So I’ve learned of late that creativity challenges are possibly not for me. I’ve done a lot of dreaming about what I’d like to be writing about and photographing, and felt a lot of resentment and annoyance when thinking about the stuff I am meant to be doing for “challenges”. Blegh. Kind of counter-productive.
So…the writing challenge I am definitely skipping. But yay for getting to share about my boob habits and some of my favourite words….right? At the moment it all feels creatively irrelevant to me. PLEASE don’t get me wrong – these kinds of things can be magical for one’s creativity sometimes. I like these sorts of things usually because they kind of remind you about yourself…which is something that needs doing from time-to-time. Writing challenges ask after your fears, your appreciations, your thoughts, plans, dreams. These are often good things to think about, especially if you’re usually too chaotic to give them any time. Sometimes a writer’s challenge which seems to be about one thing, will inadvertently teach you a whole other lesson. In my real life I live in a buzzy onslaught of thoughts that I should be getting down though. Attention must be given to those things which breed excitement. Attention must be given to the things which arrive at the right time.
As for photography challenges? I should really make an effort on those. For one: I’ve gotten my kids to do the July Challenge with me. At the moment they are winning!! So I will need to catch up lest I be shown up. Their energy makes me kind of excited about it. I also need the creativity nudge in this department because let’s face it: so far my new hobby has me taking a thousand pictures of my kid. It is time to move on from that comfort zone a bit.
Although…I do admit that Noah is probably going to feature a lot in this challenge as well anyway…
I’m pretty sure most normal people don’t have five favourite words.
I happen to have three:
I love the way those words feel in my mouth. I love what they mean. I love how they sound.
If I have to choose two more I think they would have to be bubbles and discombobulated.
So a couple of friends are doing this Writer’s Bootcamp thing and I kind of thought about doing it and then thought I didn’t really feel like it and would rather take pictures, but I’m done taking pictures for today so I re-thought about it and decided to do both. We’ll see how long it last. Bet amongst yourselves if you wish…
I reckon I’m pretty much an open book most of the time so finding something that most people don’t know about me is a bit of a challenge. You can ask me anything and I will most likely be far more honest than you were hoping for. It can get a little awkward. I think I spent a very long childhood learning that being myself was mostly unacceptable (didn’t we all?) so I might accidentally overcompensate for that in my adulthood.
Anyway…. You might not know that I hardly ever wear bras. I suppose that might be weird for some folks but I have become really comfortable with it. I don’t have tiny breasts either, they’re pretty average-sized, so it’s not a case of not bothering with bras because I have nothing to put in them. I’m not really sure why I made the decision. Comfort mostly. I’ve since become kind of less horrified by the idea of having a nipple show through a t-shirt (seriously – it’s a nipple – get over it!) or a jersey, and I don’t think I’m even too worried that they’ll pop out of anything. They’re just breasts, right? I think they’re becoming perkier…although that could totally be my imagination….
Coffee. I really have tried but I just can’t help it! There’s something oddly comforting about a good cup of coffee, and it’s an indulgence I just can’t set aside. I know it’s not good for me (but hey neither is chocolate) and I can honestly say I don’t care. There’s a romance there. An untainted true love. The first sip of a good cup of coffee is pure bliss, and I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t know just how happy making those little beans can be.
I realized recently that you were supposed to be there. And I don’t know if you actually ever realized that, or if you ever will. It certainly took me long enough. And somebody else had to point it out to me.
It’s okay now though. It is what it is. I don’t think you have noticed that you and I are a little bruised now. But I guess that is proof that it really doesn’t matter. At least not like I was perhaps a little naive enough to think it did.
It’s just too bad about that piece of special…
I miss those days when we used to talk every day. Remember how I used to hang half off of my bed listening to the Still Orbiting disc from To Venus and Back? And do you remember how I used to put five of your discs into the Munn’s dvd player and just listen to them all back to back or until someone complained about the fact that I was hogging the silence again. I love how you never came across as dysfunctionally broken – or at least not beyond repair. You were always just telling the most incredible stories. And even though they were your stories they seemed empowering instead of something to sympathize with. I love that I hardly ever knew what you were singing about – because is there really anything worse than the cliche of sitting in your room singing your heart out to a bunch of songs that remind you how miserable you are? I loved your music because of your pure talent. And never because they in any way reminded me of myself. Because somehow it all made sense even when it didn’t.
And then I got to see you live. And just that one experience made an otherwise very hard nine months worth every second. I think I cried throughout the first half of the show. And then when you sat down to sing Me and a Gun I held my breath right up until the end.
We’ve grown apart since then. We no longer understand one another as much as we used to. But I still can’t resist buying every album you put out. And Every time I do, I find myself wishing I was capable of listening to music the way I used to….
Thank you for Venus…
I seriously wish I had a better answer here but the thing I get complimented the most on? My Facebook status updates. Good LORD! But yeah. It’s true. It’s also rather kind of funny considering the crap I put on Facebook is also something that apparently makes people stop talking to me. I’m okay with that though. they say if you aren’t pissing someone off then you’re doing something wrong. I am VERY good at pissing people off.
No one. Really. Obviously there have been a couple in the past but weirdly my “let it go” button has been working lately. Have been okay with all the ex-factors being gone – which may not sound like such a big deal but it took me four years to get over the guy I was in love with in high school and six years to get over the guy I dated in The States. That sounds terrible. But yeah – the nauseas feeling I used to get from thinking about that guy only left not so long ago. And there was another nausea inspiring incident in the middle there somewhere too. But for the most part I’ve let go of the panic inducing boy issues (thank God for aging!) and oh my I just thought of someone! Yeah. You see way too many people that I actually know read this blog. So the female who I’d like to let go of might end up here reading about herself. I already know that the other one stalks me on occasion (Seriously ladies – come on now I know I’m awesome but really!) Meh – the first one i’m pretty much over now. Apparently I lived through all of that particular drama on my own because she certainly never noticed any of it (the joys of sociopathy). The second one? Well it would be nice if she got hit by a bus but whatever right?
Just before I left home for The States in 2001 I met two guys at a bar who I really clicked with. They were cool and funny and they knew about music which was a huge thing for me in those days. And then when I got back home they were still there – hanging out in the same bars, cracking the same jokes, making me smile. Markus and I got on so well. We had this weird quiet understanding of each other. We were so easily able to call each other on our bullshit. We never really managed the timing thing though. Our friendship was complicated. It freaked out my boyfriend for one. Who then became my fiancé and then my husband. And so we would bump into each other from time to time. And knowingly look at each other in that goofy you know I love you right kind of way. It wasn’t romantic. Or lustful. It was just appreciative. He was a very special boy. the last time I saw him was in a random pub. We bumped into each other and it was so great. I remember thinking wow we can be friends again. And yet it didn’t happen. Instead he got sick. And I went through a divorce. And then I fell pregnant. And then he died. It’s so stupid but he was one of the first people I thought of when I found out I was going to have a baby. I wanted to tell him. Because he had the kind of smile that was just so sweet and supportive. But I never did get to tell him. And I never got to say goodbye.
This one is too easy. URGH! Ridiculously easy. So easy in fact that I refuse to mention the name. I dunno. It’s crazy how the people who made your life hell are the ones who sometimes end up having the biggest hand in shaping it. Although honestly, I know that it’s a nice romantic notion to think that the trials you’ve been through have shaped you into the person you are but I’m not always sure that I believe that. I think that if this particular person hadn’t been in my life I would be exactly the same as I am today – only perhaps I would be more so. I would be more myself. I would be more confident. Less easily spooked. A little more capable of passion. You tend to hide yourself when you’re stuck under constant verbal fire. You disappear into the shadows and you draw as little attention to yourself as possible. The bullying consumes you. It takes over until it’s the only thing on the surface and everything underneath kind of gets lost. And the only thing you need to make it a little bit better is the only thing that you never get. Because no one ever goes through it with you. No one is ever on your side. So yeah. There was someone. And it still matters sometimes, but not as much as it used to…