Good morning, people. It's Monday and we're off to another splendid start to another splendiferous week. Actually, I have no idea how this week is going to go. I'm not even sure what splendiferous means but it sounded, well - splendiferous - so it won the description lottery this morning. Granted the other choices were "dingdackly" and "pop-poop-a-licious", both of which aren't even considered real words according to dictionary.com, so it could be argued that the whole debate was a non-starter.
But I digress.
The upcoming week is a mystery, but that's OK. Don't panic. We'll get through it together. Not knowing what's coming can be a scary thing, I know, I deal with the dread on an almost constant basis. Still, we need to remind ourselves the unknown can also deliver great things - new discoveries, pleasant surprises, and even solutions to problems that threaten to drag us down with despair, believing we're trapped with no way out. The unknown can reveal the door that leads to freedom from the pain we battle but believe we can never escape. Without the unknown, there would be no hope.
So, it's OK to be scared, but like a roller coaster, you need that moment of apprehension at the top to make the thrill of the ride possible, and if you knew what was around the next bend, you'd lose the edge it takes to make the trip worth taking. That's life. The climb to the top can be a long and tense-filled journey but it can also be one hell of a ride if you hang on.
Today, let's forget about knocking Monday and be splendiferous instead.
The song for a new start: The Pogues "Fairy Tale Of New York".
Tis a Saturday for the ages. Well, probably not, but I always look for opportunities to say things like "tis" and "for the ages" and it seemed as good a time as any to go for it.
We voted to brave the cold and make the trek to Tim Horton's for a caffeine boost and launch the morning properly. The best part is, I get to spend the day with Cheryl Holroyd, one of my favourite humans in the world. She is one of the strongest people I know and I'm thankful for the opportunity to have her in my life.
It's a Saturday, so let's start Saturdaying people. We all know how quickly Monday sneaks up, so every minute counts.
Cheryl's morning musical pick: Tina Turner "Proud Mary".
It's been a frustrating week so far but it's sunny this morning and I've already cleaned up and thrown in a load of laundry before I sat down to work, so I'm giving it my best start. Your turn Friday. Don't be a dick.
Speaking of work, I often get asked what it is I do and I usually respond with something along the lines of "consulting development websites copywriting proposals reports..." and so on, until the other person falls over drooling. I doubt I'll ever be able to succinctly relay the range of work I take on but here's a photo to show that, at the very least, I can pretend to work. Except for what is going on in the left monitor. That's "for real" work Heather Church. Promise.
And speaking of pretending, I find it ironic that considering its meaning, the word "lackadaisical" is both so long and difficult to spell.
Have a great Friday and maybe get out for a walk. I'm going to try to.
Friday's musical contribution: Roy Orbison "You Got It".
I have been trying out some different writing styles and subject matter and have at last posted my first short story online. It can be found under the aptly named Short Story section of this website and is titled "Intimate Encounter". Of course, being the literal person I am, I may have taken the "short" part a bit too far, but it's a start, with longer works yet to come.
He fumbles with the lock of the apartment door, almost dropping his keys twice in the process. What should be a simple reflex honed by years of repetition, has suddenly become a fervent game of skill, forced upon him by the beautiful woman in his arms and a stubborn unwillingness to interrupt their ardent embrace. In the end, she proves the stronger of the two and peels away, long enough at least for him to achieve his goal.
Woke up at seven to a temperature of eight degrees outside and quickly decided it would be unfair of me to curse the recent trend of season appropriate, frigid weather patterns without acknowledging such a generous boost of the thermometer. So I was up and out by 7:30am, walking like it was early October again. Granted, the heavy winds are pushing like an arctic blast of fury, so what was anticipated to be a comfortable stroll has turned into another episode of frigid fingers and icicles from the nose. Luckily I put on my big boy, winter warm underwear so I remain committed. You got me though, Mother Nature, you got me.
I'm taking advantage of a short indoor respite before heading out again but the sun is on the rise and I will be out walking soon enough with a grin on my face. Not too big a grin mind you, as I'm afraid my face will literally freeze that way and I refuse to give my mother satisfaction by lending credence to her early childhood warnings.
Whatever the temperature that awaits you as you begin your day, I wish you good will and fortune as you step forth into another Tuesday. Amazing how they seem to show up every seven days or so.
Tuesday tunage to accompany a shiver or two: Thomas Dolby "She Blinded Me With Science".
OK, I'm at my desk - dressed, showered, caffeinated, wearing my new slippers from Giant Tiger, and my sexy koala earmuffs from the Dollar Store. Time to give this morning another go and be someone else again. I'd say be myself again but then I'd still be a cranky bastard with a pessimistic outlook and questionable motivation so I'd like to try something different and see how it goes.
But you be you, people. You're doing just fine.
Also, I posted a new poem today titled She Is That Strong.
Wow. Now that was a brutal crawl out of sleep and into a new day. Like an infant slug forcing its way through the membrane of a balloon. When the muffled sound of your phone's alarm burrows its way into your consciousness through several feet of water, while someone slowly increases the volume until you can no longer convince yourself you're deaf to its existence and the first utterance you can muster is "Awwww no, no, no, no, no" as you fumble clumsily through the dark, cursing your inability to physically choke the life out of the object of your torment, rather than struggle for what seems like a lifetime, manipulating dead fingers across its dimly lit screen in a futile attempt to mash the tiny icon that will finally bring back the blessed silence. You debate resetting it for another hour of sweet unconsciousness, but begrudgingly accept defeat when you realize you will only be stealing from yourself and cursing your decision when you're scrambling to squeeze too much work into too little time and wondering where the day went.
And thus Monday is born and another week is upon us. If I wasn't an Atheist I might plead to God to have mercy on my soul. As it is, I'm content to make do with a simple "shit" uttered through clenched teeth.
Song of the day: The Soup Dragons "I'm Free".
She chases her dreams like raindrops chase gravity down a pane of glass
tracing erratic patterns on their way to an end
to merge with others as they collide along the way
breaking free when it's time, taking pieces from each
not lonely but always, in the end, alone.
She believes without the benefit of leadership, moving through instinct,
trusting she'll know when she's arrived and in an act of defiance,
a "fuck you" to those who stood by, even while they moved ahead.
She carries her dreams on the outside, like armour
exposed and vulnerable to the world
even as she's wrapped tight
tight enough to hold conviction and strength
to hold her sadness at length
to hold her
I have to leave before she arrives, but I stay as long as I can.
She doesn't need my help, never did, but I think she liked me as a witness
to prove she was everything they said she wasn't
to remind her that, if not this time, she'll try again
that, without a doubt, she is that strong.
Storms can be a cleansing
a second wind
a chance to mend
and when she needs another drop to chase, the rain will come again.