One woman wolf pack and the art of finding and fostering

There are times when I feel like I have some sort of insignia on my forehead that I am not aware of.  Happily I go about my day blissfully unaware of any threat to my frivolity.   This ghostly illusion taped above my eyes produces a similar response I liken to a magnet.  I am the positive side and it seems that in these moments for whatever reason almost everything else positive is repelled away?  Why is that?    What is it about this day and age that makes me feel like a lone ranger on a deserted island, or a one woman wolf pack?   I simply seek consistency.  Wholeheartedly, that is what I want.   I seek not the bells and whistles and wish not for the frills and follies that seem to follow certain friendships. I want to be a person that invests profoundly in people, without feeling the need to consider risk.  It is a sad realization however, that not every relationship will be prosperous. 

Maybe our ideas of relationships are being skewed by propaganda around us. What is deep and meaningful in a life filled and filtered with “the next best thing,” upgrades and trade-ins?  Accompanied by the false proclamations that everything should come easy and be good through and through?   I want to defy even my own limitations in this and stretch out past the circle of comfort that has become my horizon, and resist the temptation to give into that mentality

What does it take to establish this type of depth in a culture thick with a current of complacency?   Where does someone  go to seek out similar souls?   These are questions I ask without the expectancy of an answer.   It seems satisfying enough to project them out into the universe.  Like a silent plea scribbled on parchment and placed in a bottle to then be sent a drift on the sea, these thoughts simply are let go - "out there."   

home

I have beside my bedside a greyish- purple metal clock.  The circularly square clock has a round clock face with numbers that perhaps were once considered a modern script.  It doesn’t tick, and it doesn’t tock and yet it always tells me the time of 12:24. Silently it stands in a place fitting for its purpose, but the purple clock, once a member of my great grand-fathers clock collection, is quiet.  This timepiece has all the mechanisms in it to click time away.  A simple twist of the screw with the instruction “wind” underneath it and the thaw of time would rapidly commence.  But I’m ok with it being still.  

Beside our green couch stands, almost defiantly, an obnoxious lamp.    This was my first real purchase with my first real pay check.    For whatever reason this lamp caught my eye, perhaps it was the abundance of colors that vertical create a rainbow-like effect around the shade or maybe it was simply because it was on sale.    Regardless that lamp has become invaluable to me because of its origin.  Like the clock that doesn’t tick this lamp doesn’t turn off.   At one time it had a chain that could instantly create or vanquish light.  Sometime ago now, it was pulled in just the right way to release that chain from its duties indefinitely.  Now to turn the lovely lamp on or off, one must get down on all fours and plug it into the wall.   

I have carefully hung pictures with those sticky-wall-mounting-things that don’t require a hole. They dot my bedroom walls.   These pictures, displayed in Walmart’s five dollar frames somehow satisfy my thirst for art.   This collection acquired over the years is complete with samples of my own attempts at photography, autographs, pictures from a magazine and a black and white photo of my favorite classic Hollywood comedian sporting country wear.   These images are each special in their own and reflect a unique story that is an anecdote to mine.  


I have things like these scattered throughout my little white house that offer the white walls color and character, at least to my eyes.   These things that have been collected over my vast 25 years can be categorized into pieces that tell a story and trinkets that I’ve carried with me just to remind me of home and important people. 

Winter wear where?

I haven't posted anything fashion related in a while because apparently life has taken some interesting turns lately and spun me into reflective mode. So to compensate for all the other stuff that has been blogged about lately this post will be about the one resource I really wish was "out there."  I'd love to discover a look-book for really cold weather.  If you search on Pinterest "cold weather fashion", humorously all that comes up are women in boots and sweaters outside surrounded by a mere dusting of snow.   When I see those photos, all I can think is, "I am pretty sure that's spring!?"

I am ALWAYS cold.   I get strange looks from people when I throw a jacket under my goose parka.  But in my defense I am a cool person.  (pun intended ;) jk) 

So over the last month and a bit, I have been trying to catalogue what I wear oot-n-aboot and realised that there is little hope for someone who loves fashion and is living on a miniscule budget in Winnipeg.   So I do what I can.     

There is really only so much that you can do when dressing for fiercely cold weather, so to let you in on a little secret...please note that pretty much at all times I have on 2 pairs of socks, long johns under the pants, sometimes on really cold days tights under the long-johns under the pants covered with high wool socks then shielded with a pair of winter proof Sorells. Then I wear a sweater followed by a down vest followed by my parka.   :)  Layers... they are your best friend.   

A lady at the gym a while back claimed that dressing was the best work out  - if that is true, Winnipeger's are the most fit people in the World. 

 

The key is layers- under everything /\

Double socks /\

Jacket under your jacket - all the "cool" kids do it.  /\

(thermals UNDER the tights.)

Its hard to wear your sassy pants in Winnipeg let me tell you.  But on days when it's only -12 they sometimes come out. 

 

old thoughts

These I wrote AGES ago, when Britney Spears was still on the radio and when Hannah Montana was still a thing.  


with each inhale i feel my soul shift.
the capacity for change in life has created a stranger out of my own likeness. almost unrecognisable this makeshift body is fixed with flaws. Irreversible, news of my weakness reverberates in my ears. i once was strong, with willpower that made mountains mould into valleys, and towering troubles fall. this insignia on my heart is from my selfish release that detached willpower from me. how can i betray my own disposition with such flawed design and execution. I can feel myself cracking with each breath I take.  like lightning cursing the ground the cracks are forming deeper damage.

When this is all over, lets get up and leave. I'll wait right here. You'll take me with these badges of dishonour and my face of shame, take my hand and lead me. It wont matter to you where I've been, but that I found my way to you. When life make sense again I hope you'll find me.





Time...your pace and rhythm are gaining speed,
Take a rest and hold a note where in eternity days and minutes holds no meaning.
I’m fearful of passing time yet fearless of the future
I can walk courageously towards uncertainty
with few exception passed
I look only to my God for my chosen path
a flicker of doubt often arises
but let me be fearless and courageous
where are the kindred spirits
have they all already coupled
leaving me in my life to live in a constant change...

Aurora Borealis

The sky was alive.  Pale and green it swirled and danced before a velvet curtain dotted with stars.  There was something magical and fearful about this being above me.   All was quiet and yet a festival of lights projected on the clear winter expanse in a way so supremely powerful that it commanded the sky and the attention of all below.  This moment wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intended and yet it will be fixed forever in my memory.   The cold air cocooned around me as my chin tilted up.  I was awe of what was above me and couldn’t catch my breath, it seemed as though the northern lights had taken it hostage.    A victim to its beauty, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.  Perhaps someone unknown to the majesty of the Rocky Mountains, or the immensity of the ocean would have the same visceral first reaction.   I have been searching for the prairie counterpart to the ocean and mountains, and I believe I found it last night.    

It is interesting how beauty often is close behind the disasters in life, big or small.  If you look hard enough there is beauty in all situations life demands us to walk through.    The most epic mistakes or challenges humble us.  With a new perspective from our knees we know we can’t fall any further and are forced to look up.  Maybe that beauty is a gentle nudge and a reminder that our mishaps and frustrations can be made beautiful.

looking at it all the wrong way

I am guilty of looking at life the wrong way.   I see this chapter in the book of time almost like a holding tank while I am preparing for "real life"  but that is scary mentality to have.  We are constantly hoping and striving for more, for better.... for the next best thing.   Contentment is a dying art.   If it isn't appreciating the Iphone 4 that's in your hand because there exists a better, faster, shinier model, or the ability to take a breath and enjoying this moment however uncomfortable or stressful it is because of the anticipation for the next thing, we will live our lives without ever appreciating what we actually have.   All we have is this moment right now. I am guilty of always wondering if there will be something better around the corner...  that curiosity however, seems to only extend as far as what I "can control." I don't want to always be searching.  It is exhausting to turn over every rock, and to look into every cranny.  So despite the unknowns, despite the worries, and fears or curiosity of something more... I want to choose to appreciate right now. 

The day that is tomorrow

 

 

With the morning off from my opera theatre duties, I decided to reflect on the upcoming Hallmark holiday event - Valentines day.  The day tends to either nauseate, by reducing people into chocolate commas, or create crazy people that can't comprehend not celebrating the famed holiday in style. As a kid, the effect of valentines day were engrained in us throughout elementary school.  With our pick of the Little Mermaid,  Lizzie Maguire, Ninja Turtles, or Power Rangers, our moms would buy us our social stability with the coolest cards.  Somehow we would sit still long enough to carefully write out the names of all our friends, and if we were really nice, or if mom ended up writing them, the entire class list would receive one of our totally cute V-day cards.  Valentine's day was always an excuse for me to dress up, and dress up I would, in my favorite pink dress. I'd throw a scrunchy in my hair and hope for a hoard of handwritten cards delivered to my handcrafted, craft paper mail box.  It wouldn't matter on that day, if everyone had received a card from my crush, that valentine signed with his initials would be pressed to my heart and my world would be showered with cupid's arrows. 

High school revealed a new level of expectation to surrounded the eventful day.   With roses, or chocolates that would be hand delivered to your class... there was an insurmountable amount of hope that lingered, that love would find me in the form of a fragrant flower from my favorite crush. Valentines day since, has morphed from an excuse to get dressed up and hopeful for true love to a sad realization that it is just another day, gift wrapped in hallmark trim and predetermined presumptions about what it should be.  The last few years, I have veered away from celebrating the blessed saint, and instead I observe S.A.D, Singles Awareness Day.   It just seems to be a more fair title for the majority, and the day.  Oh dear, that does sound sad... well, regardless of the title, the day seems to be built on the idea of living up to a standard set by society.    It seems to not only highlight couples in love, but also the individual who isn't.  For the un-inlove person, they can feel left out from the festivities.   So to salute the singles ladies and gentlemen, here are some funny valentine cards just for you:

Happy Valentines Day/ Singles Awareness Day!