”I want to be less predictable, more various and flexible and hospitable to surprise...I want to be inconvenient and alive.”

i read those words last week, and since then that last phrase has been circling in my brain, and rolling around in my mouth...

...i want to be inconvenient and alive...
...i want to be inconvenient and alive...

what does it mean? it means that i want to live a life for me...not for how others perceive me......i want to be inconvenient and alive...i want to not care if i look foolish, or stupid, or incompetent. ...i want to be inconvenient and alive...i want to be okay with being disorganized if i want to be, or lazy, or selfish.......i want to be inconvenient and alive...i want to not worry that i’m making someone uncomfortable with how i am, or what i say, or what i want...

...i want to be inconvenient and alive...

i want to shout those words out to the world....because i need to hear myself say them over and over again, until i know that in all of who i am - the stuff i love, the stuff i hate, and the stuff i try to hide from the world – i am worthy of everything this world has to offer...

...i want to be inconvenient and alive...

she closes her eyes...
imagining...

a battle hardened body
scarred with
the markings
of past skirmishes fought
and won,

the worn hilt of her sword
a testimony
to her mastery...

oh, the body-felt yearning...
to live in a time
when she could have
travelled a countryside,
carrying her sword,
and slain a dragon or two...
with an easy knowledge
of enemies
that could be vanquished
for the good of all...

it would be easier
(she thinks)

than the life
she creates here,
in this seemingly mundane world,
where the dragons,
though invisible,
are no less real...

where the scars
she carries
to mark her battles
score only
her heart
and weigh
on her soul....

and where
her lined face
is the only testimony
of her resilience,
and strength...

i'm going away for the week-end....not for work this time...(yeah!)...just for myself...
i'm going to a writing retreat. i've never been to one before, so it's a little intimidating...but only a little...and, hopefully, this week-end i'll have some fun and relax...

i encountered this poem a while ago, by a writer named joy harjo. i put it up in my place of work. it reminds me of good times, of family, of friends, of sitting together in conversation, of time spent measuring the passage of our lives through the stories we share...

"Perhaps The World Ends Here"

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat
to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it
has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the cor-
ners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be
human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our
children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as
we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the
shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for
burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering
and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laugh-
ing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

and for something completely different (isn't that a line from an old tv show...?)

Six Random Facts/Habits About Myself That I Haven’t Already Posted

...thanks to Nerdgirl….remember about karma… :)

1. i once traveled from fort st. john, bc to london, england for a whirlwind four day week-end…got drunk in the toronto airport…hmmm memories…

2. i, unfortunately, am a speed demon when it comes to driving on the highway….luckily, no tickets yet…

3. my favorite job before my current profession was as a bartender in a bar with “exotic dancers”…oh, the stories…

4. i skipped at least ¼ of my classes in grade 12...and i rarely did homework...i was a horrible student…..

5. a few years ago, i drove from the northwest coast of bc to the east coast of newfoundland by myself. i wanted to see this country, and i’ve now seen most of it….i’d do it again, but not by myself…there is such a thing as having too much time to think…

6. i have a gutter mouth. i like to swear. i don’t do it at work, but away from work, i find it rather cathartic….

now i have to pass this on....swann, alan, and paul - it's your turn...

we're supposed to be tough...independent...supposed be strong and move on...that's what i told myself about life...that's what many of us think, or do...or try to do.....

but, in the realities of our our existences, this is not what happens...we move on, not having dealt with the myriad of issues we face, or experiences we live through...and inevitably, the past catches up to us...it surfaces no matter how hard, or how fast, we run...no matter what obstacles we try to put in the way, how many untruths we convince ourselves of in our attempts to cope...

and when the past does catch up, and forces us to look into its dark recesses, we can begin to know who we really are...for in the struggle to bring light into those dark places, we can also begin to know the potential of who we can be...

i write this for myself, for those who have been there, and for those who are there now....for someone i know curled up in his hospital room not able to deal with the world and what he has lost in it anymore...

i write this because i feel hope...for the first time in a long time....and because there are always first steps...