Well, I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around some news I got this week...
An amazing woman who has become my sister, my friend, has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. It makes so many things trivial. So... this is for my friend.
Coco dear, if by some twist of fate your condition brings you close to me, I’ll be there holding your hand. You've been through so much since I've gotten to really know your loving heart. You've shown immesurable strength.
You will make it through this.
Love you Coco my friend... Hugs, smooches and gropes!
Sorry if I haven’t been around much but by the time I get home, deal with Shark-dog and Dum-Dum and get dinner on the table (on the days when it doesn’t consist of something instant like Chinese take-out), I feel like I’m about ready to collapse. I see to homework, chauffeur my daughter to her theatre class, check a few e-mails (a few hundred... man some of my friends like to let those rip LOL), tuck my sunshine in for the night and then spend some quality time on the phone with the man who owns my heart.
Then... I crash.
Of course, I usually end up waking up in the middle of the night trying to find a way to get back to the luscious dream I was having, but nooooooo...... *sigh*-LeighAnn I know you relate to this. And then I’m stuck with going over conversations and lists and pondering life’s important questions like: Does a bear really shit in the woods? What use can we find for the indestructible part of corn? Turnbaby and I have already ruled out using it to make the outer shell of the space shuttle as we are concerned it’ll just pop upon re-entry on account of the heat.
I’m having difficulty getting my (Damm) ducks in a row, so to speak. My mind has been jumping from one thing to another and this just might be reflected in this post (*snarf*- just this one?) so hopefully you’ll bear with me.
So, what was the highlight of my week? I got a cruel glimpse of what’s in store for the next 8 years…
My daughter didn’t want me to walk her to the door when she had her second theatre class this week.
WAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
I’m cool damnit! You’d think she’d like having me around... I know her new friends would think I’M cool! Right? *sigh*
OK… Deep breath.
So I have a tween. She’s just shy of her 10th birthday and I’m not ready. I’m not ready for her to grow up like that. I miss the little girl giggles, the baby kisses that smelled like green apples, the soft curls on the nape of her neck, watching Dumbo 3 times in a row (actually, I don’t miss that...) and tricking her into eating meat by coating it in plain yogurt (don’t raise your eyebrow at me! It worked... for a while). Those were the days...
I spent a good part of my morning with some Amy Winehouse (what a talent!) as my background music this morning and it’s got me wondering.
The world today is taking a far more critical look at artists and celebrities who end up with substance abuse problems. Is it because the paparazzi are ever present and we get to hear more of the misadventures of the rich and famous? Is it because it’s a bigger problem now than in the days of Janis and Jim and Jimi? Have we all turned into hypocrites? Are we holding them up to a standard we never held the rock & rollers of the past to? Was that a mistake? Do we actually think our opinion matters to them in the end?
I’m a single mother (for now) of an almost 10 year old girl who loves classic rock, shows a passion for music and will go from Led Zep to Taylor Hicks to The Alternate Routes to Lily Allen in a heart beat. Fortunately, she doesn’t quite get some of the lyrics of some of Lily’s songs... yet...
I worry about what’s out there. I worry about the images and videos she’s apt to be bombarded with. I’m concerned about the world she’s growing up in and about the creeps who lurk on the internet.
Will I criticize Ms Winehouse for her behaviour? No. Will I throw a stone at the youngest Spears unfortunate soul? No. We’re just far too much in one another’s business if you ask me.
“But but... they’re the examples for today’s youth” I hear some say. Shit no, they aren’t. We the parents are! Not Hannah Montana, not the Manning brothers... US. And grownups all need to stop trying to be Oprah or The Donald.
Who set the standard for me? Who gave me my morals? My parents! Not actors, sports stars and name-only celebrities... Yes, I admired Nadia’s prowess at the Olympics, I dreamed of kissing Kevin Bacon like Lori Singer in Footloose, and I wanted to be Molly Ringwald. But it’s my mother’s dedication to helping others that guides me... and I’ve finally found a hard-working man who owns up to his responsibilities and doesn’t make excuses, just like my father.
When it comes to my daughter, I’m the one whose shoulders it falls upon to be an example of what a woman can accomplish. Who’s responsible for teaching her what a decent human being is. What’s that you ask?
A decent human being is someone who believes in giving people a chance to make up for their stupidities, who allows people to learn from their mistakes and better themselves, who doesn’t take advantage of people when they depend on you, who plays Free Rice(you saw that coming folks, admit it), who helps when she can and lends a friend a shoulder to cry on.
Yes, my daughter will see things and she’ll hear things that I don’t approve of because I can’t watch her 24/7, and I can’t filter out all the crap out there... But, I can keep the lines of communication open, be ready to listen when she has questions (man does she have those...) and love her.
Maybe somehow the world will look perfect to her, no matter what crap is going on around her...
or maybe she’ll see the injustices and step up, stand up for what’s right. If I only teach her one thing...
I hope and pray that those who have lost their way can learn and change their course, and that a decent human being will give them a hand, a shoulder, the opportunity to better themselves. But I also hope someone will hold them accountable for what they’ve done instead of making excuses for them like some parents I know.
Decent? Well, maybe not quite... but entertaining, plus the tune is catchy...
Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!
On the 8th of May 2000, the Montreal music scene lost one of it's poets. André "Dédé" Fortin was the singer of the band "Les Colocs" (which is a term you hear a lot in and around Montreal, it means a roomate or flatmate for the Brits) and he left no one indifferent when he performed. His songs were extremely personal and often times, transparently autobiographical. When you listened, you felt like you were getting to know him. His death was a great loss to his fans, because we truly felt we had lost a friend we knew well.
He directed this video for "La Rue Principale" (Main Street) released in 1993. He named the street in the song after the main drag in his hometown of Saint-Thomas-Didyme, la rue Saint-Cyrille.
He had a boyish charm, a Peter Pan quality to him. This song is entitled... "Dédé"
But there lurked a dark shadow near him, a silent menace.
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.”
- Richard Wright
He performed this song at a festival in July 1999, about 10 months before taking his own life. I wish I could do it justice by translating the words, his story, for you... If you only watch one of the videos, let it be this one.. and please watch. Don't read ahead.
"Le répondeur" (The Answering Machine)
"j'te dis qu'à soir dans mon p'tit coeur, y fait frette" which can be summed up as: Tonight, in my little heart... it's frickin cold.
"Frette" in colloquial or joual French refers to the kind of cold that stings your cheeks, makes your eyes squint and water and freezes any tears that form right at your eyelashes... frickin cold. The cold you imagine resides down in the deepest midnight blue waters of a lake. Where light never shines and life is a struggle.
I realized watching it over and over, that you really need not understand what words he's singing... all you need is the melody and to watch his eyes, his expression, to hear the tone of his voice. That smile at the end kills me... So many of us wish we could have wrapped him up in a safe warm woobie and given him a reason to smile, to love, to live, to sing to us, to be. To have given him the hunger for life.
Dédé suffered from Depression.
I know what that feels like... I experienced it after having The Chicklet. But she was my lifeline, my woobie, my light... and she kept me from going to that dark place where you let the cold numb you into a deep and permanent slumber. The slumber which provides relief from the sharp needles that stop shy of drawing blood but are relentless and ever present.
I've ended so many of my previous posts by "pushing" FreeRice and asking you to help, to do your part to feed those who have next to nothing. You know, it amazes me that people who have so little to look forward to, who struggle to just make it through another day, who feel a hunger that is so real, fight so hard to stay alive. To wake up and see another day.
Dédé didn't have any fight left. And we lost.
I hope it's warm where he is now, that his heart isn't cold anymore.
Please, to calm the hunger of the poor... play the game.
And if you have some change to spare or some time to give, donate to your local suicide helpline or a suicide prevention foundation and help give someone like Dédé the hunger for another day.
If you stumble upon this post and you've lost that hunger, please remember:
...and I can still feel her hands. They were warm til the end... but so frail. The hands that dressed me as a child. The hands that rolled dough to make Dad his favourite apple pie. The hands that wrote thoughtful notes in that handwriting of hers that was always so neat and even. The hands that craddled my daughter while she rocked her to sleep and held her for hours, rubbing my baby's back. The hands that comforted so many people as they struggled with loss, poverty, and all forms of hardships we are made to endure as we make our way through life.
I can still see her lying on that bed with Pepe the parrot tucked in with her (he now sleeps with Chicklet every night).
I hear her breathe... that's how I measured if it was going to be a good day or if she was going to be in a lot of pain.
I remember the feel of the chair at the end of her bed. The chair I slept in every night in case she needed something, to be there to help the orderlies on the night shift when came time to change her and shift her to the other side.
I remember...
My mother was my safe harbor... she comforted me when I was sick with Chicken pox and had to stay home while I could hear my friends playing outside. She was my rock when I thought maybe something was wrong with my baby's precious heart. She stood by me when my marriage fell apart.
I still need her.
I still miss her.
I posted this song the night my mother joined the ranks of the angels...
I've run away and joined a rock band named GLIDER and I've been recording an album with them in Marakesh.
ok..ok..
Truth is, I was tagged my Mimi, The Queen of Memes with The Band Meme and I hate the dungeon. The trolls keep losing the "guests'" luggage (well, that's what they say but I just think they steal our shoes and prance around in them) and I'm quite fond of my luggage (and shoes). I heard of unspeakable things they've done to previous "guests" as well. Besides, the dampness of the dungeon makes my hair frizz and I look horrendous wearing rollers, so... I decided to play along. If you want to play this and Mimi hasn't already tagged you... I doubt that's possible - she went tag nuts err.. I mean, she generously shared the assignment with everyone she could think of.
Here's how it works:
The Band Meme
The premise is that you're about to release an album cause you're in a Rock'n'Roll band and in order to come up with your CD cover you go to:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
Then...
4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result on your blog and leave a link to it in the comments of this post.
I had fun fiddling with this stuff... The full quote I ended up with was:
You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?" - George Bernard Shaw
I like this quote.
I've done one for Chicklet who has been, for the last 2 days, fiddling with the keyboard she got for Christmas. (You see, when I was a kid, I wanted a keyboard and I ended up with a Hammond organ... sheesh! So, I gave Chicklet a keyboard for Christmas.)
What came out was ominous...
I see a punk band in her future...
Monothematic Delusions is a solid punk rock band name... don't you agree? You better... or she'll find you and do unspeakable things to your most prized possessions with glitter and hot pink paint.
So, where have I really been since the 28th of December?
I spent the last days of 2007 and the first days of 2008 with 'the one'.
And I hunted for lizards for a boy who has captured my heart.
On my return flight, my luggage took a trip of it's own and it lead me to meet the luggage fairy (don't ask, but he -yes he- did explain a few things).
And since going back to work, I've been having computer difficulties which has limited my access to the net, and, to borrow an expression from my friend Meri, that "sucks donkey dong". Most of the time I have had online has been used to check on e-mails and donate rice...
Yup.. it's still going strong at 14,056,707,390 grains of rice so far.
I hope your New Year brings you what your heart desires, and the motivation to reach for your dreams. Dream of things that never were... Go for it!
I'll try and catch up soon. Now you'll have to excuse me... I'm off to install a troll detection system in my shoe closet.
Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!
and pride
Monothematic Delusions is a solid punk rock band name... don't you agree? You better... or she'll find you and do unspeakable things to your most prized possessions with glitter and hot pink paint.
And I hunted for lizards for a boy who has captured my heart.