It's Been Awhile...

.... and much has changed ... and much stays the same.

This time I am reviving my blog so I can promote and motivate myself in the writing of my book. Yes, I do think I may have done this before. Nevertheless, here we go again. Although this time I am going to endeavor not to make it short lived. I realized just now that I love writing just as much I love immersing myself in my various works of creation. What the hell, may as well promote that here too. One day I hope to make a living at it. In a studio overlooking the water... a girl can dream cant she?
...though I am happy to report, those dreams are beginning to seem closer and even attainable.

Below I give you the beginning of the forward so far and part of the first chapter of my book... feel free to comment.
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Forward and disclaimer...

How does one start a book about the content of their life without revisiting the occasions in which the deepest scars have been made? I have started this book many times and have many journal writings that can still be difficult to read. How young and naive I often was. How beaten but not entirely broken I have been. Many times. I have been told that sharing my experiences can be of service to others. Then that beaten little girl in me pipes up and says…no you’re not good enough. How can you help others when you are entirely fucked up yourself? …she says. I heard a saying once … can’t recall at the moment who said it, but the words were, more or less… ‘when you can go deep within the wounds of your past without tears, you have healed.’ Can you heal from those wounds completely? There is a part of me that says no. Those scars will always be with us. Always. It is what we do with them that matters. The difference between wallowing in self-pity and setting the wounds free to be what they are. Our demons. Our darkness. The deep hidden internal scars we hide from the rest of the world. I say… know them and know them well. Knowledge is power.

So ….those scars. My scars. This memoir will endeavor to go deep with them. Although it will undoubtedly be coloured slightly off shade by my own perception of my memories and the colour of the stories embellished from the memories of others, I promise the most honest reflection of my experiences, the lessons learned and the many mistakes made that I can deliver.

I also forewarn the reader that my writings will often be raw and offensive with forthright profanity, damn fine grammar and contain an often-extreme usage of an extensive vocabulary. I recognize that it may come off as arrogant, I can be. I know I will often look like an asshole, I am. But I am also aware that I have a beautiful mind. Critical yet generous in charitable interpretation, skeptical but naive, argumentative as well as compliant. Believe me, no one is more aware of my paradoxical nature than I am.

To my family… both those of my relations that have managed to stay that way and those who have not, I would, perhaps, ask for forgiveness to the details I have not gotten correct. Try to understand that these are stories as I recall them. My own interpretation of the various situations as my mind has allowed me to understand them. From the collection of stories of my early childhood as told to me by various aunties and uncles over the years. Hearing them with new ears many years after the events themselves or hearing them differently from other aunties and uncles who were around at the time. This is my interpretation of those events and …frankly, I actually don’t care if you forgive any offense taken by that interpretation. To some of you…both fuck you and gawd dammit, I am trying to love you anyway. To some of you… both pity and sadness because you are stuck in a façade, one that knows not what love is regardless of how much you think you are the only ones do. Bulletin: you fucking don’t. YOU DO NOT KNOW LOVE. Period. And I think you know you are. Yet there is this part of me that screams at you … there is still time to learn and practice what love is. Is that hope? Yes a bit. A fantasy I occasionally indulge in until the realist in me says… some will never learn. To the rest of you … I love you and I am so glad you are part of my tribe. Family is not by blood… it is built by love, mutual respect and acceptance. By cheerleaders not naysayers. To my tribe members … this book is my tribute to you. Thank you for your support in all the directions I have taken. For the advice, sometimes taken other times not. Occasionally to my own detriment…. Through it all you have stood by my side, whether metaphorically or physically, and I am forever grateful.

I think for shits and grins I will begin this way…

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, a child was born. Not quite illegitimate but I was at least part of the reason my parents married. Yes, it was the 60’s, free love and all that. However my mother was a Jehovah’s Witness… a pregnant Jehovah’s Witness. Second generation. One doesn’t get choose the hand they are dealt. One has no choice but to play them.

I was born in Calgary, Alberta where my mom had been attending college and my father joined her there while she finished her studies. It has been said that my father went there to visit with the intention of getting her pregnant. I have no idea if this is true, I only know that about 9 months after that visit I arrived and prior to my birth they were married.

I recall nothing of my 13 months in Calgary. My first childhood memory that is clear, is being carried by my father into my grandparents house on the anchorage outside Fort St. John. I recall chewing on the end of a chicken leg bone. Apparently at that time it was not considered a choking hazard. I recall kittens …and that my mom was with us, although that part is less clear to me. She is often a blur.

There were always a gazillion people around… perhaps due to the fact my mother was the first child of 15. Yes, 15. Can one even imagine this nowadays?? You all were crazy! Although yes, times were different. Children could work the farm. No easy access to birth control. But … hey sex is important!!

No seriously … sex is important! More on that later…I digress.

Sunny Saturdays...

Shouldn't I be at a beach?? Maybe, but at the moment I feel like I should be right here in front of my computer filling a previously blank screen with text. I want to sit with my recent epiphanies and express my joy at personal awakening.What better space for that than this one? I've always been better with written word than spoken. Surprising I'm sure. (insert eye roll) Yes, I am aware that I also have always definitely been a tiny bit of a big mouth. I have to tell you though I am finding peace in my solitude. I have become less vocal or rather discerningly vocal. Running a cost benefit analysis prior to speaking. Goes much the same for social media. Oh I have my days, if its something that I might be particularly passionate about and there is a possibility to influence reasoning and exploration of ones thoughts, a willingness on the part of the reader to see all sides. Alas, there are few opportunities. And since I am no longer editing my online dating profiles, I have some time to explore and share my thoughts and have chosen this medium to do so. Lucky you.

Here is my Saturday thought. While I have been saying for sometime that we chose to be happy, that happiness is a conscious choice we make, the truth of this came clearer to my mind today. There is a part of me that does wish perhaps I wasn't spending the day alone and I have to acknowledge her, because she is the scared little girl. Sounds a bit backwards doesn't it? Isn't the scared one the one who doesn't go out? Nope. The scared one is the one whose demons are obvious to only a few of her closest friends and are such that she must face them alone.The ones that are silent when I'm distracted by the company of others. The ones that tweak and niggle begging for attention with constant tapping from the inside of my skull only when I am alone. The what ifs, whys, should haves, could haves. They interrupt my peace and joy, needlessly. I've battled these demons many times in their iterations as flashbacks, anxiety, migraines, weight gain, etc. I won those battles, but those who know will agree, you never beat your demons. Eventually you sign a treatise and make peace. Then one day you become best buds because those demons have your back. You find creative, hopefully legal, ways to keep them happy. They become your radar and when they blip on the screen of your mind you acknowledge them but instead of reacting without thought now you sit back and go "Hmm. Interesting. How about that! Why is that there? How did it get there? ...ahhh. I know where that is from." You take note, explore it and then decide if it warrants a red flag or a green one. (...sorry rambling, I know...I always have to take the circle route). Point being that you make a conscious choice based on that process. And that choice is a decision to be happy. Because we cannot control or change any external factors that are not ours to control or change. And what we cannot not control or change needs not be worried about. Acknowledged, yes. Determine importance, whether or not it may be within our power or influence. Better yet, do we even want it to be? Is it going to matter in a week, a year, tomorrow? How do we actually feel about it, in our gut? Is is a good vibe or a bad vibe? Write it down then let it go, because really, the most important part of validation is acknowledgement. And we can get that from ourselves rather than seeking it elsewhere. Once we are able to do that... then we are happy. All it comes down to is choice.
Peace, love and rainbows.

Friday night contemplation...

...so here I sit in the big city, in front of my computer instead of out in the sunshine, or finding my way to a club. Not going on a date, or out to do any number of other things. Why is that? Oh I've done plenty since I arrived. When I want to I wander, the streets, the park, Metrotown, downtown ...I do go out. I am just no longer in a rush to experience all that I can. I'm no longer that coiled spring under tension from circumstance that once released goes off like a rocket. I've found my pace. Thankfully it took far shorter a period of time than it did when I was 18. The second 'teenager leaving home feeling' has dissipated and I'm feeling grounded. Being in a space I can call my own helps I'm sure. And knowing I don't have to move for at least a year or worry about work also helps!

Unfortunately being settled means I now have time to over think, over analyze and other wise torment myself with my inner critic. That little voice that still says "you're not good enough" "nobody is going to love you the way you are" "you're too this" "you're not enough that" blah blah blah ad nauseum. Yes, me. That strong confident women who endured and finally left two bad marriages. That vocal woman who has no problem waving a rainbow flag and speaking her mind in public. That woman who earned a Bachelor's Degree while working full time and as a homemaker.Yes, THAT woman struggles with insecurity, low self esteem, PTSD and anxiety. Understand I do recognize how awesome I am. I am not unaware that I have been a voice for many, an inspiration even. I can at times be arrogant in recognition of my intellect. My education. My work accomplishments. My creative abilities. And yet, yes, I struggle with the feeling of inadequacy and the fear of ending up alone for the rest of my life. Ridiculous right?

So what is the point of this... I guess the point is that I am happy to finally be at a place in my life where I do my best to be fully aware of who I am, of both my accomplishments and my failures. To take responsibility for how I feel. To step back and assess before I react. To make a conscious effort to recognize the inner critic for who she is ... a frightened little girl out in the big bad world. To tell her its going be okay...we've been here before and we did just fine. We did better than fine... for look at where we are now. " Yeah. Sitting at home alone on a Friday night in front of a computer writing this," she laughs.

...and that friends is why it's called 'Distracted Ramblings...' You're welcome. The cedar is calling me. Peace, love and rainbows.

Paint, words, holes.

My paintings of late have continued to employ intensifying spirals and swirls. Roots and thorns protruding, flashes of electricity and synapses connecting a diverse array of eyes, irises and pupils, a play of shadows and light. Symbols of life and death, growth and decay, phases and layers, never ending and ever deepening cycles. Such is life. Particularly so for the person who has been set free of oppression, both external and internal, real and imagined. We can find a rabbit hole of discovery in every experience, each smile, bite, nibble, outright pain and melancholic moment, intense orgasmic joy, mutual peruse and the like. We feel everything, often immensely, and yet detach ourselves from those feelings and any expectations arising from them. Purposely much of the time, so that we can observe our own feelings from a distance. We sit with them, question them, seek our triggers, discover the roots, clip the thorns, accept full responsibility for them, for they are ours and we own them. Every. Single. One. 

When I paint I immerse myself in those feelings and express them as best I can in the form of color and shades of light and shadow. My paint brush guiding the flow, providing texture and fluidity with each stroke. My writing …well …here you are reading it for yourself. Each word chosen specifically to express the depth of the feeling being observed. Exploring the dimensions within the often superficial apex of the rabbit hole. Even the choosing of the exact word is in and of itself a bunny jump.

So here I sit on a sunny but breezy Saturday in my new digs in New West, in front of my computer screen. Not that I'm not enjoying the weather from my perch in front of my large kitchen window. I find it comforting to watch the play of the sunlight on the branches of the cedar that grows in the neighbor's yard. The pale blue sky clear except for the stream left by another flight arriving or leaving YVR. I love this oasis of solitude within the ordered chaos that lies just beyond my view from behind the glass. 

As I have both plenty and nothing to do this afternoon, I will stop at this juncture. This fork in the road... but suffice to say... the words are flowing again. Peace, love and rainbows.

It's a New Life...

Here I am ... in the city. Six months already and finally in my own place after staying with my child and her girlfriend. If there was ever a time when I felt that the world was my oyster it is now. The joy I feel being here can't be measured. I definitely needed a change of environment, people, views, and pace. The feeling of being surrounded yet still alone is enigmatically consoling. The anonymity one can only find when surrounded by a sea of people. I have a rejuvenated motivation to write. Something I haven't felt like doing in a long while. A certain amount of heart break always helps motivate my writing. Remind me to thank my muses.

Pride & Purpose.

The last couple of days I have sat in sorrow and despair for humanity, for this planet we live on. How can we have come so far and then in a flurry of bullets from a madman be thrown backwards? Back into a state of fear? Fear that living our truth, being who we are is cause for being murdered?

I recognize that there are millions of people worldwide who live in this a state of fear...because of hunger, poverty, nasty regimes, and these too are issues that if humanity so desired we could resolve. But here in North America, where we are supposed to be so much more enlightened than the rest of the planet, a madman, for whatever reason, can buy an assault rifle and walk into a place of joy and pleasure and mow down 49 people. Why? Because they were LGBTI (lesbian gay bisexual transgender intersex). North America where the civil rights movement freed those oppressed by racial segregation, where women won the right to vote through suffrage, where gay marriage has been recognized and legalized, where pride events illicit only a few loud obnoxious religious right voices but little to no violence. Where so many struggles affecting us all have been hard fought and won. How? Why? WTF?!?!?

I sat in wonder...why am I feeling this way? Why has this yet another ridiculous mass shooting in a country with ridiculously lax gun laws impacted me so greatly? Unlike the many other mass shooting  (a total of 136 in 2016 ...this year alone and it's only JUNE!) what is different? I realized after discussion with a friend, it is because this one hit way too fucking close to home. Perhaps that sounds cold to those who have lost people in the way too many other mass shootings, I don't mean for it to. It isn't just about it hitting close to home...it is about it hitting those who have fought long and hard for their rights. Despite their state representatives continuing to introduce bills to limit them, despite the loud obnoxious voices of the religious right spewing bible verses as though they  mean something to people who actually understand the concept of unconditional love, despite our loud voices against what we KNOW is wrong we continue to be hated, derided, maligned, beaten and murdered, and NOW mass murdered! In a place in which we have felt safe! And yes, I say WE because that is the depth of my solidarity with LGBTIs. They are my family, my friends, my community...a place where I always feel welcome, loved and accepted. So I guess I have taken it rather personally and so should you. There should be no place for this kind of hatred, the kind that is bred of self loathing developed over years of religious and societal indoctrination. The kind of indoctrination I am way too familiar with and left far behind long ago.

What can I do?? My insides are screaming. How can I stop a madman from murdering my family? I can't. No amount of rainbow crosswalks can stop it. No amount of Pride events can stop it. What I can do is shed light where there is darkness. Educate where there is ignorance in the hopes that someone will listen and learn. I will continue to paint rainbow crosswalks and organize Pride events. And now I will work to educate, to eradicate the ignorance that embodies these mad people and fight against the indoctrination that leads them to believe that how we live our lives is somehow wrong. That our differences make us less than them or anyone. I will do what I can to show that LOVE IS LOVE regardless of what their ancient outdated books may say. No one owns anyone else, we are not possessions. No one has the right to determine whose so-called morals are more correct. No one has the right to determine the correct path for another human. It comes down to this in my view, and this alone... if it harm none, including yourself, do what you will. Imagine the world if this alone guided our actions.

I now have renewed purpose. A damn shitty way to get it but when I leave this world I will do so knowing I did what I could to fill it with love. Peace, love and rainbows.

November...

... a month of remembering, of pain, of love, of bittersweet memories of those long past from my life. Today I feel like I am wallowing and perhaps I am. I finally watched our Family Reflections dvd ...it has remained in its packaging since I received it after my grandpa's death in 2009. Tears streamed down my face amid the smile on my lips seeing all the faces that were part of my childhood. I share my history with a very few trusted friends and even then I keep much of my pain hidden in dark places that very few can reach. It is the past and much of the time I chose to let it go as best I can so watching this dvd has been something I have long avoided. Finally watching it was soul cleansing. (Next my parents Wedding video...someday.)

I lost my mom at the tender age of four and though I have been blessed with many moms along the way the few memories I have of her burn bright. I treasure the stories told by her brothers and sisters among many others who knew her, and my grandparents kept her memory alive for me. I have spent little time wishing things could have been different because no one can change the past. It is what it is. I have, though, detached myself often through the years, from the pain of loss. I have held onto anger for the belief system that served to separate me from my sisters and my father, my aunts and uncles. Often I have felt so alone in my pain. When grandma passed away I reconnected with cousins who too were separated from family connections because of this damning belief system. In many ways these connections saved me. Brought my anger to the surface and helped me work through it. Gave me the courage to live, to forgive and to make my own way and face the fact that somethings can never be recovered but only accepted for what they are.

When grandpa passed although I felt like I had lost my last connection to my mom, my cousins were there and we celebrated the person we knew grandpa to be. The one who was and still is the glue that keeps us connected even though we are separated by distance. The one who showed true unconditional love to all of his children and grandchildren despite their supposed dysfunctions. We knew this even as we sat through a memorial service that did little to recognize this deep abiding love shown by my grandfather and focused on an afterlife that many of us present have no faith in.  As my Facebook newsfeed fills with pictures of the past I am filled with both melancholy and a deep love for the connection that remains strong held together by those photos, by grandpa's memory. A deep love for all of my grandparents progeny who have lived as grandpa lived, authentically and honestly.

Life is short, too short to live with regret, with anger, and too damn short not to live the way that works for you, however that may look. So I cherish the memories, the lessons, and the example my grandfather set. Although beliefs separate me from my sisters and my father, many of my aunts and uncles, I love them all. I wish nothing but the best for them. Even though we may not be a part of each others lives blood connects us and I honor that connection. I wish them peace and love. That is all.