5) A Lame Excuse For A List

February 28, 2010

Somehow Sunday has rolled around and I still haven’t posted a list (almost wrote lost) for this week even though my plan was to post one on Wednesdays. Even as I sit here I really have no clue what I plan to write. Now why is that? Well:

  • Seems like when a question is tossed at my head, like a tomato to a tenth-rate-stage-wannabe, my mind fills with a static so deeply humming I can scarcely hear myself think straight (or round, or crooked for that matter). A another good example to illustrate this point might be: Hey Kim, what do you want to be when you grow up? (which, might I add, loses a certain amount of charm when your in your mid-forties). <Insert static sound here.>
  • I have an enormous stack of papers I promised myself I’d deal with by the end of this week. Actually, I told myself I’d deal with them by Monday (last Monday) but have pushed it, and push it,  and push the date forward. Still not done.
  • It’s sunny out and I need some vitamin D.
  • I have to leave the house in about fifteen minutes.
  • Even though I have a list of lists I could consult, I’m too lazy to pick an idea and invest the brain capacity require to make one happen.
  • I have a new camera I need to play with it.
  • Considering I usually have at least one on the go at all times, I’m surprised at how challenging it is to post an even slightly interesting list once a week. We’re not talking: onions, cornmeal, plump green olives, Apollonaris Mineral water, apples., blah, blah, blah… BTW, I promise I will abandon my weekly listing if it ever comes to posting what I need to buy at the market – unless, of course, I can make it interesting.
  • I just don’t have it in me this week to pull one out of my head like a rabbit from a top hat.

Ta Da (Ta D’uh?) I did it. I’m not saying it ain’t lame but it is a list of sorts. I promise (did I just use the P word) I will try to make this coming weeks list a bit more… list-y.

And I should say, even though I’m not a big hockey fan I’m feeling a little bit patriotic so…




February 26, 2010

I did manage to slide down into the valley today to freeze a few snowy shots in my viewfinder but, wow, what an absence of sunlight in these parts. Not a lot of contrast goin’ on. I look forward to zooming back down there when the sun is shining. I will say, it was pretty spectacular, even though that might not be so evident from these shots (I almost wrote shits – oops- and really I don’t mind them). I’m just getting used to shooting with my camera and need to play, play play.

Taylor Creek

Curvy Solitude


February 24, 2010

We had the most amazing snowfall on Monday evening. I had planned to hit he trail yesterday morning, new camera in tow, with the hopes of snapping up a few shots of the snow packed trees and hidden pathways. But, when I woke up yesterday a lot had already melted. By the time I got my Sorels laced the sky was gray and the puddles wide. I did manage to take a few shots but I  wasn’t really feeling inspired. Also, it was raining and I was afraid of getting the lens wet. According to the weather network, Southern Ontario has a few more centimetres drifting our way (and a few more than that) in the days to come. I think I’ll take this opportunity to say what I often mutter to myself with regards to my latest endeavours… There’s always tomorrow.

Yeah, that’s right… I’ll blame it on the weather.

Snap To It

February 23, 2010

On Saturday I found myself skipping across Queen Street East to the subway with my first DSLR camera in hand. Yes… I was sweating a little (which might have been due to the skipping?) because, for me, this is a fairly big purchase. I’ve been dreaming about buying a DSLR for some time now and every once in a while, my irrational side slaps me across the face and takes over. My rational side is extremely important to me but there’s a fine line between what I call “rational” and being an over-thinking-dream-douser. Let me tell you, there are many a flame I’ve tipped the pail of cool, rational water over. I like when my irrational side wins (btw, my irrational will only go so far) because then, at least momentarily, the internal tug ‘o war in my head stops pulling. Buy it. No, I better not. Do it. Maybe one day. What are you waiting for? Shut up. No, YOU shut up. Just do it. Just doit. Justdoitalready!!! All right already, you win. Financially…  this is not the best time, but when is? (note: I am not – at all condoning anyone to go into debt or get further into one.) I ended up with the Canon Rebel T1i after reading reviews, asking around and seeing what other people, whose shots I admire, are using – and one I could almost afford. Now it’s mine and I’m happy and I better snap to it because, seriously, have a whole lot to learn. But, that’s part of the fun.

Sunny Daze.

February 21, 2010

Short post today since the sun streaming through my window has chosen one of my many, over-run flat surfaces (the one with the most enormous dust heap cascading off its edges) to reflect to me my need to a) dust and b) be out in the sunshine, which, the weather forecast claims, ought to be blazing all day – and at above zero temperatures. Also, I accidentally bought myself a bit of an expensive toy yesterday and must play with it whilst figuring out how exactly I plan to pay for it since, as far as money goes, this, for me, is a pretty lean-ish time. We’ll see…

So on that note, I’m off to go wrestle some dust bunnies and then hopefully spend the better part of the day tipping my head back to the sun.

Happy Sunday – whether it’s shining or not.

Pushing Up Daisies

February 20, 2010

Last night, Bill and I, in the span of about three months (we had to pace ourselves) just finished devouring all five seasons of Six Feet Under, almost five years after the season finale aired. It wasn’t easy dodging plot summaries and episode recounts (and I ain’t giving anything away here) but somehow we managed. Or, at least I did, Bill wasn’t as lucky but kept the major leak to himself (thank you). I also want take this opportunity to thank my colleagues for keeping it clamped back in ’05, and many times since, every time I shot them a dirty look (or in some cases waiting until I left the room) whenever the show’s name was mentioned, by refraining from spilling the beans. The series was great from the first to last episode and has plunged under my skin like a cool, thin syringe poised to draw blood from my quivering veins. Kudos to the creators, cast and crew. For me, you scored 100%. If you haven’t seen it yet I highly recommend digging in. We watched the last two seasons in of a couple of weeks so it will feel strange now that it’s over.

I think I’m in mourning.

The Writing on the Wall

February 19, 2010

As you may or may not know, February is Black History Month in the Canada and the United States. It’s a month of recognition not without controversy, but one that for me can at times draw my attention to where and how I fit into the place I call home. My neighborhood, Toronto (where I live), Winnipeg (where I grew up) and my country as well as the world at large.

My very own black history goes a little bit as follows: Grew up in a Winnipeg neighborhood with very few black families (or any visible minority). My school life fit the same pattern. Winnipeg at present looks a lot more colourful than it did in the late ’60s and ’70s. In a general sense, I felt welcome growing up in my community although I carried a fairly persistent ball of tension in my stomach and on my shoulders while I unconsciously sussed-out my environment. It was difficult to truly feel like I fit in because I didn’t. One of these things is not like the others… I had the afro while most of my friends had feathered hair. But the people I went to school with seemed to pay no mind to my differences, and at the time, many of my race related discomforts were so underground even I had difficulty seeing them, because more often than not, nothing was said or happened but when it did, it hit hard.

Thirteen years old. Boys from a visiting basketball team bust into the girl’s locker room. A change room frenzy ensues (which every teenage girl prays for)- screams, hoots and get-outs! ricochet of the metal lockers until I hear one of the boys say (was I really the only person to pick this up?), “This would be great if we could just get rid of the nigger.” Ouch. The helium balloon hoisting my heart immediately deflated. I quietly leave the room. When I’m sixteen some dude tells me, “You’re the best looking black woman I know.” I skip my next few steps, then stop batting my lashes as I wonder, in the atmosphere we live in, exactly how many black women does he knows? Jump twenty years later. I’m walking on a peaceful Sunday morning, in Toronto, through an almost deserted parking lot. Two woman stand face to face at the booth where you pay. The closer I get the clearer their conversation becomes. The parking lot attendant wants the money she’s owed by the person who parked there. “You effin’ N this, you effin N that,” (not the exact words) the finger wagging parker shouts, clearly not interested in paying. I feel as if my head will blow off as I approach the scene. I slide my arm around the attendant’s shoulder telling her to turn her back to the nonsense and walk away. “No piece of change is worth this bullshit,” I say. Before getting into her car the woman pitches a few bills in the attendant’s face then drives off. The situation seriously stuns me. I’m shaken up. And even though I feel like puking, stepping in never felt so good. There have been other slurs along the way. Not many. Unfortunate fucked-up blips, I’ll call them.

Several years ago, I was shocked to discover I felt lucky to have had experienced so few run-ins with blatant-racial-tension when the truth is I should have felt angry to have had collided with any at all. But I’ve come a long way. I honestly believe if someone has an issue with who I am, solely based on what I look like, although it doesn’t feel so great, it’s their problem. D’uh… But I tell you, yesterday, when I walked into my neighborhood subway station and saw the graffiti I hate niggers scrawled on the wall (yeah, I’m serious) my heart sank. I most certainly did not take it personally but I felt sad knowing that’s the way someone was thinking. I felt angry, too, and let down, but it didn’t stick to me. Over the years we’ve all made strides, leaps and bounds in a positive direction from where we were fifty (even five!) years ago and no one can touch that except, I hope, by making the world an even better place for everyone. But those three words that stopped me in my tracks made me wonder exactly how far we’ve really come.

4) Moon Shadow

February 17, 2010

The night before last, in the midst of all that tossing and turning, I had a multitude of jumbled bits roaming around my head. I’m sure if I had seen an X-ray of my noggin it would have looked like one of those clear bubbles pitching about the numbered balls for a bingo game. Or maybe, a hot-air popper blasting those kernels around until they burst into a fluffy, well-formed, mouth-watering ball of popcorn. I can assure you, at no time during my restless tumble did I feel the urge to shout out the word, BINGO! Nor did any of the thoughts ricocheting off the side of my skull puff out into anything fluffy or mouth-watering. But, I did take mental note of the dizzying array of items whizzing past my wide open eyes. By the looks of my moonlit inventory, one might imagine I spend my days fretting about anything and everything – big or small. This simply isn’t true. There is so much in my life I am hand-claspingly grateful for, however, this doesn’t mean there isn’t room to change or grow – although settling and accepting, to some degree, might be a bit less tiring. Anyway, what better time to start grappling over this stuff then when it’s too late, and I’m too tired, to actually do anything about it? Here’s a day old mini sampler of my pre-mid-morning churn-fest – in no particular order – except for when…:

  • it all started after I immediately panicked once I looked at the clock and noticed it was both too late and too early to get out of bed. (this is my insomniatic pattern, which by the way, has not been happening as often as it used to. I slept rather well last night. Yay!) Then, I tried not to think about…
  • scratching the giant hive on my swollen knee that was so itchy it was making my eyes cross. (it seems to be getting better)
  • All the papers I have to sort through. The journals (still) and photographs, etc. Then,
  • The books I want to finish reading. I wondered if I should get up and start reading, even though I was head splittingly sleepy. Then again I was also wide awake…  (I just picked up Mary Karr’s recent bio, Lit, from the library at close to 400 pages and another book just came in. Both of which I waited for, really want to read and probably can’t renew. Then I thought,
  • I need to make more money. Closely followed by;
  • What the hell am I doing with my life? (insert an extra toss and turn here) Yes, yes… I have a fine job and all but I figure I must have been absent the day they spoke about the importance of choosing one’s vocation in high school? (That was about 25 years ago, by the way) And, who the hell knows what they want to do with their lives when their seventeen? Lots of people, I think. Ugh… Followed by;
  • I want a new camera. I adore my Panasonic Lumix TZ2 (point and shoot) but I’m looking for something I can play around with more. Then of course;
  • I need more money.
  • Mmmm…. Coffee (this popped in at about 3:55 AM. A touch too early for me.) Then,
  • I thought about the mouse I had a hand in… eliminating a few years back and have felt sorry about ever since. Then,
  • I sent out a ripple-effect, energy-wave  apology to Mickey and anybody else who I thought I might owe one to. Sorry….
  • Then I thought about all the photos I still need to delete in iPhoto and the emails I still need to delete in my inbox (whenever I think of one I think of the other).
  • I thought about my blog, how I’d like to improve it and the various topics I want to write about (except I was too tired to actually jot any of it down). Speaking of not writing it down;
  • I penlessly and silently composed several poems, a novel and my award-winning memoir (talk about sleep inducing).
  • I thought of all the travelling I’d like to do, the blanket I’m knitting and hope to one day finish, photographs I’d like to take, how I’m going to exercise more, eat better and the stuff I’d like to take care of around the house (painting, decorating, organizing blah, blah, blah…).
  • And then I thought of them all over again


February 16, 2010

I. Am. Exhausted. Actually, I don’t feel that bad considering the amount of energy I expended tossing and turning in the wee hours this morning. Three plus hours somersaulting around the contours of my bed. Ach… The multi-wheeled cacophony churning in my brain. Enough all ready. My more sensible side tried reasoning in a calm and sleep-lulling voice, “Why bring that up now (or that, or that)? You can’t deal with/change/ take care of any of these spinners at such an un… “ But before I got to the end of that thought I’d already rolled on to the next thing.

February 14, 2010

Loving my Charley Harper 2010 desk calendar

Ah… February 14th, le jour d’amour. When I was younger I used to adore this day and I have no clue why since I spent most of my time pining for some dude who had no clue (or didn’t care) I existed or was in the midst of repairing my broken heart. I have most definitely had my moments of splendour. But, generally speaking, I was never very lucky in that kind of love, the romantic type, until I met my current heart-throb (and even that took awhile) although my life overflows with love in other ways. Yes, I’m full of it and smiling. The older I get (and the longer I’m in a relationship? Hm… ) the less attractive certain days of recognition seem. Not that I don’t clutch mon petit ami (zeroing in on the ten-year mark. I’m smiling again.) close to mon coeur. These days, all I seem to use this type of occasion for is a reason to overeat. Nice. And you have to admit, one ought to be a bit sceptical about a day chosen to honour the one we love with the initials V.D. Yikes. But, that’s just the way I feel. If you’re the type of person who enjoys spending the day plastering puffy red hearts around the boudoir while lifting the lid off a box of a special something, then please enjoy every minute of it. And I mean that sincerely. Hopefully though, you’re not waiting for the day to tell the one how you feel. Any day you utter the words, I love you, from the heart is a special one. And remember, there’s more than one way to say it.