unpreparedness

there are things that nobody tells you.
not just any old things, life things. life necessities.

how quickly you can be taken in. you will succumb rather quickly. and nonchalantly.
it may take just one or two nights of that weight beside you. the even breathing.
the midnight escapes and returns to find an arm reached out, searching for you.
the creak of the bed as you slide in and the hooked arm that pulls you to their chest.

quickly. you will succumb.

and, so, your once familiar haven becomes a place of loneliness.
books lay beside you, attempting to mimic. but they cannot.
what is a girl to do? aside from picking up that book and reading into a world of sleepiness.

and, then, you will succumb.

america pacifica by anna north

in this dystopian work, the mainland has encountered a second ice age

leaving all of its inhabitants with nothing but a ship to a new island, partly made of sinking landfill.

it is a new world. and, yet, it has carried over many characteristics of the mainland; classism, drug use and revolutionaries.

the island is blatantly classist. the first-boaters are gifted with living a life that does not seem too different than the one they lived on the mainland. they can go to school, they can have homes and they can have real food.

the last boaters struggle everyday to get by. they live on fake cheese, jellyfish steak, low education and even lower living standards.

all in all, north's dystopian vision is leering, logical and alarming.

the main character, a young last-boater named darcy

must tackle all of life's challenges

in order to find her mother, who disappears after a stranger visits their

yellow-stained apartment to speak with her in hushed tones.

little does she know,

she will soon be a heroine.

north has created a tale worth pondering

filled with pain, revolutions, hope, grief and the best/worst of humankind.

"He said that living the way we used to - trying to shape the world rather than letting it shape us - he thought that was what got us into the Ice Age in the first place"

- North, America Pacifica

(un)healthy

my body and i,
we have this relationship.

it goes a little something like this..

dear body,
you work really hard for me what with all the inconsistent marathon training and strenuous (or "relaxing") yoga poses. you walk me everywhere, make sure i can breathe, see, talk, laugh. you are actually pretty miraculous and never seem to let me down. and i appreciate that. i appreciate that so much that i treat you well (or i try to) what with all the greens, exercise, lotion and sauna visits.
i promise not to hate on you even though everyone else in society thinks i should.
and i promise not to chastise you if i enjoy food a little too much and eat a little more than is reasonable for a person my size.

it's mutual, really.

however, i feel like i owe myself an apology.
i am out of my usual rhythm of life now that i am on holidays.

i stay up late
i sleep in late
i feed myself overpriced lattes and political headlines
sometimes i don't feed myself at all
sometimes i get too wrapped up in a book
and before i know it, it is suddenly 2 in the afternoon
and my poor tummy is making a very strong point.

i am attempting to strive on an all-greek-yogurt-diet
which is inflaming my minor intolerance to lactose.
and, yet, who could resist the merciless vice of black cherry creamy yogurt?!

i ate so many christmas oranges
that my tongue is practically burnt right off.

i keep moving my toothbrush from one bathroom to the next,
and it never seems to be exactly where i need it at that time.
let us not even discuss flossing.
that is between my teeth, me and the dentist once a year.

my right hip has been screaming in agony for approximately a week
if i was not so busy ignoring it, i would know that it is demanding a massage.

so, dearest body,
i am sorry!
i promise to do better.
i promise to no longer substitute a well balanced meal for honey toast and a protein bar (although, it could be worse...couldn't it?)

much love,
b

Source: smalltypes.com via Stacey on Pinterest

fiction ruined my family by jeanne darst

it is true
it has been awhile
since a book has made me feel uncomfortable

not because of the content
not because of the words

darst's presentation and choice of words is striking.
i never questioned her talent.
it is pure. raw. oozing out of each page.

it is her life, her gusto, her view of the world
that shook me.

not that i am complaining.
after all, a good book should move you.
should force you into introspection.
into the parts of your psyche that you may or may not be ready to visit.

darst lives this semi-charmed life
the life of an artist
in which, she is always unsure of the future
broke
and seemingly lost in a capitalistic world that cannot understand her reasoning.

she believes she inherited this life from her father, also an artist of sorts.
a writer.
who has been writing his first project for years.
darst's enfance, adolescence and adulthood are soaked in this project.
it affects her and her siblings, three sisters, in ways that no one could predict.

and, like her mother, darst was an alcoholic.

alas, we have ourselves a tale of family, inheritance, pain, addiction and following your passion.
even when others cannot. a tale lined with wit and humour. a tale that will grab you instantly.

darsts recollection of her life, her mother's death, her father's guilt and the brilliance of the "project" that seems to encompass every list bit of their relationship is moving.

read it.
i promise that you will not be able to put it down.

so, please, step into darst's semi-charmed life.

life lessons

in its rawest form.

gawk
ingest
live.

the lowdown on the meltdown

knitting projects unravelled: 8
balls of yarn purchased: 3
youtube videos watched: 20
failed projects: 7
self-esteem: non-existent
desire to craft: less than 0

times like this

it was times like this that she would do it.

unsuspecting.
quiet.
lonley.
filled with melancholy.

she was likely looking for answers
but, as per usual,
she was looking in all the wrong places.

as if a photograph could explain it.
ths shifting of her life.
the immediate change.
the uneasiness.

it cannot.
but that does not mean she wouldn't try.
she wouldn't focus on this photograph.
looking for signs.
symbols.
foreshadowing.

she tested herself, really.
how deep can you go
before the pain becomes unbareable
before you reach out.
before you stop.

she always found her limits.

like any true addict, she was searching for them now.
they, as per usual, were there.
just waiting
aching
to be discovered.

Source: flickr.com via Madi on Pinterest

so-called grownups

there is a great big tree
that sits outside my classroom window.

somewhere between broken french and giggling fits
i stare at this tree.

subconsciously i am waiting for it to tell me something remarkable
consciously i know it is impossible.

but that is only what these so-called grownups say.
these grownups, they really do take things seriously.
they must!
they have so much responsibility,
there is no time to play games.
and there is certainly no time to marvel at trees
and wait for some kind of life-altering narrative to appear.

and, so, i have decided
that becoming a grownup
is simply an unattractive idea.

i have yet to work out the details
but my new career as a quasi-adult is blossoming
and i will perfect it one day.

on knowing

she knew she could not sit here and watch it over and over again. that her heart would eventually meet her mind somewhere above her sunken stomach and she knew that that meeting would be frightening. it would be a revelation. one she could not prepare for. it was out of her hands. and yet very close to her heart.

for a long time, she could not stop it. she fumbled around the concept of knowing. knowing what she knew, not knowing what she would never know and accepting that she could not know it all.

and admitting that she, in fact, knew it all along.

and then her heart burst. metaphorically.
and she understood.

they were memories.
and if they were to be memories, she may as well only remember the good ones.
and these memories did not fall under that category.
so she let them go.

and when she did
it was as if she literally let them go.
everything was lighter.
she felt loved.
she felt accepted.
she felt like she had worth.

but she knows she knew that all along.

she realized that all the time she spent pondering,
was time she missed the love that surrounded her daily.

the beings that came into her life to love her
and for her to love back.

and, that, was what she really needed all along.
she simply lost her way.
and then, she resurfaced
invigorated.

on blending in with my surroundings

Source: blackeiffel.blogspot.com via Angel on Pinterest

who would have thought
that venturing down the halls of the university
could be so mind boggling.
anxiety-inducing.
frightening.

you just never know
when a certain french anyone
will appear
(seemingly out of nowhere)
and start conversing in french

i try.
but for goodness sake.
my mother tongue prevails all the time.
it is my gut instinct.

i know they speak french
and apparently i do too?

they want me to speak french
i want to speak french.

but i just cannot muster up the words.

here is hoping that weekend of good rest
will put some (useful) french words into my mind.

say what?

i may be a little preoccupied with insects these days.
mainly bees.

Source: midoriribbon.com via Susan on Pinterest

Source: etsy.com via Lindsey on Pinterest

Source: spoonflower.com via Amanda on Pinterest

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Source: vistaprint.com via Cate on Pinterest

who would have thought

that there would come a day

that i would look at my bank account

cringe

empty my piggy bank

roll it

exchange it for money

and donate that money to charity

it appears as though i have very little

and, yet, there are people who have less.

ebb and flow.

i told myself i would be better this year.

i would handle it all better.

i wouldn't hibernate.

i wouldn't sulk.

and, most importantly, i wouldn't complain.

first day of snow fall..

and here i am

on the verge of sulking, complaining and, yes, contemplating hibernation.

i need some winter inspiration.

and i have found some.

Source: etsy.com via Robin on Pinterest

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Source: etsy.com via Jennifer on Pinterest

to be enough.

she wonders how it would feel to be enough.

to know enough.

to laugh enough.

to run enough.

to love enough.

to be enough.

to ignore numbers,

when it comes to self-worth.

to silence the voice

deep inside her heart.

to confront the voice

whose only purpose is to warn her.

this voice, this voice is true.

it is tangible.

and it cares.

it engulfs her.

it is brutally honest.

and she cannot take it.

she refuses to take it.

it is easier to run

to avoid it all.

the inevitable.

perhaps if the inevitable would occur,

that voice would change.

it would offer guidance, support, kindness.

it would inform her

of her talents,

of her beauty,

of her inherit need to love,

and how this need is so very needed in this world.

she will never know.

or will she?

time is the only option.

so let her keep wasting time,

keep wandering aimlessly

searching for the one thing she desires

acceptance.

the front

she wants to brave.

she knows she cannot be.

instead, she contemplates stopping time

fighting the ticking clocks

revolting against the whole idea of life

she knows she cannot

and yet she wants to

she cannot seem to understand.

to prepare.

she observes from afar.

with a beating heart

that beats a little faster

when she thinks of the inevitable.

and this fear

and this front

follow her everywhere.

she wants to let it all go.

to slump down,

limp as she can manage,

and fold onto the floor.

heaving

breathing

avoiding.

instead

she fronts.

she pretends.

and she manages to wake up each day

with a renewed sense of life.

what else can she do?

nothing.

j'aime beaucoup

Carving the Mountains from Juan Rayos on Vimeo.

i like.

a lot.

run-ins with my future daughter

yup.

this post is going to be exactly what the title says.

start your creepy sci-fi background music.........now!

so i'm at a venue.

i'm washing my hands.

and two little girls come up to the sink beside me.

one little girl leaves the water running and goes to leave.

her friend confronts her "dude! don't leave the water running!"

the water-waster sighs and says "whatever dude, the concert is starting. let's go. who cares?"

the wee-little environmentalist says "dude! i care. and you should too. water is way more important than this stupid concert."

blink. blink.

this must be my daughter.

we must be in the future.

i am staring at her.

i wonder if she thinks i am crazy already.

she likely does.

i was hoping it would take her years to figure that out.

to be honest...

i have been feeling insecure as of late.
insecure about my ways of speaking english.

learning a different language is a challenge.

it challenges your mother tongue.

i have to think, harder than ever before, when i speak english.

my inner dialogue resembles this nonsense:

"is that a word in a english?? 23 years and i don't know if that is a word in english?"

"can i say that in english too? or just french?"

"did that make sense..."

"am i making sense?"

"is it still possible for me to make sense?"

the answer, apparently, is no.

but i am working on it.
bear with me.

merci.

truth.

I do my thing, and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
and you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I,
and if by chance we find each other.
it's beautiful.
- Frederick Perls

so maybe i need this...

things that i know without doubt

they are not many.

perhaps a handful.

but i cherish that handful.

i share it often

add to it rarely

and have to remind myself

that it exists.

that there are some things.

some things that are tangible to me.

that make sense.

that i could prove, if necessary.

one.

kindness is contagious.

two.

forgiveness is hard. but it is possible.

three.

a sun salutation will ease any situation.

four.

laughter will bring you back.

five.

time is all the mighty healer. it is also the greatest test to patience.

six.

saying i'm sorry is hard. not saying it is even harder.

seven.

take care of the earth. she would do the same for you.

eight.

impromptu dance parties are usually always necessary.

nine.

share. you really need a lot less than you think.

ten.

don't forget to breathe. you are capable of almost anything so long as you can breathe.

may you be thankful for all that you know and don't know, have and don't have, today and everyday.

happy thanksgiving.

the thanksgiving bandwagon

let's just be honest with each other.

i love thanksgiving.
i think it is the greatest holiday.
(yes, it beats out christmas)

i love the copious amounts of food
harvest food
pumpkins
grains

oh, it's perfect.

i also will never tire of the good ol'
"what are you thankful for?"

we spend too much time
complaining and whining and longing
over what we don't have.

finally! a day where we focus on what we do have.
alas, we have a lot.

let us celebrate that, shall we?
this weekend,
think about it.
list it.
share it.
remember it.
repeat it. every. damn. day.

Better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness.

Chinese Proverb

cats and dogs

it is pouring today.

i counted each and every lucky penny
when i realized that my umbrella was in my car.

fate.

i clutched it only as a person
who is on the verge of blowing away
and giving in to a nervous breakdown would.

as it turns out,
it is hard.

learning your life
and the life of others
in a different language
is hard.

trying to express yourself
is very hard.

if only i could remember to pause
to breathe
and to formulate some sort of brilliant, yet pseudokindergarten sentence,
i would rejoice.

but, no.
like most (ok, all) other situations i encounter
i say the wrong thing
the most reductionist problematic political thing i could say.

c'est la vie.
right?

i have, however, learned some things:

one.
if you are speaking to a francophone, always ensure they are the first to leave.
it is very possible that they have asked to speak to you and you smiled, nodded and walked away, assuming the conversation was over.

two.
the french love their coffee.
like, a lot.

three.
impromptu dance parties before an exam are helpful.

four.
do your homework. in bed. with food. and music blaring.

five.
if all fails,
resort to a yoga practice.
a good one.

sad sap

it is october 6
but
according to my sweet little calender
it is still the month of september

that, my dear friends,
is life these days.

i am running about a week behind.
and potentially just bombed two tests.

i have one thought.
and one thought only...

fact

i miss women and gender studies courses.
like, a lot.

i am over the moon thankful that i have bust magazine and bitch magazine
to keep me in the loop.

things you need to know about:



check out go kart racing accidental masturbating (it's great)

is it wrong to use this as an educational tool in the event that i have a child?

BUST Magazine

what else?

urban farmers
pirates
sleeping with conservatives in order to convert them (hilarious)
interviews with awesome funny women
yeah, i am officially subscribing.

so i write

when i was younger
i used to write at night

it was the time of day
that words seemed to flow endlessly

proof of such occurrences sit on my bookshelf
old journals filled with thoughts, rambled and eloquent

even today
i still write

when i feel lost
when i feel hopeless
angry
isolated
i reach for my journal
and lose myself in the words

said journal is not locked.
i have no concerns.

i write in "code" if you will.

i am so consumed in my ways
that the words i write are a given for myself
a lost cause for the outsider.

and i like it that way.

what an enchanted story.
it waits to be told.

today

dreaming of a vespa
a cafe au lait
and a little basket full of market goodies.

thinking that i should read the walrus
but it is also a little too intimidating

refusing to admit that i suck at cross word puzzles.
big time.

fully acknowledging that i am running on 3 hours of sleep

and

now

bon nuit.

placelessness

sleeping in
waking up to pancakes
and a sweet little chef
tackling mexican cuisine
struggling through french sentences
seeking the perfect notebook
hot yoga
weddings
running on soy lattes


more details on life in general to come.

for now, i slip into a french coma treasuring the remnants of vodka and cranberry.

bon nuit.

lifting up my spirits. or at least making an effort to do so.

you know that feeling, right?
lethargy creeps in and encompasses you during the night.
you awake
bitter.
lost in this monotonous cycle they call life.

you open your closet door
observe all these items
that are meant to make you feel better about yourself
and you close it, tight.


and just when you think
you cannot possibly get lower
you single-handedly stimulate the economy
and top it all off with a $5 dollar latte
and then have to listen to this:

"oh yeah! sup mama?"

really?
feminism 100:
i am not on this earth for you to gawk at
and you do not have some given right to compliment me whenever you see fit.
it is called cat-calling
and it needs to die off with your horrid attire and skateboard.

and so, my friends,
it is time for a happy list.

things that make me happy:

red lip tint

feathers

pretty dresses

new earrings

chai

soup

pottery

smiling at strangers

the smell of old books

thick sweaters

a cats purr

boots

the colour yellow

this song

spontaneous dance parties

cupcakes

this may be the coolest thing i have ever bought

bicycle paperclips.


i realize that this speaks volumes for my character.



ohwell.

let's play catch up, shall we?

dear house,
i wish you were closer to the university. i really dislike leaving 45 minutes earlier than i have to just for your sake.

dear bike,
i would really like to ride you more. but due to house's location, it is near impossible. you and house should have a little chat about that.

dear french classmates,
i'm sorry. i am not very good at this. and i am not funny in french. and that is sort of all i got going on for me. yeah, pity me.

dear brooke fraser,
knock it off. your fabulousness is a distraction.

dear scout and catalogue,
please come back to me. i need to buy another scarf.

dear sewing machine,
please teach me how to use you. thanks.

dear freshly re-done chair,
i apologize for using you as a closet. one day soon i will peel all the clothes off of you and let you show off your new awesomeness.

dear owner of the amazing bicycle outside of the classroom building,
yes, it is true. i contemplated stealing your vehicle of choice. i fully considered the karmic repercussions and didn't care. but, as you know, i did not steal it. this time.

dear universe,
i need more clothes. and, specifically, a yellow skirt, a striped shirt and a military jacket. just not-so-subtly sayin.

dear coco,
i really would like a home. i really dislike curling up in bed alone. let's make it happen, yes?

oh, and a pug. ok?

with love,
b

for andrea

from here.

the gorge crystal necklace is on holidays. sigh.

and the pottery, oh the beautiful pottery, it can be found at mysteria on 13th ave.

i suppose this means you are coming home to buy some?
please do.

yours,
b

i'm not sure how you got in my mind

but i wish you would stay
and keep expressing these thoughts.
these thoughts that are too raw
and stall my desire to bring grammical life to them
but you, my dear, do it so well.

thank you,
b

"the terrain is shifting. the terrain of my life is shifting. and it's terrifying. terrifying because it's suddenly upon me and terrifying because it's been so long in coming. but mostly terrifying because there's a sense that if i'm not careful i'll miss this moment--this glorious sliver of time--and the ground will settle and i'll be left. standing still. same spot. my feet tethered to a place i can no longer call my own."

"the thing is, this thing that i feel i'm meant to do--this thing pressing up against my gut, i've never done it before and i'm quite certain, there's a good chance, i won't know how to do it. and this push and pull between absolute certainty and absolute doubt has me standing still, afraid to dive into the sliver. afraid the sliver will pass.

but the push and pull is also the belief in the divine versus my own, small and pitying self-doubt.

and who am i do deny that something larger is at play? and i use that verb--play--carefully, because isn't that much of what this life is--what it's meant to be? aren't we meant to play and explore and do the very things we think we cannot?"

it's written

every once and awhile
life throws you a sharp one
just to see if you are on the ball.

i was not on the ball.
in fact, i was off gallivanting
leaving the ball completely unattended.
and it all seemed to be perfectly fine.

until i got that splendid phone call.
the one that i waited for for months.

it was mcmasters.
and they had a spot.
and if i could be there in 2 days,
it was mine.

someone just offered me my career
my dream career
the career that i battled for
the career that so many people said
"not possible", especially "not on the first shot"

well, it was possible. on the first shot.

there is something you should know right now: i declined.

i did not decline right away
i pondered
and cried
and did not sleep despite over-exhaustion
and called landlords
and googled
and googled more
and rejoiced
and shared
and cried.

alas, moving two provinces in two days was not for me.

oh, how i wish i could be that brave soul
who packed it all up and landed in hamilton, on
with nowhere to live.

for now, i live out one more year in the prairies,
my mantra in my pocket:

if it is meant to be, it will be.

and i wholeheartedly believe myself.
i hit it once, i will hit it again.
and this time,
all the stars will line up
and i will be gone.

september the 29th

is my birthday
and i, quite selfishly, have created a birthday list

i normally ask for nothing
or request donations to charities or something.
but there are a few items
that are must haves.
yes, must.

a piece from horn of plenty
would make my year.
i have been eyeing up her pottery for months.




a crystal necklace
it sounds fancy
but it is really not
it is the perfect amount of classy.



a spice kit
for desserts.
yup.



that's it, that's all.

adorable

i'm off to get a latte and some school supplies
rumour has it that i start classes tomorrow.





great.

september 1

at 8:35 pm last night
i looked outside
and saw nothing.

darkness.

this was both depressing and exciting.

i do not bode well with winter.
but fall.
oh, fall.

i was born for fall.

it was no accident that i was born a few short days after
the first official day of fall.

if it could be fall for the whole year
i would gladly jump on board.
just imagine.

hearty veg soups all year long
layers
boots
snuggling
tea
books
open windows blowing fresh fall air
yellow, orange and red leaves
lipstick
chai lattes


yup.
fall and i,
we are pretty serious.

orange is the new black

by piper kerman

i picked up this gem on a lazy sunday morning
starbucks in one hand
a stack of memoirs in the other
and it was read
cover to cover
in the mountains.

even surrounded by all that glorious scenery
i couldn't put it down.
when i finally had to call it quits
i had 10 pages left
and i was damned if i was going to leave it at that

at approximately 11 pm, i had my flashlight
and i finished that baby in the tent.

i wondered
once i finished reading
if it was odd that i was jealous.

kerman was gifted - in a weird kind of way.
through her actions and the repercussions 11 years later (13 mos in jail)
she was able to connect with so many women
and hear so many diverse stories.

i couldn't help but become captivated with all of her prison mates.
they each had such wonderful - sometimes painfully sad -
stories that brought them together.

i also couldn't help but applaud kerman's brutal honesty.
she knew she had white privilege.
she knew guards were more likely to listen to her due to her skin colour.
she was aware.
and she was not afraid to mention it.
bravo.

she was also not afraid to critique
programs created for female inmates.
these programs are meant to help women
find housing, employment and reconnect with the outside world.

sadly, some of these inmates leave
and have nowhere to go.
and they depend wholeheartedly on these programs and seminars
that, in kerman's (and my) opinion, fall short.

it is irrelevant to discuss the general economy
if you do not know where to find these jobs in the first place.

another subtle critique was the care and consideration for pregnant inmates.
i found it really touching that several inmates
joined forces to help along an inmate in labour.

kerman was also willing to critique herself
and admit that her offense
(drug smuggling)
was the reason so many of her prison mates
suffered.
she realized that she was an enabler
through her actions that, 11 years earlier, seemed so minuscule.

little actions, big reactions.

in a world where we are constantly separating each other
by race, class, gender, etc etc.
this seems like the one institution where none of that really mattered.
crimes are committed by all sorts of people
and during this time of seclusion from friends and family,
kerman made bonds with women from all over social map.


so
curl up with a cup of tea
and a cozy blanket as fall rolls in
and read this book.

you will not be disappointed.

e and b do bc (again)

here i am
in the flat prairies

terribly missing the mountains of bc

the thing is

i love bc
i love the fresh air
the rivers
the clear lake water
the wild life
the endless options
the mountain sun
all the little critters

i just love it.

everytime i leave
i take one last look at the mountains
and let out a sad "good bye mountains!"

i still seriously contemplate
packing up and moving to nelson
learning how to metal smith
and (maybe) having some sort of relaxed career.

one day.

for now..

we have pictures.




we were lucky enough to be camped right close to this scene



and here we have us some garys ( grouses ). a particular one that was hanging around our site was named gary. but gary has 4 babes. so gary is not an entirely appropriate name after all. they are possibly thee slowest moving animals and blend in with their environments - can you see them? there are 3 garys...



leaving some words of wisdom for fellow lakit hikers.



the climb to the lakit look out.

simple

generosity.

have you noticed that it is contagious?

it is.

pay it forward.

distractions

click: when we knew we were feminists

a compilation of young feminists
who recap their life experiences
in order to locate moments
where they clicked.

clicked with the word "feminist" of course.

the beauty of it all
is that each moment ranges
some involve fishnet stockings
some involve hunting
others kurt cobain

but, ultimately, they arrive
at this muddled word
that has the ability to empower
a once lost soul

feminist.

when people ask me
point blank
are you a feminist?
i want to say yes.
but i stall.
not because i am unclear of my feminism
but because i am afraid that my inquisitors idea of feminism
is not the same as mine.

see, white feminists had a wee bit o'problem
when they first kicked off the liberation movement
they wanted to liberate women
but they often had a narrow definition of woman
therefore, women of colour (in particular) were excluded from this movement.

of course things have been mended - depending on which philosopher you speak to.
but i often feel the need to clarify
"yes. i am a feminist but i hold an interest in global feminism as well.
i am interested in intersectionality - how all of our locations intertwine
and what that evidently means for us in society.
throw in a special interest in health and disordered eating and bam.
you have a little ounce of my politics"

but how did i get here?
like many of the women in this book,
there was no single moment.
it was a series of clicks
and i am not naive enough to say that i have stopped clicking.

it is ongoing.
and, yes, sometimes it is exhausting.

there are times when i sit
surrounded by essays
bell hooks, mary daly, chandra mohanty...and on...and on..
and i wonder what the hell i am doing.

sometimes it seems too daunting.
too overwhelming.
and i need to step back.

the ebb and flow of activism.

it only takes one news story
of a young girl
who was gang-raped
then accused of "wanting it"
because she always dressed provocatively.

and click.

i'm back.

dumpster dove

yup. i did.

to (re)claim this gem.

it will look lovely in my pantry one day.

hey, you!

did you ever stop to think
that maybe i like my cellulite?

that, perhaps, i just want a body lotion.

all that you are offering me - across the entire damn board -
has built in "firming nutrients"

are you freaking kidding me?

p.s. dove: don't you even start to smirk
thinking you are getting off the hook with
your "beauty campaign"
we all know that you stem from unilever
who also owns axe, possibly thee most sexist company. ever.

sincerely,

b

the girl's guide to homelessness

by brianna karp



karp is homeless.
it was not expected.
she had a secure job
and it paid well
she had a cute character home
and a dog
and even a horse

it all came crashing down when the recession hit
and suddenly
karp had no address.

she was homeless.

karp takes you on a journey
by which she lives in a walmart parking lot
showers at the gym
searches for jobs on her laptop (yes, homeless people can have laptops)
and struggles to dismantle stereotypes of homeless individuals

she beautifully portrays the struggle that so many people undertook when the recession hit
and she does it while being aware of her location.
what i mean by this is that
she is aware she is white
and that puts her at an advantage
she is aware that she inherited a trailer
and that puts her at an advantage.

her location and her awareness of that location
becomes so prominent in her story
as she undergoes attack by the blogging world
for being racist and ungrateful of her white privilege.


i was drawn in.
almost instantly.
for so many reasons.

here are a few more:

1. karp comes from a lineage of jehovah's witnesses
and she speaks to her experiences
as a woman in this particular sect of religion
and how she feels this religion affected her relationship with her family

2. karp's family is nearly unbelievable*
in the non-compliment sort of way
her mom was incredibly abusive
her father was a pedophile that molested her at the tender age of 2
and then he later shot himself
her sister, who managed to side step all the abuse directed at karp,
watched from a corner
as her mom attacked her sister
and never spoke a peep - you can not even blame her.
she was so young.
and so very scared.


* please note - i am not making some sort of unfounded argument
that their chosen religion automatically makes them unstable and prone to such abusive behaviour.
i am only relaying the information that karp presents and how she feels it was all intertwined.


3. karp is homeless
and she does a beautiful job of
breaking down stigmas and stereotypes
that often plague homeless people
and she does it with such grace
and eloquence
and sophistication
that you simply cannot stop reading.

4. karp's romance with matt
a fellow blogger and homeless advocate
is endearing
yet alarming.
i sensed their was a problem stirring.
and by golly, was i right.

her language is blunt
it practically jumps off the page
and knocks on your heart
unabashedly.
her dialogue is stunning
and her honesty moved me.
this is a must-read.

it will show you
that homelessness is everywhere
in all kinds of forms
and challenges all of our preconceived notions.

confessions

my yoga mat stares at me with neglectful eyes
it is nicely rolled
cozying up with my yoga blocks
and it is disappointed.

or maybe that is me?

funny thing about i:

i work really well in chaos.
surprisingly well.

and that rule undoubtedly applies to my life.
the more packed my schedule is, the better.
i function better.
work harder
and apply myself 110% because i know there is little time to complete it all.

this is probably unhealthy.

but
so is this.
by this, i mean my summer of relaxation
i work a little.
i run a little.
i neglect my yoga mat.
i shop. more than i should.
and i read less than i had hoped.

why?
because. i have oodles of time.
i feel no pressure to complete any tasks.
because there will always be more time.

as for yoga
i decided to opt out of a gentle yoga
and instead solely work on my ashtanga practice

ashtanga is a raja yoga
which means it is a *masculine-inspired core power yoga
* i hate referring to it as masculine
but the ancient yogi's have deemed it so.

funny thing about ashtanga
is that is that it is truly intense
and it demands excellence
all the freakin' time.

i can do a mean ashtanga practice 2/week
so long as i balance it with a more gentle practice
but just ashtanga

not my best idea.

hence
my mat has been a little neglected
as i struggle and search deep in my little yogic soul
trying to find the gusto for another practice
even though 60% of the poses are hella hard.
and, sometimes, leave me frustrated.

needless to say,
i will be happy when my school schedule starts
my very busy school schedule!

i trust it will kick start my motivation
and instill happiness and success daily.

as for today

my gloomy spirits are tickled by two things:
1. dreaming of a puglet named eleanor
2. watching all the fluttering butterflies in the city.

they are whimsical.

love

boho anything.

Source: 17.media.tumblr.com via TaHe on Pinterest

dala horses

Source: remodelista.com via Catherine on Pinterest

military jackets

Source: vanessajackman.blogspot.com via Eva on Pinterest

cupcakes

Source: french-knot.tumblr.com via Jenn on Pinterest

morning stretches

Source: hepburnretreatcentre.com.au via Tech on Pinterest

a bad case of the mondays

it is true.

i would have given my first born to the devil
if only it meant i could stay in bed a little longer today

(for those of you who are keeping score...
yes. i already bartered a kidney and multiple beloved purses
for the same deal)

maybe i should just go to bed earlier?
seems more productive than spending my waking minutes
coming up with clever and careful deals with the devil.

while sleep was not on my side,
there have been some bursts of sunshine on my monday

including

my new scout and catalogue scarf
this scarf is a big deal
everyone knows about this scarf.
and how i stalked it for approximately 5 months
before i made the big move and bought it.
it is an investment, really.
this scarf is such a big deal
that it deserves its very own post.

stay tuned.

i'm still high from a busy but great weekend
regina folk festival just gets me every time
how can you go wrong?
good tunes, good food, good atmosphere and all under a blanket of stars.
i just don't see enough stars these days.

throw in couer de pirate
and this wall*
and i am sold.


* remember this post?

well.
i came face to face with the wall at folk fest.
it.was.awesome.





other things you should know:

ang and i represented for toms



and i got a war wound



i was attacked by a beer can
by attacked, i mean i flicked a kettle corn
that was teetering on the edge of my beer
and all the sudden i was gushing blood.

off to the first aid hut
where i was treated like the most special patient in the world

i only asked for a mere bandaid
and before i knew it
i was whisked inside
they turned on the lights
pulled out the gauze
and the peroxide
and then said

"ma'am you better take a seat"

to which i replied

"i'm really ok. it does not hurt"

and then

"take a seat! you are loosing a lot of blood"

oy. there was even talk of a tetanus shot.

5 to 10 minutes later
i stumbled out
still alive - despite my impressive bloodshed
sporting the above bandiad concoction.

awesome.

and there i stood

in front of the almighty (my closet)
and all i could manage to say was

oh....shit....

there are times when it gets so full
stuffed to the brim
that i start to panic a wee bit.

i have the sense to recognize that
i will likely never wear that sweater (again)
but what if i get rid of it
then i want it one cold day
we are bound to have cold days in saskatchewan.
and i will be without my beloved sweater.
you see the dilemma. right?

and then i start to do inventory.
i know i have to purchase more boots for fall
(yes, i have to)
and at least one more pair of jeans
i will absolutely need a new winter jacket
(yes, it is an absolute need)
and it really could not hurt to have a few more scarves
(guilty pleasure)

and then i start to panic. again.
where will i put all these must haves?

i think this post was meant to say one thing
and one thing only:

clothing swap needed. asap.

disclaimer one

sometimes i will spontaneously compose an idea

i might ponder about mexico
a goat
and some fabulous metal-smithing
in a run-down studio
just beside our creaky home.

or

baby-catching in paris
a baguette
some to-die-for vintage
and
cigarettes. only to fit in, of course.

on particularly energetic days,
i may propose bali.

you will need to figure out which one is suitable
which one is worthy
which one has a shot.
and pull out the luggage
knowing that we will come back.
we will always come back.
it is your cross to bear.

sometimes i will want to sleep in.
for a very long time.
limbs tangled in a quilt
sheets long ago kicked out
disheveled on the hardwood floor

sometimes i will be up when the sun rises
i will make some tea
or finish lastnight's wine
and come back to bed
to sit beside you and watch the stirrings of morning time.

sometimes you will not hold my hand
and i will become completely insecure about my hand
wondering what could possibly be so wrong with it
and other times,
you will not hold my hand
and that will be perfectly fine.

sometimes i will curl up in your nook
with a great tale
and snuggle as i read.
i could do this all day.

sometimes my books
will be abandoned
alone with no eager fingers in sight.
in these times, i have lost interest
in the cliché of reading for pleasure
and will want other forms of pleasure.

you can decide what forms. you will like that job.

sometimes i will want ice cream.
copious amounts of icecream.
home made icecream, of course.
you will need to comply.
i take food seriously.
really seriously.
too many empty meals
will make me really cranky.
and i will sulk.
for approximately one day.

let's just make ice cream.


so
as you see
i'm difficult.
and a little on the verge of insane.
teetering on the edge of
a world of insecurities
and a world of strengths.

but i'm worth it.
i am so worth it.

eventually
my children will be sent off to school
wearing upcycled clothing
and a sticker on their lunchbox that
expresses their love for the environment

they will sit yogically
and eat odd vegan concoctions
and wonder
"what the hell is wrong with my mama*?"

and you will have no other choice
but to grin
a sly grin
and reply

"absolutely nothing"

can you do that?

* my children will have to call me mama. okay?

good eggs by phoebe potts

a memoir and a comic book? yup.

a memoir and a comic book
tackling a very personal and painful issue? yup.

potts and her partner cannot have children.
after trying a lot on their own
they delve into the world of technology
(IVF, etc etc)

let's just be honest.

technology has its pros
and its cons
and potts introduces you to all of them.

she tackles these issues head on
and with a sense of humour
which is both confusing
and enlightening.

her witty sense of humour appears many times throughout her memoir
i personally love her commentary of her only child (her kitty)
i.e. food? food? i think that is my dish right there. it's empty..let me show you where the food is. food?


and so
in the end
do they get their baby?

that is for you to find out.
and get a few good giggles along the way.

it all started with a yogi

he does not levitate
or chant
or meditate
although
he does do a mean inertia


he is yogi
or gigi
or monsieur gi (if we are feeling particularly fancy)



and he is the reason
for my desire to own a pug
he snuggles (all the time)
and sleeps
and snores
and it's adorable.

he also does not really run
so much as freely throw out his jambes
and prances around in merriment

he takes his walks seriously
and his naps even more seriously

and is just the cutest little man. ever.

throw in a ryder
and you have what i like to call

the odd couple.

they heart each other.
so much so
that ryder switches beds with gigi
and they chew their chewies in unision
gigi on a huge bed
and ryder just barely fitting his rump on gi's bed.




evidently,
i have requested a pug
and a collie for my own.

results: pending.

start the day right

blast it.

horn of plenty

i heart you.
so much.