Month: February 2005

  • A Nice Touch of Romance...




    On Sunday night I was wined and dined and festooned with flowers! The old hound took me to La Pentola for dinner. We had a romantic table by the fireplace. It is a lovely place. Service was excellent, food wonderful, atmosphere one of understated elegance. We shared Calamari in Dijon Sauce and a salad and then I had filet of sole and the old hound had seafood linguini. I had my first cafe au lait which was excellent. It was served in a long stemmed glass with special sugar in a silver bowl.


    Then we were whisked off by taxi to the cineplex to see Million Dollar Baby. I enjoyed the film and it was fun seeing one on the big screen for a change. It really is different when you "go" to the movies. (Guess who didn't fall asleep!  )


    It was a lovely valentine evening spent with a true gentleman.

  •  




    Happy Valentine's Day To Everybody!


  • First It Was Cockroaches, Then It Was Mice, Now It's..........


    Snowmen!



    These are the fellows who have moved in with me for the time being. As you can see from the picture below they are quite sociable and unconscionably cheery!


  • A busy, tiring day today. I couldn't sleep so I was up with the larks.....oh wait, those are pigeons!  


    First of all a trip to the hairdresser. I'm still not done experimenting! I like how this turned out. The poor old hound won't know how to recognize me soon. I should have been going someplace exotic tonight with my new "do" but....that ain't going to happen. Tomorrow however is a different story. I have a "date" with the old hound for dinner and a movie. We are going to try an Italian restaurant that neither of us has been to before. Should be an adventure!


    Today however was all about work. I went to my ex's house (that still seems strange to me - that it isn't my house anymore) and picked up the last of my belongings. Because it was the last of it, it was all odd shaped awkward stuff so it took quite a few trips to get it up the elevator. I admit I felt a bit silly carrying two big plastic light up snowmen and a huge wooden snowman plaque, but I wasn't giving them up! They do give the living room a rather cheery festive look however!  It's getting just a little bit crowded in here......hurry up May!


    I don't even know what is in half of the boxes, but there is no point even opening them up into they get moved into the house in May. I saw my sewing machine and that made me laugh. I had gotten that as a birthday present when I was first married. It is practically brand new because I never did figure out how to sew anything on it. Maybe in my new life I will take it up and learn how to be a seamstress. Lots of possibilities. Lots of options.


    My ex house has just undergone a massive redecoration/renovation. The walls all freshly painted, kitchen and bathroom floor redone, new toilet, new sink and taps. I find it a bit ironic that it looks better than when we were living in it together. Too bad there was never the time or the money back then......Of course it is all being done to increase its resale value. Too bad it wasn't evaluated for my settlement after all the improvements were done.


    This is a hard time for me because I can't get into my house and start anything and the apartment I am living in is rapidly becoming like a warehouse, full of boxes and shelves etc. Still, it is only temporary. It hasn't bothered me enough yet to actually do anything about it!


    The Blue Baby Is Back!! My beautiful car is all better! All is right with my world! Most people might find it silly to be so attached to a car, but to me it is very special. It's hard to explian, but to me it represents my new life and what I am trying to accomplish. It is the most expensive and most luxurious thing I have ever bought (not counting the house!) and I want to look after it so I can keep it for a loooong time.


    My first car was a 1976 Mini I bought for five hundred dollars around 1982. My second car was a red Hyundai Pony which I kept for ten years. That was a hardy little car that got me to work in some pretty bad weather. My third car was a green Pontiac Sunbird. It was a two door sport coupe and I loved that car. I kept it for eleven years, but at the end it was rusting very badly. All my previous cars were standard transmission and fairly small, so what do I go and buy? A big blue cadillac! The biggest, most impractical, gas guzzling car on the lot but I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It's only six years old so I plan to get alot of use out of it.


    Cars seem to take on their own personalities and mine has a nice mellow feel. No matter what has been happening in my life I can sink down into those leather seats, start her up and GO. And while I am GO-ing everything seems to be all right. Driving clears my mind and relaxes me. I often think of my best lines and ideas while driving. Little scraps of paper with scribbled words often litter my seats! Maybe someday someone will find a bestseller stuffed in my glove compartment!


     


     

  • Back to this business of writing! Today I entered/submitted three poems to yet another publication. this one is for a publication called Niederngasse. The deadline is March 31, so time for more waiting!


    For anyone with inflated ego problems I highly recomment writing and submitting. It is about the most humbling thing I have ever done. To hand something over to a stranger, something you poured your heart and soul into, something that contains your very essence, just to have them skim over it, hand it back and say "I don't think so"  is not easy.


    Much safer and kinder to the psyche to write your heart out and keep it hidden away. Away from prying, mocking eyes. Away from minds that can't grasp that point in the universe that you are trying to distill into the essence of a mere few words. Much safer yes, but since when lately has misslill ever done the "safe" thing?!    


    So out into the ether of cyberspace I toss my meager words. Let them fall where they may! (Hopefully onto the desk of somebody that thinks they are worthwhile )


    If any writers out there are interested in submitting you can check them out at www.niederngasse.com .

  • Back from a very invigorating walk. It is minus 7 outside today, but it felt colder in the wind. Of course, as usual, I was woefully underdressed - sans hat but I did wear gloves! The sky is blue, the sun is shining and the air is crisp; all is right with the world. (except for the tips of my ears which are a bit red ).


    My trek took me to the Global Villiage second hand store. Well...you just knew there had to be a store involved didn't you? I love second hand shops. Every time you step into one you never know what you will find. Such an air of anticipation, expectation, excitement! It is always fascinating looking at rows of other people's discarded or donated treasures. Sometimes you come across something so different, so highly unusual that you just can't resist it. That which someone no longer wants is just what you were looking for...and so the cycle continues.


    I love the randomness of those stores. Everything jumbled together with no apparant rhyme or reason - just hopeful items waiting to be chosen and taken home so they can be useful again. Two excellent items to find second hand are books and music. Second hand shops take eclecticism (if that is a word, if not I just invented it) to new heights. Biographies of people long forgotten, obscure volumes of poetry, romance novels, westerns all stacked alongside each other. Records, tapes, cd's of everything from opera to hip hop. (hint: just make sure the record/tape/cd is the same one that is listed on the cover - I have been surprised and disappointed a few times when I got home)Cultures collide at breakneck speed in thrift shops!!


    Today I showed remarkable restraint. I bought two cassette tapes and two books. East of Eden by John Steinbeck and The Ultimate Nap Book: Change Your Life Without Getting Out Of Bed by Sark. (can't get more diverse than that!  ). The tapes are We Are In Love by Harry Connick Jr. and I Love Everybody by Lyle Lovett. I have never heard Lyle Lovett and for fifty cents I thought it was a good time to try him out. I'm sure he would be thrilled to find out he'd been rescued from the "bargain bin" by misslill.

  •  I had a little visitor today in my kitchen......and it wasn't Mickey but it was a mouse! I was watching "Singing In The Rain" on the movie channel and  saw something move out the corner of my eye. There was a gray mousie stepping out from under my stove. 


    I have nothing against mice in general, and am not afraid of them, but really don't like the thought of them trotting around my apartment. However, I do admit that I would rather have mice than cockroaches. Now if mice ate cockroaches that would be perfect!!


    Having chosen my apartment to infest, if one mouse can be considered an infestation, I suppose he must be a fairly literate mouse with impeccable taste. His ratty (pardon the pun) grey fur probably belies a sophisticated soul. I should probably put some brie or port salut in the trap instead of mere cheddar. Perhaps a sprinkling of grated parmesan?


    I wonder if he is related to the mouse that came to visit earlier this year? Perhaps I am on their list of "must see" apartments as they pass through the neighbourhood. The fact that mousie is present at all could be looked at in an optimistic light. Pliny the Elder states that "When a building is about to fall down all the mice desert it." I guess that means this ghetto apartment will stand for a few more years yet!


    In honour of my uninvited houseguest I will include yet another mouse quote:


    ...But nature does not say that cats are more valuable than mice; nature makes no remark on the subject. She does not even say that the cat is enviable or the mouse pitiable. We think the cat superior because we have (or most of us have) a particular philosophy to the effect that life is better than death. But if the mouse were a German pessimist mouse,  he might not think that the cat had beaten him at all. He might think he had beaten the cat by getting to the grave first. - Gilbert Keith Chesterton


    I am keeping my camera handy and hope to be able to get a shot of him for posterity. Do you think my little self imposed exile has gone to my head?


    Apart from this little "hiccup", things are quite calm. I dropped my beloved blue caddy off  yesterday to have it fixed and will hopefully have it back by Friday. New front bumper, new rear bumper....ouch!  It actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and it will be worth it to see her looking beautiful again. In the meantime I have taken three glorious vacation days from work, hence my self imposed exile.


    I have been on a movie watching marathon. Matrix 2 and 3 (thanks Sheila!) and The Human Stain yesterday. Today (this morning) Singing in the Rain. After I go for a walk and do some chores I want to watch Quills (about the Marquis De Sade) and Dead Again with Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson. Normally I rarely even turn the tv on, but I do like movies and this is a good opportunity to get my fill.


    It is odd being so secluded and more or less "marooned". Usually I am out and about, always around people and always doing something. Now I am forced to slow down and simply be alone with myself. It is a good opportunity to do nothing, to just "be". That may sound odd, but I sometimes find it hard to sit still and do nothing. I feel guilty, like I should be accomplishing or "doing" something. For the next few days I plan to do very little. Its just me, mousie and the pigeons!

  •  A Foggy Day.........
     
    The fog comes
    on little cat feet.
    It sits looking                        
    over harbor and city            
    on silent haunches
    and then moves on.
    Carl Sandburg,

    A foggy, damp day. I always like foggy days. You look out the window and strain to see outside. You can make out shapes but they aren't quite clear. You can almost see. The atmosphere takes on an almost otherworldly glow. Normal objects look strange and even a little threatening. Trees loom out of nowhere reaching out to touch you,  bushes glower at you from the side of the path. Silence surrounds you. Dampness seeps into your bones and chills the heart, making the warmth of home all that more welcome. There is a mysterious aura around fog. It always makes me a little pensive.


    Poetry can say, in a few words, what entire novels try to portray. (And that dear readers was a completely unintentional rhyme!  )


    My favorite poem is "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. I remember going to my grade 10 English class and seeing it written on the blackboard. It was left over from the class that had been there before us. There was just a fragment of verse left and when I read it I was transfixed. I asked my teacher who the author was and made a point of finding and copying out the whole piece. That poem started my love affair with poetry.


    I scoured second hand stores and garage sales for poetry books. My thirst was insatiable. I devoured it all, modern, ancient and in-between. Lyrical poetry and humorous poetry. I was fascinated by the fact that by using just a few well placed words and entire idea could be formed, an idea that would take a novelist pages and pages to convey. I loved the sheer beauty of the language, the music and the rhythm. I adored the way poetry seemed to grasp how I felt about nature and the world around me.


    Then I decided to try and write. I began to express myself and my feelings in poetry and have been doing so ever since. Most of my work has been private until this year. I think poetry, more than any other kind of art, is intensely personal. It is hard to share something with others that comes from so deep a place in your heart. I don't think it has anything to do with people liking or not liking it, or even people understanding it. I think it is the fact that each poem contains a piece of your soul.                                                              



    Writing poetry can be frustrating, but ultimately deeply gratifying. Sometimes you have a thought or idea that you long to express, but the words will not come.(I have a file folder full of those! ) Sometimes you start something but feel it isn't complete, it isn't quite right, so you wait until the right words come and you change it. (That is my "needs work" folder). On rare and wondrous occasions you get an idea, write something within minutes and just know "that's it". Complete and intact, just as it is.



     Whether it comes right away or takes years to finish, to have written a poem is a magical thing. It is a precious thing capturing a glimmering fragment of time, frozen forever. You have put into words what most people only see with their eyes. If what you have written touches someone, (yourself or others), touches their soul, then it is all worthwhile. Then you feel proud to call yourself  "a poet".



     



     


     

  • Edith Wharton
    There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

    Doris Mortman
    Until you make peace with who you are, you'll never be content with what you have.

    Coco Chanel
    How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone.


     

    A question that I am sure everyone remembers is "what do you want to be when you grow up?".  With me, the answer never changed very much, but the actual outcome did! My first recollection was around kindergarten age, I wanted to be a vet. I don't remember how I even knew what a vet was, someone must have told me, but I loved all creatures (even the creepy crawly ones) and wanted to look after them.

     

    At around the same age I decided I wanted to be a writer. I started to read at a very young age, probably one of the benefits of having much, much older siblings. They taught me how to read, and then were too busy to spend time with me so I spent my time reading.  

     

    Before kindergarten I was reading fairly complex books. On the first day of school I read through the entire reader. I remember it being a yellow book called Surprises. The teacher then gave me the grade two reader, a pink book called Mr.Whiskers and I read that!

     

    It was always a bit of a double edged sword. I loved words and I loved to read. The books in school were far to simple so my attention wandered. I was also not very strong in math and sciences, no matter how hard I tried. My favourite place was the public library. I was very shy and tended to withdraw into the world of books. I longed to be able to create those magical worlds that existed only on paper.

     

    By grade two I was reading Agatha Christie novels and decided I wanted to become a "famous detective writer". Either that or a famous detective. To this day I still love a good english drawing room murder mystery....it just gets harder to find ones that I haven't read.

     

    School was difficult for me all the way through. I excelled at english, french, history and typing and failed miserably at math, science and geography. Even in high school it was the same story.

     

    The two career choices I had made at that early age never changed. I finished grade twelve with no other desire than to be a vet or an author. Of course, the real world had other ideas. My marks were by no means good enough for me to go to university for veterinary courses. My finances were by no means good enough for me to go to university for english or for anything period. Practicality dictated that I leave school after grade twelve, despite having gone through all the advanced courses in preparation for grade thirteen. I applied for nursing school, my reason being that it was a two year program and with a loan I could just about make it.

     

    My parents had never prepared for any of their childrens further education so it was not going to be an easy road. I remember my grade twelve english teacher turning his back on me in disgust when I told him my plans. He felt it was a waste, but you have to live. Besides, I told myself, it won't be forever. Just until I can get settled enough to do what I really want to do!

     

    I did manage to get through nursing school. It wasn't easy because of my poor science and math grades. I was living in residence and working part time. That meant finishing classes, hopping on the bus and working from 5 to 9:30 in a clothing store for the princely sum of  $3.15 an hour. Later it went up to $4.80 and I was delerious. The worst time was when I was doing the hospital training. Up at 5am and work until 3:30, get back, get changed, get to work until 9:30pm. Looking back I honestly don't know how I did it. I remember having a baked potato for supper or sometimes popcorn because it was all I had. (no wonder I was skinny, I never ate!).

     

    When I graduated and got a job I moved into a bachelor apartment and got down to the business of earning a living. Just temporary mind you, until I can do what I really want to do!! 

     

    I have been doing that "temporary" job ever since. For twenty two years I have worked full time as a nurse. That has been the one constant in my life. That has largely defined who I am, yet if I were to describe myself I am sure that that would be one of the last things that I would say.

     

    Throughout my single life, married life and now through divorce I have been a nurse. Throughout all the changes and upheavals in my life and all the lives around me, this has been my source of stability. Do I like it?.... Yes and no.

     

    I am very grateful to have had and to still have a job that pays well and has a certain degree of stability. It was never the career I would have chosen, had I been given more opportunity. I have met and kept some wonderful friends through my job. I have laughed and cried and learned a lifetime full of experiences. I have worked physically and mentally harder than I ever thought humanly possible. I have seen joy and pain and grief and despair beyond imagining.

     

    All that being said, to me it is just a job. A job that I do to the best of my ability and I job that I do well. The danger of a job like nursing is its ability to drain. It can drain you of energy, time and emotion. Your life can become a cycle of waking up, going to work, coming home, waking up, going to work etc. You just get too tired to do anything else. Your brain gets numb and dulled and you forget that there is another kind of life out there.

     

    I would periodically become inspired and write or draw, but it was just easier to put it all aside and get on with the daily mundane business of living. It's a sterile, dry kind of living, devoid of passion and drive. This is what I want to change. I want to be able to combine the two, job and vocation in harmony.  

     

    I care about my patients and my co workers, but basically nursing pays the bills.It provides for me all the material things that I did without early on. Now it will allow me to continue to do the things that I want to do, explore other avenues of being. It has inspired me, but it has also hardened and toughened me. There is no way to do that kind of challenging work for so long without closing off a certain part of your feelings and emotions.

     

    I will continue to do my job as long as I am able, but I want to explore the possibility now of being someone as opposed to something. I need to make peace with who I am. I need to find out who I am in order to do that. I know I want to be the candle not the reflection.  Not a nurse, or writer or any other definition. I want to be something that defies definition....I want to be me! (and when I figure out who exactly that is, you will all be the first to know! )




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  • At twenty we worry about what others think of us; at forty we don't care about what others think of us; at sixty we discover they haven't been thinking about us at all. author unknown

misslill

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