Who raised you?

Well, this 1970s model TV, mostly. 

I was at a social function recently and when I returned to my seat, I accidentally kicked one of the table legs hidden by a cloth. A brief tumult of wobbling objects ensued. Before I could apologize, someone at the table joked, "who raised you?!" 

I chuckled, but I thought of our big old 100-pound TV.

My aim is not to disparage my parents, (nor my teachers, some of whom I loved) but if you're a Gen Xer, you know. My childhood Gen X friend fully credits wolves with raising her, so the TV? Not so bad. 

Anyway, in terms of rearing me, I credit TV with a solid 70%, plus 10% to reading fiction and my encyclopedias, and also a grateful 15% to my grandmother. If you're a math whiz, that leaves only 5% for my parents. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Since they were rarely home, my parents' influence on me might best be described as unintentional, trivial, fleeting. This isn't bellyaching; it is (was) what it is (was). 

NO the TV did not buy my jeans, my running-shoes, my winter coats; nor did it pay the electricity bill or bake fresh bread—a nod to my parents for all those essentials. But the TV did indeed provide. Provide what? My worldview. 

If you're thinking, I wouldn't admit that the TV is mostly responsible for the lens through which I interpret the world, what I know to be true, what I value, and how I consciously (and unconsciously) act on that viewpoint, well touché, but it's just facts. 

So regarding worldview, what did the TV actually impart? Lots. If you're still reading this, perhaps this somewhat chronological list of my childhood favourites provides some insight?

1. Mr. Dressup & Sesame Street
2. The Flip Wilson Show
3. Sonny & Cher
4. Star-Trek
5. Maude
6. MASH* 
7. The Muppet Show
8. SCTV
9. The Jeffersons
10. The 6 Million Dollar Man

Picture kid me: part artsy, part social activist, part student of comedy, part stuntman, all woke nerd. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ TV was my babysitter, my family, my most welcome escape, but (like my beloved Lego) it helped me assemble myself. When I think about what the miniseries Roots did to my psychology. Whoa. And I'm sure TV is why I remain foolishly optimistic that everything can be solved in about 30 minutes (minus commercials). If only, eh? Sigh. 

But one of the biggest influences? Mork & Mindy. Mork (Robin Williams) was my favourite (fellow) outsider. Remember Mork's observation on loneliness? It still chokes me up. He was all comedy and all pathos, and also everything. Mork was a bit of a psychic catalyst. I already felt like a social alien, but Mork (and the way all the kids at school endorsed him) helped affirm my curious nature and taught me it might actually be okay to be different (but probably not, so keep that nervous system cranked, sigh). 

Dear friends, were you also fortunate enough to "know" him? Or some other character you saw yourself in? Did TV inform your worldview? Or something else? (It seems to me that unexamined worldview is at the core of life's more pervasive problems.) 

Be like cats.

Still contemplating woolgathering, so when I noticed this patch of sunlight on my dining room floor, I thought of cats and how they will always find the sun and sleep. 

Cats don't need to be convinced but science says that 10+ minutes of sunlight exposure (especially outside, in the morning) has significant impacts on human mental health and well-being. Dear friends, why not sit in the sun or (better yet), lie down on the floor while woolgathering? We should be more like cats. Right? 

One more thing, a question; I'm stumped. But first, some context: I thought there must be a name for this cat-attracting "chunk" of a sunbeam. You know, a word that sort of means the opposite of a shadow. Or a technical word, something like "sneckdown" for example. The Internet must know, right? But nope.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered an uncharacteristic cyberspace void in this regard. Reluctantly, I asked AI (aka paste pudding, thank you Ray Bradbury): "There is no single, official one-word English noun exclusively for the bright shape cast on a floor by sunlight through a window, so people rely on descriptive phrases."

Well well well, you know I love to invent words so let's all remove our leashes and let our minds wander, shall we? Ha, here we go a-woolgathering....

What do you call the patch of sunlight on the floor? Or how would you describe it? Or...do you think any of my spitballs stick? 

• sun spot
• sun site
• sun puddle
• sun blanket
• sun throw
• sun haven
• sun oasis
• sun setting
• sun nook (s'nook) 🙌
• splace (sunny + place) 🤦

Things that deserve the stink eye

Ha, right back at ya, Wordle: 🖕

I quit Wordle last year and when someone asked me why, I didn't think before saying, "Connections is superior word-play." 

Well.

Apparently, Wordle heard me? Because, sentient? Because AI? Because I'm paranoid? Because, when I recently resumed play, I noticed Wordle was unusually difficult, like it was AWARE of my unpremeditated (yet accurate) SMEAR and had received an ALERT. Despite Google's pledge otherwise, (sure, Jan) we all know our phones are listening to us, right? 

Okay yes I sound a bit paranoid but consider how many five letter words support my (admittedly pea-brain) hypothesus: FISHY, SHADY, CAGEY, using GUILE to play DIRTY. Well Wordle, if you have indeed evolved, become sentient, or AI sophisticated, I bet you can't "hear" this,  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ nor can you unscramble this:⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ 😏😉

Thirty-one Things

I'm still pondering vibrant matter. Philosopher Jane Bennett theorizes that things have a sort-of agency—they can "speak" to us, they open windows to memories and ideas, they summon a deeper relationship. Unlike empty materialism which whispers more, better, and next, perceiving matter as vibrant invites us to pay attention, to value our everyday things, and by association ourselves. 

I suppose this ideology is not groundbreaking, is it? But in my past I've struggled with self-worth, and I'm a creative, also inordinately curious and it seems to me there is opportunity in exploring this notion for potential insights and lessons about healthy attachment and interiority and in truly knowing myself. Plus, fellow bloggers in my comments have called things potent, evidence of their survival, and even maps. 

Remember the plastic bag scene in the film American Beauty? Could things—our own and those we encounter—be maps showing us how to be more human? And if you get me (and you're still reading this), doesn't this tired world need more human humans? 

Always inspired to pay attention, be astonished, and tell about it, I'm planning to post 31 days of objects this May, a writing exercise exploring my affinity with things and their provenance. 

Which things will be most vibrant? What stories will they tell? What might (you and) I discover? 

Going

"I walk in the world to love it." 
Mary Oliver

Angry? Go for a walk. 

Confused? Walk. 

Overwhelmed? Walk. 

Stuck? Walk. 

Worried? Walk. 

Low? Walk. 

A walk has a way of thawing what's frozen within. Keep going. 

Things one should never outgrow:

M & L waiting together to ride the bumper cars. 💗

human warmth... emotional safety... secure attachment... healthy coregulation... and reminding us grown-ups, just how to be with each other in this sorry world.  

Charged Up?

Warning: reading the following will be similar to watching Homer Simpson's father yell at clouds. 

Don't sweat the small stuff, right? Good advice, wisdom I aspire to. But I'll sweat like an inflamed hotdog on rollers if the situation involves 9@#%&*! rechargeable batteries. 

It all began innocently, fueled by good intentions: care for the environment by investing in reusable batteries. I could never have predicted what ensued LITERALLY OVER MORE THAN A DECADE NOW AND ONGOING UGH.

Step 1: Buy double A and triple A batteries & rechargers.

Step 2: Tickety-boo.

Step 3: Cut to many months later: access batteries as needed, but wait, where are said batteries? Begin a decade-long career as a part-time unpaid private investigator only to discover various family members have (repeatedly) stolen said batteries and removed them from the premises. Insert Dad sigh here.

Step 4: Buy more rechargeable batteries. Not cheap are they? Discover some rechargeable battery brands do not function with other charger brands. Draft a sternly worded email in my brain, a complaint for which there is essentially no recipient. Insert low growling here. Test and retest said batteries among chargers repeatedly aiming to actually charge some of my now 17 "rechargeable" batteries aka become a part-time unpaid "Customer Support Specialist/Technical Support Analyst." 

Step 5: After much problem-solving and testing and retesting, all said batteries are FINALLY CHARGING. Note to future self that some batteries must be clipped into the correct recharger quite delicately to avoid angry-red-flashing indicator light that said battery is not connected properly and therefore not recharging. Because of the time gaps between switching batteries, each reset requires 24-48 hours to successfully finagle this process, but thanks to (waning) neuroplasticity, my brain eventually forged a reliable system, a system I used repeatedly over the years, a system NO ONE ELSE CARES ABOUT OR RESPECTS AND IT'S SO CONVOLUTED I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN IT.

Step 6: Various family members continue to steal said batteries. Grievous family text chain dynamics ensue to no avail: Dad, who has time to figure out where the batteries might be now? EXACTLY. Begin to ponder the very 21st century notion that essentially, I need an assistant to manage my reusable batteries! 

Step 7: Finally, our kids move away with most of said rechargeable batteries, so I buy what I vow will be MY VERY LAST BATTERIES and promptly hide them in places I hope they will go unnoticed. 

Step 8: Tickety-boo....

Step 9: Years pass, but I flinch every time someone gets close to those 9@#%&*! batteries. However, my system holds until one day my life-partner needs batteries for spontaneously-purchased grandkid toys, forgetting the aforementioned drama and unwittingly interferes with the rechargeable batteries system NOT REALIZING THEY ARE EXTREMELY TEMPERMENTAL. After I return home to discover ABSOLUTE RECHARGABLE BATTERY CHAOS, said partner (understandably) observes my meltdown with facial expressions similar to Dorothy's from The Golden Girls. 

Step 10: Hangs head in shame and googles rechargeable batteries support groups then begins a TWO-WEEK RESET COME ON TO NO AVAIL: IT'S AS THOUGH THESE BATTERIES FORGOT THEIR SOLE FUNCTION AND, LIKE THEIR SCIENTIFICALLY-INFERIOR COUSINS, NEED TO BE REPLACED.... 

Insert sheepish epiphany moment here as this describes the exact moment I realized that these mostly old-ass rechargeable batteries have no doubt expired...BUT WHICH ONES?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

UGH.

Sometimes

Sometimes I suspect that people rarely ever think about photosynthesis or how every leaf is truly astonishing. Sometimes I find this bewildering. 

Sometimes I wonder if it's odd that I changed Siri's voice to an Irishman to help me cope with the psychic weight of these 2020s. 

Sometimes I wish psychology was a core subject, like language, math and science and sometimes I think this might solve all the world's problems.  

Sometimes, unless it's about mobility or herding small kids, I am so deeply confused by people who park aggressively. Sometimes I park like a lollygagging idiot. 

Sometimes I wonder if the person I'm having a conversation with is also struggling to hear and hence we're both pretending to hear what the other is saying and nodding periodically and hoping for the best. Sometimes I wonder what I haven't heard. 

Sometimes I have to give my default people-pleasing self a stern talking-to. 

Sometimes when I press unsubscribe I picture the bot(?) in charge of fulfilling my request, smirking. Sometimes I wonder if I actually forgot to unsubscribe. Sometimes I can't recall from what I unsubscribed. 

Sometimes I wonder if my DIY shortcuts are actually genius—like carpet tape works just as well as glue to install vinyl in a closet, right?—and then I remember that time my Dad renovated and left the old chimney hole in the living room floor and just strategically placed a tv tray over it. (Sometimes I wonder if environment is also genetics.)

Sometimes I wonder in my grandson L is actually an adult comedian trapped in a toddler's body and he's pissed off because he knows it too. 

Sometimes I suspect I might be the only human who walks laps around the dining room table while I read. 

Sometimes I'm 20% in the room with you, but 80% also elsewhere. 

Lapels

Sometimes I'll read something and it grips me by the lapels and stares at me, demands my attention, and when I attend, it grips my shoulders and turns me another direction so that I'm looking at the world anew. 

That, dear friends, is the power of reading and why I love it.  

Sometimes what I've read is profound, and other times, not...BUT even when it's not a revelation, it can be a novel distraction prompting my (pea)brain to say, go there and poke around. Hence the rest of this (crafted before this introduction) is (mostly) stream of consciousness. Let's go:

 

I saw the following comment on another writer's blog post, one in which she had added a selfie: "you have kind eyes" (I agree) and the invitation to reply, aka start a conversation. It made me think. And think. And think. The comment is not so unusual, but in this instance? It hit different. It registered. 

My reply:

1. Is there a better compliment? Not today—at least I can't think of one—what a fine compliment!
2. Do I have kind eyes? Hmm, I don't recall anyone ever using that adjective to describe my eyes.  
3. What have people said about my eyes? When I was in Junior High the girl who sat in front of me on the bus said, "your eyes are steel gray-blue." My heart thudded.
4. Don't most people have kind eyes? Yes, kinda. In various interactions such as when the baker hands me the cake I ordered (typically transactional)...those are kind eyes, but bona fide kind eyes? There's something else there, something subtle, something beckoning, something calm yet charged. What is it?  
5. What other words describe eyes I've encountered? Playful. Mischievous. Winsome. Sparkly. Attractive. Squishy. Sharp. Dismissive. Guarded. Pleading. Cold. Drunk. (Just first thoughts...all creatives should avoid judging the brainstorming process, so I am trying not to overthink these word-choices.)
6. Whose eyes do I deem kind? My grandmother had kind eyes. But it wasn't just her eyes...it was her voice too, her proximity.
7. Do most people actually (searching for the right word here...searching...) ratify compliments, or do they (like me) dismiss them? I wonder. 
8. They seem to have big egos, so do narcissists actually need compliments? First thought: Trump. Insert barf emoji here. 
9.  Are kind eyes impossible to fake, like could someone wholly unkind have kind eyes? Yes, I think it's possible...looking at you Netflix, and your ongoing (problematic but compelling) obsession with tweaking serial killer narratives with redemptional arcs to sustain us all while we navigate this age of (legit) horror, if that makes any sense at all? Anybody?
10. What's the best compliment I've ever received? *scanning... deflecting... scanning... dismissing... second-guessing... scanning....*

Dear friends, feel free to respond to any of these questions. I'm curious about how your answers may grab my lapels. 

Things one should outgrow:

source

 groaking.

 Is this word new to you too? 

To groak (verb) means to stare longingly at a person who is eating in hopes of being invited to join in/them. 

Hmm. Someone starving? Of course. A child? Certainly. A pet? Perhaps...

But what if it's fries?! I have lots of thoughts: 

1. *gives the stink-eye*
2. Back off there, bud.
3. Get your own fries.
4. No.
5. Why didn't you order fries?
6. Look, I'll order more.
7. Just a few.
8. Okay that's enough.
9. *silent seething*
10. Groak off! 

Thursdays

Recently, thanks to another blogger, I experienced the "psychological relief" of learning the oh-so-apt name for what we're all experiencing in the 20s: hypernormalization. This is that feeling of dread and powerlessness that permeates our modern lives as we endure daily chaos written off by those in power as uh, I don't know, Thursday, so we square our shoulders, endure, and continue our daily lives amidst the pervasive instability, because uh, what the hell can we really do about it anyway? Sigh. 

So I'm taking a break, sort of a psychological relief break. Let me explain. 

While watering the front garden yesterday, a butterfly landed on me. Oddly, I gasped. I think I reacted this way because it's very 2025 to deem this incident as the ominous opening "butterfly effect" to yet another shitshow. But no. Just what I needed, it took me out of my head. I love it when nature taps me on the shoulder. Delightful. 

Despite everything, what else is delightful? Let's go there. 

Words. Words are delightful. So is corn-on-the-cob and trees and the northern lights and ice cream and garden spaces and when women wear kilts in curling competitions and wedding vows and music and art and the human eye (each so startlingly unique and beautiful) and history class and movies and hilarious one-liners and Lego and librarians and architects and artists and writers and ee cummings and books so moving they shouldn’t end and deep-fried fish and chips and Scotland and Ireland and the Maritimes and Montreal and the wide Saskatchewan horizon line and waving grain and frogs and northern Alberta’s long, long summer days and a freshly painted room and golden hour and watching people open presents and (controversial) tuna casserole and The Swedish Chef and bork bork bork and making cupcakes and cookies and giving them away and haircuts and sleeping in and lavender and poppies and rabbits and snowmobiling and skiing and long walks and picking saskatoons and wood furniture and my bed and my house and my flat-cap and CBC radio and sudden rain and sticky-note pads and my grandkids and the countless ways my spouse, my children, and their children enrich and fortify my ordinary (extraordinary) life, and friends too, playing dice or Ticket-to-Ride or texting memes and when human facades fade and when we admit our stupidity and interdependence and people who don’t condemn others and don't complain just for the sake of complaining and people who understand being neighbourly and Dolly Parton and nurses and people who care for the elderly and my past and present teachers and every teacher my kids ever had and grandmothers and people who snowplow or can fix your AC and people committed to improving the world peacefully and self-deprecating people and comedians and unifiers and people who volunteer and people who are honest, people who encourage without ulterior motives and especially how sometimes the world seems to conspire to make me butterfly happy and oh ya, run-on sentences—I love run-on sentences too.

Dear friends, there is also psychological relief in naming what you delightfully love. Even on Thursdays. Sigh, it's often impossible to love what's going on in the world, but we can love our way through it. Right? 

That 10%

My favourite Father's Day cards, lol.

If you're a parent, you've heard this statistic: "90% of the time you will ever spend with your children happens during their first 18 years." I've been in the latter 10% zone for several years now and missing them today, I have thoughts:

It's true. Everyone knows time is a thief and yet we still let it pillage willy-nilly. 

This is a relationship, like all relationships: trust, honesty, respect, boundaries. 

Less saviour, more listener. 

Fact: you're not the same. Live with it and learn from it. 

You will always worry, but don't make this about you.  

This relationship is both timeworn and contemporary. You've both made mistakes. Let shit go and shut up. 

Don't leave the loving things unsaid and let your actions speak too. 

Continue to pay attention, hear, love. 

Be available. Don't hover. Jump at opportunities to make new memories together whether that's as simple as cleaning the garage together or a trip to Mexico (and everything in between). 

Check yourself for updates aka use this extra time to become a better parent/person. 

It does not matter your age; everyone needs someone who believes in them. 

Fave Reads 2022

Happy Hogmanay. I'll be honest: the last several years, my reading criteria has narrowed. Is it under 250 pages? Did someone I love recommend it? Life is too short to finish an underwhelming book. None of these underwhelmed me for one second. In no order (three are Canadian), I loved these books and these authors made me miss books, again. and I'm grateful for their lessons. 

It will gut you. Like
its comedian-actor-author,
this memoir is painfully
& proudly honest as well
as ferociously funny.
This is grief dialed up
and it will heal people.

In less than 250 pages,
Toews thoughtfully
presents us with a 
group of vulnerable
Mennonite women & one
 man as they dissect the
violence and ideology
that minimizes and
marginalizes them.
In other words, it's a
thoroughly modern
and on-going story.

Come for the truth &
the reconciliation; stay
for these characters' 
resilience, hope, and
humour. 

These Canadian children
and those who love them
will break your heart.
This Canadian novel
should be the 
first read in a social
work degree. 

I saw the film first. 
Cinematography at its
finest. Written in 1967(!)
For readers who love
complex and broken
characters in pain,
and for those forced to live
with their bullies or endure
imagined bullies.  

I wish I had a flame-thrower.

source

Since March 2020, living in Alberta and surviving a pandemic has been, um, interesting. Of course the entire world has experienced ups and downs but our struggles have been compounded by our particular government, loathe to admit their number one job during a crisis: public service. No matter where you live, maybe you can relate? 

I need to vent. 

First Wave

1. Fear
2. Toilet Paper
3. Social Distancing
4. Our government: let's fire people.
5. Anxiety and confusion.
6. We told our daughter not to visit us. *heart breaks* 
7. Visit relatives through windows.
8. Celebrate health care heroes.
9. Masks everywhere except on Facebook.
10. Hunkering down & resilience.

Second Wave

1. Government: let's keep everyone in suspense.
2. Government: mixed messages are still messages, right? (Some MLAs resist restrictions).
3. Government: we would prefer if more of you died. 
4. Perseverance
5. Tick, tick, tick...
6. EVERYONE STAY HOME AGAIN.
7. CANCEL ALL PLANS (except politicians who have to go to Hawaii, and such). 
8. World Ending (January 6, 2021)
9. Eat everything.
10. Hunkering down & resilience.
11. Celebrating health care heroes.
12. Some churches can't remember the golden rule.
13. Government: get vaccinated now.
14. Government: let me be clear; Alberta will never have vaccine passports.
15. 30% of Albertans begin doing "research."
16. 70% of Albertans get vaccinated 12 minutes after they're eligible.
17. Our premier takes a camera crew with him to go hug his mother. 
18. Government: get vaccinated now but we can't tell you if we are vaccinated or not.

Third Wave:

1. In their "spare time," doctors pick up extra jobs being activists (to fill the void in government leadership).
2. Fatigue.
3. Hanging on.
4. EVERYONE STAY HOME FOR TWO WEEKS. 
5. Infections and hospitalizations dramatically decrease.
6. Government: But, rodeos!
7. Government: "Open for summer; open for good" & "BEST SUMMER EVER." lol, facepalm
8. Government: here's some money to get vaccinated (suck that, vaccine passports). 
9. Welcome relief (temporary). 
10. As summer continues, the predominant facial expression is side-eye.

Fourth Wave:

1. Government: our non-plans for rising case numbers are data-based; also, let's make sure kids aren't protected this Fall.
2. Where's the data?
3. Government: [away-from-office auto-reply]
4. Um, hello?
5. Hello?
6. SCREAMING INTO THE VOID.
7. Doctors organize daily demonstrations begging for basic restrictions for children & other vulnerable people.
8. Government: here's a video and see, it's not pre-recorded like the Christmas vacations ones were. 
9. Covidiots complete their covid-19 Facebook degrees.
10. Covidiots begin protesting at hospitals.
11. Government: we're fiscally responsible but here's more money for anti-vaxxers (suck it, people who already got vaccinated).
12. Government: we still can't declare our own vaccinations statuses.
13. Reporter: "But health minister, people are dying!" 
14. Government: "That's good feedback for us."
15. WTF?
16. Rage flame-throwing (aka writing yet another MLA letter).
17. Government: here's a vaccine passport but we named it something else stupid and confusing. 
18. Next? Perhaps the military will be deployed to help save us from our government & covidiots? 
19. Rage wood-chipping.  
20. Hunkering down & resilience. 

For Clarity

It may not look like it yet, but Spring is almost here—my favourite season. This Spring will be like none before, at least in my lifetime. Still, I am grateful for Spring. For conversations with my daughter. For a silly video from my son. For the way my wife looks at me sometimes. For friends. For my work colleagues and their dedication to all things education, even without students. For doctors and nurses and medical staff. For scientists and leaders who heed them. For surprise chocolate-chip cookies. For one last gift from my 96-year-old Grandmother. For wanting to write again. For another day. For clarity.

What we do for others—it's all that matters.

Fave Reads 2019

Paulo Freire said, "to speak a true word is to transform the world." I didn't realize it until now, but many of my favourite 2019 reads were about uncovering truths. Not an easy task; it requires adjusting and readjusting mindset. Some books hold truth like pebbles--gather enough and finally there comes an identity landslide. Some pebbles, some more, these were my favourite reads this year.

I re-read this short memoir this
year, probably for the third or
fourth time. It's just pure honesty.

I became fascinated with
artist Paul Klee, whom I studied
for a research project. Part
philosophy, part drawing
guide, this book is packed with
ideas that jolt us from a passive
view about art & design. 

The plot unfolds backwards
revealing a doctor's sickening
history, but the narrator's
confusion and despair
unfolds forwards, and
breaks his heart.

It's gripping, and despite
Atwood's eerie dystopia
firmly connected to our
modern times, it's hopeful. 

As a teen, I read almost everything
King wrote. This book made
me want to re-read those
and so many others I've missed.
Using magic-realism, King
asks us to reflect on what weighs
us down, what immobilizes us.
Not scary, this novella works like
 a companion to King's best books
because it shows us the good
inside his heart. 

I read this as part of a
creative nonfiction class.
A brave author who
holds nothing back. 

Sometimes

Sometimes one sentence says so much. And no period is needed because it won't stop anyway.

Sometimes it's hard to think about anything but that one thing that's missing.

Sometimes all the wonders can be overwhelming.

Sometimes blank paper invites the deepest conversations we have with ourselves.

Sometimes, if I listen carefully, I can hear the past run up the stairs.

Sometimes & Something

Sometimes the absolute best thing is a movie. No question. Add popcorn and lots of butter. And a blanket, a pillow, chips, some chocolate. Or in a theatre with a crowd, each and all fixated, the light flickering in our eyes. Sometimes it’s all a person really needs to feel whole again.

So Hollywood! Stop making the same bad movie again and again. Sure, what makes movies great is very subjective and yet I believe that a truly great, unforgettable movie must contain at least ten of the following things:

1.       a surprise

2.       some kissing

3.       a character with lots of good and a little bad too, a character to like and an unlikeable character (and sometimes maybe they switch places)

4.       a laugh out loud moment or a moment that breaks your heart (or both)

5.       something one’s eyes want to hang on to

6.       somewhere and something lovely and somewhere and something loathly

7.       something on fire (but not necessarily any smoke)

8.       something simple, something complex

9.       something to feed or stretch or snap the imagination

10.   some music and sound effects and special effects and when and only when it’s really needed: some silence.

11.   someone’s eyes yelling and someone’s eyes whispering

12.   something to absorb and something to reject

13.   something uncomfortable

14.   someone so so so determined to fix what or whom is broken

15.   something shocking, something soothing (shivers and thumps)

16.   sincerity, honesty, vulnerability

17.   an advance and a retreat, an attack and a surrender

18.   a quotable quote

19.   something that doesn’t belong, something not seen before

20.   a cow but only if there’s a twister too (aka something impossible to forget)

21.   something to think about when it’s over

22.   something to talk about afterwards

23.   a mirror

24.   a mistake…

But mostly,

      25. an unforgettable movie must have a partner to share it with. 

2014 Reads

"No two persons ever read the same book." ~Edmund Wilson

Absolutely. True.

Just one of the reasons why books are so powerful. Following (in no particular order) are my five favourite reading experiences this year.

Raw. Violent. Tender.
Exploitation. Colonialism. Pain.
Perseverance. It's everything my
country was founded on and
almost 400 years later
 these wounds remain unhealed.

Ever want to smash everything
because unfairness has ruined
everything? This cathartic
journey with a 13 year old boy
both smashes and soothes.

A clever little book especially
for creatives written in ABC
format (and I'm always a sucker for that).
Never forget: umbrellas
completely miss the point. 

I just love that Banksy exists
and he wants us to THINK
about art, about what we value,
about who we are. 

Quite simply it just felt
like unadulterated TRUTH
to me. So useful (especially
if you're human). Validates.
Inspires. Guides. Heals. 

Problem Solving

My poor wife. She did it again. Some people struggle to learn and that’s why they repeat the same mistakes. What grievous error now you ask? She bought the Christmas baking much much too early again. Plus, she “hid” those sugary bonbons in the freezer where ANYONE can find them. And by anyone, I mean my teens. And since they moved away, by my teens I mean me. But none of this is my fault. I blame the washing machine.

The washing machine said it needed five more minutes before I could transfer my clothing to the dryer. So I looked in the freezer. And that’s when I spotted a Tupperware container of home-made cookies of various shapes, sizes, and delicious-es. What’s a guy to think and what’s a guy to do when confronted with such a conundrum? This:

1. She won’t notice if I eat just one.
2. Hmm. Now there’s an empty spot in the container. I better eat one more, make it an even number again.
3. Uh oh, now there’s only one left in this row.
4. I better eat the last one in this row.
5. Uh oh. The entire row is gone.
6. I will rearrange them.
7. Hmm. Still gaps. I will arrange them differently.
8. It looks like I broke a few moving them around so I should probably eat those too.
9. More gaps. Bummer.
10. Hmm. If I eat all the cookies then hide the container, there is a 98% chance my wife will not remember purchasing them. Perfect.

Who says problem-solving is hard?