Yuletide tale #3

Soon...I'm working on it.
Guess that post a story daily thing did not go so well...but I'm on it, so stay tuned and sing Oh Christmas Tree to get you in the mood.
ZA x

Yuletide Thoughts #1 SANTA...

It is freezing outside today...I can hear the wind howling through the window...I kind of like it...makes me want to tuck myself in and have some hot chocolate...The crows don't mind the frigid wind it seems. They are in the tree again...three of them. Think they are the same three that always show up in the beautiful naked birch tree outside my window. My mind wanders...back...back...back....STOP! REMEMBER!

(Sigh)

Well, here we are again, Christmas. How did that happen? Seems we just packed up the decorations from last year and had just moved on but here we are again. I am thinking that each day until Christmas if I can be so disciplined I will post a personal Christmas memory, or a memory someone has related to me. (how interesting!) But hey, in the meantime I may prompt another to have a special...or not so special Christmas memory.

I love this time of the year, nothing to do with Christ or with mass. (although I will admit I love a good ritual, a joy-filled choir singing their hearts out, and, well...a good version of Silent Night always makes me cry) We'll get to the Jesus part later...

For me, it has more to do with the feelings surrounding this time of year. The memories...ah the memories wah....

My earliest memory of Christmas involves my mother convincing me that she and my cousin had just seen Santa and his reindeer flying through the sky and then landing on the house next door as they sat in the window watching the snow fall, playing cards and sucking back a Rothmans. All such a comfort as the wood stove in the kitchen warmed us up and baked our bread. This was her way of getting me to bed I guess...She had me so convinced of it that I actually saw them myself. They were real at that moment and it was magic and wonderful. It helped my mother's case that the announcer on VOCM radio was saying that there had just been a sighting of Santa and his reindeer in the St. John's area. I was a bit freaked out, took this all very seriously,ran up the old stairs and jumped right into bed beside my big brother and tried to force myself to fall asleep before him.

I have no memory of the next morning so unfortunately I have to end that part of the story here but lets assume Santa did arrive and I did have a present the next morning. I even had heard the thump when he landed on our roof & fell through the chimney. I still believe I saw Santa and his reindeer that night...I did, real or imagined...I saw them and I will always have my mother to thank for that magical moment whatever her motives might have been. This one my one and only sighting of Santa. I was probably five years old but it seems like yesterday. I remember it as if it was real. My mother was quite skilled in making imagined things become real.

Years later When I was nine I found two garbage bags in my parents closet, both full of toys and Christmas things which I immediately knew were for me, my brother and my new little sister. I knew they were from Santa. At that moment I knew that Santa must not be real, but I carefully placed the bags back in the exact position I found them just in case Santa had just stored them there because he might run out of space or something. I knew not to mention this and although inside I knew it was all a lie, I carried on the next day pretending to believe.

After all, that was the year I received Hugo Man of A thousand Faces, a Makin Faces clown make up kit and a gigantic colouring book almost as big as me, so even if Santa did not exist...well, I still believed in him. Nobody ever told me Santa was not real. I just knew. It was still like magic, I went to bed crayonless, I woke up to find 64 brand new fresh Crayola crayons to compliment my new colouring book. Eventually my Mother told me that we had to pay Santa for the things he brought, so if we got less, it was not because we were "naughty" or that we were on the "bad" list, it was just that they could only pay Santa a certain amount that year. I believed her...sounded reasonable...but the Santa part...I let that go...I knew what she meant.

We were poor but who knew, I didn't.

As an adult I visited Iceland and enjoyed a fine meal of reindeer...felt weird about that!

This weekend....

I will write on my blog....

SHE'S BACK.....

Looking forward...

Yes, I have been away for a period of time because I have been busy and I had a brief moment when I realized someone FROM MY PAST was reading my blog and that felt a little intrusive...but I have since struggled with my intention to stop blogging on this site or continue. I've decided this is MY site and it is out there for whomever wants to read it for whatever reason...enough of that...so ONWARD now WITHOUT SELF-CENSORING!

Where to start...

CLEVER...

Riding my bike to work one morning I passed this sign and had decided that on my way home from work it would be a treat to stop and get a slushie...especially if it was all natural.

I thought about it all day, anticipating the refreshing taste of perhaps enjoying an orange slushie as a little break in my homeward bound journey...then as I approached the sign I looked a little closer...clever I thought, very clever...something about honesty. I passed on the slushie experience.

Knotty Trees

Some old trees in a local park really caught my attention this weekend. They are not unlike human skin in the aging process. There was something that really came to life for me for the duration of my walk.

Today it is entirely too windy for me. The crows don't think so though. Looking out my window I see three of them perched on a birch tree just carrying on like it is a normal day. One crow is actually sitting on top of another doing what I can only describe as grooming. The other one waits then takes a turn. While hewaits he appears to be keeping a watchful eye. They don't know I'm watching. What a treat. Now they have switched places and watchful crow is being groomed and groomed crow is watching. Maybe this is a way of keeping warm. I like crows and trees. Last year I saw a crow with a few white feathers on his back. He has not yet appeared this year.

DECISION

There is something very wrong feeling about working on a weekend...now I know I should be grateful...and I am...but I still feel like sleeping in...or having a fresh coffee that I just ground the beans for while still in my pajamas...then drinking it really slow while reading my book or hanging out with the computer...or just doing nothing...hmm...Oh well,it does not happen much...

Sitting here in my window for the 1/2 hr I do have before I must head out...the sun is starting to light up the dew kissed grass which is getting greener and soon will be ready for mowing. It is quiet; I can only hear the tiny whistling snore of of the dog who is asleep on the floor, the the sound of my fingers pounding on the keyboard, and the slurp of my coffee which I must drink faster than I would like.

I have just made a decision to have a good day no matter where I am. My choice yes?

CHOPPED UP RAMBLINGS ABOUT WAITING!!!

I wonder how much time in life we spend waiting for things? On Monday morning I am usually waiting for Friday to arrive, but not before I wait for Monday afternoon to arrive so I can go home and do fun stuff. I wait sometimes for the alarm to go off before i get up, this is if I wake up slightly before it's roar. I wait for the coffee to brew, wait for the dog to poo, (this rhymes...hmmm...) wait to pay for food at the cafeteria line up, wait for reports to print.

What else?...well, so far this morning I have done a few of the above but what I mean I guess is actively waiting like not doing anything else because you are waiting for the thing you are waiting for to happen. Examples of this: waiting for the water to get warm or to that just right temp before you get into the shower, waiting in line ups such as the grocery store or waiting for a bus, waiting for a late person you agreed to meet on a corner,etc...

Have you ever waited for a phone call? Like a phone call from a loved one that you were worried about, one who should be home by now, but is not...such as a child out socializing, a partner late from work or travelling...seconds seem like years yes?
Have you ever waited to do something important until the moment is just right, like for example working out, or chasing a dream you may have.
Have you ever waited to hear a yes/no answer from an institution that would decide which road you take... seems like FOREVER in this instance!!! Have you ever waited for a cheque in the mail?
What about waiting to deliver a baby?
Waiting for morning...
Waiting for evening...
Waiting until it stops raining to go for a walk...waiting for something to download/upload/reload...whatever....
I don't know why I'm worked up about waiting...but I am...just wondering if we added up "waiting time" (after a clear definition of course...) what would the answer be...there must be a study on this somewhere... PAUSE...

Yesterday, I decided not to wait and I walked in the woods while it was raining. It was so beautiful. It was a gentle rain, but cool and refreshing. The fresh scents of spring in the air, the sound of the rain and wind in the trees, the fog on my glasses, the droplets of water on the leaves, the wet mushy leaves on the ground, the movement of water in the little pond...hundreds of tiny moving circles brought to life with every little drop from the sky, the sounds of the dogs shaking the rain off their heads,the sight of the dog rolling in the wet brownish, but freshly exposed grass, smiling with tongue hanging out...Glad I did not WAIT for the rain to stop.

WAIT A MINUTE!

I AM TO BE A NOVELIST

They sure did let it shine, and while this is not the exact performance we saw, it is almost the same...same spirit, same joy, same little lights shinning! It was very bright in the room.

Last week a friend and I went to see an African children's choir. (check out their website). I was moved by the spirit of the children who have been through so much yet were singing their little hearts out joyfully. Their faces shining, their white-toothed smiles surrounded by brown skin making their joy even more evident. They danced enthusiastically in brightly coloured clothing demonstrating and celebrating the traditions of different countries and regions of Africa. Never have I seen such movements, especially in children. The music was beautiful... little hands pounding drums and little voices blending together.

The children range in age from seven to eleven. Most of the children are orphans who have been helped by an organization called Music for Life. They come from all parts of the continent. They are children that may not otherwise have nourishment or life's other basic needs due to circumstances such as AIDS, or civil unrest. These children would have normally lived with few smiles. The organization provides the children with education and life's basic needs, including nurturing. They attend a music camp for several months and if lucky they get to be chosen for the choir. As members of the choir they get to travel to places well beyond their young imaginations. Not only does the choir provide them with opportunities as children though, as they get older the organization provides tuition and training. The objective is to educate some of Africa's most venerable children giving them a chance to give back to Africa. Many of the children go on to become professionals, others choose vocational and technical training , all of which helps Africa in the end because they return to their homeland to work. Sounds like a very good plan. There were many testimonies of adults who have been members of the choir in the past. It was very moving.

As part of the program the children introduced themselves... "My name is Anne or Billy...or whatever and I when I grow up I want to be a ??" It was very cute. Each child said the same line as I quoted above. There were many who wanted to be doctors, lawyers, pilots, one bank manager, a few teachers, and a social workers. So, maybe five or six different career choices. I assumed that recent travel encouraged the high number of "pilot" choices, and that these children really only had exposure to so many careers.

I was particularly moved by one little girl who changed up the line a bit and stated most definitively "My name is Anne and I AM to be a Dr." She believed it and so did I. It made me reflect on the use of language. Perhaps she said it like that on purpose; perhaps she just did not know how else to say it, either way though she made me think about goals and messages we send to ourselves. I now have a note posted near my computer. "I AM to be a novelist". Just trying it out for a while, can't hurt.

It will happen!

Think Summer!

Writing, procrastination

Feeling like I should be writing tonight, taking advantage of the stormy weather, but really I just want to do nothing. I have told myself that doing nothing tonight is just fine; there is

no reason I must always do something! My writer's group was cancelled tonight, so I am off the hook a bit, (something about cancellations, unless it is a flight, that I enjoy), but I always feel like I should write during that time anyway. So...this is in some small way my writing exercise for tonight. I have told myself that I want to have a functional manuscript for my own purposes by the end of 2009, well this is not going to just appear now is it? I write primarily because I must, and then because I enjoy it, but when it comes to sitting down with a purpose and a writing goal I tend to procrastinate, find fifteen other things that must be done at that very moment. Perhaps my goal should be to lock myself in my writing room once a week for a period of time until I can find my burning house for my novel. (I like writing out the words "my novel").

What is a burning house you might ask? I had the same question when the topic came up.. It was answered for me at a retreat this summer. It is the part of a novel that the writer leads up to, some crisis I suppose. The climax, whatever you want to call it, it seems to be the most difficult part to write. I was told by the experienced and wise instructor at that retreat that sometimes this is the most difficult part to write, and that the author herself might not know what it is until she actually writes it. It can also be that the author does know what it is, but avoids writing it. I think that is the case with me. In fact the very word that is covered up in the above photo is my burning house I believe. I just noticed that. Interesting.

Planning to attend another retreat this summer I hope...if they will have me...a good gift for myself, and a great learning experience usually...oh...and fun.

Well, I'm officially rambling. If nothing else tonight I thought about writing and perhaps set myself a goal. Eventually I would like to put some links of interest to other writers on my blog, but that is a weekend project for sure. Stay tuned.

Break Time & Pony Tails

We have have just returned from Mexico. We were in The Bucerias area, a small town north of Puerto Vallarta. I became quite familiar with the local market while we were there, but one of my favorite things about the market experience became the children. One day while leisurely walking through, browsing, all my senses stimulated as I breathed in this part of the culture, I turned around to be greeted by a small boy and a small girl gesturing me to purchase one of the many purses or bracelets hanging from their tiny dark arms.

Initially my ethnocentric attitudes made me feel badly for these children and the horror they must experience while selling these purses in the sweltering heat, so I bought one out of pity. The next time I returned to the market I was approached by an even smaller child, a chubby little girl with two small pony tails on each side of her head. She was selling the generic equivalent to small packages of Chiclets (the gum). I gave her far more than the 5 pesos she was asking for. I could not get her big dark eyes out of my head.

Later that night at our comfortable, and by some standards luxurious hotel, I could not get the children out of my mind. I thought of them as I turned on and off our remote control air conditioning trying to get comfortable. I wondered where they were sleeping. I thought of the chubby little one's eyes, they were happy eyes, big round happy dark eyes. I thought of her pony tails and how someone must have put those elastics in her hair with care. My plan was to return to the market the next day and get some souvenirs. Maybe I would see them again.

I did, I returned to the market with an open mind and open heart. What I saw was refreshing. I happened upon these children sitting down for a break in a quiet shady crevice of the market. They were playing and laughing and teasing each other and even though I did not understand what they were saying I understood because I had flashes to my own childhood with my older brother teasing me and pinching me for no real reason. I approached them and suddenly they became serious. I gestured to get permission to take a photo and they agreed. I showed them the photo in the camera and they thought that was pretty cool. The little gal in the pink hat then tells me "one photo, one dollar" which I gladly paid her because after all I was cutting into her break time. What I love about this photo is the many emotions captured on their faces, but in particular the little girl working in the background looking over at us cautiously and suspiciously like a worried mother. She eventually joined us and gathered up her group.

After a bit I found the older people that these children belong to and I just sat in that area for a while. There was a calmness there, a strange sense of order. There were maybe six different vendors set up, beautiful mats hanging, purses, and detailed embroidered shirts. Some of these women (they were all women) had babies hanging from their backs as they worked in the booths wearing what seemed to me to be very hot layered clothing (beautiful, colourful and traditional, but hot) Suddenly I admired them, the simplicity of what I saw. The children listened to the adults, there was a quiet respect that I think is missing sometimes in our culture. I saw more children playing and laughing. I bought more purses, sat with the children, laughed, took pictures and shared my pistachio ice cream. I saw the ponied tailed girl in a woman's arms being gently bounced to sleep.

I wondered where the men were. I realized later that they were the vendors on the beach with the the jewellery and the sarongs, the dresses, hats and tee shirts that they carry around all day. The people that sometimes annoyed us with their persistence. What I witnessed that day was a hard working people full of pride that care and nurture their children as much as we do, perhaps in a different way, and by our standards not ideal, but what I saw was women and men full of dignity taking care of their children.

TONIGHT

Ahhhh....relaxing tonight. Should do that more often. I am trying that new herbal tea from Tetley...cinnamon orange spice or something like that and listening to some gentle music. This tea is soooo good I will soon have drank half of this pretty pot's contents. Yeah, something about the lime green colour of me pot that makes this experience more enjoyable.

I'm a mug girl too. It's all about the mug, different mugs for different moods, and when it comes to tea, a thin mug and time are necessary for me. I need time. I am not one of these people who can enjoy a cup of tea on a 15 minute break. I have an experience with my tea. It is calming and soothing.

When I was a kid I used to dunk my toast in tea...even though I was not allowed to have tea, it was perfectly alright to soak it all up in a crusty piece of bread. This is something I have not done forever. Maybe tomorrow morning I will get up early, make some KING COLE (only in the Maritimes...made with a gauze bag) and some toast, then dunk away and watch the margarine pool on the top of the liquid as the crumbs float around...why not?

RANTIN AND ROARIN

This was a long and frustrating trip back from the Rock. Sorry about the swear word for more sensitive ears, but when I'm in Newfie mode, I swear it just happens.
Also, I have just posted a new entry, but it is showing as Feb 17 because that is when I started it and did not get back to it until yesterday. ("Eatin Stuff") Guess that's how it goes..remember I'm still in learning mode. So, enjoy. The birds are chirping outside my window, springy feeling, but just a tease I think. Rapid freeze warning today...hmmm.
Later, Za

Follow...

Wintery Morning

I so don't know what I'm doin yet...lol...like, I wanted these photos to be in certain spots throughout the text.

MUST LEARN!!!

Hello There, This is so strange, cause I still don't know who I am talking to...oh well, at the very least I write...and I must.

It was such a beautiful morning. At about 6:30 am I was outside with the dogs and I was just amazed with Mother Nature in all her beauty. I actually decided to stay outside for a few minutes. (instead of my usual "quickly, Sappho quickly" speech that I give the poor dog) I breathed in the fresh air and thought about this day.

There was a quiet stillness in the air. There was a thin fog all around me. I felt a strange little rush of excitement, but a calmness all at once...like I was the only human on Earth at that moment. It was all very weird. It might have been a "thin moment" where I merged with the Earth for a second...or I might have still been asleep. Who knows?

The tree branches were covered in a glistening snow, not quite ice, still snow, so kind of fuzzy looking, but shining as a response to the rising sun. The sky was a little pink as you can see in the background of some of the photos. Again I hear my mother's voice telling me that sailors must take warning, and since I'm not a sailor I guess I'll be okay; however I know a few so I'll watch out for them. We are expecting a storm later today, so again, maybe me Mudder was right. Maybe everyting me Mudder said was true... I'll explore that one later...
I don't really appreciate winter much aside from mornings like this and an occasional cross country ski day. And I will admitt, a good ol storm day when you are forced to stay home and drink hot chocolate is not so bad either, and well, there is somethings about building a snow figure (not sure when a "snowman" became a "snow figure" ...hmmm, most likely during a women's study class covering the use of sexist language...ANYWAY...). Yeah, so then after taking in all in and taking a few shots I came back in the house and carried on as usual.

Later in the morning I stood in the kitchen cooking lasagna. The sun poured in the window, but the trees which I can see from the kitchen window were still covered in snow. After a bit, I looked out and thought it was snowing gently, but it was just the snow slowly falling from the tree branches making it look like it was snowing only under the trees. It was like a wintery story book that came alive. I am very glad I took the time today to pay attention. Oh, and the lasagna was perfect!! Feeling very fortunate to have such beauty around me, but feeling even more lucky to have the time and thoughts to appreciate it.
These are a few shots from the backyard...oh, and meet Sappho. Testing this video thingy. Yeah and I'll work on the format of where to place photos...lol

Later, Za

Eatin stuff

The dog just entered the room eating a red ink pen. He likes to eat pens. He finds them everywhere. He likes money too, just coins. He finds them everywhere, places I don't think to look for money I guess. Think I might collect them (the coins) for a year and then buy him something really nice, like a great big dog chewie that looks, feels and tastes like a pen. How I will know if it "tastes" like a pen is yet to be determined. He knows he is not supposed to eat pens cause he looks at you all guilty and sweet.

When I was younger I ate things I was not supose to eat too. Maybe he'll grow out of this.

Remember that...when you were younger and you ate things that were not really designed for eating? Remember rubbers...er, well lets say erasers. "Rubbers" have come to mean something entirely different, but that's another topic for another day.

When I was a child I chewed on my rubbers all the time. Maybe that's why I always had to borrow one from Kelly... because I ate all mine. Yup, it did not matter if they were on top of a pencil or in a pencil case. They were mine, all mine, to munch on. Remember those great big rubbers, the "giant" ones? Some actually had the word giant written on them. You would have to actually make some GIANT mistakes to need an eraser that big, but my what a feast for a girl who enjoyed eating them. Not big bites, but little descret bites. Particularly I enjoyed the blue end, the end that claimed it could erase pen.

Well, what a miracle that was, to erase pen I mean...hmmm...

I was not allowed to have a pen. A pen was , well, a forbidden privledge meant only for adults, the ones that did not make mistakes...yeah right. (another post pehaps)

A pen was something your teacher had, something she corrected your work with. I had a pen though, a secret treasure I stole from the librarian at my elementary school. Slipped it right up under my white turtle neck sleve one day when I assumed she was not looking.

Once you wrote with a pen, there was no going back. Even when I tried to erase my pen with the side of the eraser that claimed it could, it ripped the pages and well, my work did dissappear but only because I tore the page. I guess gentle would have been the key. Slow and easy,

"g-e-n-t-l-e" Za!!! Still have trouble with that one. Either way, my stolen pen was my secret joy and a prized possesion. Sometimes I would make marks just to try to erase them. Now of course this is all before the day of the big miracle "ERASABLE PEN" by BIC. Another wonderful invention, and tasty treat I might add. It smuged the words away, but they were always there under the new word, so why not just eat the useless eraser.

I was a weird child, everyone said so. I did not mind. I still don't mind. I'm a bit of a weird adult too.

I wonder what the long term effects of eating the blue halfs of yours and all your friend's erasers are? Ate pencil erasers too, and chewed on the pencils like some kind of freaky child. Don't think I was nervous. I loved it when the paint on the pencils came off in my mouth, once I got it started I could peel the rest of the paint off and see the natural brown colour underneath. I liked looking at all the teeth marks on the pencil.

I used to eat glue too. The white stuff that dried clear. I would wait until it dried on my fingers and then I would peel it off with my teeth pretending it was my skin. Yup, not too weird, not too bad tasting either, kind of sweet. I also ate paper sometimes. When everyone else was making spit balls I was swallowing them. Guess I just liked office supplies.

What else...well there were those crazy waxy sticks with some kind of suggary liquid in them. (What the heck were they and why did parents give them to their children?) The objective was to bite or cut off the end and then drink the sweet nectar, but no, I ate the whole damn thing, and birthday candles too. Chewed them like gum, then swallowed everything. Lets add crayons since we are at it, but I spit them out after I chewed them up. Guess I just liked wax. And, oh yes, I ate caulking, or chewed on it like gum and some other kind of black rubbery stuff that felt like gum.

So yeah, eatin stuff is a strange topic...but just so ya know, I don't eat any of those things now and I have turned into a well balanced, normal functioning adult, (just have some odd tales) but I still swallow my gum and I will still pick glue off my fingers given a situation where I might have gluey fingers) but I don't eat it.

And on a sortta related matter, just the other day someone told me that he made his little sister eat a caterpillar by convincing her it was good.

It would be interesting to hear about weird things others ate.

Bon appetite, Za

BIRD IN HOUSE

This is a bird that flew into the house and lived here for a couple of days. Isn't it cute...looks right at home perched on these birch branches.

I was working out in the basement when all of a sudden it flew out of nowhere all in a panic, flying aimlessly, me ducking down, arm across my face as if this tiny creature was going to peck my face off or something. Poor dear was smashing into walls flying into windows trying to escape. By the time I had a chance to open the window it was trying to escape out of, it had given up on that idea. Then it joined me upstairs again still frantically flying about in panic mode... freaking out the dog and cat...and Za. So i opened the door, but i had to go to another room for minute and when i returned the bird was gone...I thought. Relieved, I closed the door and carried on as usual.

The next day I opened the door when I got home and there it sat perched on its new tree, warm and happy and calm it seemed. There were things all over the house...fresh herbs scattered on the kitchen floor, bird food treats in a pile on the floor, and there seemd a weird sense of calmness among the animals who had lived with a bird all day. So I took a moment, grabbed the camera and snapped these photos as evidence because up until this point nobody else had seen or heard the bird and i was feeling a bit insane. I opened the door and it eventually flew out, back to his other life.

It was all a bit creepy I have to say. I'm not really that superstitious, but I know the symbolism of the bird in the house, if I remember correctly, is not good. All I could hear was my mother's voice saying it meant death...great! Just when things are getting good.

Anyone know any GOOD symbolism? Anyone know what kind of bird this is? Its belly is a very pretty green, emerald...and on its back it has little red...er,rusty specks. Not much of a bird person.

Lesson: DO NOT KEEP THE HOUSE DOOR OPEN WHEN UNLOADING YOUR GROCERIES!

Hey
Thanks so much for your comments everyone. This is all very fun so far. Please stay tuned as Dose Of ZA and Za evolve...who knows what's to come...
Tara, I loved your description of what you would do if love strikes you...such a poet you.
Bon, I plan to dedicate some time to reading your blog and navigating your site. It looks awesome. I actually decided to do this after metting you & co. at the SS. Yes, think you are right...weird public monologue...that's why I think I might get hooked.
Allycat...yes, I personally am submerged in love...so I do believe you can be in love...now I have no clue how I got here, if I'll drown, boil, or where I shall end up, but so far so good.
GV, We had fun too. Yes, we are in very good shape to be so blessed. (for lack of a better non- religious wd here) Back to writing now...goodnight everyone. ZA

Valentine's day

Hi,

Happy V day...no not that "V" the other one, the Saint. This, yet another day that was originally a pagan festival. Then there is that winged fella with his arrow shooting it all over the place...dangerous.

So this is my first post, a test run of sorts, I'm not even sure how all this works yet but I am all excited about how this might evolve. Bear with me because I am sure as I learn more about this that things will be changing. My intention is to write something weekly, maybe daily if I like it!

Once I navigate my way around in here I plan to add some videos and other fun stuff. I'm gonna try to keep it casual but hopefully thought provoking as well.

Today is Valentine's day so I think the question I will consider surrounds that big four letter word L-O-V-E. What is Love? Why are we obsessed with it? Why do we seek it, need it? Crave it if we don't have it?

Very powerful word this one. Now I am not talking about the love you may have or are expected to have for your children, or your parents, I am talking about romantic or sexual love. (and how are these different...are they?) That powerful emotion that sometimes makes us act all silly and crazy. The emotion that makes us do big things like uproot a perfectly happy and secure life to be with the one you love far away. Then there are the little things like taking twenty minutes to pick out that just right shirt that shows just enough cleavage to be sexy but not enough to be considered loose so your potential lover/current lover will be drawn to you...or at least your boobs? We do so many things in the name of love.

I myself have been IN what I thought was in Love, well, at least twice, each time unique and very real. I take love quite seriously. For me love is all encompassing. I like the feeling of being in love, though I must say after a not so good break up from what I thought was love a while back I considered never ever letting myself do that again! No wonder they call it falling in love.

Falling is a dangerous thing right? You can get hurt; you can break bones;you can bleed.

So why is it that we let ourselves go there? Why are we drawn to it? Nobody wants to "fall". Falling is sudden and unexpected.

Have you grown to love someone you never thought you would? Or have you sworn off love forever? Have you fallen madly in love with someone that gives you that tingle, but they are unattainable?

I'd be interested in hearing stories about something you did for love that other's thought was irrational, or that in retrospect you feel was crazy. Are you someone who could care less if you ever experienced love?

I'd also be interested in stories about how you did something BIG for love and never regretted it...knowing that you right thing...happy ending stories...yes, deep down i am a big

ol sap!

This is amusing because I don't even know to whom I am talking. This is a test run remember... so stay tuned.

Later, Za x