Thursday, December 27, 2012

The Raft, a free fall skit

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Joshua
Think alright think
 
John
It’s hard to think
 
Joshua
I know it’s hard to think
 
John
You think
 
Joshua
You want me to think
 
John
Yes you think
 
Joshua
I’m the one who got us into this mess and you want me to think a way out of it?
 
John
Well I’m scared
 
Joshua
Fucking terrified
 
John
Sings I see a little silhouette-o of a man.
 
Joshua
Are you singing Bohemian Rhapsody?
 
John
Yes
 
Joshua
Why?
 
John
That’s something I remember
 
Joshua
JESUS
 
John
Don’t remember survival skills class
 
Joshua
Nope
 
John
Nope
 
Joshua
Me neither
 
John
I seem to remember building a fire
 
Joshua
We’re in a river
 
John
Let’s get out of the river
 
Joshua
It’s a flood
 
John
I can’t take it anymore
 
Joshua
A raft, people needs rafts in floods
 
John
Let’s start a business
 
Joshua
Let’s start making rafts
 
John
They’ll all be named after woman Joni, Sarah, Jillian, Denise, Mindy
 
Joshua
We’re going to name the rafts?
 
John
It’s bad luck not to name a boat, and it’s got to be a woman’s name; naming it after a man is bad luck too
 
Joshua
Bad Luck
 
John
Yeah
 
Joshua
Bad Luck
 
John
What I said
 
Joshua
We’re in a flood, I don’t really think luck would care if we called the raft Joe John Bill Jack or Josh
 
John
So a raft is a good idea?
 
Joshua
A whole fleet of rafts!!!!
 
John
Can we get ourselves out of here first?
 
Joshua
You want to get out of here?
 
John
Yes
 
Joshua
Ask the guy with the orange jacket and the raft.
 
 

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

The Rehearsal

 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      
I’ll build a little fire
Until the love comes on
I’ll do a little soft shoe
Until the music plays
 
I’ll dress in reds and yellows
Until the world starts to see
Even though the audience chosen
Is empty seats and dusted doorways
 
I’ll dress in beads and flappers best
Around my painted legs
With a beaded flower
Planted freely in my hair
 
I’ll look out across the expanse
Where the exit sign has fallen
And project my silent voice
Into the must and graffiti of my mind
 
I’ll put the cigarette in the holder
Light its smoke up to the ceiling
And then a trickle of light
Over me and a stool
 
I’ll build a little fire
Until the love comes on
I’ll do a little soft shoe
Until the music plays
 
And I’ll start my little show

 

 


Tuesday, December 25, 2012

War Ships

not my photo
Crazy 21
Riveting a sail boat
Short shorts
T shirt that says “crew”
Every girl builds boats
Don’t they?
 
Hanging out with the “crew”
Having a beer
On tap
Maybe a Guinness
Maybe a dark and dirty
 
Childlike visitors
To the museum that day
Some unsure of where they are
Or how they got to the harbor
I tell them about history
From before my parents were born
 
Solemn rememberers  
Know all too well
Why they’re taking
One more walk across a war ship
I start telling them about the war
And they change it up
I let them tell me how the war
Really went




 
P.S Although not built as a war ship, the Acadia was refit to a war ship during both world wars.
 

Monday, December 24, 2012

A Few


A few years ago, after doing night shift at a hotel and living in a crappy apartment I couldn’t afford and being very sick I moved home. I didn’t know what I wanted except to either die or get well, nothing in between. I’ve been in between for a long time and I’m ok with it and life is getting better.

 A few months ago I gave my writing to a friend and she asked two or three times how she should read it. What kind of feedback I wanted.

A few days ago a friend said: “Frosty does it differently, what takes most people five minutes to figure out she has to ‘process’”. Well after a month and six pages of journal this morning I know I need a mentor, someone to point my in the right direction and talk to me about writing. And I have to ask for it, I just can’t look puppy eyed at the people around me and hope it happens.

A few hours ago I met up with a friend in the mall. We were waiting for the stores to be open. Last night I did a whole bunch of research on the romantic period in writing and I organized all the romantics on my bookshelf. I wanted to talk to him about it but I was afraid he’d think I was strange because it’s so not a B’town thing to do, so I was quiet. Does this make me seem distant different like I’m keeping something from people, am I not being real?

A few minutes ago I decided there are words that I want to know how to use. The romantics wrote about apprehension. Think about it, how does one include that in their writing? Use it? Do you write about it or do you weave it into your writing. Or does it just show up there?

I just picked up Moby Dick and looked for apprehension in Melville’s writing. I’m on an apprehensive mission.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Peace


I’ll sleep on a bed of rose petals

Deep in a cavern of the moon

There will be quiet

There will be solitude

I will hear the sound of my heart beating

And I will know that it’s mine


Sunday, December 16, 2012

Apocalypse Sun


The black apocalypse sun
Rises in the darkness
A night that will never wake
Our home
Darkened by
Industrial pollution
Chimneys and Incinerators
Fog and smog
 
A stranger is running
Up my drive way
I am frightened and
Run past my door
I live a lone
And it’s dangerous to stop
To open the door
 
The hand tapping on my window
In the night
A hand like a giant
Fat and wrinkly
Spent all day under the apocalypse sun
Curls his finger and beckons
Me outside
To travel
The world again

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Facing the Excuses


The first excuse I faced was moving out of the old apartment. There were a lot of reasons why I shouldn’t take this place, but it had a decent price a sunroom and I could have a cat. No more excuses out with the old in with the new.

I didn’t go right out and adopt a cat, even though people were sure the day after I moved in I’d have five. I made excuses: I wanted to get used to the house, to see what it would cost, to build up a little after I spent a lot moving (yes mama and papa helped). Could I afford her, was I healthy enough to take care of her, was I mature enough, would my lifestyle allow it.

Finally there were no excuses it was my birthday I was crying because I wanted a kitty. I still have no money and I’m still getting used to the house, but I have the friendship of a kitty; I’ve wanted that for a long time. Last night we rubbed noses (Kitty Kisses) for the first time.

There was a rush; a succeeding, a breaking through of the darkness.

Last night I couldn’t sleep with the light off. I had to turn it on. I wasn’t afraid of the dark; I was letting light into dark places. When I woke up this morning I felt good and did chores around the house rather than morning pages- so I didn’t do any heavy thinking, but I let things process in the unconscious, I guess.

And all of a sudden at my desk today I thought “I keep making excuses.” I keep making excuses about my debt, my debt is the reason I don’t have a credit card, don’t travel, don’t have a house.

I believe I can’t do anything about my debt, it’s been too long, why should I bother, I’m broke anyway so there’s no way to pay it off, it’s fine the way it is. But I know how great facing those excuses are. If fix my debt, I stop making excuses about traveling and buying a house. I see that although it’s a lot of work the payoff is grand. So this year it’s about facing the excuses so I can sleep with the light off.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Silent Bones



A future- my future; I saw it for certain, or thought I saw it. It’s been 30 years since I started putting bits of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do together. And when you’re young you see things that aren’t there, I mean, they’re in your mind yes, and when you’re sitting all alone in your bedroom they seem real and everyone tells you they’re possible, but when you open your eyes, they never happened.

When something does happen even a glimpse of something you panic and get excited and believe that it’s the answer to all you’re looking for that this one creaky door, tipping open will lead to a hall way of doors opening, that this one little creak is the answer.

That’s what my training in imagination has been for, stay young, stay that child dream out loud, dream in lights and colour, believe in the marquee and the novel with your name written on it four or five times; on the front and back covers.

When you live by yourself that’s the way it happens, no one sees it but you; it’s as real as you want it to be. It’s as quiet when it doesn’t come true. 
I'm editing the crap out of this little piece, if you look at the first page of "The Sweet Hereafter" you'll see many things that are similar... but as I'm editing it, I wanted to keep this copy, there's something about it I like

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Monday, December 3, 2012

Rocks


I looked at the therapist.

He asked “what did your husband do to upset you today?”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t have a husband, but he’s so convinced he knows me and can help me, that I don’t want to break his heart, hurt that look in his eyes. I figure it will cause to much confusion now, to tell him I’m single.

“He told me he found a lover.” I said

“Are you OK with that? You sound OK with that.”

I answered “He kept making excuses for why he couldn’t come home at night and I was getting used to not having him there. I told him he should stay with this lover.”

His eyes lit up and he leaned forward. “So you sound all right with this maybe this is what you’ve been looking for.”

“Yeah,” I said “Maybe it is what I’ve been looking for.”

 He leaned back at the end of the session talking about my husband and said “I believe we have made some real breakthroughs today.”

I nodded in agreement. This was the last Tuesday I had to meet with him.

All I knew is that even my nonexistent lover didn’t want to be with me. I felt depressed and deserted.

I walked out to the car where my mother was sitting and convinced her to go out for a beer, we had many.

To take the edge off we went down to the gazebo by the river and threw rocks until we were sober.

“Take that you cheating husband.” She would say and another rock would splash in the river scaring the frogs hiding along the riverbank.

Today I walk along the gazebo yard no mother no drinks free from the therapist and left on my own to figure out the inner workings of my feelings and who I am and why I do what I do. For me it’s better that way.

 

Sunday, December 2, 2012

King


There was an incident on the playground this week where one of the males I work with was referred to as “the queen.” He was more than ok with the remark. To the others that made me “the king.” I was not so impressed. I became incoherent upset and we stopped the jokes for a while.

I appreciate that I’m not your stereotypical woman. I played math and science games as a child, beat the boys at chess and still help the groups with the heavy lifting “Oh you can carry that generator.” Say the men who don’t know me. I have bought make up on and off in my life but always fail at using it and go to the national geographic magazines in the DR’s office “Chatelaine what?” But I am not a King.

I’ve worked damn hard to be a girl and survive as a girl and be a girl through all this world has thrown at me. I have a hard enough time, expressing my sexuality and I didn’t feel like I needed another strike against me with the boys calling me “King.”

This week of course led to a weekend of feminist literature and a greater understanding of who I am as a female. I’m sure there will be more discoveries to follow. As I become healthier I hear more comments from others about who I've become over the past 30 years.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

... from the centre looking out...



I never think about how long I’m going to live: I never say “I’ll do it when I’m 60.” I always live in the day. I will live until this moment stops being a moment.

Some people have 10 year plans, and say FML, and want “’today’ to be over.”Today never stops, this moment never stops, so I live in the moment and make it so it’s good, see the good in it.

Lately I’ve lived in the moment and know that it’s in the now, this moment only comes now and I need to keep living now and planning with what I have now.

 I used to imagine different futures for me, I’d go for a walk and imagine I was talking to someone I’d meet in the future, who wasn’t there. I would just dissociate myself from reality and find a better one. At the hotel I would imagine myself working in the film industry. Today when I’m alone I work on a story or when I’m with people I don’t disappear. I was at a friend’s house the night I got Izzy and when I stopped being in the moment and started thinking about being home with her I knew it was time to leave.

I had a dream the other night that I said “good bye” to directing theatre. In my head, I was supposed to be a great actress and director and writer, triple threat “core” style. I was supposed to be able to do anything you needed in theatre, you just call me up and say “I need someone to do this” and I would do it.

I saw a post on facebook this morning to go see a Daniel McIvor play in the city and usually I would realize how distant I am from what I studied in school and think that I failed. Today I smiled and said “I’m here in B town doing my thing.”

My thing is to focus on writing, and storytelling, and there’s a lot of work to do to get it to the standards I want. But now I can sit in my little couch in B town with my cat and instead of thinking “I should be in the city doing theatre, I can think: “I’m in the right place, working on writing.”

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Her New Home


I’m trying to write. But it didn’t start out a writing day so I’m not focused, maybe after supper. I woke up this morning and went for a walk at 8:30 the frost was all over the grass sparkling in the sun and B’town was relatively quiet. I went to get groceries and had a nap.
 
I forgot to mention something.

I turned *30 cough* on friday and on my birthday late in the evening mom encouraged me to look at the Local Shelter cats on the internet as I had showed interest in adopting a kitten a few days before... that’s a story in itself.

So after a few wine glasses of Strongbow Mama Duncan and I read animal shelter postings. This is what caught my eye as well as the eyes of "the bestest:” Tinker has been at [this shelter] for several months now and is looking for a special home. Tinker will need some extra TLC, she can be a bit scared and shy, she is fine when picked up and enjoys the attention but can seem a bit stand-offish at first. Tinker needs that special person to be patient with her and give her a special forever home.

I thought "I could do that. I’m this person.” There were a few cats I was interested in, but the lady at the shelter took me right to the adult cats I asked about and said "we’d save the kittens for last." We never got to the kittens and Tink/Izzy is getting used to her new home.
 

Monday, November 5, 2012

Gerard Manley Hopkins


There’s more here in my new apartment; more happening. I pulled out one of my poetry books this weekend and started with Gerard Manley Hopkins. He was the first person in the book. I looked him up on Wikipedia and then googled each one of his poems that I read. It was a first class poetry and writing lesson. From themes and images and rhythm and meter, I learned. I am in the process of creating a poem like I haven’t created in years, I was hoping to post it last night, but unlike the poems that I just post after I brainstorm this one is evolving and growing there’s a story a setting tension and images that need to build and then when I get all that done there’s alliteration to worry about and to make sure the meter doesn’t make it sound hokey. It could take a while.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Constant Quest


                                                                                                                    not my photo
This time of year we need a fall storm to pull the leaves from the trees. This year the people are talking about Sandy.

 It will be my first storm in the new apartment. On the second floor of a well contained box a storm was not a fear. On the ground floor of an old house, the kind you have to wear shoes in all the time because the hardwood floor is right on the ground and cold; the kind where they just sealed up a hole in the window, a hurricane is a learning experience. All Hurricanes get compared to “the big one” though and this one is only supposed to bring rain not the wind. I live on high ground, so I’m not worried about the rain other than to walk to work.

The new apartment has been visited by many. I have received plants and gifts and the story tellers came and told stories and sang ballads in the living room. They even set up a skit, that I was part of, without knowing it, about the new house and the girl on a constant quest.

Everything is all set up, there is a sun porch and the days are still warm enough to sit out and write, or share hummus with friends. There are a million windows that let the sunlight in and the kitchen is too cute.

Although I truly believe I live here and don’t wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where I am, I can’t believe how lucky I am to be in a place with such character and charm.

The street I live on is great to walk down and the fall leaves over the hills and on the sidewalk is like walking in an orange candy land.

Friday, October 19, 2012

My Lover




You can be single, not have children, and still feel amazing love.

I was looking over facebook this morning and saw yet another post about how you haven’t felt love until you’ve had a child. I know there is no other love like a child growing in your tummy and calling you mom. I also know there is no other pain like it. I want to tell you that I have felt amazing love. I know I love myself.

There is a lover I have inside myself. She has patiently sat alone in a cold bachelor apartment and let me cry and cry. This lover has listened to everything I have said; the first hour was always spent finding out what made me cry, the second hour was calming and explaining the situation how it happened why. The third hour we talked about how to change it so we grew and moved past it.

There is a lover I have inside myself who cleaned hotel bathrooms to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. It wasn’t easy and I was up against a lot of people who didn’t want me to succeed didn’t think I could succeed. But I did it for me and theatre and writing and independence.

There is a lover I have inside of me that knew I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I called my parents and they brought me home. I was 30 and couldn’t take care of myself. But I loved myself enough to put all my pride all my dreams aside and work on me. We started back at step one, side by side.

Now my lover is rubbing my back and saying, you’ve done very well, and asking me to call the best friend up for a walk, invite people over for wine and hummus, to let people inside to know the love, the trust of others, let them love the me I’ve created, the me I’ve made strong and loved like no one else has loved.

My love for myself is unbound and I will follow myself into complete darkness to bring myself out alive.



Sunday, October 14, 2012

Freedom Songs













I sing freedom songs
From my pen
15 years of education
From my hands
I’ve grown independence
Like a garden
 
All people lean together
Find breath in this world
 
Who I am is a freedom song
I live alone
I hear whispers
But people still help me
Want to see me succeed
And I am a woman
 
I sing freedom songs
Rather than turn privilege
Into dust when all I have
Seems not enough
I give of myself
To someone else
Without loss
Without death
 
She sings freedom songs
Fighting a war for a home
Her body
Her family
Traded murder for
The gift I had for free
 
Sing freedom songs
In the quiet and the choices
We’ve allowed our lives to be
Sing it to the world and
Bring the earth
To her feet

 

 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Sky Tides

Sky tides rise
Pink clouds wash in
And bring the day
But only darkness
Reflects like the moon
On the water
 
My love is gone
My love is gone
 
He is grounded
Hands crossed on his heart
On the banks
Of the river of thorns
 
Sky tides falling
Before the sun even sets
Blind is the night
Blind is the day
24 hours of darkness
On the earth
 
My love is gone
My love is gone
 
All that’s remains
Is a river of thorns
And a thirst to drink
The water
To feel the sun
That once was

 

Monday, October 1, 2012

I Wanna Be


Last night I did something I’ve wanted to do since 1990. I found myself my own copy of Jim Henson’s "Story Teller." And I started watching it. I could have watched the whole season one in one sitting, but I was also so inspired that I sat down and edited some of the folk tale I’m rewriting and went over it a few times out loud which I try to do every night but haven't known how to start.  It’s a hard thing to do in my house sit down and tell a story to the wall, but I did it.

John Hurt is the ultimate story teller. I wasn’t conscious of it, but I wanted to be John Hurt when I was 14. Such power in the voice such expression. When I took acting classes our first monologue we were told not to do accents. I did any way. We were told not to do plays outside of acting class, I did anyway. What a different experience if we were told go ahead do accents for a moment be John Hurt and find your own voice within that, find out what you can do, push it to the limits. Who knew that in my 30’s I would be a story teller too? I would allowed to be John Hurt.

Right  now, when I tell, I have so many words in my head, I end up just reciting the story, just trying to get all the words out, but how much fun will I have if I get to sit in my living room and get to do voices and tell the story like a real story teller. And then share it with the crowd. I can do it.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Leaves


The leaves
Fall and that’s good
We’ve made it
Through another season
And I remain as untouched
By the human hand
As the leaf
On the tallest oak tree
I lived through another summer
Twisting in the wind
Being washed by the rain
And warmed by the rays
Of the sun
And it was beautiful
As the moon
Turned his smile down at me
In the middle of the coolest night
But today that leaf
Glides and tumbles to
The forest floor
And we have so much in common
But no touch


Monday, September 17, 2012

Identify the Lie


I’ve never seen relationships, of any kind, as positive. I’ve enjoyed them, but there’s been so much struggle with myself. In university we were playing an association game and we were asked how we feel about a white room. I thought death. It was supposed to symbolize marriage. How scientific this is I don’t know, but I got the point real quick, so did the cute boy standing beside me.

In a writing exercise I was working on yesterday it said to identify the lie in the character, the character was based on me. And her lie was that a relationship of any kind would be a trap. Trapped by the day, by the needs and wants of the other person; I’ve always wanted to go at anytime and stay at anytime. Do whatever I want or nothing whenever the feeling strikes. Hmm also, I always walk by houses and think"traps."

A friend is helping me get back into shape. In only a few days I see great success and promise. I have renewed faith in myself. In this little arrangement walk time is a certain time everyday and we’re committed to that time. There’s no “I don’t feel like it right now, I’ll go when I feel like it.” She promised to be there in one way or another through the whole adventure. Not a lot of people make that promise to me. And I thought, and it’s an idea I’ve played with in the past, that it’s time to say it’s ok to need help, and get help from friends. It’s not a trap.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Dream-Work

Each night
I fall
I tumble
I hold my breath
Into exhaustion
I go into a sleep
 
And sleep is a whirlpool
A pulling river
It takes me to the past
I slide down and down
Come face to face
With the old catering company
The museum
The hotel
The dreams tell me
I have to go back

There
I fight it                                                                                
I scream
“I can’t go back”

With darkened eyes
 I apologized
To friends I lost
The job I had to leave
Oh, how I left them
Unable to cope

 The trigger
That brings on
The tapping catering shoes
The dancing boss
The food and the ghosts
 
Tonight means
I dive below the pull
The rushing waters
To search along
The river’s bed
Find a nugget
A trinket of memory
Put things in order
 
I go to fight
To stand tall
To face the fear
The weakness
The magic mirror
Who I really am
On the inside
Of a dream

 


Friday, September 7, 2012

The Cabin


For a long time there has been a cabin in the woods. It sits on the old lane behind our house. I remember when people used to stay in it. That is to say I remember when it wasn’t broken, when it had all its windows and doors. When the owner died he left it to his son. Who had parties and neglected it, he was too young to understand the treasure he had. Yesterday, I was talking to the young man’s wife of two months and asked if she was down my road the other day. Yes she said we’re trying to fix up the cabin.

Maybe that means that step by step and day by day even though on the outside is seems like the cabin is so broken down that it will never be fixed again, that people have forgotten about it and that it appears that it can’t do what it’s supposed to do; house people, keep people safe, give them a haven. That someone sees the little heart that it has and it gets built back up. It lives again. It does what it's been built to do.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Walking on the Moon


The evolution of me begans taking up a new direction.
I stepped on the rocket ship and left the appointments that come with living in town.
The coffee the energy shakes.
On the moon there are great salads fresh from the garden.
It makes your body feel alive.
The family in the kitchen, talked about ghosts, intuition, energy and growing older and other such stuff.
Folktales turn into raisins, because it’s a secret joke.
Our family has a new language all our own.
We are adults and we were kids; talking about our imagination, our reality.
36 years of history on the moon.
We proceeded to find flowers and caterpillars and bumblebees and take their pictures.
On the moon there are great sunsets.
Feeling your bare feet in the sand and watching the sky turn pink.
There is food for all diets, Duncan style, on the moon, and we all get along for a little while.
Tears of the potential of life, what we want, what is given.
Opening up the world the clouds turn pink and lead to the future, the winding path.
Just a family walking on the moon.


Thursday, August 30, 2012

Spam of Life


I do things by myself, that’s just what I know; what I do, I go to my room and read or write, when someone gives me a task I take what they give me and do what works for me, after all they asked me to do it, I’m expecting they want me to do it my way. Mama Duncan set out the rules when I was very young and beyond that I was allowed to what I wanted. Anytime I was asked to do something I knew my way was right.

I’m not expecting to need to check in every five minutes.  I’m not expecting people to say that my way may not be right, even though they asked me. There was a feeling today of people thinking I couldn’t or shouldn’t do it by myself, it comes up now and then, single girl, lone writer, independent thinker, theatre degree vs business degree.

Mama Duncan asked “was it a test?”

If it was did I pass?

I watch other people need to check in with their loved ones and coordinate and demand and get upset because the other did something someone didn’t want. Compromise, give and take.

I know  I can do it this way, I’ve been doing this by myself for a long time, it hasn’t been perfect, there are “days” when the dishes go undone (I caught up tonight yay) there are functions I don’t go to, there are beer I don’t drink, and I share my desk with the spam of life. But that’s what I do, I do it by myself. And I’m still alive. Knowing when I can’t do it by myself anymore or knowing that when I don’t need to do it by myself any more I will take a step forward. When I fall forward, if someone is supposed to be there they will be. They won’t test me, they’ll  help me along.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

many mantra


I had a “many mantra” weekend which had led to great results.
The first one is “have confidence.” It’s hard to have confidence, I get so sick at times. I used to get hauled into the bosses office many times a week and didn’t understand. I sleep all the time and dodn’t trust myself to make commitments because I dodn’t  know what is real and what is the illness. So to have confidence in myself is big. But when things have gotten tough the last couple days I’ve thought “be confident” and I’ve felt better.
“I am not crazy.” That’s a hard one. I’ve spent many years being an outsider, seeing the world different. But I’m appreciating who I am and how I see the world. I'm different but it’s Ok. Tonight I forgot what the word for carrot was. Instead of being embarrassed I made a joke about it and carried on. Damn it’s hard to get half way through offering people carrots and forget what they’re called. It’s not crazy it’s who I am.
 “I will find people who like me for who I am now." (this includes both sexes). There’s always been such a drive to be “an artist” work in theatre and film and such shame when I have to explain that I’m not doing more. When I dream of making new friends it’s as a writer whose work is being published and produced around the world, that is when I believe I will find people who will appreciate how successful I am. Writing it makes it sound really F%$cked up. But that’s what I fantasized, I could only imagine myself finding a lover when I was truly successful, the person I am now wasn’t good enough.
So with confidence in who I am now, I know that I’m not crazy (ok I am and I have a list of reasons why) but I can have it as a mantra and that people will like me for who I am now, I’m sailing ahead and accomplishing things.
Tonight we had a story tellers meeting, and I felt confident giving feedback and sharing what I know, I wasn’t afraid of who I am or what I learned when I was sick and unhappy. I was liked for who I am now, because I liked me for who I am now.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

lessons from an epic fail


Don’t be afraid of showing someone all that you are, if you look at them and think “I may know just as much as they do or more," keep going, give it your all, intimidate them with your knowledge rather than having them walk away, thinking you know nothing because you were scared and didn’t give yourself all the credit you needed.

Know your voice, know who you are and what makes you special; I know I’m different but only sharing parts of that different will only confuse people, go big or go home. Show them all your crazy so that when it comes full circle they realize you know how to use it to your advantage and it makes you powerful and strong.

Take the full dose of medication that the Dr prescribes and when he changes medication dump the old stuff so you don’t take it by accident the night before a blind date.




note that in being himself 2 people didn't hit the button and one says "I'm country I didn't understand a word you said." There will still be people who don't understand. You will still succeed.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Wear the Sheet Like Sexy


The emotional stuff I can’t talk about. In the last three weeks, it’s been big but needs to be translated into metaphor and symbols and stories. The processing has gone to the secret keeper (in writing) and she knew what I was talking about and the bestestes face to face and they understand as well. So we’ll take a little break and show you a little video.

This video jump started my need to take my writing to the next level, the first time I saw it I was filled with awe and passion.
It made me see how important costumes are, the suits, the firemans uniforms, Martins sweaters. How the cloths fit the occasion and them and character. While I might not regularly think about what a character looks like and focus on what’s happening, I instantly understand while watching this video that the cloths, or the fur, or the skin, and the surrounding need a place in my story.

I began to really think about actions and themes and conversations and how the simplest movement or conversation, of only a few words, in just the right place can be epic. Seeing these small clips isolated and separate from the story really pumps them up. A simple movement can bring a person into the story without them even knowing it, because they are watching the whole thing.

Kudos to the editor of the piece, with the right eyes and ears look what you can do with movement and music. I am moved to want to put everything in just the right place. I want to express how big my stories really are. It made me want to rethink good and evil. What I thought was a decent climax, me who is afraid of going to big, of hurting a character, of causing pain to a character, changed.

This challenged me to take an idea and take it one step further. It shows tension in facial expressions in music in sounds and silences through crispness and lines and commitment.

And mostly the themes. It was commented by a friend with how well the music went together with what was happening.  There’s seems to be a human commonality and humor that can be found in the music and the Sherlock series itself, and again brought fourth universal themes that humans can connect with and really understand. With this deconstruction the reasons that I want to sit and watch this TV show, when most TV makes me bored, was brought to the forefront.  And an inspiration to take a white sheet and make it sexy on the page was born.