Miscellaneous

Thursday 18May06 6:56pm
It's interesting how stuff from my childhood can just crop up out of
nowhere. Sometimes the same shit crops up over and over.

Today the guys were teasing me that the boss was going to order lunch
for every one tomorrow, my day off. It's happened three times already.
Three times that lunch was ordered on my vacation day. I try not to get
upset about it but it bugs the shit out of me. Why is it that he
chooses those days as if it's some sort of punishment for me taking
days off that I'm rightfully entitled to? It's not that I need to have
the food anyway. I need to lose weight. Most of the time it's junk like
Pizza or Veal sandwiches. But it still hurts to be left out.

I think back to my mom. I think back to the days when I had to
understand why she put my step sisters needs ahead of mine. She said
she didn't want them to feel like they were missing out on anything
because I lived with their father and they didn't. It was no picnic
living with their father. I tried to understand but something deep
inside of me told me that my mother should want to put me first. She
never really did.

I can remember offering to buy my step sister a treat when she
inadvertently told me that my mom had given her extra money, over and
above her allowance from her father. It turned out that she had way
more money than I had and she was at least four years younger than me.
I was pissed and hurt and felt somehow that even my mother thought I
was somehow inferior or undeserving.

At my part - time job I watched for 2 years how my boss, who was one of
my best friends, bought a birthday cake for each staff member and then
just before my birthday she announced to me that she was no longer
buying birthday cakes because no one appreciated it. Two years in a
row.
She bought cake for people she said she hated and couldn't fork out a
little more for my birthday. It just reminded me of being a kid.

I wonder how old we get before we stop being haunted by our childhood.
Is there ever a time when you look at an incident as just the incident
and not as a series of repeated stories? Who really knows.

How do I contend with feeling like I'm always the one left out? Friends
that come into town but forget to call me. Work situations where the
treat is divvied out when I'm not around.

Or better yet, when will I stop caring?

It feels like I'm continually chasing after being included. I think I'm
viewed with some sort of respect and admiration and then I live a
repeat of some childhood shit. Dammit I'm an outsider, I get that, but
sometimes can't the people closest to me just give me a fucking break?

EY

I Am a Fool

Too funny! I decided to have another card picked for me only for Shelley as opposed to my full name... It turns out I really am the Fool!

You Are The Fool

You are a fascinating person who is way beyond the concerns of this world. Young at heart, you are blissfully unaware of any dangers ahead. You are a true wanderer - it has be difficult finding your place in this world. Full of confidence, you are likely to take a leap of faith. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a new phase in your life. This may mean changing locations, jobs, friends, or love status. You are open about what the future will bring, and free of worry. You have made your peace with fate, and you're ready to start down your new path.

What Tarot Card Are You?

Links

Sunday 7May06 3pm

If you can read my thoughts about God and Dreams, you can read some of this stuff. Or better yet, understand why I do!

Quado is my favorite of all of them.

Click here for Quado: Read or Subscribe

Heavenletters

Click here for Heaven Letters

Daily Positive Thought

Click here Positive Thought


What Tarot Card Am I? Shelley-Lynne Domingue
An appropriate Tarot card for exactly how I am feeling. Interesting!

You Are Death

You symbolize the end, which can be frightening. But you also symbolize the immortality of the soul. You represent transformation, rebirth of a new life. Sweeping away the past is part of this card, as painful as it may be. Your fortune: Don't worry, this card does not predict death itself. Instead it foreshadows the ending of an era of your life, one that is hard to let go of. But with the future great new things will come, and it's time to embrace them. Mourn for a while, but then face the future with humility and courage.

Click here and Tell me, What Tarot Card Are You?

Life is Magic

7May06 Sunday 3:40pm

I believe in God (a higher power) and dreams. I believe that God is
energy neither male nor female or both male and female. I can remember
being 4 years old and lying in my bed in the morning, forced to stay
there because my mother, father and brother were still sleeping. I
remember being surrounded with white light. The light was warm and
comforting. I was safe.

I'm not positive if it was a voice in my head or just a belief but
something told me that I was special. It wasn't a conceited kind of
special as I look on it now, it was more about being unique (which we
all are) and feeling that inner love for my specialness or uniqueness.
Of course we've all traveled through the years of attempting to be less
unique and more clone like trying to emulate whatever clique or peer
group we believed would serve us in the moment but I still remember
myself from before that time.

What I like to believe now is that it was God communicating with me.
If God communicated with Moses, I ask myself, why wouldn't or couldn't
God energy communicate with me?

All through my childhood and into my early adult years I suffered from
nightmares and night terrors. I had horrifying dreams almost nightly. I
walked and talked and screamed in my sleep. I realize now that my night
terrors were a symptom of the scary awake life that I often lived in.
There was the violence suffered at the hands of my alcoholic father,
the fear that my mother didn't or couldn't love me as much as my
brother and subsequently my step sisters. There was a fine melange that
fed into my inner turmoil and haunted me in my sleep.

It wasn't until I was in my twenties that I'd heard of keeping dream
journals. I heard of at least one person curing her nightmares and
hoped the process would alleviate mine since I was on my own. I didn't
want to live with the fear that one night I might walk out of my
apartment and Lord knows what kind of real terror I could have sleep
walked in to. I didn't want to have to live with others just because I
walked in my sleep. I didn't want that kind of dependency.

I can't pinpoint exactly when the night terrors stopped, I know it was
a gradual process and I can say that I haven't had regular nightmares
in close to twenty years. I've had other dreams that have impacted me.

In my late twenties, I started to have dreams that took place in the
same diner that I ultimately called the Spiritual diner. It was
spiritual because I met dead people there. I met Marvin Gaye in my
first dream there and had a conversation about singing. Something I
don't do enough of now. Marvin had been dead at least eight years.

It's ironic, years later because of my spiritual diner dreams, when my
mother passed I was told by a psychic that when my mother came to me in
my dreams, "Ask her what she's come to tell you." I was able to hear
what the psychic told me and not just laugh it off. I believed that I
could have a conversation with my dead mother in my dreams.

Around 1990 or 1991, I had my first real bout of depression that lasted
over two weeks. I was depressed about a boyfriend who was 14 years my
senior and lacking in real intimacy. I was depressed because my mother
and I were at odds with each other because I was rolling around in
childhood memories and having difficulties with reconciling my mother's
love with these images.

I hardly slept. I was distraught with fatigue because if I was sad I
normally could at least sleep. I've read or heard that we need three
worries or stresses to cause us to be depressed. My third worry was
that I had lost one of my part-time jobs and the other one was barely
covering my weekly expenses.

In that sleepless two week period I cried, I paced and I contemplated
suicide. Maybe this was it for me. Maybe this was all I could ever hope
for - fights with my mom, a boyfriend with intimacy issues and no job
prospects. I accidentally started a fire in my apartment by keeping the
gas stove on to generate some heat because the Super hadn't turned the
heat up enough. I'd fallen asleep for about an hour or so and woke up
moments after my bottle of oil fell from the back ledge of the stove
into the flame and created a raging inferno.

I jumped out of bed and called 911 as I grabbed the box of salt and
poured the whole box into the fire. I stopped the fire before the
sirens screamed their announcement to my neighbours down our quiet
street. The huge rubber booted fire men complimented me on my calm and
smarts to have used salt instead of water as I apologized for calling
them for nothing since there was no fire when they got there.

After they left I decided that wanting to die was out of the question
since the thought of dying in a fire scared the shit out of me. I felt
like that fire was a response by God for my suicidal thoughts, to show
me that I didn't want to die. The depression, however, did not subside.
I endured another week of 2 to 3 hours sleep or none at all. I was
fatigued, emotional, and sure I was going insane.

I've heard stories about people surrendering their lives to God. Quite
frankly, I never believed them. I didn't believe in surrendering. I
didn't believe that it did any good or gave any substantial peace. I
didn't believe enough in believing.

I sat on my bed sobbing my soul out. Deep inside me I felt that
presence/voice/belief from way back when I was four years old - the one
that affirmed that I was special. I heard/felt/inhabited the word,
"surrender." I got down on my knees beside my bed and begged, "Please
just give me some peace." I do not remember getting off my knees and
getting into bed and falling asleep. I do remember the dream that I
had:

In my dream, I was waitressing at the spiritual diner. It was a super
busy night and I was frustrated because I knew I didn't waitress
anymore (in my awake life) and I hadn't had a break. I gave one table
of customers their order of four plates of food and saw Mahatma Gandhi
under another table in the seated meditative position (lotus?)
I could hear him chanting. I told myself that as soon as I had a moment
I would go and join him, "he can help me."

I rushed through the double doors towards the kitchen to retrieve the
next order and Pope John Paul II came out of a side hallway and made
the sign of the cross blessing me as I walked toward him. I could see
the intricate detail of the gold embroidery on the wrists of his white
robe.

I went through another set of double doors and stopped abruptly inside
the candlelit incense filled room. There was a man in each corner of
the silent room and a Holy book was leaned against the center column. I
bowed my body and head down in silent apology for disturbing their
ritual and backed out of the room.

When I woke up moments later, I lay enjoying this calming electric
energy that flowed through my whole body. The sensation was something
like what I feel after I meditate or get a massage only a hundred times
stronger. My depression had faded and I subsequently believed that life
has magic.

I see the connections through my past that leads me to believe in an
energy larger than myself that is also within me (within all of us). I
believe that my life holds so much more than I've often allowed myself
to visit. Lately I'm feeling ready to start that journey like The Fool
of the Tarot.

My interpretation of the Fool is that the being (male or female as the
case may be) doesn't see the cliff she's about to fall off in order to
start her journey. The cliff is a leap of faith. The leap of faith is
trusting that your journey is your uniquely special path. The fool is
optimistic, she hasn't thought of all the challenges she's going to
have to face on her journey - the injuries of the initial fall and the
pain that comes with experience. She is optimistic because she does
know whatever path she takes will bring joy and pain in equal measure
just as her past has brought her. No matter which way she turns is the
way she is meant to go.

Today I'm declaring that I'm a Fool. I'm traveling my path with a
little more optimism and the expectation of the unknown challenges that
will teach me inspiring lessons.

I'm here! You can love me or not love me; laugh at me or not laugh at
me; believe in me or not believe in me. God gave us choice and this is
what I choose until I choose something else.

Great Astrology Links

Astrology
Good in depth monthly forecasts by Susan Miller

Astrology Zone link

New Millenium Being
Astrology and Meditation
At the site click on Astro Ezine

New Millenium Being link

Numerology
At the site scroll down to Monthly Numerology Forecast
In depth Numerology link

Buddy the Donkey

His real name is Dusty but I call him Buddy

When I worked at the Ontario Science Centre I used to get to see Buddy twice a day. I'd sneak him carrots and apples and we became good friends. So much so that when ever I called his name, he would come running.
I wonder if I'll ever have a pet donkey?

EY

Finding Myself

4:41am Friday 5May06
I can remember that at ten years old I genuinely liked myself as I was.
I knew that I was a caring person. I liked that I could stick up for
myself and I knew that I had every right to be upset when I was put
second or third. It was the beginning of my dismissive years for sure.

I liked that I could out run most of the boys and I knew that I was
good enough to have the boy that I liked like me in return. And he did
too. His name was Dennis and he was Greek. When all of us neighbourhood
kids played hide and seek, Dennis and I always chose places to hide
together. If I said that I couldn't find my way in the dark, Dennis
would always say, "my hand is out, reach for my hand." I would touch
his hand and we would hide pressed close together. It was the closest
thing a boy and a girl would get to any kind of intimacy at 10 years
old. Dennis was sweet and comforting and reassurring.

At 10 years old, I was sure of myself and my abilities. I loved to draw
cartoons but my brother was such a superior artist that I decided to
make drawing my secondary talent. I decided that I would be a writer
instead and I started to write. Back then I wasn't overly critical of
my writing. I somehow instinctively knew that with time and practice my
writing ability would improve. Writing was a game of finding the right
words like rolling doubles while playing monopoly. Writing occupied my
mind and if I wasn't that quick with mathematics when quizzed in class
at least I knew deep inside me that I had something that I was quick
and smart at even if nobody else knew. I knew that I had my own special
something within me.

I feel myself slowly moving through the tail end of my latest
transition. I'm getting through and out of the repressed anger of the
emotional hardships of the last few years - jobs that I hated but had
no choice but to stay at for survival purposes, mistreatment of people
that didn't turn out to be friends, the death of my mother and feeling
like my whole sense of family died with her.

I'm feeling inspired. I'm focusing less on annoying incompetent people
and more on my individual path, who is going to travel with me, who
I'll have no sadness in leaving behind. I'm starting to genuinely like
myself like that ten year old - good parts and not so good. I feel less
of that need to be perfect and then beat myself down because I'm not.
I feel less of a need to control the outcome of every situation and yet
understand that I will have times when I backslide. That's human
nature.

I want to be more of that person who is passionate about things like
writing and music, enjoying nature and laughing at my favorite donkey
buddy. I'm finding more inspiration and am coming up to the ability to
see something loving in people that I don't particularly care for.

I had a conversation with Cinnabon on Sunday that what I love about
doing body work (she is a massage therapist and I do Reiki) is that
whoever gets on my massage table and allows me to put my hands on them
I fall in love with. It's something about how all the daily masks and
walls fall away when a person is on the table with their eyes closed
and I can almost see what that person looked like as a child. I can
feel the sensitivity and need for approval that every human being had
at one time before they found the need to disguise their truth.

What a great gift to be able to see in to someone's soul. To cut
through the disguises and find that under all the layers that we're all
the same. To find some sort of connection to humanity. It makes life a
little less solitary.

I don't know how I'm going to fit it in but I'm going to start offering
my Reiki services again. Whether it's for free or I offer my services
at a community centre or for fundraisers. That ten year old who I liked
being had pursuits that she enjoyed. She got some of this living thing
right. To start, Cinnabon and I are going to swap services with each
other. Reiki for swedish massage.

Living an inspired life.
EY

Favorites and Ramblings

30April06 Sunday 5:15pm

Favorite Theatre Company

I've seen all but maybe two productions. My all time favorite
production is The Stronger which inspired my idea for a novel in
research mode titled The Fold (3019)

Theatre Rusticle link
See a show and then consider donating money for more brilliantly
inspiring thought provoking productions. I do!

Favorite Yearly Event
The International Festival of Authors
I'm buying a patron membership this year in order to be able to attend every possible interview, and round table discussion I can get myself to. And I'm taking the week off work.
International Festival of Authors link

My Obsessions
Books
Music
The Olympics

Most People Think
I'm extroverted when I'm really introverted. I'm only extroverted when
I'm comfortable with the people I'm with.

Most People Don't Realize
I don't take or ask for advice. I just want someone to listen but many people think that is a cue to tell me what they think I should do. They also don't know that I will always do what I want to do not what they think I should do.

My Prince Quirk
I only ever listen to his newest album once. I play his older stuff more frequently and save his newer music for when I feel a need for new Prince music. I always want to feel like I have something new of his to listen to.

My Take on Christmas

I was like most children that always looked forward to Christmas. Each
year after all the hyped up excitement something inevitably went wrong.
If it wasn't my alcoholic father destroying the Christmas tree and
smashing all the presents it was my step father flipping out for some
imagined wrong doing. Of course not every single Christmas was shitty
but enough of them were to cause me anxious misgivings. If I could I
would go to a tropical island and drink some fruity drinks and work on
a tan that I don't need.

For most of my adult years I've spent Christmas as the add on at
someone's house. I was the orphan that had to be grateful for being
included in on the festivities when all I wanted to do was stay home
and bury my head until the 26th of December. People don't want to hear
about you being alone on Christmas. They think it's depressing and if
they had the guts to say it out loud, pathetic. So for years I was
someones guest. I had to sit through the torture of watching them open
all the presents they received and worse would have to feign happiness
and excitement I didn't feel. It was like being the only kid who didn't
get cake in a classroom of kids who did. No body is interested in
seeing that. Yeah sure, the spirit of Christmas isn't about getting
presents until you have to watch your friends opening three hundred of
them. Ask me if I feel like a loser?

Then something changed.

One year on my walk home from work, I went to the dollar store and
bought a 12 inch Christmas Tree and gold decorations of angels and
stars. Then I bought some wrapping paper, a red stocking and went home.
Every day for the next two weeks, I went and bought myself some little
presents, went home, wrapped them and stuck them around the tree or in
the red stocking. I bought Prince's latest CD at the time, the Rainbow
Children, and wrapped it. Every single person that knows I love Prince
asked me, "How's Prince's new album?"

I had to say that I didn't know because I bought it as a Christmas
present and couldn't unwrap it until Christmas. As I explained that in
my quest to enjoy Christmas that I bought myself presents and wrapped
them most of my friends looked at me like I was nuts.

"Why bother?" they asked, "You already know what you're getting since
you bought them."

I explained that I was even more excited because I knew what I got and
I had to wait to enjoy them. I had never been this excited about
Christmas when I was a kid.

On Christmas day I cooked my own turkey with italian sausage stuffing,
mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce (homemade). I also made a prime rib
roast, rice and veggies. For dinner I had two plates of food: One with
the turkey and the fixin's and the other with the roast beef and mashed
potatoes. Two types of gravy equals two different plates of food. And
wine! I had such a wonderful time that it has become my Christmas
ritual.
People still try to insist that I can't spend Christmas alone and I
say, "I learned to love Christmas by spending it alone!"

Okay off to do some rollerblading. Been invited for a BBQ at Hugs and
Cinnabon's house. Two of the nicest people I know. I decided to
nickname them Hugs and Cinnabon...
EY

Living an Inspired Life 2

Sunday 3:27pm 30Apr06

I watched Wayne Dyer's latest PBS special recently. It was part of his
new book Inspiration - Your Ultimate Calling. I got into him two years
ago when he did the Power of Intention. I ultimately bought the book
and all the Cd packages that went with it.

The viewing of his chat on inspiration reminded me about how I used to
look for and find inspiration everywhere. Back in the days when I liked
myself more and was more emotionally heallthy. ha ha. But seriously I
used to have a more upbeat look on life and then it plummeted for a
very long time. Part of the subsequent plummeting was that I started
focusing on the wrong things, for my sanity anyway.

Since watching his program, I've been doing a few little things for
inspirations sake. One of the things is getting up when I wake up way
too early and writing down random thoughts in my journal. Enjoying the
silent peace of 4am in my apartment building when my downstairs
neighbours aren't banging their renovation and my upstairs neighbour Mr
Heavyfoot AKA Fe Fi Fo Fum isn't stomping around like he weighs two
tons when he is actually quite small. Why is it that some people walk
so damn hard when they live in apartments? Do you really think you are
the only one in the world? Do I really have to go up and knock on your
apartment and show you how to walk lightly? The thing is I've already
spoken to him about it and he apologized all shamefaced and has since
continued to walk like he's the Giant after Jack in the beanstalk. But
I digress...

Inspiration? What has inspired me lately? There was an article in the
Toronto Star recently about a man that rented out Roy Thomson Hall
after re-mortgaging his house. He rented it because he's always wanted
to get on stage and sing in front of an audience. The guy did it and
sold it out too. It was his lifelong dream. He put his money where his
mouth was and did it.

My second piece of inspiration came from the documentary that was on
A&E last night called The man who predicted 9/11. Rick was the head of
security for Morgan Stanley and got out all of the Morgan Stanley
employees safely except for 6 people. He also died in the tragedy. Now
dying in a tragedy isn't necessarily inspiring but this guy was the
type of person whose calling was to save people. In the documentary his
biographer said that when Rick was in the vietnam war he was the head
of his platoon ( I don't really know what it's called but you get the
message.) In the majority of the other platoons the survival rate was
approximately 50%. 50% of the people died. In Rick's, 6-8 people died
only. And the thing about this guy was that it tormented him his whole
life that he lost those 6-8 men. Come on buddy you did a hell of a
job. But each person was important to him.

As an aside, he met and married the woman of his dreams 3 years before
he died in the World Trade Centre attacks.

From the get go, he was looking for ways that the centres could be
attacked. he brought in his army buddies and asked for their advice.
One friend said that the best way to attack was with a bomb in a van.
Rick tried to forewarn the Port Authority, the people that owned/ran
the buildings and they nodded their heads, smiled and waved him away.
They believed in him more after the 1993 bombing attack that went
exactly as his friend predicted.

After that, he brought the same friend back and the friend said that
the next time could only be from the air. Rick, believing that there
would be another attack first tried to convince the Morgan Stanley
people to move to another building. When that didn't work, he started
regular evacuation alerts. Every three months whether you were in a
meeting, in the bathroom, on a long distance phone call, you had to
drop what you were doing and leave the building on Rick's say so. The
employees now say that that vigilance was what ultimately got them out
alive. Of 2700 employees, 6 people didn't make it out alive.

One of the big executives saw Rick before he left the building and told
him, "You need to get out too Rick."
But Rick stayed in to help the EMS workers rescue the other people in
the building. An impossible feat as we all know. As a character that
would be what would drive the story that this man cannot bear to lose
people in his care.

Every one who spoke about him said, "He would have been a hero if he'd
left the building after he got the Morgan Stanley employees out."
He would have been a hero but he still would have been tormented by the
lives lost. He died doing what he believed in. An inspiring man...

Living an Inspired Life

Sunday 12:40pm 30Apr06

If every single person spent time only where he accomplished the
greatest good for himself and the person he was with, the world would
change in a day. It is important to spend time in ways that promote
your highest good. If something is not for your highest good, I can
guarantee that it is not for the highest good of the planet or others
either.
You may ask, what am I here to do that will bring me joy? Each one of
you has things that you love to do. There is not one person alive who
does not have something he loves to do. Pg.21 Living with Joy - Keys
to Personal Power & Spiritual Transformation by Sanaya Roman

Imagine what we would all be like if we were doing things that were for
our highest good? What kind of attitude would I have?

When my writing was my number one priority, not too many things could
get me down. I can remember when I didn't get involved with petty
gossip and didn't care about work politics. Even nasty customers
couldn't affect me.

My saying years ago was, "If I'm noticing all the crap that's going on
then I've taken my eyes off the goal." That saying really worked for
me. I knew where I wanted to be. I'm not really sure where that all
went. I guess I lost trust in the process. I started to worry about
money. I tried to maintain many friendships and relationships like
normal people. I wanted to feel more included. I wanted to be an
insider.

I realize that I have always been an outsider, an observer. It's what
made me want to write. I've always been the one that hears information
of a too personal nature. I knew stuff about the grown ups when I was
little that no other child knew. I witnessed inappropriate and
traumatic things.
I always thought, "that's an interesting story."
I always wanted to write about it.

When I was 7 and 8 years old, my mother used to tell her guests,"I
watch how Shelley reacts to you. If there is ever a person in my house
that Shelley doesn't talk to then I just know that person isn't
trustworthy. "
I truly was an observer.

Maybe writing is indeed my higher purpose. Maybe I'm not meant to be an
insider surrounded by many friends living the overly sociable life.
It's not like trying to be an insider ever did anything for me. In my
quest to maintain friendships I made my writing secondary. I woke up to
find out that their lives kept moving forward and mine kinda stood
still. They became "busy" and I became the loser that still called
regularly living a rather ordinary existence. What the hell was I
thinking?

With my depression diagnosis I had to face that my thoughts put me
there and my thoughts would also get me out. I had to make time to
focus on what I wanted and come to terms with myself as an outsider.
I'll probably always be on the fringes, some one that doesn't totally
fit in. I am the product of that little girl that went to a new school
every year. Although I have lifelong friends, there is most likely
going to be a revolving door of acquaintances. Is that bad? Do I really
need to feel like I'm in the center of some great big community that I
can turn to? How much of this living have I done by myself anyway?

With the wrong friends comes the influence that makes me want to keep
up with the Joneses when that's not even my personality type. I don't
want to live in a condo. I've never been interested in owning a house.
As long as I have the things that I need, I could care less where I
live. Being an insider puts me in line for the lectures on why I should
want more of what they have. Why I shouldn't be single. Why I should
feel inferior because I'm not pretty enough, rich enough, quiet enough,
loved enough and all the judgements that I never paid attention to when
I kept my eyes on the goal -- being a writer. Plus my real friends
would never make me feel like that.

My higher purpose is my writing. My gift is my writing. It's a gift to
people who want to escape. People who want to survive. People who want
to be inspired. People who want to learn something about how others
live, love and whatever else I want to make it. My writing has to be my
priority, my focus, taking me step by step by step to my highest good.
It's the only time I've ever truly been happy within my life.

Wayne Dyer calls it living an inspired life. I want to feel good. I
want to live an inspired life and dammit I'm going to do that starting
today. ha ha

Well my above thoughts are more than a little rambling but a start on
the focus of what I want for the EY Page. Writing2live. Living an
inspired life. Living my dreams. My mistakes in the process and past
failures in my mind. What I've learned and what works for me now. Who
says I know anything anyway?

Oma's Advice

Monday 24Apr06 10pm

I always believed I would marry. My dream was to have three children -
two boys because I really like boys and a daughter as a middle child
because every woman should have a daughter. I wanted her as the middle
child so she wouldn't really suffer from middle child syndrome
sandwiched between two boys. The older boy would be special because he
was the first boy and the youngest boy would be special because he was
the baby. I had it all figured out.

Now at 42 years old and no biological clock to speak of, I believe I
may eventually live with someone and children are not in the cards
unless I adopt. I still wish I made enough money to adopt Justin ( a
child I worked with when I was a Child and Youth Worker) 13 years ago.
Justin is 25 years old now and I've lost track of him.

As a child when I said I wanted to be a writer my family told me that
it was a nice hobby but I needed to choose a career. I've wandered
aimlessly trying to find a career that could support my writing hobby.
Through the stress of dysfunctional co-workers and often borderline
abusive bosses I'd nearly given up on my dream. People, friends, family
members, will tell you things to help you to avoid the pain they've
lived through. They tell you things because they love you. Most times
they are best to follow their own advice and stay the heck out of your
dreams.

My mother always wanted to be a country singer like Charley Pride
(first African American to play the Grand Ole Opry). I know she wanted
me to be financially secure. She couldn't have known that I would feel
broken, not knowing what I wanted to do other than writing of course.

My Oma (Dutch for Grand mother) was the only adult that liked that I
wanted to be a writer and she encouraged my dream. She gave me my first
writing magazine at the time called, "Canadian, Author and Bookman."
She told me that she had to give up her dream to be a housewife and
care for her husband and children. There was a sigh that said that
despite the joy her children and grandchildren gave her , if things
were different, things would be different.

With her biological grand children she always encouraged marriage. The
discussions were about what jewelery would be passed down to them prior
to their weddings. She encouraged me, on the other hand, to wait until
later in life before I got married. There was more than enough time.
"You don't want to give up your dreams because of a man."

Considering how old fashioned her beliefs were her advice to me was
like she could see into my future. I was going to be a late bloomer or
better yet I was going to follow my own self imposed norm. I never
could understand the expectation that a woman should be a constant
follower to her husband's every whim. I couldn't understand how a woman
had to subtly manipulate a man into believing that he had come up with
an idea that she had actually come up with. All those games were tiring
to me. I couldn't stand that my brother got special privileges because
he was a boy there was no way that I was going to live with a man who
made all the decisions.

Had I married young I probably would have given up on writing
altogether. Had I started out as a writer without the multitude of jobs
and experiences I've had I definitely wouldn't have the ideas I have
now.

Favorite Books

Monday 24April06 9:12pm

Favourite Books to Re-read:
The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Third Life of Grange Copeland by Alice Walker

Five Smooth Stones by Ann Fairbairn

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Favourite Writing Handbooks
Writing the Natural Way by Gabrielle Lusser Rico

Writing Down the Bones by Nathalie Goldberg

Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury

The Weekend Novelist by Robert J. Ray

30 Ways to Help You Write by Fran Weber Shaw (out of print but can buy it through
Abe Books link

Wild Mind by Nathalie Goldberg

Favourite Inspirational Books

Creating Money by Sanaya Roman
Living with Joy by Sanaya Roman
Personal Power Through Awareness by Sanaya Roman
Sanaya Roman link

The Power of Intention by Wayne Dyer

Ask and It is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks
Esther and Jerry Hicks link

Seth Book 1,2 & 3 by Esther and Jerry Hicks

Conversation with God Books by Neale Donald Walsch

Books - What I'm Reading

Sunday 23April06 10:17pm

Personal
The Circle - How the power of a single wish can change your life - By
Laura Day

Research
On The Breath Of The Gods by Ariel Tomioka
- research for novel in progress tentatively titled The Fold (3019)

The Uses of Enchantment - The meaning and importance of Fairy Tales -
by Bruno Bettelheim
Dreamways of the Iroquois - honoring the secret wishes of the soul - by
Robert Moss
- both books - research for novel in progress tentatively titled
Dreamweaver (Life's Miracles)

For General Writing
Writing Fiction - A guide to Narrative Craft - by Janet Burroway
Setting by Jack M. Bickham

I always have a few books on the go.

Disappearing Acts

Sunday 23April06 9:28pm
I feel restless. I feel like I could pick up and leave without a word.
I've been sleeping too much and my energy level is just above zero. If
I could, I'd sleep until this malaise went away. It could be a low
grade depression or just a throw back.

I've always had this element of my character, a need to run away,
disappear. It's something that comes up periodically whether I have
problems, conflicts or not. It's a throwback to my childhood, the
running away from my father. The only consistency was the knowledge
that my mother, brother and I would be moving soon - no matter where we
lived. We never stayed in one place for too long after we left my
violent father.

I went to three different elementary schools when I was in grade three
because we moved three times not including the times we moved outside
of the school year. In one of the schools I even told my teacher and
classmates that they could call me Lynne because there were two other
Shelley's in my class.

My mother was pissed that I would volunteer to be the one that changed.
I didn't understand her anger. It wasn't like I could describe what
home was since it changed so frequently and with almost clock like
regularity. What difference did it make if people called me Shelley or
Lynne?

I went from a personable outgoing little girl who had the same friends
in Kindergarten, Grade One, and Grade Two to an introverted person just
shy of developing a stutter. I couldn't make eye contact with anyone. I
was the turtle sticking its soft fleshy head into its hard shell at the
first sign of danger. I knew it was dangerous to answer personal
questions. It was dangerous to get too comfortable or too close because
in time I would disappear forever from their lives. I discovered early
that solitaire was the game I'd have to play.

The benefit of the constant moves was the guarantee that should a
problem arise with a classmate I wouldn't have to worry about making
amends or worse tolerate a mean child who punished me for some imagined
wrong doing.

In my third school in grade three, I had a crush on Andy, the cutest
boy in the class. he was always friendly and sometimes walked part of
the way home with me because we walked in the same direction.

Sunita, another classmate, called me at home one evening to tell me
that she believed that Andy had a crush on me too. I couldn't believe
it. Sunita convinced me that, "he always talks to you, he walks home
with you after school."

She had me. She added a few more juvenile instances of why I should
believe. She promised me that she would talk to him, tell him that I
liked him and from here on in I'd be the envy of all the girls in our
class.

The next day I walked into the school yard giddy with anticipation. I
waved to Sunita. She elbowed Andy and pointed my way. Andy looked at me
and made a face as if just by looking at me he could smell shit. The
anticipation changed to a need to flee. I think I went home sick that
day. When I found the courage days later I told Sunita that it didn't
matter what Andy thought of me because I was moving anyway.

That lie circulated my class before the day was out and even made it
back to my mother as a note from my teacher in my report card, two
months later, at the end of the school year. My teacher wrote about how
much she enjoyed having me in her class and knew I would be well liked
at my new school where ever I moved to.

"Why did you tell them we're moving when we're not?" My mother asked.

I shrugged my shoulders too embarrassed to say. By the beginning of
grade four we lived in a new apartment and I started yet another new
school.

I notice that today both my brother and I have a shared rootlessness
and lack of commitment. I've improved, mind you. I've lived in the same
apartment now for 15 years. But every so often I'm overwhelmingly
restless and if I didn't have quite as large a collection of books and
music I'd slip away, disappear out of people's lives and call myself
Lynne.

Late Bloomers

23April06
A woman I've worked with for ten years at my part-time job has handed
in her resignation. She was called a lifer by many because no one
could ever foresee her leaving her position. In a week she'll be
walking off into the sunshine of the possibilities of a newer and
better job with better pay and opportunities to travel.

It's funny how life works sometimes. People see someone in a job for a
long time and they can't see the possibility of that person leaving.
People see someone as being consistently single and they see that
person with pity and that ever unspoken question of, "what's wrong with
her that she can't get a man?"

It's hard to be a late bloomer, you know, one of those people that
doesn't get married young or never moves in with her first serious
boyfriend. Most people can't see past what your life looks like right
now. Is it a lack of imagination or belief? I don't know how many times
I've endured that question, "Have you met anyone yet?"

And if the answer is no, there is that pitying silence, that
implication that there is something wrong with me because I haven't
walked down the street and run into the one like some kind of freak
accident.

It's interesting because often the people that are asking the same old
tired question are in unhappy relationships. After they've let me stew
in the uncomfortable silence of almost making me feel obligated to
justify my singleness they'll turn around and say, "Sometimes it's
better not being in a relationship."

If you really believe that then why do you keep asking me if I've met
someone yet? I meet lots of someone's but it doesn't mean i want to
take it much further than that.

Of all the men I've dated through out my dateable years I couldn't see
myself with all that I know today, remaining with any of them. Should I
really have stayed with one of them so I wouldn't have to be single? I
honestly don't think so. I'd either have an ulcer or a rash all over my
body. If I have too many sleepless nights, develop a mysterious rash or
can't keep my food down repeatedly I look for what in my life is
causing my psychosomatic sickness. And dump the guy. But that's just
me.

I had a chat recently with a friend who has basically left his marriage
except he's forgotten to tell his wife. He's afraid to say that he
wants to break up because of the possibility of a messy divorce. I
would hate to be in that relationship. I would hate to think that the
man lying beside me doesn't want to be lying beside me but is too
scared to leave because he doesn't want the messyness that can come
with endings. But with endings comes the inevitable beginning.

He's a gorgeous guy too fully trained by his wife to be sensitive to
women's needs. ha ha! I'd date him if he was single.

Maybe the man I'm supposed to meet is still shaking like a fraidy cat
too scared to leave what he's got. How many people do you know that are
in relationships that they should have left eons ago?

Maybe the so-called single problem is like the economy. The more people
spend the better the economy is. The more people get out of stale
relationships and take the chance on being single the better the
options. You never know.

In the meantime, my work friend starts her new job in just over a week.
I told her, "you're life is going to change drastically and for the
better." In a few years all the naysayers will forget that they called
her a lifer and they'll still be sitting at that same job talking about
someone else. I cheer her with happy envy knowing that another late
bloomer has proven them all wrong.

National Novel Writing Month in November of each year

13April06
I just realized that I finally had a use for this image. If you are a writer and you have balls of steel check out http://www.nanowrimo.org
before November.

My Mother's Presence

More and more I feel my mother's presence. As I wash the dishes or prepare a meal I feel close to being able to see through her eyes or what it might have been like to see through her eyes. I understand her more when I can compare my life to hers.

I understand why she would stay with my step-father even though I hated him: It's hard being alone. It's hard to be the strong one all the time. It's hard to be always focused on bills and work and what direction I want my life to move in and having it together. It's hard to want a loving companion on the wheel of life and feel a suitable candidate isn't in the shadows. It's hard to sleep alone when I want the smell of that one strong man beside me. Those days that I want to admire a man's physique before I touch him can't always be alleviated by going to sleep.

Imagine going through all that as a single mother? That's why she stayed with my step-father.

I always believed that she could do it on her own but she just plain didn't want to. Unfortunately the man she chose didn't have the ability to be a full fledged companion.

That is my biggest relationship fear, to be with someone who hasn't the capability to love me fully. I fear that I will give myself to one person who will ultimately betray me in the worst of public humiliations.

I've never felt as lonely as I've felt in relationships although I did learn my own capabilities. With Jeff, I learned that I could forgive if I believe that love was real and that everybody makes mistakes. With Kevin, I learned that I could be the sex kitten in the bedroom and an intellectual equal in the daylight. I also learned that I could survive the crushing heartbreak of losing the man I thought I could marry. The recovery time took me five years, mind you. With Jerome, I learned that I could wait for a man to sew his wild oats. I waited long enough too until I discovered that those wild oats had multiplied exponentially like weeds that thrive the moment you pull them out. But after Jerome I was blessed with Kevin.

In my rush to be an independent woman seemingly unlike my mother I discover that I want that one man I can depend on. I want that unspoken love that is comfortable, sexy, fun and reassuring. My mother settled for as close to it as she believed she could get or more closely what she believed she deserved.

How close to it - to what we want - can we reasonably expect?

EY

Confessional Sundays

Sunday 9April06 7:27pm

In search of topics for my blog I figure today will be Confessional
Sunday. My true confession?
I am an informercial junkie. I discovered this purely by accident. We
were having a conversation at work recently and when I listed off all
the products I've purchased off infomercials I had no choice but to
surmise that I had the addiction condition.
I am an informercial, "if I just buy this one product my life will be
perfect," junkie.
I own an Urban Rebounder, Winsor Pilates, Tae Bo, Core Secrets, the
Magic Bullit and Tony Robbins Personal Power. I'd have the Raised Aero
Bed if it wasn't so expensive. I still want the "Set it and Forget it,"
rotisserie.
Yes folks, I'm an infomercial junkie. I admit to it, in three easy
payments.

April Fool

1Apr06 9:57pm

I got my only April Fools joke provided by google.com, if you can
believe it. While in my gmail account I saw a link to some new romance
thing that google was starting. I don't even know why I checked it out
because I'm not exactly the person to try matchmaking via the internet
but because I was at my part-time job not doing much I decided that I'd
goof around. I took the tour of <a
href="http://www.google.com/romance//"> http://www.google.com/romance/
</a> and decided to click one of the links about , "if you're date
doesn't work out click here" and of course that's when I found out that
google had done an elaborate April Fool's joke. Too funny! And it
wasn't their first time. Now I'll have to remember that for next year
and try to find out what their joke is.

A short day at work today. I walked home because I'm trying to move
more and lose a few of those winter pounds. ha! Being that it's a
Saturday, I had the big plan to do my laundry because most people go
out on Saturday but much to my chagrin every freakin' tenant has
learned that it's the best time to do your laundry in this apartment
building. So, I had to do one load at a time. The benefit is that I
walked up and down four flights of stairs about 8 times so it was
another built in work out.

Now I'm just limin' listening to music and enjoying my fate.
tee hee hee!

It's just nice not to be stressed out, arguing with a boyfriend, or
worrying about any little thing that can pop into a person's mind in
any given moment. Maybe there is hope for me yet.

Wednesday night I went out for a drink with one of my work mates. How
is it that these things start off so innocently? W invited Ted and Jeff
out as well. Jeff, who I'd never met before, was very personable. We
hit it off like a house on fire. We talked about all sorts of stuff,
general and personal. Cracked eachother up and the whole nine. We got
into a discussion of what attracts us to subsequent romantic liasons.
He asked me what I looked for or what attracted me. As I am one of
those people that likes different things about different people I
wasn't readily able to say just what it is that I like. In Montreal we
call it a certain, Je ne sais quoi which means, I don't know what but
sounds better in French.

I say to Jeff as long as you are not a Capricorn. All of a sudden he's
at the other end of the bar and I most likely yelled, (because I can
get passionate - some people call it loud!) "YOU'RE A CAPRICORN!"
He nodded his head with a smile and said, "my birthday is December
28th."

"DECEMBER 28TH!"

Then I proceed to tell him that not only have I gone out with two
different men named Jeff they were both born on December 28th. Now how
freaky is that? They both ultimately turned out to be bad experiences.
I said it feels at times that God cracks a joke and this was one of
them. I don't always learn my lesson the first time around but I
certainly learn the second time around.

The first Jeff was a 5 year on again off again stint and having not
learned my lesson the first time and asking no one in particular (or
maybe God?) with the second Jeff, "how bad can it be the second time?"
Well, that relationship lasted a whopping two months. All I'm going to
say in case anyone actually ever comes across this bloggy EY page is
that it only lasted two months for a few reasons.
1 - I sometimes give up on people and I was worried that maybe I was
too hard on people and I should give him a chance.
2 - In the second month it was close to Christmas and it's just not
nice to dump some one at Christmas. But Christmas happened and boxing
day went by and the day before his birthday I was thinking, "I can't
have this person close to my spirit crushing me another day longer and
especially not in the New Year! I'd rather be alone. I broke up with
him the day before his birthday and can I just say, never looked back.
Of course there are bigger reasons that this but I'm not that
vindictive to blab it here. He knows what happened.

Now, I decided that this year would be more of a yes year and less of a
no year. What I mean of course is that I would say yes to trying
different things, meeting new people and getting out more outside of my
comfort zone. I have many friends that I regularly hang out with but
considering the bulk of those people are my work mates from my
full-time gig (married men) and my work mates from my part-time gig
(gay men). My chances of meeting single men that I would consider
dating are beyond slim. It's kind of hard to approach a woman who is
sitting at a table with six men. And the gay bar scene isn't conducive
for a straight woman to meet a straight man, in case you were
wondering. I get copious amounts of hugs from really attractive men and
some of them even give me their number for me to call them and let them
know when I'll be at the gay bar again, but not a date with a straight
man yet. And really, if you meet a so called straight man at a gay bar
are you going to wonder, does he swing both ways? I'm just asking!

Last week, however, I met a woman. Now it's not what you're thinking. I
went to a fund raiser for my friend A. I went with my other two gay
male friends H and J. So here I sit chatting and laughing on one of the
couches with my three gay male friends. Having a wonderful time. I
happen to look over at the other couch and there sits a woman with her
three gay male friends laughing and chatting. Our eyes meet and we both
burst out laughing.
I say, "we got to give this stuff up and go out together to a straight
bar and meet some straight men."

She agreed and we exchanged phone numbers. Let's see if we follow
through on it but it's a step in the right direction.
It's a step in the right direction.

I've spent so much of my time not focused on male/female relationships
that now I'm willing to make it more of a priority. Not still a top
priority but making myself more available for the possibility. In some
ways I really want to meet that one person that I can talk to and have
fun with and share my life with. I do have a lot to offer someone and
I'm a to the wall loyal type of person but I've come to realize that
not just anyone fits that bill. Just because someone is nice doesn't
mean he's faithful etc etc ad nauseum...

One thing I like in a relationship which to me is like my many
friendships is the ability to go to a party and be off in a
conversation with other people while my significant other is off in a
conversation with completely different people and in the midst of
talking our eyes meet across the room and there is a wink, a smile, a
kiss blown in the air, some sort of contact. I had that in one
relationship with Kevin. Every so often I'd go and get him a beer and
walk up to him, not interrupt his conversation, take his empty, slip
the full bottle into his hand and walk back to whoever else I was
talking to. He always commented on how much he loved that. Especially
since he always paid for everything, I think it was nice for him to
have his girlfriend pay and not just wait for him to open his wallet.
He reciprocated by coming and grabbing me away from my conversation to
dance to a song that he knew I liked.

We never felt that we had to be joined at the hip and yet we always had
built in time that we shared together to enjoy ourselves.

I also like a man that can find things to occupy his time while I'm
writing. There's nothing better than having a man's presence without
feeling like I have to give him my undivided attention. I write, he
reads a book, draws, does the dishes (whatever) and I work on my
writing. Every so often I stop to get a kiss or say something that
cracks us both up and I go back to my words. It's a reassuring feeling
and makes writing less of a solitary pursuit. I love the solitary but I
really love a low maintenance companion in my solitary. You dig?

I can remember growing up and my step father would get so pissed off if
my mom was sitting in the kitchen with me and not in the living room
watching television with him. She was in the house for crying out loud.
Why would any one want to watch television only because their partner
is? It seems ridiculous to me. Maybe it's just me. I do know many
couples that have to watch t.v. together.

One of the good things with 'Jeff Dec 28th lasted two months' was that
in the mornings I would read whatever book I was currently on and he
would do his crossword puzzle from the daily star. To me that was
quality time. If either of us wanted to talk, we'd say something and if
we didn't we wouldn't.

Who knows what will happen but this year is more of a yes year and less
of a no year for me amidst all the writing of course.