everyone is the worst


Things That Suck Today
(things that suck big hairy sweaty balls, to be specific)

– thinking that those pesky periods have finally stopped and then – nope
– when you notice the nope in a yoga class in light colored yoga pants
– when you’re not quite over that recent inconvenient yoga pants fail and then … nope happens
– when you’re still stiff from that damn Bar class that you can’t do a damn thing without falling over in yoga class
– when you keep falling over in yoga class, and then notice the nope

– when there are no goddamn cookies in the house, and all you want is just a little bit of sugary goodness, is that too much to ask for?
– when there are no lemon tarts, no coffeecake, no scones in the house either
– when you end up eating gluten free cookies and sugar-free chocolate
– when you realize that what you are grumpy about is a beyond superficial first world problem, and still decide to stay grumpy

– when that guy honked at you, for no good reason, okay maybe the very slightest and unimportant reason, but really there was no need for honking. honestly

L24IaWs– when you go solo to a couples party of 90% young hot 30somethings
– when you weren’t planing on going solo, but the date you chose doesn’t show
– when you almost asked a good friend to be your date, but then decided to ‘go for it’ and ask the ‘great at no showing’ guy, when you should have bloody well known better than to even consider him
– when you’re having a great hair day and get stood up
– when you wore the cute short dress with the boots, and still got stood up
– when you even put on motherfucking eyeliner and lipstick, and still got stood up
– when every one at the super fun party was snuggly with their date and you get super tight with the dessert table and then almost aspirate on a cupcake
– when you sit there and seriously wonder why you even try and really seriously consider that future that involves cats, housecoats, and crazy hair
– when you say forget cats, I’m getting chickens to peck at anyone who tries to visit me, and then you say forget chickens, I’m getting Emus. I’m getting Emus with the worst possible attitudes and I’m keeping them in my front yard.


-when you get a Starbucks card and it has Year of the Monkey on it and you start crying in front of the kind gift giver, because your brother was a Monkey
– when you realize that this year of the Monkey would have been your brother’s year

l1iHINO– when you’re happily sitting as far away from other people as you can manage at church and they make the announcement to stand up and greet the people around and you realize that you didn’t get far enough away and you have to chat with people


– David Bowie is dead
– Alan Rickman is dead
– and just fuck all things about that, but especially idiots who say mean shit about mourning some celebrity you didn’t know
fuck those people

– when you can’t format bullet points and have to use “-”


Charles Bulowski

– when Bukowski sums it up best

well adjusted

SAMSUNGIt’s been a challenging week. The details I’ll leave for another time. I can be, very occasionally, a ‘well adjusted and functioning adult’ but more often than not I’m a ‘flying by the seat of my pants making this stuff up as I go along’ kind of person. I have some healthy coping mechanisms, like yoga, art, wonderful friends, and music, and I have some not so healthy coping mechanisms, like not eating, not making the bed, talking to inanimate objects.

Here are my top 10(ish), or maybe 15 coping mechanisms for the last week, in no order what so ever:

  • took out a live wasp’s nest, with a bat, during the day when they were around, it was a Lieutenant Dan kinda moment
  • allowed myself to chew off exactly 1 fingernail, my left pinkie, it looks dreadful, I’m only allowed to chew another when my pinkie grows back
  • curled up on my couch with my daughter, ate pie and ice cream and watched animated movies (The Incredibles and Wreak It Ralph), cried in a somewhat dignified manner
  • curled up on a friend’s couch and watched movies (Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, Sliding Doors), cried in a rather undignified manner (waterproof mascara that can hold it’s own through a hot yoga class crumbles and runs down your face if you cry long enough, especially the undignified type of crying)
  • reached out to friends, cried, and laughed and made horribly inappropriate jokes (inappropriate humour being a major coping mechanism)
  • made art, did not cry on the art (involved quick tissue reflexes)
  • talked to my steering wheel, cried on my steering wheel, sung to my steering wheel, drummed on my steering wheel; my steering wheel knows all my secrets
  • talked to my dog, talked to my cat, my fish, my garden, the lizard, but not the snake, the snake doesn’t listen
  • sang and hummed to myself, a lot, I mean for hours, I think the dog liked it, but it’s so hard to tell with him
  • didn’t make the bed for 3 whole days, also picked clothes out of the dryer instead of folding and putting them away
  • did yoga, got sweaty and breathed deeply, felt MUCH better afterwards
  • various forms of retail therapy –  expensive yoga pants that make my ass look fabulous, little balls to roll away the tension in my neck, dark chocolate with cherries, so far….
  • narrowed my diet to pie (now gone), toast, coffee, and the odd bowl of cereal (lost 5 pounds, I do not recommend this diet)
  • played sudoko on my phone for extended periods of time (which I justify as a exercise for my brain)
  • poetry, lots of poetry, because I’m a word nerd – a small sample of poems below

I will live, have lived through worse, so I’m pretty confident “this too shall pass”, but I keep wondering when will I finally become that elusive “adult” who has all this junk figured out. The one who can balance a cheque book (who knows where the damn check book is), plan a menu that doesn’t involve the microwave or popcorn, gracefully juggle work/family/life/the universe and everything, always have clothes on the right way out, has a happy well adjusted marriage, never puts their foot in their mouth for weeks at a time, or overreacts in dramatic and super embarrassing ways, and never ever has orphaned socks? You know that mythical creature known as the well adjusted, mature adult. I’ve heard of them, even think I’ve spotted a few, but ultimately those ones turn out to be just as flawed as the rest of us.

And so it goes.

Life, crammed full of messy, undignified, embarrassing, humbling, glorious and sacred moments, full of enough sorrow for us to appreciate joy, and enough ugliness for us to appreciate beauty, and gratitude, because in the end it’s a beautiful world, full of kindness and love.


crappy picture, but I made this


Swung for love,
flung in-between
sound earth and sky’s embrace
green willows as my garland.

My sadness, in degrees does soar away,
and whispers back again.
My heart belonging
to faraway horizons.
Time so briefly spent in tumbling clouds
divides more wide than from tides to moon,
but still my flight will not wait
for breath
or sight
as I swing from sorrow
and back again.

made this too


do not think
that you can
know me
for I am only
one heart
in a world
too full
with sound.

Enough. These few words are enough.
If not these words, this breath.
If not this breath, this sitting here.

This opening to the life
we have refused
again and again
until now.
Until now

– David Whyte, Where Many Rivers Meet

The Guest-House

This being human is a guest-house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you
out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

– Say I Am You: Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams, Translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barks, Maypop, 1994.

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you have ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott, Collected Poems 1948-1984, New York, Farrar Straus Giroux, 1986.

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

  • Theodore Roethke