It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

And some days are like that.

Even in Australia.



(Words by Judith Viorst but today it was my Life)

Acknowledgements

I have been nominated by Edwina's Episodes for a blogging award and it is a bit daunting.



I am thankful for the acknowledgement, but the melancholic in me does not want to appear to be bragging. 'Cause then no one will like me.
And for a melancholic there is nothing worse than feeling you are not liked.

Who do I like? All the blogs listed on the right side of page. If your blog is listed there then consider yourself nominated. I love you all that much, otherwise I wouldn't be following you! Today I will give specific shout outs to:

North of 49
Sheep to Frog
Project Project
Hummingbird Redemption

I never thought of myself as versatile in my blogging but I suppose because sometimes it is poetry, and sometimes pictures, sometimes knitting, and sometimes self-indulgent whining that it would count as versatile.

My sister says I blog as if my life depends on it, and it does. I swim for the same reason. And knit, I knit for hours a day, so it is fair to say my life depends on that too.

My life depends on many things, and when I get into something I don't go half way. Nope, that is not my style. I jump in with both feet, usually in the deep end.

This often means treading water.

Or heading for the shallow end.

Or sometimes just getting the hell out and heading for the hot tub.

But often I do just jump in, find my pace, and move forward.


Writing is coming easier in the past couple of months. I think the challenge I set myself to write everyday in November helped. I don't just write when something is bothering me. I find myself thinking of topics to write about and I have to jot them all down so I don't forget them. It is like a torrent has been unleashed.

Today I even thought about the premise of a novel.....

Oh my.

Oh my, indeed.


To fulfill the other requirement of this award I am suppose to post 7 random facts about me so here goes:

1) I am thinking of getting another tattoo.
2) I am afraid of having a stroke and not being able to communicate.
3) I have knit over 20 miles of yarn, and have about 8 miles in my yarn stash.
4) I worry when I talk to my children on the phone that I don't have anything interesting to say.
5) I was fired in 1973 from a volunteer position of reading books to tape for the Canadian Institute for the Blind.
6) I applied to be accepted into Honours English in 1975 and I was turned down.
7) I wish I could write songs.

Spoken Word

Put me first
me first

Why did you have me?

What was the point?
to daycare me, or pawn me
or place me out of the way

I was your front
your centre
when I was cute
and mute

Now I have something to say
my turn to be selfish
to play
to get my way

To answer to myself
not be held back
because of your lack
of fact
or tact

You don't like my hair
you complain
I'm a strain
I'm too bare
You don't like what I wear
why I care
For my music
that is harsh

that you don't understand
what it is to feel lost
despite the cost

You marry and carry on
like I'm not even here
What do you fear?
Why give me the gear?

When your own life
is nothing
for you to be proud
you are too loud

Be quiet and listen

I'm just wanting your yes
I guess

You brought me into
your nest
into your mess

Why don't you just confess
unless

It isn't true

I bring you more
not less

Unless

I bring you more
not less

Written December 2011 during a spoken word workshop. Written for a young woman I knew from her point of view.

Alcohol

A question was posted on facebook today. "If you could rid the world of one thing what would it be?" Before I looked at any of the comments I said to myself - alcohol. As I read the comments there were responses like: hate, war, cancer, abuse, racism, sin, pedophiles. I was feeling chagrined by my answer. It seemed so selfish. Then the last comment from someone else said - alcohol. I pressed like. Then I typed my answer.

Alcohol.

So many people I love, and others I know, struggle, or have struggled with alcohol. My mother was an alcoholic, probably too was my father and grandfather. My husband drinks wine almost daily. Both of my children have had their struggles with alcohol.

I have a visceral reaction when I hear the cork come out of a bottle, or the sound of liquor being poured over ice. Some of the meanest things my mother ever said to me were when she was drinking. Some of the worst fights I heard my mother and father have were while they were drunk. All of my most shameful moments were while I was drunk.

I can't bear being around people when they are obviously under the influence. It is my cue to leave the party, the pub, the 'action', when words are slurred, voices are raised, or stumbling begins.

This is not to say that I do not enjoy a glass of wine from time to time. I do. Although as I age I enjoy it less and usually one glass is enough to give me a headache the next day. I have become intolerant to alcohol - literally.

So this seems all about me, and not about the world at all. However, still and all, I think the world would be a better place without alcohol, or any of its substitutes.

I woke up this morning to the news talking about the legalisation of pot in Washington state. Just what we need, I thought, another legal substance that will take people. t
Take them away from themselves, their loved ones, the world.

Everyone medicates themselves I have heard it said. Drugs, food, alcohol, running, swimming, meditating, yoga, anti-depressants. Everyone medicates themselves is true. But not every medication causes violence, estrangement, abuse, broken families and heartbreak. I suppose most do if taken to extremes. Alcoholics, yogaholics, foodaholics, zenaholics....I suppose they do.

But this post is about alcohol.

I know it is a disease. I understand that, I really do. And it is just as frustrating for me that someone with a physical ailment won't go to the doctor as it is that a person abusing alcohol won't seek help.

I know it is their choice, not mine. I know it is about free-will, not my will. I know it is often none of my f#@$king business.

I know that.

But how I feel? That is something else entirely.

I once said to a very close friend, one of the few I talk to about this, is that I wished that just once someone would choose me over alcohol.

I talk to myself about this a lot. Is this what my life lesson is this time around? Am I atoning for a past life when the shoe was on the other foot, the bottle in my hand?

I can only surmise. I can only practise seeing God in the other. I can only do what I can do.

So I set my boundaries. I remove myself from situations I find uncomfortable and delight in situations where I find alcohol is consumed lightly or not at all.

This is such a personal thing to write.

But today is that day.

and the password is.....

OMG! I recently had to change my password on my facebook account because I had been hacked. Then my son informed me I should also change the password on my email, because, yes, I admit it, they were the same password. I use the same password for everything I can get away with....which of course I realize is dumb. So I changed my old familiar for two much more complicated and much less familiar code words.
So now I have a password for
facebook
email
school email
ravelry
twitter
yyoga
blogspot
bank
atm card
visa card
other visa card
well...you get the message and I am sure it is just the same for you.

The problem is...some days I just sit in front of the password prompt paralyzed. Early onset Alzheimer's? Maybe.
And when you get your password wrong they always seem to reply in RED, and often CAPITAL letters (I may be exaggerating about the capitals, but they feel like capitals). "Password incorrect, please re-enter." So, I re-enter, and ack! "password incorrect, please re-enter." I can't tell you how many times I have to send an email to some nameless machine to request a new password. I am such a dork.

And why do I have to feel like a dork? Because people are dishonest. Let's face it. The reason we need all these passwords is because people are dishonest. There it is, a huge, sweeping generalization. People are dishonest. Maybe not you, and maybe not me, but 'people' are. hmph!

I remember, and this is how old I am, when the only password I had to remember was my mother's maiden name. Of course, I could only reply to this verbally, because I have never been altogether sure how it is spelt. spelt - not the grain. Should I have said spelled? Well, that sounds dumb, and kindy dorky. But, you get my point.

So back to passwords. Don't use your profession, or pet's name, or kid's name, or your favourite wine (ok, that's my husband's, and his favourite wine is really complicated to spell). Use a password, 'they' say with a number, a lower case letter, and upper case letter, and a special character, and make sure it is at least 8 letters long. Really, how am I going to remember &gi9RY06!

Recently we all were assigned new passwords at work. Clearly it was felt we were not capable of coming up with our own. So, each person was assigned a word, with a special character plus their photocopying code.

My 'word' was a rather chubby, slow, animal. My colleagues, I discovered by sleuthing, were given their previous professions, or current professions. I was given a chubby, slow, blind animal. What's up with that? And how do I go to the IT guy and say wtf?

If I could have my perfect password it would be [space bar]. That would work because in my perfect world everyone would be honest.