I have been thinking, partially because I've been watching musicals lately, about living our fantasy life. I'm pretty sure we all have one. When we close our eyes and everything falls into line. Where life is what you hoped it would be.
I am positive that there are some who have found themselves so far from where they wanted to be. There was a shooting not too far from our house on Wednesday evening, and, after I stopped being scared, I started thinking about these guys. How do they find themselves in a position where they feel the need to kill each other? They must be light years away from their fantasy life. I think that perhaps in bed in the quiet of night that the gunman feels this in his soul. How can you get to the point where this feels okay and good in your heart.
Then there are others who seem to be living it. There is nothing I could have wanted more than to be in a musical in high school. To go to a performing arts school and live the life of Vanessa Hudgens. Their lives weren't perfect, but still it was magic. At least I imagine it to be. Then, I think about all these people who are "livin' the dream" and just how miserable some of them seem to be. Perhaps living your fantasy life (at least if it involves the public eye) is not what it is cracked up to be.
What I really believe though is that the majority of the developed worlds population actually has the makings to live that life, at their disposal. I know I do. I need to, at some point soon, face up to the fact that any short comings in my life are of my own doing. Even if it didn't start out that way by now any path I take really is of my own choosing. Anything I am unhappy with is within my power to change. What prevents it? My fantasy life isn't perfect. I'm not seeking perfection. I have come to understand that the search for perfection is not only futile, but not even worthwhile. Perfect is too costly, unattractive to the human eye, and much too difficult to maintain. It's simply not realistic. My fantasy life is . . . well different. It's strange because I've never been a girl to daydream (okay okay let me finish) about concrete things. I didn't know what I wanted my wedding to be like until after I had it. (BTW I think my wedding rocked!) I didn't have a dream house in mind until I was in my late 20's and even then it came to me in a dream (yes, while I was sleeping). My fantasy life I think is more about a feeling and about experience. I do not feel like I am fulfilling my potential. I am not getting out there and doing all the things I wanted to. And interestingly, when I look back on the things I did attempt that would take me closer to that 'life goal' I would do something to screw it up. I can think of two instances where I had a chance to grab life and live it, and I really wanted to, but I hung back, drew inward and boom. No new and exciting thing for you.
Something in me has been holding me back for years, decades really. I've done enough to get wait listed. I'm always 2nd string, and it's my own doing. Camp counselor at a special needs camp. I had loads of valid experience, but I chose to be a loner at the training camp and I was on standby. And yes, I did chose that behaviour. Canada World Youth - almost exactly the same thing. Too reserved. I wanted those things so badly and yet I couldn't seem to get out of my own way.
So a question.
How do we get out of our own way. Stop screwing ourselves over. Because I know that at the end of the day no matter what hand I've been dealt, no matter who's lives I have had the misfortune of intersecting with in the past. Right here, right now I am driving my own ship. Or . . . I should be. Actively being my own pilot. I think a lot of the time right now I am not even a co-pilot, at best a flight attendant and I think generally I am usually a passenger in coach.
COACH - seriously. How do you get to be in the cockpit?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
मम् Easter
I really need to figure out why my titles are being translated into Asian characters.
Mmmm Easter,
I don't know what my parents remember about Easter, or rather the Easter they created for us. Church was always a big part of it. I remember, whether it is true or not, my mother making me a new 'Easter' outfit every year. I loved the sunrise service, though I always wished it was a little warmer. We aren't Jewish, but we did the Seder and LOVED IT every year.
I am struggling to make this kind of impact on my kids. Church, God, it is all important to me, but not as much to my husband. How can I emphasize the importance of something if 1/2 of my parenting team isn't in on the action? I dunno. For now M* loves to go to church, and at (almost)4 I don't really care why she wants to go, but that she does. My son L* is too little to care much beyond his bottle, soother and Mommie. I do wish I had more support in this area, though I am mostly grateful that I'm not getting much resistance. We still need to have the kids baptized (You hear that R*? we are going to be having that chat again soon. It's important to me.)
Anyway, I am incredibly sad that R* is away this Easter, and that the entire 5 days have been taken up by some stupid kung foo / taekwondo docu-crap (sorry hon, but I'm pissed off) So tomorrow I spend the day with my beautiful children, my wonderful church friends and my girlfriends family (Thanks SASK) No Easter dinner and no husband. I know I'll be with people all day, but I also know I'll be lonely.
Happy Easter loves.
Be
Mmmm Easter,
I don't know what my parents remember about Easter, or rather the Easter they created for us. Church was always a big part of it. I remember, whether it is true or not, my mother making me a new 'Easter' outfit every year. I loved the sunrise service, though I always wished it was a little warmer. We aren't Jewish, but we did the Seder and LOVED IT every year.
I am struggling to make this kind of impact on my kids. Church, God, it is all important to me, but not as much to my husband. How can I emphasize the importance of something if 1/2 of my parenting team isn't in on the action? I dunno. For now M* loves to go to church, and at (almost)4 I don't really care why she wants to go, but that she does. My son L* is too little to care much beyond his bottle, soother and Mommie. I do wish I had more support in this area, though I am mostly grateful that I'm not getting much resistance. We still need to have the kids baptized (You hear that R*? we are going to be having that chat again soon. It's important to me.)
Anyway, I am incredibly sad that R* is away this Easter, and that the entire 5 days have been taken up by some stupid kung foo / taekwondo docu-crap (sorry hon, but I'm pissed off) So tomorrow I spend the day with my beautiful children, my wonderful church friends and my girlfriends family (Thanks SASK) No Easter dinner and no husband. I know I'll be with people all day, but I also know I'll be lonely.
Happy Easter loves.
Be
Thursday, April 9, 2009
you rant what you eat
Beautiful day.
Beautiful day.
I had a long chat with one of my clients yesterday about what we eat. Why is it that we can't control what we consume. Or rather why is it that some of us can and some of us can't? As an article in . . . Good Housekeeping I think, said there are those with the fat brain and those of us with the thin brain. I, lucky me, have a fat brain. Perfect match. Anyway, everything for the fat brain revolves around food. What to eat, when. is it a good food or a bad food. You eat one 'bad' thing and well hell now I might as well eat it all because imperfect me just made the biggest fuck up of my life and ate a cookie. How can an otherwise rational (no comments from the peanut gallery please) person loose her (or his) mind over a stupid cookie. The world is not going to come to an end over a cookie, not even over 5 or 10 or even the whole bag. Really, it is admittedly not the best food selection on the planet, but the planet will continue to exist . . . and so will I / you. Why does food have this draw? I know it wasn't always that way. There was a time when people ate because they needed to be nourished physically. I know there was a time when emotions had very little to do with what you ate. Food as a necessity GREAT! Food as an emotional crutch - WTF!
The kicker is. As an emotional crutch food really sucks. It is like that abusive relationship. Hug hug hug, ohhh I love you please let me hug you and love you . . . you stupid good for nothing bitch! You know I actually had an ex boyfriend say to me after I dumped him. " No one will ever love you as much as I do you stupid bitch." I (after a year and a half of such fun and games) had finally opened my eyes. I laughed at him and said "well, gees. When you put it that way." and then I hung up the stupid phone. Yes the phone, but that is an entirely different story. Ring a bell though? Lets open the door, or answer the phone and open ourselves up to yet another round of false promises and temporary comfort. And get this. This is seriously the best part. IT IS ALL SELF INFLICTED.
Really, unless you are (and God I pray that you are not) in a situation where you are being tied down and being force fed things, this is entirely an escapist tactic, that never succeeds, makes us feel worse about ourselves and worst of all we do it to ourselves. Most of us who suffer from this affliction do battle every time we open our mouths. We the tender food addicted, self flagellating, over weight, cry foul. We have been beaten down by (insert your abuser etc of choice here) and we turned to food as comfort and protection. Brilliant, bloody brilliant. Hey don't get mad at me. It's my own personal truth, and I KNOW I am not alone in being in this place. It began so long ago I don't even remember when it began. I can't even pin point when I became aware of it.
What I am acutely aware of now is that even though my tormentors are long gone from my physical life, they still have a sick control over me via a new and much more difficult to eradicate vehicle. Me. I have stepped up to the plate and taken over the bat. Not only do I now play for their team, I bat, pitch and run. Not only do I do all that, but I Coach the fucking team and I am in the stands cheering them on. And the icing. I'm selling hot dogs, ice cream and all manner of goodies in the stands.
With friends like me . . .
So the key, as I see it, is to evict that VOB, or that part of her, from my head. So . . . any ideas?
Bek
Beautiful day.
I had a long chat with one of my clients yesterday about what we eat. Why is it that we can't control what we consume. Or rather why is it that some of us can and some of us can't? As an article in . . . Good Housekeeping I think, said there are those with the fat brain and those of us with the thin brain. I, lucky me, have a fat brain. Perfect match. Anyway, everything for the fat brain revolves around food. What to eat, when. is it a good food or a bad food. You eat one 'bad' thing and well hell now I might as well eat it all because imperfect me just made the biggest fuck up of my life and ate a cookie. How can an otherwise rational (no comments from the peanut gallery please) person loose her (or his) mind over a stupid cookie. The world is not going to come to an end over a cookie, not even over 5 or 10 or even the whole bag. Really, it is admittedly not the best food selection on the planet, but the planet will continue to exist . . . and so will I / you. Why does food have this draw? I know it wasn't always that way. There was a time when people ate because they needed to be nourished physically. I know there was a time when emotions had very little to do with what you ate. Food as a necessity GREAT! Food as an emotional crutch - WTF!
The kicker is. As an emotional crutch food really sucks. It is like that abusive relationship. Hug hug hug, ohhh I love you please let me hug you and love you . . . you stupid good for nothing bitch! You know I actually had an ex boyfriend say to me after I dumped him. " No one will ever love you as much as I do you stupid bitch." I (after a year and a half of such fun and games) had finally opened my eyes. I laughed at him and said "well, gees. When you put it that way." and then I hung up the stupid phone. Yes the phone, but that is an entirely different story. Ring a bell though? Lets open the door, or answer the phone and open ourselves up to yet another round of false promises and temporary comfort. And get this. This is seriously the best part. IT IS ALL SELF INFLICTED.
Really, unless you are (and God I pray that you are not) in a situation where you are being tied down and being force fed things, this is entirely an escapist tactic, that never succeeds, makes us feel worse about ourselves and worst of all we do it to ourselves. Most of us who suffer from this affliction do battle every time we open our mouths. We the tender food addicted, self flagellating, over weight, cry foul. We have been beaten down by (insert your abuser etc of choice here) and we turned to food as comfort and protection. Brilliant, bloody brilliant. Hey don't get mad at me. It's my own personal truth, and I KNOW I am not alone in being in this place. It began so long ago I don't even remember when it began. I can't even pin point when I became aware of it.
What I am acutely aware of now is that even though my tormentors are long gone from my physical life, they still have a sick control over me via a new and much more difficult to eradicate vehicle. Me. I have stepped up to the plate and taken over the bat. Not only do I now play for their team, I bat, pitch and run. Not only do I do all that, but I Coach the fucking team and I am in the stands cheering them on. And the icing. I'm selling hot dogs, ice cream and all manner of goodies in the stands.
With friends like me . . .
So the key, as I see it, is to evict that VOB, or that part of her, from my head. So . . . any ideas?
Bek
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
the working girl
I'm in Thornhill at work.
No internet connection. Still practicing my touch typing. Still sucking at it. Wanna see?
Ni correxyions. I like my kov. I love my damilu. I an often so rorn berweeb tben,
(No corrections. I love my job. I love my family. I am often so torn between them.)
Shall I go on? No? Really? I could type like crap forever. Maybe that is how I put my erotic story online. No one would have a clue what I was talking about. Ha ha that would be funny.
Anyway, as I was saying, I am always torn between growing my business and helping my family grow. Well, when I put it that way it seems quite clear doesn't it. If I could I think I would hang up the RMT hat for now and just hang with my kids. Pick up the massage, or something else after the kids were both in school. Pitch the car. I just don't think it's fair to R* to have to try and support our family, financially, all on his own. Plus I know I would hate having him pay for all my school debt. And there would also be the issue of getting what would essentially be an allowance. Yuck. So you see my problem. I'm thinking it is the problem of any parent (male or female) who wishes to stay at home. How do you get paid? You work, then you come home, tired, and you spend the shortest part of your day with you family. Doing what? Getting ready for the next stupid day you have to go to work. No wonder parents don't know what is going on with their teens, they wouldn't know what was going on with their tots (nearly and unfortunate typo there) if the little ones didn't wear their hearts on their sleeves. Ah well, what's the point of complaining when that is how "things" work.
I love hanging out with my clients too, but home is the priority right now. Still money has to come in.
I want to talk about shopping, and eating, but I'm not really ready yet.
Bek
No internet connection. Still practicing my touch typing. Still sucking at it. Wanna see?
Ni correxyions. I like my kov. I love my damilu. I an often so rorn berweeb tben,
(No corrections. I love my job. I love my family. I am often so torn between them.)
Shall I go on? No? Really? I could type like crap forever. Maybe that is how I put my erotic story online. No one would have a clue what I was talking about. Ha ha that would be funny.
Anyway, as I was saying, I am always torn between growing my business and helping my family grow. Well, when I put it that way it seems quite clear doesn't it. If I could I think I would hang up the RMT hat for now and just hang with my kids. Pick up the massage, or something else after the kids were both in school. Pitch the car. I just don't think it's fair to R* to have to try and support our family, financially, all on his own. Plus I know I would hate having him pay for all my school debt. And there would also be the issue of getting what would essentially be an allowance. Yuck. So you see my problem. I'm thinking it is the problem of any parent (male or female) who wishes to stay at home. How do you get paid? You work, then you come home, tired, and you spend the shortest part of your day with you family. Doing what? Getting ready for the next stupid day you have to go to work. No wonder parents don't know what is going on with their teens, they wouldn't know what was going on with their tots (nearly and unfortunate typo there) if the little ones didn't wear their hearts on their sleeves. Ah well, what's the point of complaining when that is how "things" work.
I love hanging out with my clients too, but home is the priority right now. Still money has to come in.
I want to talk about shopping, and eating, but I'm not really ready yet.
Bek
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
एंड हियर वे अरे
Interesting. My title seems to be in some sort of hieroglyphics.
I'm eating Dutch chocolate ice cream with peanut butter sauce. Mmm. Bad very bad.
I found it so easy to spew yesterday, but today I'm a bit stumped on how to begin. It's not that I feel like I have to do this daily, but if the point is to get me to write, then I should try to do it regularly. Whatever
My brother, my little brother, is having a really hard time right now. I wish just once in his life something came easily for him. It's always been a fight for him and I just would like him to feel like success for once. He is such a nice guy. Yeah he can be a loose cannon, but you do have to poke him with a stick first. My life is like . . . ummmm . . . god there has got to be some celeb out there who has been spoon fed . . . PARIS HILTON. Now come on her life is ridiculous. Why do we even know who she is? Anyway I digress. My life has been like Ms. Hilton's comparatively. I love him dearly. I want good things to happen to him, for him. I'm not sure that a little 'help' wouldn't be in order, but he won't have anything to do with it. Anyway. Best of luck Bro.
I realized something yesterday. I'm not afraid in my house at night now. Great. I thought it would take longer, and don't get me wrong R* home is still much better than R* gone, but I'm not stressing over every little sound.
God this is dull. Please stop reading it now. I'm gonna write a bit more. for the exercise but seriously, B O R I N G!.
What to write what to write.
God I wish I could touch type faster than at a snails pace. I would only get one paragraph done an hour. Torture.
I have a friend who's husband really wants to be a writer. Trouble is he isn't confident enough to share his stuff with his friends. How can we get better at it if we aren't getting feedback? I know it might be hard to hear that your friends don't think you are awesome right off the mark but, as we can see here, we produce a great deal of shit before we come up with anything really worth reading.
I wrote an erotic - ish story on Sunday night. Best thing I've written in probably 5 years or more. Trouble is, I can't really share it with anyone but R*. He's a great editor, but who edits erotic short stories? Plus, it's not really the genre I want to write in. (Though I'm not sure I know what is) I have toyed with the idea of writing a book about sex for the average, too busy, over stimulated, over tired 35 year old. But heck it would just be an observation. I don't know anything about sex really. I wish I did. I wish I wasn't so afraid of what others (ie R*) would think if I said or did something, yeah really if I did anything creative. Not even creative really, stuff that is really main stream for most I would imagine.
Okay enough talking around something that no one really needs to hear about anyway.
I can practice self flagellation in so many other ways.
But not tonight.
Night boring bloody night
Bek
I'm eating Dutch chocolate ice cream with peanut butter sauce. Mmm. Bad very bad.
I found it so easy to spew yesterday, but today I'm a bit stumped on how to begin. It's not that I feel like I have to do this daily, but if the point is to get me to write, then I should try to do it regularly. Whatever
My brother, my little brother, is having a really hard time right now. I wish just once in his life something came easily for him. It's always been a fight for him and I just would like him to feel like success for once. He is such a nice guy. Yeah he can be a loose cannon, but you do have to poke him with a stick first. My life is like . . . ummmm . . . god there has got to be some celeb out there who has been spoon fed . . . PARIS HILTON. Now come on her life is ridiculous. Why do we even know who she is? Anyway I digress. My life has been like Ms. Hilton's comparatively. I love him dearly. I want good things to happen to him, for him. I'm not sure that a little 'help' wouldn't be in order, but he won't have anything to do with it. Anyway. Best of luck Bro.
I realized something yesterday. I'm not afraid in my house at night now. Great. I thought it would take longer, and don't get me wrong R* home is still much better than R* gone, but I'm not stressing over every little sound.
God this is dull. Please stop reading it now. I'm gonna write a bit more. for the exercise but seriously, B O R I N G!.
What to write what to write.
God I wish I could touch type faster than at a snails pace. I would only get one paragraph done an hour. Torture.
I have a friend who's husband really wants to be a writer. Trouble is he isn't confident enough to share his stuff with his friends. How can we get better at it if we aren't getting feedback? I know it might be hard to hear that your friends don't think you are awesome right off the mark but, as we can see here, we produce a great deal of shit before we come up with anything really worth reading.
I wrote an erotic - ish story on Sunday night. Best thing I've written in probably 5 years or more. Trouble is, I can't really share it with anyone but R*. He's a great editor, but who edits erotic short stories? Plus, it's not really the genre I want to write in. (Though I'm not sure I know what is) I have toyed with the idea of writing a book about sex for the average, too busy, over stimulated, over tired 35 year old. But heck it would just be an observation. I don't know anything about sex really. I wish I did. I wish I wasn't so afraid of what others (ie R*) would think if I said or did something, yeah really if I did anything creative. Not even creative really, stuff that is really main stream for most I would imagine.
Okay enough talking around something that no one really needs to hear about anyway.
I can practice self flagellation in so many other ways.
But not tonight.
Night boring bloody night
Bek
Monday, April 6, 2009
Hello
I am, I guess, new to blogging. I aspire to be a writer, but first I need to find I font I am pleased to write in. Ariel will do. Perhaps in colour, or is that newbee ish? Probably.
I am honestly not sure who would read such a thing as some strangers blog, but since I wish to write a blog seems like as good a place as any. I also would like to mention (for the record) that this blog will be of many topics. Whatever happens to be in my head most often. To be frank, when it comes to my own writing it is usually about the inadequacies of, well, me. So original I know, but it's all I have for the time being. You might get some short stories. Ramblings about my kids, husband and friends. I am sure that that is the usual fodder for the bloggosphere.
CONTENT WARNINGS:
I am addicted to using parentheses, and am a terrible speller (which you may never have known about due to the the ever vigilant spell check). I write how I think, so you are essentially getting to hear the voice in my head. Her name is Beli. She (the VOB - voice of Beli) isn't always nice. She isn't always funny (though she likes to thinks so). She isn't always clever. However, she never lies, she loves hard, is loyal to those she loves. She does swear, but not (at least in my own estimation) unduly. She does talk about 'unsavory' things that little eyes and sensitive hearts my find difficult. That is the best I can do in regards to content warnings.
VOB is driven by a few sources. I try hard to weed out the ones that aren't me. You know, my Mum, that asshole on the street 8 years ago, the jerks in my pants 27, 15 and 13 years ago. I don't always succeed. But then again, I must ask . . . are you alone in your head all the time? Can you always tell your authentic voice from those that have been recorded in you brain for some strange source of personal torture. Truthfully, it is a rare and evil individual that can inflict more anguish on me than I can on myself. I know I am not alone in this.
I guess that is part of the Bek's Bloggage purpose. To give voice to those in my head who have no right to be there. To force them out of hiding. Anyone read "Eat, Love Pray"? Anyone, anyone? this is my time on the island alone. Time to face the ugly, angry, guilty and dispassionate un-me's.
So please venture forth with me in the spirit in which I go. Share your stories. Share your hugs. All are welcome. (honestly, at least for now).
Bek
I am honestly not sure who would read such a thing as some strangers blog, but since I wish to write a blog seems like as good a place as any. I also would like to mention (for the record) that this blog will be of many topics. Whatever happens to be in my head most often. To be frank, when it comes to my own writing it is usually about the inadequacies of, well, me. So original I know, but it's all I have for the time being. You might get some short stories. Ramblings about my kids, husband and friends. I am sure that that is the usual fodder for the bloggosphere.
CONTENT WARNINGS:
I am addicted to using parentheses, and am a terrible speller (which you may never have known about due to the the ever vigilant spell check). I write how I think, so you are essentially getting to hear the voice in my head. Her name is Beli. She (the VOB - voice of Beli) isn't always nice. She isn't always funny (though she likes to thinks so). She isn't always clever. However, she never lies, she loves hard, is loyal to those she loves. She does swear, but not (at least in my own estimation) unduly. She does talk about 'unsavory' things that little eyes and sensitive hearts my find difficult. That is the best I can do in regards to content warnings.
VOB is driven by a few sources. I try hard to weed out the ones that aren't me. You know, my Mum, that asshole on the street 8 years ago, the jerks in my pants 27, 15 and 13 years ago. I don't always succeed. But then again, I must ask . . . are you alone in your head all the time? Can you always tell your authentic voice from those that have been recorded in you brain for some strange source of personal torture. Truthfully, it is a rare and evil individual that can inflict more anguish on me than I can on myself. I know I am not alone in this.
I guess that is part of the Bek's Bloggage purpose. To give voice to those in my head who have no right to be there. To force them out of hiding. Anyone read "Eat, Love Pray"? Anyone, anyone? this is my time on the island alone. Time to face the ugly, angry, guilty and dispassionate un-me's.
So please venture forth with me in the spirit in which I go. Share your stories. Share your hugs. All are welcome. (honestly, at least for now).
Bek
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