Yes! Yes! Yes!

There is a lot of NO in our world.  No smoking, no parking, no loitering, no stopping, no shirt no shoes no service, no dumping, no soliciting....and on it goes.  Everywhere we look it seems we are  told NOT to do something.  I would like to imagine for a moment if we turned that around and started saying YES.   Yes you can park here.  Yes you can smoke here (in designated smoking areas), YES you can dump here (in landfill sites).  Similar to the Yes We Are Open signs.  What if the traffic lights were changed so that the green light was the biggest one and at the top.  What if we said YES, please feel free to loiter here and even provided benches for people to sit on.  What if we said WE WANT PEACE instead of NO MORE WAR.  Would it have an impact?  Would it be as effective.

Think about your life.  The things you do each day, the places you go, the responsibilities you have, how you spend your leisure time.  Are you living a YES life, or a NO life.   Do you find yourself saying YES more than NO?   And I don't mean just in response to Do you want fries with that.  When someone asks you for spare change, or for help, or to stay at work late, or to feed their cat, or walk their dog while they are away, what is your response?  Is it harder for you to say YES or NO?

I am a YES person.  I really like to help people, and I really like to keep busy and try new things. I am usually up for anything, depending on the state of my health on any particular day.  Sometimes I say YES too much and I end up over extended and it's not a good thing.  So I have learned to put some NO in my life for my own benefit.   And it's hard.  I don't like to disappoint, I don't like to hurt people's feelings, or not be there for them.  But I have done a lot of reading and had a lot of therapy around setting healthy boundaries and how to be assertive.  And it has become easier for me to say NO to people I don't know very well, but family and friends are a different story.  I will drop what I am doing any time one of my children needs my help.  And if I can't say YES I am wracked with guilt.   Through assertiveness I learned that instead of saying NO to a request, I could say I would really like to help you out, but I can't at this time.  And leave it at that. No explanations.  And a gentler refusal.

Of course there are times when a strong NO is called for.  We can't totally do without that word.  It's very effective in stopping people who are heading for danger, or who are being aggressive towards us.  We couldn't very well say to a mugger, why yes you may take my wallet as long as you don't hurt me.  Very small children respond to NO more quickly than a long sentence.  So, it's a necessary thing.  But what i am talking about is how interesting it would be if the balance was shifted in favour of YES.

Some people find it hard to say YES.   Saying yes makes you somewhat vulnerable and open to disappointment.  You say YES hoping for a positive experience, or a deeper connection with someone.  Saying YES opens you up to being taken advantage of.  Anyone who is part of an organization knows that once you say YES to helping with one project you are automatically seen as someone who says YES and you get asked to help again and again and again.

I think the word NO causes a more emotional response in us.  When someone says no to us we are hurt, or disappointed or angry.  And we want to know why.  Why is the answer no.  Why won't the person help us, or be there for us, or bail us out?  


There was an article in the Reader's Digest not long ago about a guy who decided that for 7 days he would say yes to everything.  I didn't really like the article as much as I liked the idea.  And I might even try it myself to see what happens.  And then I will blog about the results.  YES, I like that idea.

Let's say YES to life, and to love and to hope.  Let's say YES to being healthier.  Let's say YES to protecting our environment.  And let's say YES to taking care of ourselves.


PS YES I know I missed some question marks while writing this blog.  And YES I am okay with that, so grammar police, take your case elsewhere.

Xenophobia ...are we guilty of it?

Dictionary definitions of xenophobia include: "deep-rooted, irrational hatred towards foreigners" (Oxford English Dictionary; OED), and "unreasonable fear or hatred of the unfamiliar" (Webster's).^[5] The word comes from the Greek words ξένος (xenos), meaning "strange", "foreigner", and φόβος (phobos), meaning "fear".^[6]

With all the immigrants in this country, Canada doesn't seem to be xenophobic.  It's kind of interesting, our attitude towards immigrants.  We love to adopt the customs of other cultures...we eat ethnic food, watch ethnic movies, wear ethnic fashions, and even sometimes use ethnic slang.  And yet, we still bitch and complain about "foreigners" coming and taking our jobs.  Oh really?  Think of the foreigners in your neighbourhood.  They are running the convenience stores, the gas stations, and the taxi business.  Are these things we want to do?  Not many of us do.  If they are taking our jobs it's because they have better education and are better qualified.   There are many,  many foreigners who have come to this country having been  professionals in their home country, and when they get here they find out that their qualifications mean nothing here.  How sad is that?

Right now in the western world we are extremely distrustful of people from the middle east.  We fear they are all terrorists.  A group of them walking down the street conversing in their native language make us feel uneasy.  Anytime we hear someone speaking in their native language we are uncomfortable , and sometimes you hear people say 'speak English like the rest of us, you are in Canada now'.  We are afraid they are talking about us, or laughing at us, or plotting against us.  It drives us crazy not to know what they are saying.

 But imagine for a moment that you were sent to a foreign country.  Everything is strange.  You can't speak the language well, you don't know the customs, you don't like the food.  So you look for comfort in the familiar, you look for people like you.   How would you feel if you were told to speak the language of the new country when you are out somewhere with your family speaking the language you are comfortable with?  How would you feel if after all the years of education and sacrifice you were told you are not qualified for your chosen profession and you are forced to do menial jobs.  We sure wouldn't like it.

We do fear change though don't we?  People seem to be so happy to go with the status quo.  Kind of the devil you know is better than the devil you don't.  So we re elect the same ineffectual, even dangerous politicians to office...or we don't vote at all because we don't know the other candidates.  Think about all the bitching that goes any time policy is changed in the work place.  People are afraid to try something new.  The like the comfortable sameness no matter how unhappy they have been.  

So are we guilty of xenophobia as defined in the Oxford English Dictionary?  Maybe not to the extent that some countries like South Korea who really doesn't like foreigners who come there to work.  And I don't think I would call our attitude xenoPHOBIC.  Phobic is too severe. Phobic implies terror.  Perhaps we are more xenoanxious.    There, I have made another x word, there are so few of them it was hard to pick a topic.  And with two x's it would be an excellent Scrabble word.

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

I have a theory.  It's not really a conspiracy theory.  My theory is about the water shortage we hear so much about.   I don't believe we have a water shortage.  And the reason is because if you go to any retail store you will see cases and cases of fresh clean water sitting in plastic bottles waiting for us to buy what we can get from our tap at home.  That's where all the water is!  We are kidding ourselves if we think there is some mountain spring or some place in Fiji that is supplying the bountiful water for us to bottle.

Why do we allow this to continue?  Why do we keep purchasing this water in plastic bottles?  Because we are lazy and it is convenient.  We don't have to think about the insanity of it all.  We happily buy our cases of bottled water and think nothing of it.  As long as we can see the water in the lake as we drive around our city, we won't be convinced that there is a water shortage.  There's gallons of it out there.

Penn and Teller, a comedy duo, has a television show called Bullshit! where they explore various issues in a humourous yet thought provoking way.  They did a show about bottled water that was excellent.   It showed how easily we have been duped in to believing that the water in those bottles is mystical with powers to cure us.   How easily we can convince ourselves that the water tastes different depending on the brand.  One of the experiments they did was in a high class restaurant.  People were brought a "water list" similar to a wine list and were able to choose what type of water they would like with their dinner.   All of the waters listed had different qualities and came from different regions of the world.  They would order and then describe the taste of the water.  One woman was even willing to drink a bottle of water that had a spider in the bottom of it when she was told the spider had special healing powers.   And you know what???   Every bottle of that water came from a garden hose in the back of the restaurant that one of the staff was using to fill the bottles!  It amazes me how people will eat or drink anything if you make it sound classy enough.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFKT4jvN4OE

I could do a whole other blog post on Nestle and I might one day.  But let me just say that I am boycotting Nestle and all it's products.  Because they CEO of Nestle is an evil man who had the nerve to say that  Water is not a human right and should be privatized!   It's scary, really scary.  And as long as we keep buying the bottled water, and polluting our environment with plastic bottles, nothing will change.

I would love to do a symbolic act of rebellion.  It would be great  if I could get a bunch of people to buy a couple of cases of water, and come down to the lake and pour it all back in there.  I know it would not make a bit of difference...but to me it would be a way of saying, "we are on to you, we know where this came from..".   Crazy?  Maybe.  So far the response to my suggestion has been underwhelming.

Some places are starting to ban water in plastic bottles.  We need to see more of that.  We don't need to see a natural resource become something that only people with money can afford to have.

Are we all Victims?

I don't like the term victim.  It sounds weak, and helpless.  And yet it seems that everyone is a victim these days.  (I also don't like the term "these days" because it makes me feel like an old curmudgeon).  Everyone is suffering from something.  We will gladly tell all our woes to anyone who is willing to listen.  And then we are forced to listen to theirs in turn.   Sometimes we even try to outdo each other with our victim story.   "I had the flu for a week."  " oh I had the flu for two weeks and I almost died".   And it seems we want to do that without first offering consolation to the other person.  We are victims of poor health, and most of us could overcome that if we wanted to with a healthy lifestyle change, but it's far easier to give in to the victim mentality and throw up our hands in despair and say "I can't help it, I have______ (fill in the blank with the name of the syndrome )".  We use our syndrome's of which we are victims to give us an out for living our lives in the best way.

People seem hell bent on taking offense. They are victims of language.  They search news stories, and Facebook postings, and blogs, trying to find something they can take offense at. They read comments searching for insult.  And it gets ridiculous.  Recently I heard that they were changing the name of the Trans Canada highway because it offended trans gender people.  Of course this was not true, but when I first heard it I was not surprised.  I was astonished and a bit annoyed, but not surprised.  But it was an example of how far we are taking things in our society.  Our victim mentality is slowly eroding our language and our freedom of speech.  We have to walk on eggshells and be politically correct lest someone feels victimized by what we say.

We teach our children to be victims as well.  We excuse behaviours that are unacceptable because the child has some syndrome.   The most ridiculous one I have heard?  No longer is a child a brat.  Now he has "Oppositional Defiance Disorder".  He is a victim of this and cannot help himself and therefore should not be accountable.  It's INSANE.  

I have had times when I have felt like a victim and I would blame others in my life for my own unhappiness.  But eventually I had to realize that I was NOT a victim, I had choices, and I had control of my life.  I have many chronic health conditions.  But I don't feel like a victim.  They are challenges, absolutely, but they don't give me an out when it comes to being a productive and useful member of society.  It would so easy to play the victim card.  But I don't want to be that person.

Don't get me wrong,I realize there are real victims. People who have had things happen to them that are tragic and totally out of their control.  Terminal illnesses, violent crimes, serious accidents, and natural catastrophe's to name a few.  But even in these situations, people have a choice as to how they handle their situation.  Are they going to wail and moan oh poor me, or are they going to try and move forward and become strong again?  

I hope I am not coming across as a cold person. I am not, I am very compassionate and caring.  But, I really think that before we complain about our victimization we should take a look at people who really are victims in this world, and consider ourselves truly blessed.

Urban living is the life for me....

Thirteen years ago, when my children were all fledged from the nest, I moved in to my first apartment, in the downtown area of Hamilton.  I lived too far south to be considered in the core, but coming from quiet, suburban Dundas, the change was significant.  I had never lived alone.  I had never lived in an apartment and I was terrified.   I was afraid of elevators...what if I got stuck, what if someone in there attacked me?  What if the elevator just crashed to the ground?  And underground parking put me in a cold sweat.  Too many crime shows about women being attacked in underground parking lots.

I faced all of those fears however, and found to my delight, and relief, that I actually enjoy apartment living, and urban living.  Even though my dream home would be a log cabin by a river in a forest near the mountains, I have to say that I am pretty happy here.  I love the fact that neighbours are very close to me, and yet I don't hear them, and I don't have to see them.  We are nodding acquaintances that see each other in the elevator or the laundry room.  Not like in the suburbs where your neighbours are practically part of the family.  I can sit on my balcony and be totally alone, but in a house, any time I would sit outside neighbours would see it as an invitation to come for a visit.  Which is fine...sometimes.

I thought I would be afraid to walk the streets at night in the downtown area.  But, it has never happened.  As I mentioned in another blog, I feel quite safe.  I like the anonymity of city living.  I like the privacy.  And I know it sounds strange to talk about privacy when I am living in such a densely populated area.  But it;s true.  I pretty much blend in to the scenery and no one pays much attention to my comings and goings. I have never known a moment of fear since I moved in to the city.   And it's not that it's lonely.  I have a choice to be more social if I want to.

There are drawbacks.  Friends don't drop by like they did when I lived in a house. It's a whole different ballgame when you have to find and pay for parking, And the fact that there is no driveway with a car in it to indicate if I am at home, is prohibitive.  So there's that.  Laundry is expensive, and the hunt for change every week is challenging. Yes, I know I could go to the bank to buy a roll of change, but where's the fun in that?  I love doing laundry in an apartment building because I can do four loads of laundry in 1.5 hours.  A job that used to take all day when I had only one machine.

I live close enough to downtown that I can walk just about anywhere I want to go.  The Art Gallery, theatres, shopping, parks, the waterfront, are all easily accessible from where I live.

Another thing about urban living is the simplicity of going away on vacation.  I just lock my apartment door and go.  No one has to water my garden, take in my mail and paper, check the house and turn on lights.   It's beautifully simple.

I still dream about the cabin in the woods though.  Someday...you just never know.

My internet is down.   Can't write a blog on my phone.  I will catch up soon.

Trees of Life

Trees.  They are everywhere, and yet we take them so much for granted.  Some people totally dislike trees because they shed leaves that they have to rake up every autumn.  But how often do we stop and think about the trees around us and really appreciate them.  Trees are the stuff of life.  They take our carbon dioxide in, and breathe out oxygen for us.  Oxygen!  We  need that!   And now with the sun being so much more dangerous to us, we need the trees for their shade.

I am passionate about trees.  I know, it sounds pretty boring.  But have you ever sat and just looked at the trees outside your window?  You would think there is nothing much to look at, but it can be very meditative.  The way the sunlight plays on the leaves, the way the wind turns them, the birds that are chattering away inside them and building nests, and squirrels that are chasing each other through the branches.  Not to mention all the insect that live in trees that are food for the birds that live there. When a tree sheds its leaves in the fall those very same leaves provide a warm place for some insects to winter.  When a tree dies its trunk and bark break down in the compost for the soil.  Animals can live in the holes left by branches.  All sorts of life is protected and nourished by trees.  Humans need trees for their oxygen, for the wood, for the fruits that are produced, for the shade they provide.  Have you ever noticed how stark a new subdivision looks before the trees  mature?

How can we change people's feeling about trees and make them realize how vitally important they are, without coming across as a tree hugging hippie?  Although there are worse things a person could be called.  I hate to see trees being cut down to make way for a house being built.  It disturbs to see wooded areas cleared for a new subdivision.  And I can't even let myself think about what's happening to our rain forests.  It sends a chill through my very being. And I don't think people will realize how much we need them until they are gone, and then it's too late.

 When I moved in to my apartment two years ago, there was a really nice tree just in front of my balcony, I could actually reach out and touch it.  And there was a birds nest in it from a family of robins who had lived there in the spring.  I was SO excited that I would be able to watch this.  And then Hurricane Sandy came along and my tree became a victim of it.  I woke up one morning to find it leaning at a dangerous angle.  A few days later it was gone.   It broke my heart. I actually grieved for the tree.  Maybe I am little too invested in them!

The next time you are out walking, take a few minutes to just stand under a tree and enjoy it. Breathe it in.  Look closely at the leaves, and if there are none, look at the way the bare branches look against the sky.  I have many photographs of this.  It never gets old.  And as you are doing this, offer up a silent thank you to the universe for this glorious gift.

Sugar Jones

I am a sugar addict.  I have been a sugar addict as long as I can remember.  When I came home from school I would immediately go to the sugar bowl and help myself to a couple of spoonfuls.  My mother caught on because I would put the wet spoon back in the bowl.  But I learned to outsmart her by pouring the sugar in to my mouth without touching the spoon.  I would search the fridge and cupboards for anything sweet, maraschino cherries being a favourite.  There would always be a jar in there from Christmas.  And I would figure my mother would not miss one.   Or two.  My favourite sandwich as a child was peanut butter and brown sugar.  You would think with all of this sugar I put in to my body I would have had a weight problem.  But I was very underweight most of my life. I weighed 95 lbs when I got married at 20 years old.

I remember going to the store when I had some money and not being able to decide between two chocolate bars, I would buy both.   Or two ice cream treats.  I would frantically search through the family's coat pockets and down in couch cushions to find change so I could feed my addiction.  And I I have kept the beast alive now into my middle age.   Just like an alcoholic I have told myself I could stop the sugar habit if I really wanted to.  And I have quit cold turkey many times.  T he longest I went was 8 months, about 2 years ago.  And I remember the day I fell off the wagon that time.  I was at the cottage playing Yahtzee with my best friend who had brought a bunch of candy, but was hiding it from me because she knew I couldn't have it.   I told her if I got a Yahtzee I would have ONE swedish berry.   Yahtzee for those of you who don't know, is 5 dice of the same value.  It's very hard to get.  But I got one.  And I ate the swedish berry.   And then I ate the Rolo's.  And so it went.  I have not been able to get off the sugar since.

I have been known to pace the floor if I don't have a sugar fix.  And right now there is a container of frosting in my fridge calling my name.  I rarely have sugary food in my apartment, the temptation is too great.   But it was someone's birthday and I was going to make a cake.  I burned the cake, so now I have the frosting.   And I sometimes buy a box of chocolate bars (Halloween is hell for sugar addicts) and fool myself in to believing that I will eat only one a day.   I never do.  The box never lasts the week.  

Now that I do have a weight problem AND am insulin resistant (borderline diabetic) it's really important that I stop this awful addiction once and for all.  But when I do, the detoxing makes me so miserable, friends will actually go and buy me a chocolate bar and insist I eat it.  Seriously. And forget about artificial sweeteners, they do more damage than real sugar and they make the cravings worse.  However, thankfully, fruit will satisfy the sugar craving most of the time.

Coca cola and ice cream (caramel pecan mudslide when I go inside, small vanilla cone at the drive thru) are my drugs of choice.  Not together.  And I am not so much a chocoholic as I am a candyholic.  So why am I like this?   I dont' really get a sugar high.  No burst of energy and then a crash.   The sweetness just fixes something in me, that gets broken by stress.   I crave sugar all the time.  And when I give in to the craving...well...I have to admit the feeling is...orgasmic.  Yes, I went there.

I know all the bad things about sugar.   Just like an alcoholic knows all the bad things about drinking.  And some day I will bite the bullet and quit this habit for good.  But right now there is a box of cookies in the kitchen that needs to be eaten.  Oh...and that frosting........

Same old dull Routine? Not for me thanks.

Having a set routine in your life is supposed to be very beneficial to people who struggle, as I do, with Adult Attention Deficit.  But what the experts don't really realize, or address, is the fact that in order to have a set routine, we need someone to set up a routine for us, and then someone to hold us to it.  We are incapable of doing it ourselves.  I have tried many times to make myself a routine.  I write it down, I have good intentions, and it lasts for the morning.  Because by the time I am finished my morning "routine"  I am on to other things and never get back to that paper that I wrote the routine down on.  I pretty much bounce through my days like a ball in a pinball machine.  You can tell by looking at my place what I have accomplished because there is invariably a trail of clues.  Dishes sitting in a sink full of water that has turned cold, laundry in the cart that didn't quite make it to the laundry room, the vacuum cleaner out, but never turned on.

The biggest part of the problem is distraction.  I will start doing one thing and then something else will catch my eye and off I go.  I am like a little child..ooh shiny!  I take medication for this but all it really does is make me more aware that I am not focusing, but doesn't really help me focus.  I have books that tell me how to cope with my ADD but...it's not that I don't WANT to improve myself and make better use of my time, it's that I find it much easier to fly by the seat of my pants.  And the tips in the books are only as effective as I make them.  It encourages me to make lists...well if I could do that I wouldn't need to read the book because I would be organized!

When my daughter was born a friend told me that the best thing I could do is get her on a routine.  I had NO idea what she meant.  Seriously.  I thought she meant a schedule...like breakfast at 7, nap at 10 etc.  But what she meant was ....breakfast, fresh air, snack, nap, lunch, nap, dinner, bedtime.  A routine.  Things happening in the same order every day.  Needless to say my parenting was sadly lacking in any sort of routine that didn't have outside pressure.  I could get the kids to school  and to various activities but often just in time or slightly late.  Their father was the stickler for the routine,   And I found it terribly restricting.  But also very necessary.

So now here I am well in to my middle age, now retired, and on my own, and I am aimless.  I am very busy, but when its downtime, it's wasted time.  No routine.  No set time to do my writing.  No set day for laundry.  I visited my mother last summer in Victoria and her life is very structured. My stepfather is retired military.  The same thing happens at the same time every day, the same day of the week, and even their meals are routine, Monday is stir fry, Friday is pizza etc...and nothing varies.   I found it comforting in a way because I knew what to expect, but I often found myself chafing at the confines of it all.  And the tedium.

Anyway, R is for routine.

Quiet Please!

I have often wondered who decided that we needed to be constantly bombarded with noise day in and day out.   It seems everywhere you go there is noise.  Music, or news,or a sports game playing on a big screen, .  Even in my apartment there is music coming out of a speaker in front of the elevator on my floor,and in the lobby a television screen because how tragic would it be for me to have to be left uninformed in the brief time it takes the elevator to come. Even in the dr's office waiting room we are subjected to news being broadcast on a t.v in the waiting room.  There seems to be no escape from it.  Why is this?  Did people complain that they were bored in the waiting room or at the elevator or in the restaurants?   Don't we all have enough devices these days that we can plug in to entertain ourselves no matter where we are?  Is it too much to expect people who are eating together to actually talk to each other rather than gaze numbly at the latest headlines?

As you can probably guess, I like quiet.  I like it a lot.  My apartment is silent.  T.V is never on, unless I am watching a movie, I don't play any music, no ipod. When I am playing on line games I turn the music off.   And I like it that way.  I like music, but I always have music in my head and have no need to add to that.  I find noise distracting and as annoying and very stressful.  AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON LEAF BLOWERS!

Maybe it's that we are all afraid of our feelings. Maybe we need noise to distract us from what is going on inside ourselves.  Maybe we don't like to be alone with our thoughts.  They might make us face things we would rather not face in our own lives.  So we keep feeding our brains endless stimuli to mask that stuff.  Have you ever sat in silence?   Turned off everything in your home and just sat and listened?  You should try it.  It's amazing how relaxing it is.   When I leave a noisy place I feel my body release all of the tension I had been holding while being assaulted by noise.   And yes, even music is noise to me unless I am some place for the sole purpose of listening to music. The worst is when music is being piped in at a volume so low you can't tell what song is playing, but you can still hear it.

I was shopping at Target one Christmas and I noticed something interesting.  There was no music.  It was quiet!  And because there was no music, people who shopped there were quieter.  The whole place had a relaxed feel to it.  It was wonderful.  Costco is the same.  It is busy as hell most days and moving around in the store is a puzzle.  But the atmosphere is calm.  There is no music.  Just the sound of people shopping.

I think it would do wonders for peoples mental health to spend at least one hour a day in silence.  Not necessarily silent meditation, but just silence.  See if you feel more refreshed afterwards.

Procrastination is an adrenaline rush

I was going to write a blog about procrastination but I kept putting it off.  (rim shot).  I have all kinds of jokes about procrastination.  I will tell you later. (rim shot)  There was going to be a Procrastinator's Anonymous meeting but they kept putting it off.  (hook)

Anyway, there are many reasons people procrastinate.  They don't want to do the thing they are supposed to do, they are afraid to do the thing they are supposed to do, their imagination has made the task seem worse than it is, OR they get an adrenaline rush from pushing the envelope to see just how close they can come to deadline, or crisis, and still make it.  That is pretty much where I fall most of the time.  Not always, but most of the time.

Whether it is putting gas in my car, getting ready for work, doing my taxes, or renewing my driver's license, I almost NEVER do anything well ahead of time.  Being an ADD adult, I could use that as an excuse, and it's a good one, but...it's not really true if I am honest with myself.  Take my car for instance.  I have a car that tells me how many kilometres I can drive before I run out of gas.  But I think its lying.  I think I have way more than it says.  And because my car is a hybrid, it is really not a good idea to let it run out of gas.  It's more complicated than just getting a jerry can of gas to get it going again.  It involves a tow to the dealer and a possible expensive repair. While it is true that a hybrid will switch from gas to battery in slow traffic, it WILL NOT switch to battery when there is no gas.   So...many is the time I have prayed to  a God I don't believe in to get me to the gas pump before my engine stops because I have been driving on zero km for a while. It's a rush akin to high stakes gambling.  I would imagine.

The other area where my procrastination is at it's best  is when I a getting ready to go out.  Some part of my brain thinks I only need 20 minutes to shower, get dressed and eat, while the sensible adult part of my brain knows that it takes me almost half an hour, allowing for elevator wait time and uncooperative dog business.  But I push it.  Now this is an area where I am doing my best to overcome it, because my lack of punctuality affects other people.  And that's not fair. It's okay to have a foible (isn't that a great word?) but it's not okay if it pisses off friends and family.

For the most part the consequences of my procrastination have never been dire enough for me to mend my ways completely.  I sailed through school completing major projects the night before a due date, or writing book reports in the class before my English class and my marks were good.   But I know that the things I do could be done SO much better if I took the time to do them with all my heart, rather than frantically to reach a deadline.  And I could find better ways to get that adrenaline high.  And no there is no high for me in getting things done early.   Boring.

I procrastinate a lot in my writing.  That's a whole other story though and I will tell you about that another time.

In My Humble OPINION

It used to be considered a character flaw to be an opinionated person.  The word often comes with arrogant.  Arrogant and opinionated.  Not someone you want at a party.  But now it seems like everyone is opinionated and with thanks to social media and comment sections, people are not afraid to express those opinions.  Not always in a polite way.

When did it become okay for us to spout our opinions about things we know nothing about in a public and, in many instances, permanent way? When did it become okay to be rude and nasty when expressing our opinions?  If you read any news story and then the comment sections you will notice that it doesn't take long for the commenters to turn on each other and start viciously attacking those who dare to disagree.  Whatever happened to healthy discussion?  Or friendly debate?  Isn't our ability to discuss issues in a courteous and mature way what makes us civilized?   Our ability to reason and examine other points of view? It seems the anonymity of the internet has made people rude and disrespectful and sometimes downright abusive.   It's makes me sad and angry.  I want to ask those people if they would say those awful things to the person if they were face to face.

I wonder if trash talking is the internet equivalent of road rage?  Ordinarily nice people can turn into raving lunatics behind the wheel of a car.  They feel protected by the anonymity the vehicle offers them.  Maybe it's the same with the internet.  Something happens to us when we get in front of a keyboard.  All of a sudden we are the experts on every single issue and we must share our thoughts for the enlightenment of others, consequences be damned.  Wouldn't it be interesting if it became illegal to trash talk someone on the internet and the penalty for doing so would be to meet the person you trashed face to face and be required to say those things to them, or face jail time.  It'll never happen though, after all we have free speech.

I am an opinionated person.  The fact that I am a blogger proves that point.  I will gladly share my opinion on just about anything.  I am well read, and I do a lot of thinking about life.  I am not an expert on anything except my own experiences.  And therefore I don't expect anyone to share my opinion.  I consider myself open minded.  In fact, because of my ability to see all sides of an issue, I can be easily swayed to change my opinion.  Does that make me wishy washy?  Or flexible? Perhaps. But I am able to take a stand on the things that are important to me.  So I try to be respectful of other peoples beliefs.  For example, my daughter is a fundamentalist Christian and I am a neo pagan Unitarian Universalist.  We couldn't be further apart.  And yet, we have learned to discuss our different beliefs in a mature and respectful manner.  We never call each other morons, or retards, or idiots.  And it's great to do this.  That's what conversation is about right?  The mutual exchange of ideas.  That's how we learn and grow.

In my opinion anyway.

Night time is the right time.

I think I might have been an owl in another life.  Because I love the night.  It's when I really feel alive.  The hours from 10:00 p.m on are my most enjoyable, and most productive times.  The loneliness and anxiety I feel from about 8:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. has passed and I am calm and happy. I don't want to go to bed.  I don't want to give up my alone time, my quiet time.  A time when there are no more expectations of me for the day.  I have either met a deadline, accomplished something, or I haven't and in the silence of the night I will remedy that, or not.  My creative juices are flowing.  I do most of my writing then.  

Things look better to me at night.  My apartment is bathed in a warm cozy glow of lamplight, or candle light depending on my mood.  I can't see the dust bunnies or cat hair, or the scratches in my upholstery.  Outside the street in my downtown neighbourhood is quiet, all traffic gone till morning. Sometimes you could hear a pin drop in my apartment, it's that quiet.  I feel safe, and snug.

However, I do like to walk outside at night as well.  I don't know why I feel safer in darkness than in broad daylight.  Maybe it's because it's so anonymous.  My presence, and the presence of others is less obvious.  I often take my little dog out for her last walk well after midnight.  She is no protection for me, but I like to think she would so serious damage to the heels of anyone who threatens me.  At the very least her sharp, loud, bark is hard to ignore.  So we go out for our walk and I just listen to sounds around me.  Far off traffic, the bus, music and laughter from neighbouring apartments. And I feel the stress of the day melt away.  The night embraces me and holds me close.  I am never afraid outside at night.

Eventually I have to go to bed.  I usually sleep for several hours in the afternoon so I can stay up late. And I am like a child when it comes to going to bed. I put it off and put it off.  One more level on my games, one more email, one more check of Facebook, one more snack.  And then reluctantly, off I go, to get the rest to get me through the next day till it is night again.

On the Move

I don't like to travel.  But I love moving to a new residence.  By the time I was 8 years old my family had lived in 7 different cities and 9 different houses.  So, it's in my blood, this wanderlust.  We moved once more when I was 15 and then I stayed put till I left home to get married.  But I have been on the move again in the past 10 years with an average of a relocation every 2 years.  Now I am happily settled in an apartment I have lived in for 2.5 years.  I plan to stay here.  Although...an apartment with a better view would be nice....

Many times I have not had a legitimate reason to move.  Many times it's been because of a relationship ending.  Mostly it's boredom.  I get easily bored.  I love the idea of a fresh start in a new place.  It energizes me.  It fills me with a sense of adventure as I explore a new neighbourhood, or learn about a new apartment building; neighbours to be avoided, the best time to do laundry, which floor has the worst food smells, stuff like that.

The other thing I like about moving is that it gives me the motivation to declutter.  And I am moving in to a pristine apartment.  It's clean, freshly painted, ready for me to do as I will with it.  Which is usually nothing.  I have never painted an apartment I have lived in.  I can't decide on a colour, so I just leave it builder's beige.  Saves me having to repaint in two years when I move again.

To me, moving is like traveling...except I have all my stuff with me.  It's a change of scenery.  And I know I am not alone.  I have a friend who moves more often than I do.  And we both do it impulsively.  I never tell myself that I am going to move a year from now.  Usually one day I just decide to give my notice to the landlord and I start looking for a new place.

But alas, budgetary restraints and an ageing body has dampened my enthusiasm for moving.  I am getting old and set in my ways.  I am comfortable.  "Ensconced" is a word I often use for being happily at home.  And I am totally okay with it.

Still no plans to become a world traveler however.

Let's go fly a KITE

I wrote this and forgot to post it.  So my a-z is slightly out of order.


I wasn't sure what to write about for the letter K, but after writing about JOY yesterday and watching Saving Mr Banks this afternoon, I decided that writing about kite flying would be perfect.  In the movie, Emma Thompson's rigid, unpleasant Mrs. Travers, softens a bit when she hears the Let's Go Fly a Kite song.  It was exhilarating to watch.  It reminded me of learning to play the ukulele when I was in Grade 6 and playing that song over and over again, pure joy coursing through me the whole time.

I remember my first kite.  I made it out of a diamond shaped piece of paper and a string of wool. Of course it didn't fly.  But that didn't matter much, it felt like it was flying when I ran around with it.  My younger brother discovered that putting sticks on it made it look more authentic but alas, no more air worthy.  And then came the day when my father bought us  real kites and took us to the field near his apartment to fly them.  My kite was a bat.  All black, bat shaped with two big yellow and white eyes.  I LOVED it.  I figured I would take it out of it's package and it would instantly fly to up to the sky when I started running.  Not so.  It required more patience than I possessed and I grew frustrated.  But finally the moment came when my dad got the kite airborne, and gave me the string to hold on to.  It didn't stay up long, and we didn't get it up again that day.  But it was long enough for me to get hooked.

I spent a warm, windy afternoon, at the school yard a few weeks later with my bat kite.  There were other kids with kites, but I thought mine was the coolest.  And to my utter joy, I was the only one who got my kite up in the air.  And it stayed up there.   And stayed.  And stayed while I stood and held the string.  And I laid down on the grass and held the string, and I walked around and held the string.   Finally the kite made a crash landing on top of the big screen behind the baseball field and it was ruined.  No more kite.  But I realized after my initial disappointment, that the pure joy I felt in getting the kite in the air was the whole point of the activity.  Once it was up...well it was kind of boring.

Sort of a metaphor for life don't you think?  Enjoy the journey.

What's Love Got To Do With It

Love is word that has lost its power.  It's used so casually and so frequently that it's meaning has become minimized, and meaningless in our society.   Is it possible for any of us to even remember when the word love was special?  When it meant something to hear it?   I don't.   People say I love ice cream and I love you, with the same passion.  In fact saying I love you has also become trite.   Drive me to the mall?  Thanks, I love you man.  How many times in a relationship have you said "I  love you" because you want to hear it back?  We say it as a thank you, we say it as an apology, we say it to test the commitment or the direction of a new relationship.

Maybe it's because no one knows the true meaning of the word love.  We don't understand the power the word love should have.  What does it mean to love someone?  That you want to spend the rest of your life with that person? That you would put that person first in your life no matter what?  That you are willing to accept them warts and all?   Using that definition, what does it mean when you say I love ice cream?  Or I love that song?  Obviously it doesn't mean you want to spend the rest of your life with ice cream or that you would put ice cream first in your life above all else...although sometimes I think it would be much more satisfying.  But anyway...

Love makes the world go round.  Really?  I disagree.  I think fear makes the world go round.  I truly believe that fear is the driving force in human nature.  Think about it.  We fear death, so we take all sorts of heroic measures to protect ourselves.   We fear poverty, so we take jobs, and invest and save so that we never have to be poor.  We fear being alone, so we search out other people to spend our lives with.  The media is taking advantage of our fear and exploiting it.  They know our weak spot and they aren't afraid to manipulate us in to all kinds of products.  They don't appeal to our love side.  They appeal to the fear that we won't be adequate, that we won't be lovable, that we won't be successful unless we have all these things or spend all this money.

It is sad, but I think that there has been a seed planted in our psyche that love is what will  ultimately save us. More and more people are taking notice of the world around them and chosing love as a way to engender change.  And I hope this is the wave of the future.  I hope that as a species we will rise up out of our fear and do the things necessary to make a difference in the world.  

Joy in the world

When I decided to become my authentic self about 12 years ago, a lot of things in my life changed.  All the pieces my own personal puzzle fell in to place and suddenly my life made sense. It was like a huge burden off my shoulders.   But the most amazing thing that happened was that I discovered in myself an amazing capacity for joy. Even the word "joy" can cause feelings of joy to rise up in me.  I call it the awakening of my inner child, because the joy is very child like.

To me, joy can be defined as short spurts of true happiness.  Joy is often unexpected.  It's a surprise. Walking outside at this time of year, there are many joyful things.  Crocuses, snowdrops, robins, buds on the trees.   When I see those things a surge of well being flows through my body and I want to shout.  I believe that joy is too intense to be sustained long term, and that's what differentiates it from happiness.

Without the burden of my angst about my sexuality, I was able to pay more attention to the world around me.   There is always a reason to feel joy, every day.  On top of the obvious things, like watching my granddaughters play, or listening to good music, or even singing.  The first taste of an ice cream cone, having a bird or squirrel eat out of my hand, a sighting of an unusual bird, the smell of fresh cut grass,  a good joke shared with friends.

I think it's important in a world that is being presented by the media as troubled, and endangered, and on the brink of destruction, that we look for those moments of joy and embrace them.  It's what keeps us going, it's what keeps hope alive.

Impossible

Today it has been impossible for me to write a coherent and interesting blog post.  I have made three or four different attempts.  I am stumped by the letter i.  I have tried ice cream, innocence, imperfection, and halfway through each one I lost my mind and scrapped it.  What is with me?  I am tired, it has been a long week, and my inner critic is alive and well and screaming at me that I am NOT A WRITER.   So, yes, there are challenges.  I feel I am nattering.  I feel like someone is going to say "she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about" .  I want to be a good blogger.  I want to be a blogger that people look forward to reading.  But it seems an impossible goal.  So why not just give myself a break.

That's what I am doing today.  Giving myself a break.  And allowing  myself to be impossible.

And I will try again tomorrow.

HAPPINESS

I am a person with a few chronic conditions and some mental health issues that make my life frustrating sometimes.   I don't have the energy or stamina to do all the things my over active mind wants me to do.  However,  I consider myself to be a happy person in general.  I have limited income, no retirement plan, I don't own my own home, my apartment is not "decorated", most of my clothes come from Thrift Stores, I am unable to work, and I can't afford exotic vacations.   All things that most people would say they need in order to be happy. A few years ago, I was in a committed relationship with someone who is very wealthy.  I wanted for nothing, my financial future was set.  But this person was seriously mentally ill and I was miserable!  I left.  Thankfully the split was amicable and we are still friends and she supports me by paying my rent.  But if she asks me to do something for her, I can't say no.  Because I can't afford to have her cut me off.  Not proud of being in this situation, but it is what it is.

So why do I say I am a happy person?  It hasn't always been this way for me.  There was a time when I was very unhappy, and times when I was seriously depressed. I was miserable and would tell all my troubles to anyone who would listen.  And then one day I just decided I was going to be happy.  I was tired of being that pathetic person.  I was tired of brooding over all my failures and misfortunes.  I saw myself in people I didn't really like...whiners, and moaners.  It hasn't been an easy transition.  It takes a lot of conscious thought, meditation,medication, and "acting as if".  I took a good look at my life and all that I have. Three healthy, independent grown children, Three adorable granddaughters, lots of friends, my basic needs are met, I have a wonderful faith community that I am very active in, and I have a partner who truly loves me. Before you roll your eyes and think I am Mary Fucking Sunshine all day long, let me tell you that it's not true.  I have my moments.  I have anxiety and despair.  But my life balances in favour of happy.

What I have really learned though is this:  It is not material things that make a person happy.  Some of the richest people are the most miserable.  I read something somewhere that said "The three essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love and something to hope for."   If you have all three of those things, then you are well on your way to being a happy person.

Goal! ...or not

I have heard many times over the years about how important it is to set goals for myself in order to become successful in life.  Asking me "where do you see yourself in 5 years?"  or "What are your goals?"  causes my brain to shut down and pushes me to the edge of  insanity.  I have never been able to answer that question.  I have no idea what my goals are.  Maybe my goals are to have no goals.  I can't imagine what my life will be like next year, let alone five years from now.  And anytime I set goals, it only results in failure and then I feel like a huge loser.  

There has been one exception however.  I successfully reached my goal of 50,000 words in 30 days in last years National Novel Writing Month marathon.  It took me 8 tries over 8 years to reach that goal.  Each year I would give up after two weeks of bitching and moaning and stressing and swearing never to do it again.  This year was different, I accessed the social supports that were available and attended the write ins.  So I had to reach my goal, because that's what was expected.  I had to prove I could do it, to those who were being supportive of me.

I was diagnosed a few years ago with Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Don't laugh, it's a real condition.  Having ADD makes goal setting nearly impossible.  Self discipline does not come easily to ADD people.  We sort flit through our lives like bees in a garden of flowers, touching down here, touching down there, never really staying long enough at any one thing for very long.  I always figure my life will play out as it should without any goal setting on my part.  And so far, it has been working out okay for me.  

In order for me to achieve a goal I have to be accountable to someone other than myself.  I won't let others down.  I won't jeopardize a project by not completing something on time.  I will leave it all to the last minute, being a pressure prompted individual, but that's a whole other post.  

I really believe our society is way too focused on goals.  On being productive. On moving  forward. On winning.   I say pfffft!!   Just live your life. Chill out.  And leave the goals to the Leafs.  HAHAHAHA!

Forest Gumption

I know you probably groaned when you read the title of this blog.  But there is a reason for my terrible pun.   Studies have shown that spending time in a forest actually increases your energy level and decreases your stress level significantly.

One of my favourite forests is part of the Royal Botannical Gardens.  It's called Cherry Hill Gate.  It's magical.  The minute you walk through the entrance gate you feel it. It's like stepping in to another world.  A world free of pollution, noise, traffic, and all the many things that make us crazy.  The path slopes down a winding hill right away.  There is a railing along the edge so people don't accidentally fall down into the valley.  You are compelled to remain silent or speak softly once you enter this space.   Even young children are quiet in there.  They know.  They can feel the spiritual pull.

At the bottom of the winding hill there is a beautiful, huge, tree root.  And that tree root is full of life.  Just stand there for 10 minutes, silently.  Take in the smells, the sights, and the sounds around you.  Look up.  Breathe deeply.  And in a short while you will hear nature accepting you in their forest and inviting you to enjoy their home.  If you bring bird seed or peanuts, the birds and squirrels will eat right out of your hand.  They will land on you.  Some will linger and eat, some will just grab a seed and fly off.  Chickadees especially like to grab and go.  They take one seed and fly to a nearby branch and eat that one seed, and then come back for more.   There are sparrows, nuthatches, woodpeckers of the hairy and downy variety, warblers, blue jays, cardinals, cedar wax wings, robins....so many birds.  The forest is alive with all the busyness of animals living in a place where they feel safe and respected.  The squirrels and chipmunks will eat right out of your hand as well.  There are more chipmunks there than I have ever seen in one place!

Further along there is a board walk with a pond on each side.  We have seen turtles, swans, geese, ducks and even a muskrat once.   The trail goes much further, but I usually only go as far as that boardwalk.  It's a long walk back up that winding hill!

So, if you are feeling stressed out and anxious, don't reach for a cigarette or a drink, or a Xanax.  Go find a forest and sit there for as long as it takes for you to feel rejuvenated.  You will.  I promise.

http://www.hphpcentral.com/article/forest-bathing

Extrovert? or Introvert?

If you are ever at a party and the conversation is lagging, just ask this simple question.  Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert?  It is guaranteed to spark an emotional, sometimes heated discussion.  I don't know why this question hits such a nerve with people.  The funny thing about it is, no one really wants to admit they are extroverts!  

The simplest way to find out where you fall in the Introvert/Extrovert scheme of things is to ask yourself this question.  When you have had a bad day at work, what would rather do, go home alone and take some time to process your day, or go out with friends and let loose with a few drinks.  Introverts, for the most part, will want to go home.  Extroverts will want to go out.  It's all about what recharges your batteries.  If social occasions leave you feeling energized, and you seek out the company of others when the chips are down, you are an Extrovert, if social occasions leave you drained, then you are an Introvert.

And then there are the "gregarious introverts".  I heard that term on the CBC but I can't remember who said it.   These are people who are bubbly, and talkative and friendly, but who desperately need to be alone afterwards to recharge.  I fall in to that category.  And sometimes we are all like that.  We can be introverts who are channeling our extrovert qualities or vice versa.   And I realize while I am writing this that labels are limiting and sometimes unfair.  But this is a topic that engenders so much discussion, I really wanted to write about it.  Besides we would be kidding ourselves if we held the belief that we should never label anyone.  Labeling is what helps us understand the world in concrete terms.  At least that is how it for me.  Anyway, back to the topic at hand

One thing I have noticed in groups where this question comes up, is how defensive people get when they are told they are Extroverts.   Why is that?   What is it about being a people person that some people don't want to admit being that way?  I have a theory.   We all want to be dark and mysterious.  We seem to take pleasure in giving people the impression that we have a deeper side no one ever gets to see.  We don't want to be that person who has to be the centre of attention.  We don't want to admit that we NEED PEOPLE.  It's a vulnerable place to be.  Far safer to be that person that people are trying to draw out.


I realize I am generalizing here.  And I am not an expert on any of this.  This post is just my own personal observations on what can be a very heated topic.

Are you and Introvert or an Extrovert.  Please comment and tell me your experience with this.

Death Becomes Me

When I was a child, about 6 years old, I went through a phase where I thought constantly about death.  I would call my mom in to my room and cry that I didn't want to die.  And I was always wondering if I would come back as someone else.  I wanted to come back as a girl in my class because I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.  Being 6 years old I didn't realize I couldn't come back as someone who is already alive.   It took me years to figure out why I was so obsessed about death at a young age.  And then it hit me.  Every night I would kneel  beside my bed and say my prayers "Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the Lord my soul to keep, IF I SHOULD DIE BEFORE I WAKE, pray the Lord my soul to take."  Mystery solved.

But my fascination and about death didn't really end there.  I was always afraid that death was imminent.  I would lie awake and imagine I could see smoke pouring in my room.  I was sure the house was on fire and we were all about to die.  Again, it didn't occur to me that I couldn't smell the smoke...   I would also lie awake and listen for sounds of my mother downstairs, sure she was dead if I didn't hear her.   Alone in the house, I was terrified there was a man just waiting to murder me.

When my children were really young I would imagine all sorts of horrible things that could happen to them.  Thing I could not protect them from.  I drove myself crazy.  Then I got medication for an anxiety disorder and things settled down quite a bit.

Now, in my fuck it fifties,  I am still fascinated by death, I love murder mysteries, and crime shows.  And I think about it often.  I imagine terrible car accidents when I am out driving my car.  I never think I am going to die in a normal way.  I worry about freak accidents.  A truck wheel flying off and hitting me.  Coming to a sudden stop in traffic and having my jugular severed by the seat belt.  Things like that.  These are fleeting thoughts now, no longer obsessions.

I know realize that I am not afraid to die.  Not at all.  I don't believe in Heaven or Hell.  I think at best our souls move on to a different reality.  At worst we just fizzle out, everything goes black and that's it.  Like when you go to sleep at night and you have no conscious memory of time passing, or when you have surgery and they put you under.  I think that's what it is probably like.  I used to cry and grieve about all the stuff I would miss.  I used to worry that I would die alone in my apartment and no one would find me for days.  And then a counsellor gently pointed out that I would not be aware of any of that.  I would be dead.  My soul would be gone. So, I let those worries go.

I am afraid of suffering.  And I really think that's the real reason we fear death.  We don't want to suffer and then die.  We just want to wink out, like a falling star.  Here and then gone.  I want to die in my sleep, or else doing something that I love.  I want it quick.  I want people to be able say "she went peacefully" or "she never knew what hit her".  Or in my more vindictive moments I want people to say "wow, she really was sick, we should have listened to her".  

Comedy lives here

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have a great sense of humour.  I love to laugh, and I love to make people laugh.  I gravitate towards funny people and a sense of humour is an absolute must in a relationship.   You could be the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person, but if you can't laugh, I am sorry, I just can't relate to you.  Sound harsh?  Perhaps.  But I speak from experience.  I have been around humourless people and it is a drag.   And I am not talking about people who can tell jokes, or who find my corny jokes funny.  I am talking about people who can look at life in a humourous way no matter the situation. People who can see the light side, and roll with the punches. I firmly believe that any situation can be improved by injecting a little humour in to it.  When a situation is awkward or tense, my go to position is to make a smart ass remark to cut the tension.   This is not always appropriate, and I am learning...very slowly...that there is a time and place for that sort of behaviour.  Although now that I am in my mid 50's I am tempted to say Fuck it, life is just a big joke.

 My humour can be sardonic, or dry or deadpan and I love to play with words.  Often when I meet someone for the first time they are not sure of me, if I am being serious or if I am joking.  Comedy and laughter  has carried me through many, many dark times in my life.  And I have to admit that I often use it as a defense.  I am very shy, though most people don't know that, because I am often being silly.  I make myself comfortable by putting a barrier of laughter between my real feelings and other people.

Because of my love of laughter I am a huge fan of stand up comedy.  I thoroughly enjoy it and watch it as often as I can.  Thanks to You Tube and NetFlix I can indulge myself frequently.  And now there is a radio station here in Hamilton that airs stand up comedy all day long.  I can laugh my ass off sitting in traffic listening to Funny 820 (AM radio station).  And I like most types of humour, from family friendly Jim Gaffigan, to outrageously inappropriate Louis CK.   I am not a fan of slapstick Three Stooges type humour and yet I love the Epic Fail videos that are so popular on the internet.  I love to laugh at people,but I laugh at myself as well.  Does that make it okay?  I don't know, really.   But I am a kind person and would never intentionally hurt anyone.

I think we need more comedy in our daily lives.  It seems that everyone is taking themselves WAY too seriously these days.  Tammy Pescatelli says "find the funny, it's there, you just have to look for it".  And she's right, it is there.   Find it.  Your life will be so much more fun!

Barbie and me

I was never a huge fan of the Barbie doll.  I didn't have one of my own.  But my friend next door had a lot of them and all the stuff that came with them.  Once in a while I would go over there and "play Barbies" which really involved preparing them for dates with Ken.  Changing clothes and combing hair was a big snore for me.   We even tried to make our own Barbie clothes but I was hopeless.  One time when we were playing, I made my Barbie have pre date jitters and spend her time in the toilet with diarrhea.  I was not invited to play Barbies anymore after that.  Some people have no sense of humour.

But during those times, and all through my childhood, in spite of all the commercials for Barbie and her accessories, I never ONCE thought I should look like her.  I never ONCE wished I had her lifestyle.  Barbie was not my role model for what an ideal woman should be.  My mother was.  And my friends were the yardstick I measured myself against.  It bothered me more that I did not inherit my mother's tall willowy figure, but instead got the short plump build of most of the other women in my family.  The plump part happened later in life, after years of major food issues.  But I digress.

Now, in this age of over reacting melodrama, a huge deal is being made about Barbie and her impact on our precious little girls.  It's ridiculous if you ask me...though you didn't but I am telling you anyway.  Think about the sheer amount of advertising directed at women and making them feel not good enough.  Look at the skinny, busty role models on t.v. shows.   How can a plastic doll take the blame for what is clearly a warped society.   I never gave my daughter a Barbie, she didn't really want one.  But it wasn't because I thought Barbie sent a negative message, to my daughter, it was because Barbie was a boring toy.

What has really sent me on a rant about this is the Facebook post that goes around saying "they should make a bald Barbie, so little girls who have cancer can feel pretty."  Seriously???  A child battling cancer is worried that she is not as pretty as Barbie?  Or is even worried that she is pretty at all?   She is fighting for her life!   I can't imagine a child looking at her bald head and thinking...I wish there was a Barbie that looks like me.  I feel so ugly".

People need to get a grip.

ART

My journey into the art world was a bit rocky.  When I was a child my father was always frustrated with my ability to colour between the lines.  He would holler at me and take away my colouring book till I learned how to do it right.   When I went to kindergarten I remember learning the "proper" way to colour.  Side to side, not all scribbly.  And eventually I learned to colour between the lines.

During my school years I came to realize that while I loved doing artistic things, my abilities were limited.  I thought my products were great, but the teacher unfortunately did not share my opinion and would often hold up my art as an example of what NOT to do. Following directions was not my forte.  My pictures never graced the walls of the classroom.  By the time I was in highschool I had suppressed my inner artist  and focused on my true talents, music and creative writing.

And then when I was in my early 50's my partner joined a senior's art class at the church we attended. A group of seniors meets every Friday afternoon to paint.  My inner artist woke up and insisted that I join as well.  I had always imagined myself in front of an easel painting glorious fields of flowers, vibrant sunsets and life like portraits.  So, off I went to the class.  I expected to just dabble around and have fun.  But to my utter surprise, and the surprise of friends and family, I discovered that I was actually pretty good!  And I LOVED it.  Now three years in, I am still enjoying the class and I have amassed quite an impressive (size wise) body of work.   All with vibrant colours.  I love to mix colours and spend a lot of time trying to get just the right shade.  

I am unable to draw from my imagination, so I rely on pictures for my inspiration.  Flowers are my favourite things to paint and I have done a few Georgia O'Keefe's, after O'Keefe's they say in the biz.  I am always amazed at what I can make happen.  My technique is to just let go of the inner critic and go for it.  So far that has worked well for me.  I spend 1.5 each week totally lost in what I am doing.  It's a feeling like no other.

So..if you are a person who loves art, and has always wanted to try painting, but are afraid you aren't good because of childhood art class trauma, I urge you to give it another chance.  You might be surprised. 

I know I was.