The Weight of the World

Friday afternoon I got on a bus enroute to Calgary. As the bus bounced along the highway, I stared out the window and listened to Beck insist that I "let the weight of the world drift away instead". The ground was dusted in sparkling white snow which made the world seem artificially pristine. The scenery passed by (seemingly) in rhythm with the music that I was listening to. I made up stories in my head about the strangers on the bus. I tried to imagine who they were going to see and what they were going to do that weekend. I envied the ones who were going to be reuniting with a lover at the end of their bus ride.

My reason for going to Calgary was to attend the wedding of a good friend. The wedding was lovely and I was thrilled to be a part of it. Weddings are fun because they are occasions where sentimentality isn't just tolerated, it's encouraged! The wedding was smallish but that made it intimate and allowed the guests to get to know each other. I met so many wonderful people over the course of the weekend and I think that says a lot about the couple themselves. I am confident that they are going to have a long and happy life together. Awwww.

In other news, I have finally finished the marathon project that I've been working on for the last number of months at work! Last week the final report was submitted and the final presentation given and it was all received phenomenally well. The project was pretty frustrating because I really cared about the end product and had to fight for things that I felt strongly about. I am proud of myself for speaking up and not being afraid to differ in opinion with my boss. At times I think he wanted to throttle me, but in the end I think he really appreciated having me on the team. We have all been basking in the compliments that have been coming our way from the higher-ups.

Exciting things are on the horizon, including a vacation that begins Thursday night. I can't wait!

Blossom

Sunday morning I woke up from a fitful sleep caused by nervousness. I slowly jumped in the shower and spent an inordinate time staring at my breasts, poking the nipples and pondering whether I should go through with what I was planning. The week before I had confidently walked into a piercing studio and made an appointment to get my nipples pierced, but when the day arrived I was feeling much less confident and much more nervous.

I met up with Eli and had a light but yummy breakfast where he tried to take my mind off of the piercing. We spent a bit of time wandering around and then walked over to the shop. I sat down and nervously filled out the questionairre and waited to go in. Before I knew it, I was being told that it was my turn and I anxiously walked into the back still wondering if this was really such a good idea. I walked into the piercing room and was struck by how warm and inviting it was. The walls were a soft chocolate colour and there was an interesting lighting fixture set up in the corner that gave the room a soft glow. My piercer was friendly and calming. He patiently explained what would happen, told me how to take care of my piercings and answered all my questions.

At that point he told me he was going to get his supplies ready and I gingerly removed my shirt. He carefully measured and remeasured and remeasured again to make sure that he was marking the right spots. Once he was satisfied that he had it measured correctly he had me lie down. Eli held my hand and smiled at me encouragingly. I took several deep breaths and the first one was done. The piercer changed sides and again I took some deep breaths and the second one was done. It hurt but not nearly as much as I anticipated that it was going to. I kept breathing deeply as he put in the jewellery and that was it. The whole experience was a smooth, seamless, relatively easy one. I got up and looked at my new breasts in the mirror. They seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I got dressed and left the studio feeling proud and a little shakey from the endorphin rush.

I'm happy with myself. I feel like I pushed my personal boundaries a little bit by doing this and that is a good thing in my mind. For me, this piercing represents an acceptance of my body in a different way than ever before. It's decorating parts that I previously felt self-conscious about. It's drawing attention where I used to attempt to avert it. At the same time, I like walking around my office knowing that no one would ever suspect that's what I got up to on the weekend.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than that risk it took to blossom.
- Anais Nin

Ways to Frustrate Your Employee

1. Call her at home after she's called in sick, wake her up, and ask if she will be in the next day.
2. When she says that she hopes to come in but it will depend on how she feels, strongly encourage her to come in to work. Hey, you're the boss so she's sure to get well quick that way, right?
3. Greet her when she comes into work after being sick with an email that demands a number of complex tasks be completed.
4. Make those tasks due by 10am even though she only starts at 9am.
5. Leave her five voicemail messages demanding various things.
6. Take the day off and leave all responsibility with her even though she is probably still not feeling very well and is only there because you demanded that she be.

If I seem a bit grumpy today, you now know why.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr!

Happy Love Day

You may find this surprising, but I'm actually not the biggest Valentine's Day fan. It's true, corny, sentimental me doesn't *love* this holiday! To me, it just seems so contrived and I'd much rather have someone celebrate their love for me on any (every?) other day than the one where Hallmark says that you should. But, this year, I was totally bowled over by something sweet that was done for me. It was such a thoughtful, genuine gesture that clearly came from the heart and has, perhaps, made me a convert to this holiday.

Happy Love Day, everyone : )

And since my last poem was kind of anti-love, here's an appropriate one for today...

The Invitation

It doesnt interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesnt interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by lifes betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain?

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes, without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesnt interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself ; if you can hear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul ; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when its not pretty, everyday,and if you can source your life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silvers of the full moon YES!

It doesnt interest me to know where you live, or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up,after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesnt interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand on the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesnt interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
- Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Swallowing = Ouch!

What month are we in? February? It's hard to tell with the bizarre weather we've been having. Now, I've always thought that talking about the weather is dreadfully boring and should be something left for when you have absolutely nothing else to say. But, seriously, what is up with our weather? The sun is shining, warm winds are blowing, and there is no snow in sight. Anywhere. The trees must wonder whether they should bloom or drop leaves and the birds must wonder whether they got confused and flew South at the wrong time of year. Meanwhile, on the other side of North America, New York got dumped on with a record 68cm of snow! Days like this make me think that this is the way the world screams out its displeasure and unfortunately no one is listening.

The weekend was good except partway through I ended up coming down with an intense sore throat that doesn't seem to be abating. I am determined to get myself in good health by next weekend. I have something scheduled and I can't be sick. On the agenda for this week: lots of tea, rest, soup, hot baths, and massages. And water. I don't drink enough water, do you?

And because I don't have the energy to type anything more. Here's a poem that I really like:

It's Raining in Love

I don't know what it is,
but I distrust myself
when I start to like a girl
a lot.

It makes me nervous.
I don't say the right things
or perhaps I start
to examine,
evaluate,
compute
what I am saying.

If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"
and she says, "I don't know,"
I start thinking: Does she really like me?

In other words
I get a little creepy.

A friend of mine once said,
"It's twenty times better to be friends
with someone
than it is to be in love with them."

I think he's right and besides,
it's raining somewhere, programming flowers
and keeping snails happy.
That's all taken care of.

BUT
if a girl likes me a lot
and starts getting real nervous
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
and she says things like,
"Do you think it's going to rain?"
and I say " It beats me,"
and she says, "Oh,"
and looks a little sad
at the clear blue California sky,
I think: Thank God, it's you, baby, this time
instead of me.

Richard Brautigan

How to Speak Poetry

My silence isn't because I have nothing to say. I have too much to say and every attempt at writing ends up sounded clumsy and awkward and doesn't express what it is that I'm feeling. I have started countless entries only to end up deleting them. Why am I so critical of my writing all of a sudden? The inner dialogue in my head sounds so eloquent with its poetic rhythms and perfect grammar. I wish you could climb inside and hear/feel/experience what I do as I move through the world. Would I feel naked in revelation? Would I finally be able to look directly in your eyes without shyly looking away?

I went on my first road trip of the year this past weekend. The sun was shining brightly and I couldn't help but think it was foreshadowing the weekend ahead. Coffee in our cupholders, music playing, and the two of us with looks of contentment on our faces. In Canmore, we met up with one of my best friends and her fiancée. We spent the evening chatting over wine. The next morning we opted for a walk along the river instead of skiing. I took deep breaths of the fresh air and reveled in the crunch of snow under my feet. I was humbled by the mountains that surrounded us. I want to return in the summer and see how different it all looks when the ice melts.

Sunday night I went and heard one of my favourite bands, Stars, play at the Dinwoodie. I couldn't see a thing but I still had a really good time. Why don't they make stages a little higher so short people can still see the performers? Anyways, even without seeing any of the band, I was drenched in the lush sounds and fell in love with their music all over again. It seemed so appropriate to have a band named Stars end a stellar weekend.

Bathed in happiness, I try not to hold my breath.

You cannot tell the audience everything you know about love in every line of love you speak. Step aside and they will know what you know because you know it already. You have nothing to teach them. You are not more beautiful than they are. You are not wiser. Do not shout at them.
- From "How to Speak Poetry" by Leonard Cohen