispel all the rumors . . . I am not dead. Nor have I been kidnapped by circus clowns. I haven't had my 13th nervous breakdown and been hospitalized. I didn't run away to Vegas to get married in an Elvis chapel. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened at all . . . I've just been busy. Really, really busy. Trying to get my shit together, you know.

A few highlights --

Went to Moncton with the Mighty Crew, stayed at the Rodd, worked Kiwanis Lifestyle Show, partied at Ivory's Piano Bar (super time!), did not spend too much cash, saw John Dor from Canadian Idol on the street . . .

Went to Moncton for the Frye Fest and had the best time! Met the author of The Whale Rider and a hundred other equally interesting people and a few truly special souls, spent WAY too much money, partied at the Aberdeen Centre . . .

Totally traumatized Anna. She completely freaked out when I got on the train and Sherry had to take her kicking and screaming to the car and then back to see Gary in order to get her calmed down. Passengers thought she was my baby and I was a terrible mother for abandoning her like that. She was distraught for days, refusing to talk to me on the phone or anything, just kept whimpering, "Kellie on the train!" and crying. Finally, demanded that Sherry call me today so she could speak to me. Told me she was watching Blues Clues and seemed happy to hear Nick and know I was home. Hard to believe she will be two next month . . .

Very close to moving. Viewing apartments stage. No furniture . . . but BEAUTIFUL new pots! Can't wait to make zitti and other faves. Hope to have friends to cook for, no fun just cooking for me . . .

Trying to work . . .

Trying to write . . .

Stomach tied in knots. Nick senses and seems depressed . . .

The fish died while I was away. Poor little bugger. I kind of miss him . . . but not getting another one . . .

Hopefully things will settle down soon. Trying to blog on the Mighty blog about the weekend more in depth . . .

Having a pj party this weekend for the girls. A final hurrah, so to speak. NOT a sleep-over though. Just some wine and snacks and a "Sex and the City" marathon for a few hours, in our pjs with no pressure to get dolled up and go out. Will be fun I think. Relaxing in any event.

Mood: Tired & crazy excited, semi-sick
Drinking: Nuttin' honey, drier than a wooden god
Listening To: Cry Baby, Janis Joplin
Hair: Man, you don't want to know! Think infrared light beaming onto my scalp for five minutes . . . I'm hoping my hair doesn't fall out

With or Without Me?

Verdict's in . . . without me :-(

Yes, tickets for U2 go on sale in a matter of moments and I'm not going to try to get any. I just don't see how I can swing a trip west this year with moving and university. So Taia, you can officially fold up the roll-away cot, it seems like another year might pass without a visit.

I took a long sobering look at my financial situation and made some hard decisions. My move has to be my top focus, followed by courses . . . then travel. But things have a way of working out for the best, so maybe money will appear and I'll still get to take a trip to Toronto, maybe to Harbourfront Festival of Authors or International Film Festival or something fun like that.

I found out yesterday that Mama Mia is closing in May. I always wanted to see that, always swore I would drop everything and go if it was going to close . . . but I can't do that either right now.

Things will come around once I'm moved; the bugger is getting there with first and last, utility deposits, etc. Once I'm settled things will be better financially. I've already got great ideas for making extra cash to help out with things like trips.

Anyway, I'm very optimistic and not at all depressed about any of this. Life is good.

Yesterday I met with my writer girlfriends and we had a good session. So today my batteries are fully charged and I'm raring to go! That's the great thing about taking the time to meet with them, not only does it help to keep me motivated personally with my novel and other creative writing, but it gives me great motivation and energy toward all aspects of my life -- BnM, working out, house chores and whatever else -- All of it! It's a good buzz to have and I confess I'm still carrying around a bit of a buzz off the Fredericton reading last week. We're going to try and meet again this week on Thursday; apparently Friday is Good Friday, which means Easter has snuck right up on me.


Mood: Electrified
Drinking: Coffee, perked with cream
Listening To: Eminem, Toy Soldiers
Hair: Gnarly

The Walk of Life

What a great day! I swear spring came today. The sun was shining in my window while I worked this morning, blinding me in a way it hasn't for many months. When Nick and I were outside today my boots made a sucking sound in the mud and he couldn't climb the snowbanks because they fell away under his feet. People walked their dogs past the house wearing pastel coloured jackets and running shoes. At 7 this evening it still wasn't dark. I didn't need my scarf and mittens.

What a great day!

And the best part . . . the absolute best part of this entire day for me . . .

Temperatures soared in the above range and I'm still walking, pain-free. For me, this is a really big fat hairy deal! The season is getting ready to change and one of these days I'm going to find myself struggling, that's just the way it is, the nature of the disease . . . but today was an absolutely beautiful spring day and I danced around the kitchen as I cooked supper, went walking on the treadmill, walking outside . . . I walk and I walk . . . and you better believe I appreciate every moment.

Mood: Peaceful
Drinking: Merlot (but only one glass, I'm not medicating)
Listening To: Tiny Dancer, Elton John
Hair: Pass the burritto and call me Ozzy!

Shall I Dismantle an Atomic Bomb?

A few years ago I went to a psychic and got a reading. I've gone to a few psychics before, but this one really seemed to know his stuff. Every now and then I take a look at my notes from that reading to see if anything else he predicted has come true (yes, lots of stuff has come true!) or where I am now in relation to that reading. I should probably go get it done again because it has been a few years. Anyway, one of the things he stressed with me was that I need to pay attention to my dreams. I know, that's a common thing for psychics to say but we discussed it in more detail than that with special regard to my writing and so on. Last night I read over my notes and was reminded that I really haven't been paying much attention to my dreams lately. At the time he gave me an affirmation to repeat every night before going to sleep -- "My dreams are vivid and I remember every detail. I understand the meaning of my dreams."

Last night I said this affirmation for the first time in a very long time. I went to sleep and I dreamed.

I dreamed Stacy and I went to Toronto to see U2. It was exciting! I didn't actually get to see any of the city in my dream though, didn't get to see anyone I know. The dream started outside the venue for the event. We were lined up with a bunch of other people waiting to get in. The doors opened and we were ushered into a stairwell to continue to wait. I could see my breath, the air was damp. There weren't that many of us waiting, maybe 20 people, but security was tight with gates and big no-nonsense guards. There were many entrances to the place and we had picked an obscure one in hopes of getting closer to the show.

The guards lowered the gates and we ran in the door to jockey for a good spot. Stacy and I broke away from the pack and led the way down a long hallway, the first to turn the corner and enter the room where they would perform. I skidded to a stop, shocked by the size of the place. It wasn't any bigger than a small conference room in a hotel with seating for maybe a hundred people. There was no stage but an area of the floor had been left clear and a single chrome microphone stand stood there without any amp, speakers, drums, guitars, signage . . . nothing to indicate that a performance was forthcoming. The stage area of the floor was roped off with thin yellow rope tied to orange cones. There were a few round tables set up for dinner surrounding the roped off area and then some chairs lined up like for a high school play. The tables were reserved for VIP ticket holders. I checked our tickets and saw they said "Standing Room Only."

Behind the stage area of the floor was a doorway covered with a velvet burgundy coloured curtain. The curtain heaved like it was sighing, breathing in and out on a gentle breeze. Stacy and I positioned ourselves at the rope straining to be as close to the microphone as possible. The other people we had waited outside with took their seats at the tables, in the chairs or standing beside us. Nobody else came in, there were no other groups waiting at other entrances. This excited me because if nobody else came we'd not only have the best view but chances were pretty good we'd all get to chat with the band and get autographs and everything before the evening was over.

The curtain sighed and I saw that the doorway opened onto a little room. Bono was pacing, talking to the Edge who was sitting on a stone bench. I couldn't believe they were really there! And so close I could say hello if I wanted. I was starting to freak out from the excitement and anticipation of the whole thing. I looked around the room and there were only about a dozen of us waiting for the show. Some people had left because it wasn't turning out to be what they had anticipated.

At precisely 7pm according to the silver digital watch on my wrist, Bono parted the curtain and entered the room. Edge stayed on the bench. Bono walked over to us, by this time there were only about six of us standing by the rope. He walked up to us and said he was sorry but the show was cancelled due to a lack of interest. "But no!" I said. "We came all this way!"

The Bono in my dream was not at all like what I imagine Bono to be like in real life . . . I mean with all of his humanitarian efforts and the lyrics he writes, all the interviews I've seen, all the articles I've read . . . nothing prepared me for this Bono. He looked like Bono mind you, but he didn't act like any Bono I've ever heard tell of anywhere . . . although he was upset too that hardly anyone showed up for the show.

The six of us begged and pleaded, just a few songs, PLEASE!! But he was having none of it. They weren't going to play for free to an audience of six, the rest of the band had already gone back to the hotel, the show was over and we had to leave. He turned and started to walk away. I reached out and grabbed his leather jacket on the arm. He turned back to me shaking my hand from his sleeve. "What now!?" he demanded. I told him he didn't understand, we had flown all the way in from New Brunswick just to see U2 perform. He shrugged and said that wasn't his problem. Everyone had left by then, it was just me and Stacy and Bono standing in an empty conference room . . . and I wouldn't give up. "But do you know where New Brunswick is?" I asked. "It's really far, and I came all this way spent all this money that I could've used for so many other things, just so I could see you guys." But he wouldn't budge . . . and he wasn't very sympathetic. He had come a long way too, he said, and now he wouldn't be paid.

As I creeped to consciousness my argument with Bono continued, even Stacy left. He couldn't see my side, could only think of his own interests. It was very odd . . . and not at all realistic.

But having this dream on the night when I affirmed that my dreams would be vivid and I would understand them, after reading the psychic's notes and knowing I'm supposed to pay attention to my dreams . . . it got me thinking . . . maybe I'm not supposed to go to Toronto to see U2. Maybe it's going to be cancelled and I'll be out money that I can't really afford to be out. Because I'll have to book flights . . . and getting out of flights, getting a refund on airfare, is pretty much impossible when you're taking the cheapest route. As anyone who knows me knows, I am a big believer in the power of the universe . . . I see signs and I listen to them . . . I try not to enforce my own will, because it's impossible anyway, nothing will work out like you plan if the power of the universe wants something else to happen. Things will just get screwed up if you don't listen and try to mess with the plan. I learned this lesson the hard way, but I know it to be true now.

Tickets go on sale this weekend, and now I don't know what to do. How important is this concert to me in the great scheme of things when I'm looking at a new apartment next month and more travel in general within the province . . . yet no anticipated increase in income? Maybe it's unrealistic to plan this trip? Maybe this dream is the sign and I need to listen?

Mood: Uncertain
Drinking: the scent of a feng shui candle (metal)
Listening To: Should I Stay or Should I Go, The Clash
Hair: This is an interesting new look for me -- the high ponytail on the left side of my head only, rather than centred. Hmmm . . . I don't think I'd wear it out in public.

How to Marry a Man in a Small Town

I'm trying to get some work done on my novel so I'll have something to workshop on Friday with the girls. For anyone who isn't familiar with it, the novel is written in the third person and focuses on the life of a man named Callum. Callum is not having the greatest life so far, there's a lot of stuff happening to him. There are several female secondary characters who are all very different from one another, yet they're all playing the same role (girlfriend) in Callum's life. Making each of these women stand out and be unique can be somewhat challenging, so I thought I would experiment by writing in the first person as each of my female characters. If they were interviewed or if they had to write an essay on their views of the world, what would they have to say? This has been really helpful in developing each of their characters and some of the results have been surprising to say the least. Take the character of Shannon for example. I thought she was a very sweet girl, a little thick maybe, but overall kind and sweet. It turns out she's a bit more manipulative than I first thought. Here's one of her monologues that I call "How to Marry a Man in a Small Town." Keep in mind these are Shannon's thoughts, not mine. And this piece is the equivalent of background research, it won't appear in the novel.

How to Marry a Man in a Small Town

It's hard to find a decent man around here. All the single ones — well, let's just say they're single for a reason. They're jerks, running from woman to woman. They'll never amount to anything. The decent ones are all married. Trouble is everyone knows that and there's not enough to go around, so you gotta be quick, you gotta stay on top of the situation.

As soon as you hear a marriage might be in trouble, you've got to make yourself known. It's an art form really. You don't want to go after the guy who's gonna get taken to the cleaners, you want the one who's gonna be left with the house — but not the kids! Kids are trouble. They'll bust up your plans every time. And you can't be the first after the wife leaves cuz they never keep that one and you want to be a keeper.

Maybe it's more like a science than an art. Yeah, I could write a book on it.

You hear rumours about something; maybe the wife is stepping out or talking unhappiness to the hairdresser. Maybe the man is on the prowl — you gotta watch that though. It's okay if he was a stand-up guy all along and this is a new thing, but not okay if he's been cheating on his wife the whole time, cuz you better believe it he'll cheat on you too. It's a total waste of your time to go after the ones that could never keep their hands off another woman. But the one's that have been quiet, that you haven't heard a peep about in years, but now they're stepping out all of a sudden — that's a big heads up. He's unhappy. That marriage is in trouble.

Okay, so you figure a marriage is gonna go bust but it hasn't yet, you gotta let your presence be known. Some eye contact in the grocery. A "Hi there! Hello!" at the post office. A little brush by at the gas station. Nothing outrageous, subtle stuff, but you got to be consistent and keep it up so he doesn't forget who you are.

It can take a long time for a marriage to split or it can go boom in the night. You gotta be ready and you gotta be patient. When it happens, you make a move — but not the BIG move.

Chances are in the beginning he'll fall to pieces. He'll start showing up at all the dances drunk and crazed to find someone to fuck. He might even chase after you, but you gotta hold back and bide your time. Now's the time to build a rapport, a little sympathetic ear and hand patting, but nothing more and not too much. Spend no more than 10 minutes with him at a dance. Let the other girls have at him. Don't worry there'll be other girls, they'll be out in droves throwing themselves at him. Let him fuck a few of them, have a good time and work through that eye-for-an-eye revenge and anger macho shit.

Wait at least three months to see if the wife is going to come back, if there'll be some sort of temporary reconciliation, if it's the real deal or a practise run. Just build rapport but don't make the mistake of becoming his friend, that'll kill the deal. A rapport, but still a mysterious unknown. That's okay.

Keep this up until he gets a girlfriend. He'll get one pretty quick. They always do unless they're complete losers, in which case you don't want to waste your time with him anyway. Let him have his girlfriend, but keep your rapport going. Don't panic, stay calm even if the girlfriend sticks around a couple of months or longer. Don't doubt yourself. Bide your time.

When he breaks up with that first girlfriend get ready to hustle. That's when the game is on because the next girlfriend will be a keeper and you want to be that girl. He won't fall to pieces this time because he never really cared about that girl anyway, but chances are that he'll still be hurting about the wife. You really have to gauge the situation here. If he's raring to go, let him fuck another girl or two. But if he seems tired, like he's holding back, then it's time to pounce.

Seduce him. Show him bits of your mysterious self but be sure to keep something hidden. Let him come after you, encourage it but still play a bit hard to get. Before you know it, you'll be the girlfriend and then the wife. You'll have the house and the guy. Game over, and he's none the wiser, thinks he was in control the whole time.

That's my theory anyway. It was still in development when I met Callum though. That was my major mistake. I was the first girlfriend.

-- Shannon

Mood: Playful
Drinking: Coffee, perked and black
Listening To: Bad Habits, The Monks
Hair: Got2b my best friend

Hair Today . . . What Tomorrow?

I'm getting bored with my hair. Anyone who knows me knows I've been growing my hair out for a couple of years now. I've always had short hairstyles, since I first got it cut short in the second grade. Changing my styles and colours has always been fun for me . . . but now I've gone longer and I'm bored. You can't do as many fun things with longer styles it doesn't seem. Even if I dye it some freaky colour . . . what will I do with it? It'll just hang there like always or else get pulled back into a God-awful ponytail. Blah!

The last time I got my ends trimmed I mentioned to the hairdresser that I was thinking of doing something drastic like getting a super short spiky pixie cut again. She was horrified, "But you've put so much work into going long! And now you've got it beat!" I confess I just don't get the long hair thing, I never have. Everyone I've ever known always looks better in shorter styles . . . yet, many girls (and most guys in particular) seem to really dig longer locks. What's up with that?

In the beginning I decided to let my hair grow because I'm not getting any younger and I think after a certain age women can't carry off the long styles very well. So, I figured if I was ever going to experiment, I'd better get started. I had no idea how long it might take to get even shoulder length hair. I'm a little bit below my shoulder now and it's been probably close to three years.

My hairdresser is right though, I've got the awkward part of growing your hair out beat . . . but the trouble is I don't know what to do with it now as we continue on down to the small of my back. Without going drastically short and just tossing all these years of work away, what can I do to spruce up the old do and loosen up the boredom? Any suggestions for styles or colours or hair accessories or . . . ANYTHING?

Comment please.


Mood: Heavy-Lidded
Drinking: Just finished off half a bottle of cheap Chilean Merlot
Listening To: Apatrullando la Ciudad, El Fary
Hair: Stringy

Have Mercy!

It's funny how memory is connected to your senses, how certain smells remind you of certain things, how certain songs transport you back in time. I'm sitting here listening to tunes and on comes an oldie but a goodie from the 80's. You would think this song would take me back to my youth, the days of the rebel teenager, but it doesn't.

Instead I see myself in my early 20's in the early 90's, sitting in front of the console in the on-air booth at the old CFAN building overlooking the Sobey's parking lot. It's midnight and I've just gone on for the overnight shift. The station manager is a bit of a sexist pig. He has certain ideas about what voices work best at what times and he has decided that a female voice is exactly the thing the night shift at the mill will find enticing. But I'm not impressed with this discrimination so I'm not talking much.

The good thing is that I get to play pretty much any song I feel like during this time of the day because I don't need to worry about Canadian content ratios or getting some God-fearing religious freak's prayer beads in a knot. This is when I can play Zeppelin or AC/DC and get away with it. I like to put in Stairway to Heaven so I can enjoy a nice long smoke in the bathroom down the hall.

People are always calling the station to find out the weather forecast or the tide times and sometimes to request a song. There's a guy who calls every night to request the same song. His name is Darren and he works at one of the 24-hour service stations in town.

Darren has lady problems. He has a daughter with a girl but they broke up and she's taken his kid to Moncton to live with her. His ex really seems like a bitch to me. He's devastated by the whole thing because he loves his kid so much. The sun rises and sets on her. He's confused and doesn't know what to do. Thinks he might fight for full custody.

Every night he calls and we talk for hours about our lives. We talk until 5:30 when the morning ride to work male voice arrives. It's kind of weird sharing all these conversations with a guy I don't really know and have never met in person, but it's kind of nice to have a friend too. My boyfriend is jealous of this friendship. He doesn't see anything nice about it at all, just weirdness.

After weeks and weeks of talking everyday, Darren, who gets off work at the same time in the morning as I do, would like to drive me home, but I won't let him. That would be crossing the line I think, because I do have a boyfriend. Still, I'm curious about him. I would like to meet him in person. As the months go by things are not going so great with my boyfriend and I'm becoming even more curious about my telephone friend, but then the calls stop and I don't know who he really is or where he's gone.

I never find out.

I break up with the boyfriend, move away, move on with my life . . . and still every time I hear this song, I hear that voice on the phone and wonder where Darren is, what happened with his daughter, and if he ever got that girl he requested every night.


Listening To: Henry Lee Summer, Wish I Had a Girl

In the Name of Love

Last week U2 announced more North American tour dates. They're coming to T.O. in September for two concerts at the Air Canada Centre!! They're also coming to Montreal and Ottawa in November . . . but I'd much rather go to Toronto. Tickets go on sale March 19th. Only $50.75 for general admission (floor). I checked air fare and it's only $310 return out of Moncton. Sooooo . . . I think I'm heading back to the T dot this fall!! How exciting is that?!

I'm really hoping I can swing it. Stacy is not a big U2 fan . . . well, she's just not familiar with their music. I think she could be a fan, if she tried harder. Anyway, she's up for any sort of a road trip that takes us to our favourite city and old stomping grounds, so perhaps she'll come with me.

I don't know whether I'll do a drive-by in the old neighborhood or not. I have this superstitiousness about that place. Like if I get too close I'll get stuck. I know it's irrational . . . I think it's more to do with Kevin than the neighborhood. The last time we saw each other he wanted to move to NB, get married and start a family. I didn't handle that situation very well at all, I was still M's girlfriend but I was getting close to R and ready to leave M. Kevin just complicated things further, so we didn't leave it on very good terms. I don't know if I could handle seeing him and having him hate me . . . or worse, still love me. Yeah, that would be bad. Thank God I no longer need to create drama in my life to keep myself from dying of boredom! Things are so much less complicated now.

Mood: Chipper
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: poor you, beat & path
Hair: Very straight, sleek and shiny

The Girls Are Back in Town

I don't know who is more tired tonight, me or my dog. It seems to take a lot of out of him when I go away. He's not content unless I'm here. I worry about the spring when I move. I'm hoping he adjusts to not having me around. He's snoring up a storm right now. And speaking of storms -- I'm back from Freddy . . . yeah, I know . . . we probably should have stayed home. The drive over was TERRIBLE! But I don't know, Environment Canada was not reporting any of the craziness in the Fredericton forecast. Miramichi and Blackville were fine, the storm had passed, the wind died down. When we drove into Doaktown everything changed. A blizzard came out of nowhere. We thought it was just a squall and we'd drive out of it, but no such luck. We were in it all the way. Unbeknownst to me Terry and Gordie from work had planned to come as well. Gordie was in Grand Falls and the drive in from there was even worse than the one from Miramichi, so he didn't get into the city in time for my reading. Terry, on the other hand, caught up to us in Boiestown when we stopped to gas up. So we drove the rest of the way together, which was good.

The reading went great. About 20 people were there. We probably would have had a better group if not for the weather. I'm sure many people thought it was cancelled. There were five readers and wouldn't you know it we read alphabetically . . . so I went last. I was nervous but Stacy said people who didn't know me would never have known. She was sitting in the back row and actually didn't think I was that nervous at all . . . but people closer to the front could see my papers trembling I'm sure. Overall it went fine. I really enjoyed everyone else's readings. I wasn't familiar with Biff Mitchell before the event -- Man! What a character! His reading was hilarious. His ideas are so out there, I loved it! I'll be looking into his work further for sure. He was the main organiser of Read an Ebook Week in Canada this year so he started the evening with a bit of discussion on eBooks that I found particularly interesting. Terry did too. I see Mighty eBooks in our future for sure. Joe Blades, who initally invited me to this event, read a few poems from his various publications in keeping with the theme of electronic publishing. I have all the books he read from. It certainly adds another level when you get to hear the poet read his works himself though. He also read some new work that I really liked. I particularly liked the phrasing about a winter indoor tan. His sarcastic wit always make me smile. Another interesting reader was Chris Owen, who writes homo-erotic literature. Her eBooks are selling like crazy. She couldn't read much of her work obviously, given the racy nature of her genre. But apparently sex really does sell. An Argentinian Canadian author, Nela Rio, read a couple of her poems. She read one in Spanish and then read the same poem translated into English. Foreign language poetry is so touching and beautiful when recited in its native tongue. Her poems were vivid and gut wrenching though about the terrible things that have happened in her country, particularly to women. I followed her and I felt like my story was trivial in comparision. I would post it here for you to read, but I still have hopes that if I ever get off my big fat ass and actually send things out they will get published (and I will get paid! Although a meagre sum I'm sure) So, if I publish it here that eliminates all the first rights markets. But for those who might know it, I read The Lost, which is the story about the little girl in the store with her father, who talks WAY too much and listens to nobody . . . hey, they say write what you know, right? :-) I think it was well received and it wasn't too Miramichi.

After the reading, we went to Mexicala Rosa's so Stacy could have a margarita. Gordie met up with the Mighty crew there and Joe joined us as well. Had a great time! Terry picked Joe's brains about the publishing biz. I could see the cogs spinning there. I'm ready at any moment to receive an email from him with all the details about our first eBook. I'm sure it won't be long. He's already sent me a bunch of information about copyrights and legal stuff since he got back to the Miramichi today. We had lots of spicy food and I drank tons of wine (even though it was from a box) and ended up closing the place, which wasn't that late on a Wednesday night, only 11pm. We didn't go any place else because my Mighty co-workers all had early morning meetings scheduled.

Stacy and I stayed in Claude's apartment because he was house-sitting for his boss. We went back to the apartment and got ready for bed. The place was freezing!! I had a t-shirt and sleep pants on and I had to put on a sweater. We turned up the heat and sat on the heater . . . but it didn't seem to be blowing any heat no matter how high we turned it. Stacy went in the bedroom and discovered the window was open 6-8 inches! On the coldest freaking night of the year!! We shut that and figured we'd get warmed up pretty quick but still the heater didn't seem to be throwing much heat, even though we cranked it to 90. We frigged with that awhile and watched some tv then decided maybe we'd warm up if we got into bed. We went to bed dressed -- sleep pants, tees, sweaters, socks -- and found that the bed was no warmer. Honest to God the cold seemed to be seeping into the bed from the floor up through the mattress. I rolled onto my side so as little of my body as possible was against the mattress, curled into a tight ball and pulled the covers up over my head. I may have slept 3 hours total in that way. Stacy drifted right off though. She's not as cold-blooded as I am.

In the morning I stayed at the apartment while she went to her meeting then we went to Coras's for breakfast. Had the usual waffle with apples and caramel and cream. YUMMY!! Then we picked up a parting gift for Claude and went to his work to return his keys. Ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon, having supper, and then going shopping with him after work. We went to Winners and I bought a great bag to carry my books and notebook. Good for the days when I meet with my writing workshop. Also good for the days when I go into the office for work. The best buy was when we went to Victory Meat and bought lots and lots of meat at knock-out prices! That was pretty exciting. We drove home in the dark, but the weather was clear and Stacy had a rental car (a 2005 PT Cruiser) so the frost heaves were a breeze -- talk about a nice car on the road! We're all big PT Cruiser fans now.

And so I'm back, none the worse for wear and feeling really good about my writing, really energised to continue work on my novel, though extremely tired at this moment.

Mood: Pleasantly Tired
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: I've Got to See You Again, Norah Jones
Hair: Slick (We need to discuss this in detail, more soon)

Friend of my Youth

Last night I was flipping through the channels and came across the movie "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" on CBC. That was one of my favourite books growing up. I didn't watch very much of the film because I've never thought it did the book justice. I used to believe that no movie could ever live up to a really great book, but I've come around a bit. Some movies are as good and better than the book they're based upon. "The Firm" is one. In fact, I think it was the first movie based on a book I had read that I thought was equally as good as the book. The key I think was that they focused on making a good movie rather than trying to stick explicitly to what had happened in the book. Of course, now I'm not a fan of John Grisham anymore. I still enjoy his earlier novels but like Stephen King I think he gave up quality for quantity. It's pretty much impossible to produce a couple of really high quality novels every year for dozens of years in a row. But the early books were really good.

Anyway, last night I was again reminded of one of my favourite reading experiences as a child when I stumbled upon this movie. Just thinking about that book transported me back in time. I closed my eyes and felt like the little girl lying on her bed racing through the pages to find out what happens next. I remember how I would suddenly stop reading and fold the book across my chest. I would close my eyes and imagine my bed had the same magical powers as the one in the book . . . and in my mind I would travel the world. I could feel my hair whipping in the wind and the chill in the air from being so high in the sky. I would travel to London, Paris and Rome. I would visit the pyramids, the Grand Canyon and DisneyWorld. I would land in the jungle and climb trees with the monkeys. I would join archaeologists on digs in South America. I would narrowly escape bullets and bombs in war-torn nations. There was nothing I couldn't do, nowhere I couldn't go. I met the most interesting people and had many exciting adventures.

Last night as all of this came back to me I realised the best part of that book had been the stories it inspired in me. I spent hours alone in my room with that book folded across my chest, imagining places and people and their stories. I was a fat little girl -- shy, smart, sensitive. I didn't have many friends. I didn't particularly enjoy school, or at least the social aspect of school. I didn't like to do a lot of the things that other kids enjoyed like sports, drawing, outside games. I faked sickness when I knew my best friend was going to miss a day. At home my sisters were quite a bit younger than me so I spent a lot of time playing alone. I have some terrible traumatic memories of school, particularly elementary school, grades 1-6. (By seventh grade I found drugs and became apathetic to everything and everyone.) But some of my best memories of childhood happened at home either in my room or outside in the woods when I was all alone and I would just close my eyes and let the stories unfold in my mind. I don't ever remember feeling lonely when I was alone, though I do remember feeling lonely at school where there were dozens of kids around. At home, in the quiet, I had a best friend, the most important friend I've ever known -- me.

I'm glad I ran across that movie last night, it reminded me of what's truly important. All sorts of crap can happen around me, but when push comes to shove, no matter what, I've always got me. It's always been me, since I was a kid. I am my own best friend, and I've never been better or stronger than I am right now.

Mood: I'd rather not say
Drinking: ditto
Listening To: ditto again
Hair: and again, ditto

The Last Man Standing

SOMEDAY JUST MIGHT BE TONIGHT

Playing king of the mountain on a dead end street
At the edge of the block that's where we cut our teeth
The world was trying to sweep us off our feet
I'd run home crying with cut up knees
"It's alright," Mama said. "It's alright."
Now nothing's changed, it never will
Learn to swallow defeat like a bitter pill
Remember the story about Jack 'n' Jill
They ended up driving in a Coupe de Ville
You don't know when your ship will arrive

Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight

You're the kind that goes swimming with a raincoat on
Who's to say if you're right or wrong
Let me know when you figured it out
Just don't go drowning in a shadow of doubt
Don't let the bastards make up your mind

Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight

You may never find a treasure that's been washed up on the beach
Heaven won't be waiting for you walking down these city streets
Remember Mama's Band Aids on your scabby knees
They had to bleed for little victories

Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
Don't give up, don't give in
You never know when the ship will come in
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
'Cause someday just might be tonight

-- Bon Jovi

Thanks to everyone who wrote and expressed their concern over my last post. I just needed to vent. Really, I am okay now. Mostly I've got my relationship with my parents all figured out, I know how to deal on a day to day basis . . . so occasionally I'm surprised when some old hurt surfaces out of nowhere to knock me on my butt. That's what happened. I dealt with it the only way I know how -- which is to get it outta ya! -- involving plenty of ranting, some cursing, tears, writing, and so on . . . but well worth the peace of mind at the end. Bygones!

In other stuff . . .

. . . I finally went to Carol's house for a sleepover! Something we've been trying to put together for literally months. Had a fantastic time! I drank too much wine (and RUM!), ate a ton of chicken fingers, lost more games than a person can admit to and still keep any self-esteem, and stayed up all night until 5 am talking. God, you gotta love some good quality girl time! We'll have to try and do it again sometime before I move.

. . . And speaking of moving, I told my boss I'm moving to Sackville to go back to university part-time (maybe work on a degree in English) and he was super supportive just as I knew he would be :-) So, it's kind of official now, I've got the green light. I've told everyone. I've got a plan. A date. WOW! It freaks me out! I'm excited but terrified at the same time. But I know any reluctance I might have to take this step, any nervousness or fear, just represents growth and change, which is always good stuff. I definitely know I'm stagnating here! So a little growth can only be good.

. . . I was completely devastated when I heard about Hunter S. Thompson's suicide, really depressed for a few days, took it pretty hard. I enjoyed him so much! It's terrible to see his life end in that way. It's so damn Hemingway! I just never thought he'd go out that way. I read an interview with a neighbor who said he was shocked this had happened. He said it would've been less shocking if Hunter had shot him rather than himself. That gave me a little bit of a smile. So true.

. . . I'm going to Fredericton next week for a literary event. I've been asked to participate in a reading at the Fredericton Public Library on Wednesday night. I'm psyched!! But again, terrified!! I'll be reading with three or four other writers, who all have books published already -- in some cases, multiple books published. So, I consider this to be a great honour and unique opportunity. It's exciting, my first real reading. I'm going to read one of my short stories called The Lost. It's the only story I have that I consider to be finished. I made some edits to it about a month ago and that's it, I really think it's done, I don't need to edit again. Hopefully, the audience will enjoy it and my voice will be strong.

. . . I attended the first annual Keenan Oscar Party Sunday night at my sister's house and came away with top honours for guessing the most award winners correctly. I think I got 13 right with the next best guesser getting 11 correct. Something like that. My award is a Pink Panther Bobble Head trophy that I must keep all year and present to the winner at the ceremony next year. I was a bit disappointed by the awards. I wanted The Aviator and/or Scorcese to get something. I had thought there would be more of a split in the top categories with Marty getting Director, Clint's movie getting Picture, or vice versa . . . but Million Dollar Baby ruled the night . . . and even guessing those categories wrong . . . I too ruled the night! Victory is mine! :-)

. . . My general apathy toward questionable meat and dairy products turned ugly earlier this week when I developed a rather mild case of food poisoning after eating a rancid omelet. I really need to pay more attention to expiry dates and how things look and smell. Stacy has been telling me that for quite some time and frankly is shocked I don't poison myself more often. Perhaps it is time to slow down and smell the milk.

. . . I'm meeting with my writing support group on Friday. I sent them about seven pages of complete first draft, a few scenes with a new character in my novel. Her name is Denise and she's one of Callum's girlfriends after his wife leaves him. Terribly frightening to send crap off that is so rough, I've never gave them anything this early into development before. So it will be interesting to see what they say. On the other hand it's great that I trust them enough to be this vulnerable.

And that's all for now, folks!

Mood: A little sleepy
Drinking: Only one glass of wine officer, I swear!
Listening To: Bon Jovi of course
Hair: The very high top-of-the-head ponytail

The Importance of Mourning

“A man without land is nothing."

When Duddy Kravitz's grandfather says this, Duddy becomes obsessed and begins the relentless pursuit of property that is his downfall. "The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz" is one of my favourite novels by the late great Mordecai Richler.

Many years ago, when I was still a wee lass, my parents told me I could have a particular parcel of land -- river frontage, with a babbling brook, apple trees -- a great place for a little house. Very rustic! And I happen to have friends who can appreciate rustic, so I always thought it was a good fit :-)

It was sort of understood that when I went to settle down, I would build there.

That was a long time ago . . . the late 80's, early '90's . . . and as everyone knows, settling down in the sense of marriage and children wasn't really in my cards. Whenever I would be in a serious or semi-serious relationship, I would think about that land and whether or not I could imagine (or wanted to imagine) building a life there with the guy. Sometimes, I came close to seeing it . . . but in the end it always boiled down to trust.

I never trusted anyone enough to risk losing that land in a nasty break-up. I loved that land too much to let a man come between us.

I took friends there and showed it to them. Sometimes when I was going through a particularly hard time I would go there alone and just sit and listen to the brook and the river and imagine a life there. Occasionally, I even went there in the middle of the night, back when I was always out alone in the dark and I didn't worry about bears.

I always liked the security of knowing that when the time came I would have a place. And it was a good place. A place I trusted.

My life started to fall apart in 1999 and over the next year or so I lost everything -- my business, my boyfriend, the roof over my head, my health -- everything. I ended up back at my parents. I ended up flat on my back wondering if I'd ever walk normally again. I bottomed out.

They say you need to hit bottom in order to start to climb back up again, and that's absolutely true. I hit bottom and I wallowed for awhile but then I started to work my way up again. And the first thing I did was work on myself -- my self-esteem, my relationship baggage and issues -- and it didn't happen overnight, but pretty soon I was a little better. I was okay being alone. I liked myself again. I felt strong.

And still I thought about the land. But now I had a different strategy. I wouldn't wait to settle down with a man. I would live there on my own. I went so far as to design my little house on paper. I actually drew a floor plan. I got a job, started taking care of my bills, started writing and pursuing my dream of being an author -- I was (I still am) doing okay. The road might be long and twisty but somehow, some way, someday, I'd get the bedroom loft in a little house by the babbling brook with a porch facing the river.

But a year or two ago, everything changed. It started with subtle hints from Mom . . . "Your uncle is crazy, how are you going to live with him as your neighbour? He'll make your life a living Hell." . . . "Why do you want to be so far away from the road?" . . . "Why not build at the river down here? Closer to the kids." . . . Which turned into a flat out "you can't have it I'm selling it" from Dad.

I was pretty hurt. I remember the first time anything was said, the first hint, felt like a punch in my stomach. I just couldn't even believe it. I couldn't believe after all the years, all the planning, at the very heart of it all they didn't want me to have it. It's no big secret that I don't get along that well with my father, yet still I never dreamed he'd disinherit me, that he'd sell my place.

For many months I thought I'd be left out of the land thing altogether. My sisters had their places staked out already, my brother was supposed to get the family homestead . . . there was nothing left for me if they sold my river place. But then it became apparent I'd be getting the family homestead. My brother has learning disabilities and can't live on his own. Somebody needs to take care of him. I'm in my 30's. I don't have any kids and family of my own. It doesn't take a genius to read the writing on that wall.

So, my plan changed drastically then. I started to think about leaving the area. I searched for places to move. I thought about going to Asia, Hong Kong or Seoul. I did a lot of research on Ireland, France and Italy. I settled on Stratford, Ontario, for a time. It became this sort of desperate search for a place, any place, where I could escape the life I felt was being forced on me here, where I could go and be happy and never get homesick for that other quiet life by the river that I had planned in my head for so long.

Make no mistake about it, in the beginning I was on the run. I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible and never look back. But the more time that passed, the more I worked on self, the stronger I became emotionally and physically -- the closer the location of my move.

I've settled on Sackville, NB. I'm going in a couple of months. I'm excited about the move. I'm looking forward to starting a new chapter in my life, to making new friends, to being myself. So, why am I drudging up the past now, when I'm so excited about a future that doesn't look anything like I thought it would? Why am I thinking about the land?

My sister is getting her land . . . legally getting it, I mean. She's getting a new house, so they need to legalise ownership of the land. She's lived there for years, but nothing was ever legal before. My other sister has legally owned her land for many years now. She owned her land when I still thought I was getting mine. And that never bothered me. I mean I don't begrudge them their land, houses, happiness -- whatever. It's just hurtful to be excluded.

It's just watching the papers get signed, hearing the talk about it all the time . . . it's like rubbing salt into an old wound. It's brought up old issues, I guess. I mean, I don't want that land now. I really don't. I have a different plan. I'm happy with my plan. I don't want the homestead either. I don't want anything. I'm off in a couple of months to begin the adventure of my lifetime and I'm never coming back again. I mean, I'm coming to visit. I may even decide I want to live in Chatham or someplace. But I'm never coming back to live in this house or anywhere on this road or in this town again. Never. No matter what. I'm very thankful to my parents for all of their help over the years, but I'm done. I need to go live my own life now. Who knows maybe I would've ended up leaving anyway and wouldn't have wanted the land afterall . . . but I guess we'll never know that will we?

The thing that hurts is that they didn't want me to have it, plain and simple. They had no problems signing off huge chunks to my sisters, but not me. So lately I've been getting upset pretty often because it's all at the forefront while my sister works out her ownership details.

Of course, in the Kellie way of doing things, I never said too much when the land first got taken away. I internalised everything, crying when nobody could hear me, plotting elaborate "I'll show them" schemes, letting it fester. And to my parent's way of thinking, my very few words on the subject bascially meant I was fine with the whole deal, gee it was practically all my idea to begin with.

Now, to their way of thinking after I've been quite verbal about wanting nothing, I should expect nothing. They don't get it. But that's okay, because this whole land deal should be done this week and then I won't have to think about it everyday plus I've figured out what I need to do to work past this.

In my hurt and anger and urgency to make a new plan, I never stopped to mourn the old one. I burned the floor plan of my house in one of my cleaning purges but I never stopped to cry for the death of that dream. So, that's what I'm doing now. I'm saying good bye to the dreams of yesterday, closing that door for good, so I can open another door and fully embrace my dreams of today.

Mood: Sad
Drinking: Water
Listening To: Got to be Real, Cheryl Lynn
Hair: Straggly Up-do

Finally!!

I must've complained enough about the movie theatre because they finally opened some films I really want to see. Tonight Jenn and I went and saw The Aviator. I loved it!! Cate Blanchet is fantastic as Katherine Hepburn. Leo DiCaprio has never been better, it's the best performance of his life. The film is nearly three hours long but for me it went by in no time, it didn't seem long at all. I haven't seen Ray or Million Dollar Baby . . . All the Oscar buzz seems to be around Clint Eastwood . . . but I don't know. The Aviator is the best movie I've seen in forever! I can't wait to own the dvd. They all deserve Oscars in my book. Cate, Leo, Scorcesi -- everyone!

In other news, I've been informed all the bugs are ironed out of bnm and I'm back in business. Thank God!! I was losing my mind. Even without publishing a single new word during the entire month of January, visits ended up at 13,223 double what they were just two months ago in November. And those are actual visitors, not hits. Which means if the same person visits the site 10 times in a single day, they are only counted as one visitor. Pretty cool, huh? I have no idea where all the new traffic is coming from but it's fantastic! February is of course a short month, so the numbers will probably go down, still it's exciting stuff.

Mood: Nostalgically stoned (sans drugs)like a Val Kilmer character
Drinking: coffee (100% Columbian 20 oz. Mainway with double cream)
Listening To: I Believe (when I fall in love next time it will be forever), Stevie Wonder -- High Fidelity Soundtrack
Hair: designer tousled

Living the Dream Baby!

I went to the office yesterday for the monthly meeting and personal development session. I had one of those a-ha moments that Oprah always talks about, when suddenly it all clicked together and made sense for me. We've been doing goal setting and I've been getting a little down because my personal dreams and goals seem to have nothing to do with my current employment. I had started thinking that maybe I needed to think about either leaving my job and starting over or else give up my goals. Neither option felt good to me and I've been having a really rough month of personal debates with myself. Yesterday morning Gordie started the day with a goals refresher from last month. We had to think about where we are, where we want to be and whether or not we could do better. Then we had to quickly jot down two goals to have accomplished within one year, five years, and ten years. You can put anything, they don't have to be related to your job and he stressed to think big. He gave us a few minutes to do the exercise, which would be plenty of time if we had completed our homework from the last session and thought about our goals. Here's what I wrote:

Goals within 1 year: Move out and get a place of my own, Finish my novel and enter it for the Richards Prize

Goals within 5 years: Take a trip to Italy, Have my first novel published

Goals within 10 years: Own a house, Win the Giller Prize

Pretty exciting stuff, eh! Writing those things down and seeing them unfold in my mind's eye really gets my heart pumping, I gotta say.

Gordie went on to say for us to set definite goals, at least two for each of the time periods and then make sure to read them first thing every morning and last thing every night. He gave statistics that proved just by writing them down we had improved our chances dramatically to achieve them. If we made the extra effort to review them it would improve our chances even more. Okay, this was nothing new, I've heard this stuff a million times if I've heard it once. And while I do believe it happens, I haven't seen much evidence in my own life. In the next exercise Gordie asked us to write down six things we have to do tomorrow and then once we'd written them down, we had to go back and number them according to their importance. The idea being to get up the next day and hit the number one thing and get it done, then continue down the list. He said it wouldn't matter if you only got the first two things done, at the end of the day you'd be able to look back and say you'd done the two most important things.

Here's my List I wrote:

1. Finish BnM and send out the email
2. Write the Z press releases
3. Call the C guy
4. Finish the PR research
5. Finish K's story
6. Go send money orders and pick up parcel

The first five things on my list have to do with my work and the sixth had to do with my creative writing. All the energy that excited me when I wrote my goals immediately went out the window. I knew I'd be lucky to get through the first thing on my list in one day. Using this method, I'd never get to do the stuff I needed to do in order to reach my goals. I was pretty glum before lunch and realised that this is exactly the sort of thing that has been sabotaging my goal setting since the beginning of time. My goals and the reality of my life don't mesh. Again, I started thinking maybe I'd have to quit my job if I wanted to do any of the other stuff.

After lunch we watched a DVD of a motivational speaker about dreams (i.e. goals). He told the usual stories about how Jim Carrey wrote himself a post-dated cheque for $10 million when he was flat broke and booed off the stage at one of the comedy clubs. In the memo part he wrote for acting in a movie. By the time the date rolled around to cash the cheque he was actually being paid $20 million for acting a movie. About how Sally Jesse Raphael quit or was fired from over a hundred jobs, lived in her car and ate crackers with ketchup to survive before realising her dream of becoming an emmy winning talk show host. Some of the stories I had heard before, some were new. He told his own story about how seven years ago he was bankrupt, didn't own anything, had to borrow a neighbor's car to take his kids to school and so on. He wrote his dreams down and now he lives them. He said it's a strange phenomena but when he decided to live in the pursuit of his dreams, his life completely changed. He started making more money, things started going his way. What really struck me was that his dreams were not work related, they were fun. He wanted to hike the Grand Canyon and sail the Nile, climb the tallest mountain peaks and travel the world. And now he does all those things and more. I started to wonder if my reality and my dreams might come together if I just had a little faith that they could, that they weren't too far apart.

He said big dreams have four properties:

1. A big dream has EXTREME power.

People pursuing big dreams have tons of energy, they don't need to sleep as much as the rest of us. Other people get excited, big dreams draw a crowd. Big dreams can cause huge changes. Take Walt Disney for example. His dream of Disney World completed changed the state of Florida in many ways.

2. Big dreams add life to your life.

When you're pursuing a big dream you're energised and excited and doing things you never thought you would to achieve what you want. Before he started to pursue his big dreams, he had never been out of the country. Now, he spends about 60% of his time out of the country.

3. To see it on the outside, you've got to live it on the inside.

The power of visualization. He used Walt Disney as an example again. Walt lived Disney World on the inside, he visualised it, and people thought he was nuttier than a fruitcake. But now everyone can see his dream, because it's on the outside. Later in the evening Stacy and I went to the new Wal-Mart -- the work of one woman who lived it on the inside so we could see it on the outside.

4. You won't be a dream-maker, until you stop the dream-takers.

These are the people who say you can't do that. They can be friends, co-workers, your family and even yourself. Self-talk is the most important. You won't be able to make your dreams come true until you eliminate any negative self-talk. And you might not even realise you're doing it. Like when you say you don't want to get your hopes up, that's negative self-talk. If you don't hope and believe in it, who will? He said to identify your limiting words and get rid of them.

He told us to make a list of our dreams, a big list, with big dreams. If time nor money were an object, what would you do next week? He said making a big list was important, because you need to back up a dream with another dream. When you accomplish one of your dreams the adrenaline rush ends and you crash down. You need to start in on another one right away. Always be pursuing a dream.

After watching this speaker my heart was pumping again about my dreams. Everything came together and made sense. I think I may have found the missing piece to my personal puzzle that I needed to make things happen. We shall see and soon. I'll keep you posted.

Mood: Charged
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: Bon Jovi, Crush album
Hair: half up, half down

Awards Day

I got up bright and early this morning to catch the live announcement of this year's Oscar nominees. Actually, I didn't get up, I stayed up all night, but really what's the difference. The point is I was there parked in front of the TV when the names dropped. There were no surprises really. Of course it would be helpful if I could see some of the movies involved before the actual ceremony, but chances are slim. The only films I've seen that were mentioned are Collateral, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Before Sunset . . . all available on DVD. Our theatre is in crises, bringing in nothing new week after week, and certainly not bringing in anything for adult audiences . . . unless it's horror. I have hopes maybe Hide and Seek with Dakota Fanning will come here because it looks frightening and has some big names involved. But then again I thought they would have shown White Noise, and that didn't happen, so who knows what they're thinking down there. You would think when you get a cineplex like that, with multiple screens, that you would get some variety and choices . . . but I'm really not impressed with what they choose to monopolise all the screens with. Is it too much to ask for at least one movie every couple of weeks aimed at the over 30 crowd?

In other news, U2 announced the first leg of their world tour yesterday and they've only got one date in Canada -- April 28th or 29th (I forget which) in Vancouver . . . Vancouver, British Columbia . . . it doesn't get much further away and still be part of the North American leg. So, there goes my New Year's goal out the window. I've got a lot going on in April. There's the WFNB AGM, which will involved transportation to whatever city is hosting this year, two nights lodging at whatever swanky hotel they're having everything at, workshop fees, Awards Dinner, general meals and drinks (much wine). There's also the Northrope Frye Festival in Moncton in April which may involve up to five nights hotel accommodation, train transportation to and from Moncton, taxis, meals, admissions, workshop fees, much wine, etc. I can count on spending at least a couple of hundred dollars on books during these things. That's a lot of saving and preparation in order to be able to do all this. There's no way I can also swing a trip to Vancouver for a U2 concert. They have some dates stateside in Boston, New York, Chicago, etc. But still it's May and there's no way I'll be able to do that so soon after all the writerly activities of April and as I prepare to move by June. Plus, I really don't want to go to the U.S. for some reason, I have an aversion. I don't want to spend my hard earned money there. I had hoped there would be a Fall date in Toronto. And maybe there will be, this is only the first leg that they've announced, after all. But that's what I had my heart set on, Fall in Toronto with U2, visiting old friends, going to see a show (Mama Mia maybe if it's still going on), maybe taking in some of the Harbourfront International Festival of Authors or something -- I had a plan! And maybe it'll still happen, maybe I don't even need Bono to go to Toronto this fall. Maybe I'll just go anyway.

But I'm getting ahead of myself . . . it is still January isn't it?

Mood: Tired
Drinking: Water
Listening To: Oprah drift down the hall from the living room
Hair: Severely ponytailed and just back from a fresh paint job

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Today is the first day of a three month contract I've signed with myself to eat better and exercise. So far so good. While my arthritis is generally better in the winter with the dry cold and only flares when we have a thaw, spring and summer and even fall can be a real pain in the butt, it helps if I'm in pretty good shape going in. My goal is to drop at least one size too in the three months, which doesn't seem unrealistic at all. If I stay committed I should be able to do that quite easily and even more. I'm focused on inches, not pounds, so I took all my measurements this morning . . . scary stuff :-)

In other news, we had a surprise birthday party for Jenn on Friday night. It was a pretty good time and she was totally surprised. She had absolutely no clue . . . even after we all yelled surprise and freaked her out she really didn't get what was going on. Lots of people showed up. We had cake with ice cream and various munchies. Played charades, Scene It, and a drinking game called I Have Never. I didn't get to bed until well after 4am. And that's that, the last of the parties and things until spring. Time to get down to business and focus on work and writing and saving money and all that fun stuff.

Mood: Driven
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: Knock on Wood, 54 Soundtrack
Hair: A friggin' mess!

January Blahs

It's so hard to get back into the swing of things this time of the year. Everyone seems to be so tired all the time, me included. *YAWN* I just want to curl up with a book or a movie, Nick, my fuzzy blanket, a hot drink . . . and just cocoon for the rest of the winter. But like everyone else I've got tons of stuff to do, a job, obligations . . . blah, blah, blah. Cocooning will have to wait until retirement I suppose . . . then at retirement I'm sure there will still be too much to do and no time for cocooning. *YAWN* I wish I could find some energy. I haven't been blogging, haven't been emailing friends, haven't been going out much, haven't been doing much of anything really . . . just the bare necessities, i.e. WORK. With any luck this too will pass in another week or so.

Mood: Blah
Drinking: Blah
Listening To: Blah
Hair:m Blah

Turning Another Page

I know when I get an email from Carol asking me where the hell I am that it is time to show my face around these parts again :-) Happy New Year! I've been pretty busy with work. There's a lot of stuff on BnM needing to be done to finish off 2004 and embrace 2005. And I've got a pretty big PR campaign on the go for a new client. So, I've been bogged down in media research mostly.

So, it's another new year, huh. God, I love closing the book on one year and starting a new page with another! It's invigorating, so full of possibilities. This is the time of the year when I set new short term goals and evaluated how I did last year. Actually, I start doing this sometime in November so I've already started working on the next stuff by the time New Year's Day rolls around. They're always pretty simple things, relatively easy to achieve . . . yet things that could go by the wayside pretty easily if I didn't focus on getting them done.

The things I wanted to do in 2004 were:

1) Attend the WFNB AGM no matter where in the province it was held

2) Be able to wear a particular pair of jeans by April that I couldn't get above my ankles at Christmas

3) Visit Sackville in the summer to see if it was a place I wanted to move to

4) Attend the Alden Nowlan Literary Festival in Fredericton in the Fall

Pretty easy stuff to do if you put your mind to it, pretty easy to let pass without doing if you weren't focused on doing them. I'm happy to report I did do all these things in 2004! And I had a great time too!

Looking ahead to 2005, the tasks I've set for myself are a bit more tricky financially, and there are more of them. So, I'll have to stay really focused and dedicated if I hope to achieve all of these things. Some are carry-overs from last year, things I did that I want to do again. Here's the plan:

1) Drop one size by April and maintain it throughout the rest of the year

2) Attend the WFNB AGM in April no matter where it is held in New Brunswick

3) Attend the Northrope Frye Festival in Moncton this spring

4) Move to an apartment by June

5) Go to a U2 concert no matter where in Canada (hopefully Toronto)

6) Attend the Alden Nowlan Literary Festival in Fredericton in the Fall

7) Submit my fiction to magazines at least once a month

8) Finish writing my novel, to have a complete draft done by the December

So, the list has doubled and includes lots of trips and stays in hotels, not to mention rent on an apartment . . . Maybe I should have included look for a higher paying job in the list ;-) Just kidding. It's going to be okay I think. I don't make much, but I seem to pick up extra just when I need it most. Anyway, there's my list. It'll be interesting to look back next year and see how I did.

What about you? Anyone set some goals for 2005?

Mood: Optimistic
Drinking: King Cole Tea (not steeped nearly enough) with half n half
Listening To: Bon Jovi, 100,000,000 Fans Can't Be Wrong album, Always (Demo)which is quite different from the one that they finally put on a record
Hair: Time to dig out the dye bottle again to cover those grey on top that only people taller than me can see