Give It A Rest, Okay? Or, Putting On The Breaks

~~~~~~~~~~~ “I loaf and invite my soul, I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.” – Walt Whitman Alright Walt, that sounds fine and dandy there, but I have no time to loaf.  I’m a busy guy.  I’m a “I need more than 24 hours in a day to get…

Nothing Is Wrong, But Nothing Seems Right

This seems just a little bit different.  It seems to be clinging on a bit more.  It seems to be a bit deeper.  There is a cloak feeling to it, as opposed to strips of it passing over me like those dull blue scrubbers at the car wash. I can’t put my finger on it,…

Tale Wagging The Dog

We all have them. Those stories.  You know the ones – the little tales and fables that we create and tell ourselves over and over again.  And sometimes trumpet to others.  The stories that we act out on.  The ones we rehearse and perform and perfect and groom and preen and fuss over.  The ones…

Who Do You Think You Are?

One of the greatest struggles I have had in my recovery so far is the question of who am I? Or namely, who am I meant to be?  And that is really what it comes down to.  Who am I meant to be, rather than who do I think I should be?  I lived a life…

My Greatest Enemy

A friend of ours recently made an unexpected announcement – she had finished writing a screenplay.  Now, writing a screenplay for someone who writes screenplays for a living is hardly a shock.  Noble, indeed, but not something that involves going to the party section at Target for. Singing Telegrams need not apply. But our friend…

Stich ‘n’ Bitch – Unwound And Rewound

Remember when you first ever heard your voice played back on some sort of recording device?  Mine was a cassette machine (yeah, dated myself – what else is new?)  No doubt I was dictating some sort of manifesto in a robust manner, with a fedora hat on head and Popeye Cigarette candy in hand for…

(Emb)race Day, Or, Two Minutes For Looking So Good

Some of you are familiar with the morning scramble.  And I’m not talking huevos rancheros here. It’s that we’re-going-to-be-late-if-we-don’t-get-our-socks-and-shoes-on scramble that occurs just inside the front door, amidst a flurry of backpacks, gloves on the wrongs hands and a pile of protests that would shame the House of Commons.  Inevitably, as the sock and shoe…

Changing History

Imagine being able to change history.  Your history.  Now, we know we can’t change the events of the past…they’re done.  Finito.  Sayonara.  Adios, Charlie.  What’s done is done.   The future – sure we can change some of that.  It unfolds underneath us and can be shifted and morphed by our actions and behaviours, but often…

Zen And The Art Of Bicycle Repair

I like my bike.  It’s my mode of transportation – in many ways.  It gets me to and from work.  It also takes me out of my head or it gets me thinking about things that the D-Day din of my mind doesn’t normally allow me to ponder.  It whisks me away from the hot…

Clay, Unmodeled

I never liked Play Doh.  I take no issue with the texture or the malleability of it. I don’t bristle at their assortment of accoutrements and fun-looking gadgets attached to the brand.  I have nothing against the product or the delightful, primary-esque colours.  Actually, I need to retract that last bit.  It’s precisely because of the…