blog-a-day

What got me here was this.

It's a brilliant blog, written by a brilliant man, about nothing and everything.

I'm addicted.

Something that my handsome fiance mentioned in a workshop this year at Freshwind sparked my imagination. He said that in order to sharpen your skills as a songwriter, you should write a song a day (I believe this piece of advice was actually yoinked from Tim Hughes...?).

Which reminds me of something my professional writing professor, Guy Allen, told us to do to back in university.

Marathons aren't run by those who are out of shape.

a boy and his pony

This story, taken from a blog I like to browse every once in a while (and, yes, it's worth your time to browse it too...it will heighten your appreciation for history), made me:

1. Tear up.
2. Laugh out loud.
3. Desire to get a pony for my kids one day.
   and
   
4. Resolve not to complain quite so much about my cat being in heat.
   

navigation

On men:

"The path to our heart is well marked, but it's also narrow,
for there are few that we trust with it."
(Dr. Leman)

On trust:
The sun's coming up
She's pulled all the blankets over
Curled in a ball
Like she's hiding from me and
That's when I know
She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up
For terrible things I did to her in her dreams

You wanna see the other side
What's going on behind the eyes
Still it seems if you can't trust
You can't be trusted

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

Hello.

(Ben Folds, "Trusted")


On marriage:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments: love is not love
Which alters whe it alteration finds.
(Bill Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI)

silda

I admit I'm not one to follow politics, the goings-on in America, or the combination thereof. But the Spitzer scandal has my attention.

Or, rather, Silda does.

I can't imagine the bludgeon her heart sustained when she found out what her husband had done in secret but I can imagine that there's more to the story than a governor's cliché dalliances. In an interview given to 02138 Magazine before the scandal, Silda was "asked if she and her husband take time together, just the two of them" to which she laughed and responded, "It's hard to say what we do..."

Now, sitting at my desk, I'm reading a letter to the editor in today's Toronto Star that says: "Silda, like many other spouses who have found themselves in the same ghastly dilemma, agonized over what her self-respect demanded and conducted herself in that light - in other words, out of regard to what, all things considered, was most conducive to her own self-respect. But why did she choose humiliation?"

I'm just speculating, but what if she has decided to stand by her husband's side, figuratively and literally, not because it was "conducive to her own self-respect" but because she still respects him? What if standing by her husband's side, figuratively and literally, isn't as much a symbol of "humiliation" as much symbol of humble commitment?

What about the 'till death do us part' bit?

An oldies song that my mom used to sing to me (if you knew my mom, you'd understand) goes:

Evil grows in the dark
Where the sun it never shines
Evil grows in cracks and holes
And lives in people's minds

I was recently, pleasantly surprised to discover that, in the right context and with the right person, the disclosure of The Skeletons can actually facilitate intimacy. Which is bizarre to me because the very things I desperately attempted to forget about were always whispering threats to prevent intimacy.

Stupid lies.

Stupid secrets.

Stupid cracks and holes.

Thanks, Silda. I pray that you find healing for your wounds and a greater understanding of how much you are Loved. I bless you to discover restorative light and intimacy in the tapestry of your marriage. Let Him repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.

deux ans

"Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would
have us believe. It is indeed unmanageable, but the essence
of it is not a battle. It is unmanageable because it is a romance,
and its essence is romantic beauty."
(E.M. Forester, Howards End)

As wonderful as last year's anniversary was, I wouldn't wish myself back there for the world. My two-year-old love for Andrew is a much richer vintage than my one-year-old love...and the best is still to come...

great big God*

It occurred to me today...

I'm pretty sure that God took into consideration how much Andrew and I both love England.

Our wedding reception is at the Old Mill:

And we've acquired our first apartment on Annette Street:
Coincidence?

* a shout-out to Rob Critchley, author of "Great Big God", who, along with his lovely wife, Dawn, had a significant role in tackling our pre-marriage counselling.

life is beautiful

This morning, I discovered that two of the most amazing human beings and wonderful friends have re-emerged on the Blogspot scene:

The dashing Miss Linda
and
The eloquent Mr Jacob

Not to mention my very own wonderful fiance,

The charming Mr Andrew

who has faithfully kept me company in blogland for over two years now (since before we were together...it was love at first comment).

I experienced such a flood of affection for both Linda and Jacob when I read their recent posts - a beautiful revelation about Valentine's Day from Linda's and a stunning memoir of his grandmother's funeral on Jacob's. Poking around the archives I could remember all the joys, pains and dramas of when I first welcomed into this family. The joys, pains and dramas now look so small in comparison to the joys, pains and dramas we face today...which will look minuscule in comparison to the joys, pains and dramas that we will face in the future...

I'm so ridiculously blessed to have met such incredible people. I can only hope that though time, geography and circumstance continue to alter our paths that they will still run parallel. At least in blogland.

And I think over again
My small adventures
When with a shore wind I drifted out
In my kayak
And thought I was in danger.

My fears,
Those small ones
That I thought so big,
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach.

And yet, there is only
One great thing,
The only thing:
To live and to see in huts and on journeys
The great day that dawns,
And the little light that fills the world.
- a Native song, posted on the TTC

but you can't jump the track
we're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass
glued to the table
no one can find the rewind button now
sing it if you understand
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe
oh breathe, just breathe
oh breathe, just breathe
- Anna Nalik, Breathe (2 am)