Bernard Pivot

A beautiful and snowy day today, I braved the roads to catch up with 3 of my dear friends, whom I haven't seen about a year. First stop was Smitty's in Airdrie with a wonderful friend from college. It was great to catch up and chat with her. She is one of the few who doesn't have facebook and seldom frequents the internet at all. As I do not have much time for the phone, we often stay out of touch for long periods of time. It's a shame. After a delightful brunch, I headed into Calgary to meet up with an old roommate/good friend of mine from Toronto. It was also great to see and catch up with her. She keeps me laughing the whole time, which is a joy. She is such a strong person and always an inspiration to me. Then we 'tag teamed' off, where after 2 hours at the Applebees just off of Country Hills, my first year roommate and lifelong best friend came to visit and swapped places. This dear friend is such a constant reminder of Gods grace in my life. Her passion for Christ is inspiring and I long to be more like her, to have more faith, to live completely by faith. She has a very gentle spirit and kind heart. Three very different women, yet all equally beautiful people. It was a good day. I want to share some of what I learned from each of them today, but I fear that this would be getting just too personal into their lives. Lets just say that I was greatly challenged today, for the better.
Tonight Mom and I watched Serendipity (poor Mom, she had to listen to me saying "I was there!" throughout the entire show). I adore the movie, though hadn't seen it in a while. (Got it for Christmas). It was a calm evening. Nice. Peaceful.
As I don't have much to report, I decided it's time to do another rendition of the Bernard Pivot questionnaire (which is based on Proust's questionnaire, which I will likely do at some point)

1. What is your favorite word? hope
   
2. What is your least favorite word? hate (and a certain word that starts with 'c' that makes me itchy when I hear it)
   
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Mozart and Puccini
   
4. What turns you off? cursing, smoking
   
5. What is your favorite curse word? haha see above. My brother once jokingly told me that 'debit' should be a new curse word. I still laugh whenever I hear that word. So... debit.
   
6. What sound or noise do you love? laughter, rain
   
7. What sound or noise do you hate? the subway screeching to a halt, arguing/fighting
   
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? I would like to own my own coffee shop one day
   
9. What profession would you not like to do? pump gas or work fast food. I don't think that these jobs are beneath me, don't get me wrong. I just think that the fumes from the gas would make me pass out and I would weigh 300 pounds if I worked fast food... and anything having to do with sewage. Yuck.
   
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? It does exist. I'd like to hear Him say "well done good and faithful servant".
    

Night!
Blessings
Deena

Good friends and ice cube trays

I'm reading the book Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. I asked for the book for Christmas and we just happened to watch the movie this Christmas as well (fantastic movie). I finished another book that I had been gnawing on forever, and the day after watching the movie, I started the book. It's a great book... if you can over look JP's major use of a certain word that starts with F and her random comments about sex. Which I find slightly intriguing to say the least, because she is able to be talking about cannibalism or bone marrow and then BAM. Sex. Awkward. If you are able to get past these parts, and I am barely able to do so, it is a good book. I think the thing that keeps me going with it is her writing style. I think that it is brilliant. I digress. She talks about blogging, because, if you know the story at all, she decides to cook through Julia Child's first cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and blog about it all, through an entire year. She makes a comment about how many things in our lives are mundane and ordinary. But it seems that if you write it down somewhere, someone, sometime, will come along and read it, no matter how boring. Someone will be interested. We all blog to seem more important. Suddenly our mundane lives become important, have some sort of false value. I found this interesting. Am I just convincing myself that I am blogging for therapeutic reasons? Am I really just searching for a sense of belonging, a feeling of importance? Either way... the saga continues. In other news...
It was a beautiful day out today. Though much colder than it looked, as Mom and I found out when we bundled up to go for a walk and turned back to the house at the end of our back alley way. Cold. I went for supper with my high school best friend tonight. It was great to see her. We're not the best at keeping in touch, but she's one of these people that I know will always be in my life. You know those people? I think they are important. She will be one of the first people I call when I get engaged. When I get an opera gig. If/when (ack) I find out I'm pregnant. Though we don't chat often, she has been there for me through many trials, including thousands of those mild emergencies that one goes through during high school. (Oh my gosh, HE DOESN'T LIKE ME!??! what am I going to do!? My life is over..... wait. I'm still in that mindset. Goodness) If you've read the previous blog, I mentioned those people in my life that I have treated like crap and yet are still around... she is one of these people. I have pushed her away. We've had our spats (always my fault). Yet she's stood by me. The memories that we have together are irreplaceable. I truly cherish this dear friend and am so thankful to have her in my life. I used to sing in the Kwanis Music Festival every year. Every time I would perform, she would give me a note before I left, cheering me on, encouraging me, telling me to 'just breathe'. Sometimes she would even come with me to silently cheer me on, beside my Mom, in the pews of the tiny church that we would sing in. I find that now, as I do my auditions for summer programs, operas, masters degrees, every time I wish I had one of these notes. But each time, I hear in my head, her telling me to 'just breathe'. And I do. And it works. Certain friends come and go in your life. They are there for certain chapters and then slowly vanish, through no ones fault. This is just what happens. Some of these friends are priceless. This is one of the priceless friends. I'm grateful that she hasn't given up on me, in spite of all of my faults. When we find friends like this, we need to hold on to them. They are truly priceless. Once you lose one, it can sometimes be impossible to fill that void.
In other news...
When I got into bed tonight, I saw something that made me think... when is it time (or do we have to?) to give up things that ex's have given you? Due to the odd shape of my room and the placement of hot air vents, my bed is a few feet from one wall, slightly in the middle of my room. This space between my bed and wall holds my night stand, but also has become a bit of a dumping ground for things that I want to hold on to, but don't know what to do with. In my third year of college, I was seeing this guy. He helped me move into a flat that I was going to be staying in over the summer, and in helping with this move, he gave me a few things. A bowl, cup, etc... among the things that he gave me (bless his heart) were 2 blue ice cube trays. Because apparently everyone loves ice. These trays somehow have made it to the landfill between my bed and wall. There they have sat... for 3 years at least... not having moved once. Still in their original see through plastic wrap... what do I do with these? I've used the bowl and mug and am able to use these without thinking of this guy anymore. But these trays... every time I look at them, I think of him. AWKWARD. This guy and I no longer talk. Correction. I no longer talk to him. He still tries to talk to me. But he is married and kind of creepy and I'm not having it. I digress yet again. So... what do we do with this stuff? Another guy I know and maybe went on two dates with... gave me a little stuffed animal. I realized today, to my dismay, that this little bear is with me in Toronto, proudly standing on one of my shelves (propping up books to keep them from falling), yet this guy and I are long since over, he is also married and they are expecting a baby. Is this weird? Is it weird to hold on to these things? Out of all of the ex's that I have (don't worry, the list isn't THAT long), there are maybe 2 that I still harbor any feelings from, neither of which really gave me much, both of whom have long moved on. I have moved on as well, but I still have that little twinge in my heart when I think of them, you know? Anyways... I guess I wrote all of that to say... is it weird/ok/indifferent and whatever, to hold on to these things when I hold no real emotional attachment to them? (and does anyone want/need plastic blue, never been used, still in the original package, ice cube trays?)
Night and blessings
Deena

subtle reminders...

Today was a busy but relaxing day. Full of loads of physical pain, but much laughter and joy as well.
Mom and I went shopping today, to a new mall that has opened within half an hour from our house, which is fabulous because we are used to driving about an hour through heavy traffic to get to a mall with shops that we like. It was my first time there today. We didn't even make it through the whole mall. It was quite lovely actually.
Upon arrival, Mom and I first spotted one of our favorite stores. A store really for women who are a bit more mature than me, or who are working jobs which require you to look professional all the time. I have been searching for good performance tops for a long time, so I decided to look for some of those and Mom browsed around as well. The woman helping us was a gem. You could tell that she truly enjoyed her job, she was helping us find all sorts of treasures and at one point, when I thought I had found all I could find, she lead me around the store, holding out shirts, with me saying 'yes or no', and then picking out my size for me when i did say yes. We actually found a few more tops from me, due to her diligence in helping us. She was lovely, friendly, nice. The other mall that we used to go to all the time has the same store. There was a lady in this store that we always seemed to get. For some reason, she rubbed me the wrong way. She hovered. There was just something about her that bothered me and I never looked forward to going to that store, though it is one of my favorites. This lady at the new mall, however, was a gem and I would definitely go back again. First impressions can mean a lot. It is funny what people remember about you or about a place.
A friend from my college was working at a store there as well and we stopped by to say hi. I'm actually going to go from brunch with her on Wednesday and I am rather looking forward to it! It was funny because one of the first things she said to me after we hugged was 'still playing with your hair I see?". To my chagrin, I was... currently... doing just that... haha. I find it hilarious what other people remember about me. If I was to tell you what I thought she would remember about me, it would not be that I tend to twirl my hair incessantly. But this got me to thinking... her and I have had some bad spats in the past. All of which I could blame on myself. Yet somehow this girl still cares for me, likes who I am, is excited to see me and wants to hang out with me. How is this possible? I hope, in the years to come, if we lose touch or if I die, or something happens... that she is able to remember the good and forget the bad. I hope this for all of my friendships. But then I think... in how many of my friendships does the good outweigh the bad? All of them, I hope. But some... I wonder. This frightens me and challenges me. To become a better friend. I have been given multiple chances by many of my friends... something that I appreciate and try not to take for granted. But I realize in some friendships I have done just that. I feel guilty just thinking about it. So this is a challenge for me, for you, for everyone. To not take those around us for granted. To truly care about them. To ask them how they are doing and mean to. To take time to actually listen to what they have to say, not control and take over the entire conversation. To look them in the eyes, to love them, the cherish. To hug them or hold them when they need to cry. To celebrate with them. Lets try. Lets try to love others as we wish to be loved. Just a thought. Might make for a better world, one person at a time. Everyone needs someone. I'd like to be that someone for a few people in my lifetime. Wouldn't you?
Blessings
De

I like to write...

I don't know that I'm great at it. My English skills have definitely decreased since being drilled over and over about how to write by Mr. Persaud in high school. But I do like to write. I find it relaxing and stress free. After a recent trip to see my brilliant natural pathic doctor, I've decided that I need to write more. She told me that my body is doing well (which is the first time in a LONG time that I have heard this news), but that I am dealing with too much stress. I am not one to readily let go of the things that are going on in my life. But I do find that if I am able to find the time to sit down at write about them, 'talk them through' (with myself, if you will), I am a bit less stressed out about them.
A few years ago, I tried to write every day. Just to see what would happen. Of course, I failed at this. Haha. I have a problem with commitment. So I am not going to set a specific goal. But I am going to write more. About life. About my constant struggle to get in shape and feel healthier. About singing and my daily studying. About striving to be a better Christian and over all person. Of course a few boys will pop in every now and then :o) but I will try my best to leave arguments with friends and family out of the picture.
So, today I start.
It has been a lazy day. Waking up late, spending too much time on the computer in the morning, checking the e-mails and playing a few games. I finished the book Bel Canto today, by Ann Patchett. For me, starting this book was like pulling teeth. I read about 8 books at a time, and it was very difficult for me to keep with this one for long. I was board after about 100 pages. Finally, though, I was determined to finish it, and as I kept going on with it, it did get more and more interesting. Though the ending left me feeling nothing but terrible (because it did not have the happy ending I had wished), I find myself wanting to explore more of Mrs. Patchett's novels. I feel that I will one day.
I long to practice. However, I am very loud and when I am at home, there is an unspoken agreement that I do not practice when my Dad is home. Tomorrow... tomorrow he goes back to work. Tomorrow, however, Mom and I are planning on going to the mall. But I need to practice. Maybe I will get up early. It's been a lazy lazy day. My body is sore from doing an hour of intense yoga yesterday, but I am determined to do more today. Instead of yoga, however, I am doing this... haha. Go figure :o) My body feels a bit weird and I have a bit of a headache. Normal things for someone with fibromyalgia, but very annoying things as well.
I should get to it. Doing some yoga. Maybe then some more reading or studying my Italian. Yes, this is what I need to do. Study the Italian.
My pastor said a while back that he thinks it is hilarious how many people blog about their lives. He jokingly said that he has read some of these blogs and honestly... they are not that interesting! It's true. I apologize if you read this and are bored to tears. I am choosing to write about my day to day life and a therapeutic way to de-stress. If I bore you... don't keep reading :o)
Have a fantastic day.
blessings,
Deena

it's Christmastime...

It has been almost 2 months since I have written. I don't know how many people read my blog, but for those of you who do, I apologize. Sometimes I just feel like I do not have much to say... other times, I feel as if I have too much, there are too many thoughts jumbled around in my head that I can hardly make sense of them all long enough to get the words out on a page.
I'm home for Christmas right now, currently curled up in my warm, single bed, in my yellow and blue room. A room full of reminders of who I used to be... Michael W. Smith, D.C. Talk and Backstreet Boys posters still cling to the walls... stickers and little cards with sayings on them are haphazardly placed on the walls, in what was once a strategic manner I am sure. My mirror still holds pictures of old friends, the autographs of D.C. Talk and Jars of Clay... a picture of Enjolras from Les Miserables... my desk holds momentos from trips taken as a child with my family... little figurines of Mount Rushmore, Devils Tower, London Bridge... along with pictures from grad, a few dolls, stuffed animals... there is a list taped to my wall, beside my bed, with some things crossed off and some things not checked off... among the 'to do' list is 'become friends with myself'. I sheepishly notice that this is not crossed off...
Sometimes I forget who I used to be... I often have a difficult time figuring out how and when I transitioned from a shy little geek into the outgoing, outspoken fireball I am today, who dreams of the stage. I don't get it. I don't see it. I cannot clearly find that point. Maybe it doesn't exist. Maybe it was a combination of many different things... all melded together to form who I am today. I am sure this is it, as I am sure this is true for every other person on the planet. And yet... sometimes things happen that trigger something inside of me... and I feel like a 15 year old bashful little girl again. What makes me feel like this, you ask? It is always, forgive me, matters of the heart. It has happened yet again this week. I am 15 once more...
When people ask me if I am in a relationship, I generally laugh. I still have a difficult time realizing why anyone would want to be with me. I'm pig headed, stubborn, too focused on my non-existent career... I flip and flop between the idea of being in a relationship and not being in one... and I cannot decide which I prefer. For the first time in my life, I feel content to be single. I am happy where I am at. Focused, with goals. Yet sometimes things happen that make me want desperately to be in a relationship. To find that man. Recently, a very dear friend of mine got engaged. My heart is overflowing with love and joy for her. Unfortunately, soon after hearing this news, my fickle heart flipped on the vacant sign and I found myself longing for a relationship yet again.
It is with this attitude and mindset that I came home for Christmas, from Toronto, to my small town in Alberta. It is here that a year ago, a very tall, very handsome young man made me laugh. It was a small conversation we had. Not more than two or three sentences. But one that stuck with me throughout this past year. Because he made me laugh, a genuine laugh that warmed my soul. I did not speak of this little... intruige, if you will, to anyone. So it was, exactly a year later, in exactly the same spot, that this young man made me laugh again. This conversation was a bit longer... there was more to it. Everything was said and yet nothing at all. Laughter. I know little of him. A friend's older brother. Someone I have grown up with, and yet have never paid attention to. Someone whom I will not see again for another year. Someone whom I am too shy to get in touch with, because we have never really communicated, aside from these two short moments, each a year apart. And yet I am smitten... completely and utterly. There is no reason for this young man to like me. There is no reason for him to be attracted to me. I find it odd and a bit frustrating how matters of the heart work. How someone can obsess your mind so completely, when you know so little about them. How someones image and memory can stay so vividly in the back corners of your mind, to be carried around with you constantly, when you know without much doubt that he is not thinking of you at all. How frustrating the heart is.
Sadly, I go back to Toronto on the 6th. I will leave, having said nothing of this to him. Not even knowing how to get in touch with him even if I had the courage (which I do not). I will go on... holding this memory, this wrinkle in time, close to me... looking forward to and hoping for one more moment of laughter, in exactly a year from the last, in the exact same place, at the exact same time. Maybe next year I will have the courage to say more. Then again... maybe not.
Blessings and Merry Christmas!
Deena

New York

So... here is the whole New York story. Sorry I'm so verbose.
About a year and a half ago, I met an opera singer named Rodion Pogossov and we have kept in touch. In September, he told me that he was going to be singing Il Barbiere di Siviglia at The Met in New York. One of my closest friends, Carly, was like... well... when are we going?
We booked it all and then contacted him and he said that he would love to see us, and invited us backstage. Yes, we were excited.
We were gone from Friday morning, Oct 23rd and came back Monday night, Oct 26th. This is what happened...
Friday morning, Jim, Carly's dad, picked me up around 6:30 and we headed to the airport. Getting through was a breeze, and the flight was uneventful. We caught the shuttle to our hotel, and shared it with some older women who wanted to go to a club (we stifled our laughter) and this great guy named Tony from San Francisco, who chatted us up the whole way. He was pretty cool.
After checking into our hotel (the Amsterdam Court Hotel, 50th and 7th), we jumped on the subway and headed to the upper west side to eat at the Seinfeld restaurant, Tom's Restaurant. After filling up, we saw this beautiful hugeutiful huge Cathedral, St John the Divine, and saw the Brooklyn Philharmonic Orchestra rehearsing, which was fantastic. We jumped back on the subway and went to 72nd st to see the Dakotas, where John Lennon was shot (and where Yoko Ono still lives), then went to see his memorial, Imagine, in Central Park and walked through Central Park, which was stunning. We saw Bethesda Fountain, The Mall, Wollman Rink... it was beautiful. We ended up in the Grand Army Plaza, where The Plaza is, the Mac Store, F.A.O. Schwarz... and walked down 5th Ave, on the way back to our hotel. We passed Rockefeller Center as well. It was great. We headed back to the hotel, then caught the subway to the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) and saw Picaso, Frida, Van Gogh's Starry Night which is my favorite painting in the world... it was incredible (and the MOMA is free Friday nights from 4-8, so it was perfect). Then we walked back to our hotel and had supper at TGI Fridays... walked down to Times Square. It was raining, but it was cool. I went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which i always have to do. haha. We subwayed to the Empire State Building, but there was zero visibility because of the rain, so we didn't go up... just went back to our hotel and crashed for the night.
Saturday morning we got up and went to this breakfast place that Cary had spotted, Au Bon Pain, which was AMAZING (and we ended up going there every morning) It was really rainy, but it was also very humid, so it was a bit of a weird day. We jumped on the subway and headed up to 81st, then walked through Central Park to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was fantastic. We saw a lot of really amazing things, including the Temple of Dendur, more original Van Gogh's, an entire shark completely preserved, and a brilliant Robert Frank photography exhibit. His stuff is brilliant. From there, we walked past Madison Ave and Park Ave to Lexington, jumped on the subway and headed to 59th where we wanted to go to Serendipity 3 for lunch but it was an hour and a half wait. So we went instead to this little pizza place which was amazing. Apparently Oprah and Gail have been there and they claim it's the best pizza. It was really good.
We poked around bloomingdales for a while, then walked over to the Grand Army Plaza and snooped around F.A.O.Schwarz. We saw the piano from the movie "Big" and got there just in time to see 2 guys do a little concert on the piano. It was perfect. The toy store is crazy... they have a Barbie fashion show... huge pezz dispensers... a doll hospital... it's just nuts. And amazing!
From there we caught the subway again to the hotel and got ready for the opera :o) While we were getting ready, it started to pour rain. Fabulous. haha. We had a quick supper down the street, then jumped on the subway and headed up to Lincoln Center. I died a bit inside when we rounded that corner and I saw the Met for the first time. But it was raining, so I couldn't cherish the moment for long. We walked around for a bit then found our seats and settled in for the show. It was hilarious (but we both agreed that we liked our version at the COC better... though the singers were better at the Met. Well, Rodion was brilliant in both. We just didn't like Don Basilio or the maid at the Met). Rodion texted us during the intermission to see how we were liking it, which made me laugh. After the show, we actually ran into 2 people that Carly knew, which was HILARIOUS (I mean, what are the odds?!) Then we headed downstairs and backstage to meet up with Rodion. He took us onstage for a second, which was AMAZING and then we headed out, where there were people waiting for him for his autograph. While we were walking, there was a girl there who introduced herself to him and said 'i'm an usher here...' and i laughed and couldn't help but think... aww... you're me! He took us to this fabulous italian restaurant and insisted on paying. It was a great night. He loved the scarf, which was fantastic, and we laughed the whole time and ate beautiful food. He walked us back to the subway, and after promising to text him when we got back to the hotel, we left him. The subway ended up being closed on the side that we needed, due to construction, so we ended up taking a cab and then crashing at the hotel... i think we got home around 2? Maybe? And had to get up early the next day... awesome :o)
The next day, after going again to Au Bon Pain, we headed to The Met, for our backstage tour. It was incredible! The information that I learned was amazing and needed I think... haha. I also may or may not have taken a bent nail from the Met... but shhhh.... (if you want to know why, just ask) From there, after wasting a bit of time on the subway because some stops were closed, we headed downtown to walk through Battery Park and catch a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. Then we walked by the Wall Street Bull and saw Ground Zero. Jumped back on the subway, and headed to the hotel, where texting plans with Rodion ensued. We agreed to meet at Carnagie Hall. He wanted to take us to a Russian restaurant but could not remember the address, so we turned the corner and went to the Russian Tea Room to ask (a place I have always wanted to at least SEE because I've heard it's stunning. And believe me... it is. beautiful!) We walked to the other restaurant to find that it was closed, then walked back to Carnagie Hall and ate across the street at this beautiful and fantastic sea food restaurant where I had the most amazing crab cake and shrimp EVER. Again, he insisted on paying. It was really funny because everywhere we went, Rodion and I ended up ordering the same thing. haha. random. He had to go to another dinner in the Upper East Side, so we told him we would walk him and headed up through Central Park. It was so beautiful. We ran into a huge group of people dancing on roller skates to music... we watched them for a while because it was just so interesting, then kept walking the long walk to where he had to go... we didn't think we would see him again, so we said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and left him there, then jumped on the subway and headed back to Grand Army Plaza, where Carly was meeting up with a friend she hadn't seen in a while. We left each other there, and I walked down 5th Ave again to the hotel and crashed for about 45 minutes. After calling to make sure that our shuttle would pick us up the next day, I was about to head out to study at Cafe Lalo, when I received a text from Rodion. I asked if he'd care to join me, and he said sure for about 20 minutes, because he was exhausted (understandably so). We decided to meet closer to his place, and met at a Starbucks at 70th and Broadway. (again, he would not let me pay for my tea. He's such a gentleman). After about 2 hours, and a fantastic conversation, we decided it was time for him to sleep. He walked me to the subway and when we were there he asked me a favor. Apparently he has given away all of his c.d's and doesn't have any. His parents really want one. So he asked if, if he gave me money, i could go into a store across the street and buy it for him. Haha, I laughed the whole time and of course did it. It was hilarious :o) The subway again was closed, so we hailed a cab and said goodbye for the last time.
Carly was back at the hotel when I got there, and we decided to walk down through Times Square and go to the Empire State Building. It was super late when we got there, but we went up and it was STUNNING. On one side it was windy, but on the other it was eerily quite and just so beautiful. New York really is a beautiful city.
We headed back to the hotel and got some much needed sleep. The next morning, we checked out and headed for the last time to Au Bon Pain. Then we jumped on the subway and headed to South Ferry, where we caught a ferry to Staten Island. It is free, so we decided to grab a better view of the Statue of Liberty. We didn't see much on the way there, but on the way back, we had a perfect view. We headed back to our hotel, bought some souvenirs and then grabbed our bags and waited for our shuttle. Which was 50 minutes late. Not impressed. We got to the airport, ate and made it through security in record time (and they didn't find my bent nail... hilarious) then just waited for our flight. After the shortest flight in the world, we landed, had no problems with customs, Carly's mom picked us up... and now I'm home. and I want to be back in New York... haha...
if anyone wants more details about anything that happened, or has questions, just ask and I am more than willing to tell you :o) Just wanted to give you the basic low down of what happened.
And yes Mel... we DID see a guy in a cape!
ciao
Deena

Lady

Never in a million years did I ever think that I would be writing an obituary for my dog... yet this is what I sit down right now to do. What do you say in an obituary anyway? I don't read them... I don't write them... and to write one for a dog seems to create even more challenges.
Yet my dear Moms has requested this of me. So I will do it, because she needs me to. Because she wants me to.
It is hard, Lady finally passing. The tears flowed freely today as Mom held the phone up to her ear and I told her through tears that I loved her and that she was wonderful... I know she couldn't hear me, she was fairly deaf towards the end... but I knew it was there...
Lady was wonderful. Sometimes, when I was coming home to visit, Mom would tell Lady and she would start wagging her tail. It's like she got it. We had her for about 7 years, and she was 13 when she passed. What a beautiful girl. What a beautiful life she had. She was the most happy, kind, beautiful, caring (in a way that only a dog can) and loveable creature... she was loved by the community and by our family, so here is my attempt to share with our town, who knew her well, that our dear, sweet girl has passed. But I can see her frolicking... her legs working again, her breathing normal... in Heaven... over hills and through valleys... and I know God gave her a huge hug for us when she bounded her way up to Him to great Him. C.S. Lewis believes that animals go to Heaven. I finally agree.
As I sat down to write, I had a few false starts... and while trying to make my words come together, Mom sent me something beautiful and perfect. I merely added a line or two.
So Lady... here you go hun... from Moms
LADY - She was every bit a Lady, she did not have the greatest start
in life (she was found on the streets of Airdrie as a puppy), but she
had a tremendous finish. She was loved so much, treasured and adored,
the best companion, in turn she gave us unconditional love. Our hearts
are aching, she will be missed tremendously. God bless you, precious
Lady, you were the best.
She was very much a part of this community. Thank you all for being a part of her life.
With all our love, your family, Tom, Ruby, Deena, Jeff and Olivia

Please pray for our family... Mom especially... because she was around her constantly... as we grieve, as we heal. She was a BIG part of our family. So this pain... this pain will take a long time to get over.
Thanks so much
love and blessings
De

All That I Know Is I'm Breathing...

I've been wondering a lot lately about relationships. Romantic relationships. Why do most people feel that they need a relationship in order to be happy? In order to feel full, content? I have a handful of people in my life who seem to always need to be in a relationship. They are not happy unless they are in one and as soon as one ends, they are out searching for the next. I don't understand. They seem miserable without someone on their arm.
Where did this mindset come from? Movies? Tv? The media? Likely. Even romantic books... society has programed us to believe that singleness is bad. There are some people out there who, upon hearing that you are single, will give you 'that look' (you know what I'm talking about) and give you a sympathetic "I'm sure you'll find someone soon". I find this disgusting. I am single by choice. Is that ok? Is that allowed?
Sometimes I am lonely. Tonight for instance. Last night even. I wished I had someone that I could be with. To share a moment with. But though i would not turn down a guy that I felt was right for me at this time in my life, I am generally content and happy without being in a relationship. Believe me, this shocks even me.
Yet lately I've also realized just how human I am... just how needy I am. A while ago, I wrote about my mail room stalker. The guy who stares at me constantly, bows to me, asks me out on a weekly basis. This has been happening for months. Once in a while though, he will find someone else to follow around. When this happens, he virtually ignores me. Nothing comes my way. Which is generally fine, but I must admit that sometimes I am saddened by this. It is always a nice feeling to know that someone out there is interested in you. It just really is. For the past week and a bit, he has been doing the ignoring. Someone else has come along. That's fine. Today, however, he came out of the door and stood in the hallway staring at me for a good minute. I was aware of him but hadn't let him know that I was aware. Finally I looked at him and gave him kind of a 'what?!" look and he just shrugged and smiled. Weird. Yet somewhat... somehow... it made me fee good. Nice. Am I really that shallow and needy?
I want to find my worth in God. Not in what guys think of me. I want to fall deeper and deeper in love with my creator. I don't want to run from one guy to the next. Aside from a few small flings and one more substantial... 'thing'... (depending on the day, I will call the guy involved my boyfriend or refer to the situation as 'a guy I was seeing'. Not really sure what we were...), I have been virtually single for about 2 years now. But really, is there anything wrong with that? Society would lead me to believe so. Even some peers lead me to think as much. I find that often people don't buy that I am happy being single. Like I said earlier, there are times when a relationship is all that I want... sometimes I wonder if I am too picky. Sometimes I think that the timing is just off. I am interested in someone, and they are not, but then if they become interested, I am over it... it's all a ridiculous little game.
So I chose to wait. I chose to be happy, be content with where I'm at, with what I am doing, with the career that I am pursuing. If a great guy comes along, that is wonderful, I will give him a chance. If not... well, that's fine. I'm ok with that. I don't need a relationship to be happy. And if I did... I would seriously question myself... I would have to sit down and figure out what was really going on... because in the scheme of life wealth, possessions, relationships... they all fall short. They are not what make people happy. It is YOU. You are the catalyst in making yourself happy. So if you're not happy... look inside... what's going on there? Figure it out.
Like I've said before, I like to sit in my emotions. I did so tonight while playing my guitar. We are allowed to have and experience all types of emotions... but if you are constantly unhappy... take a look at yourself... or get someone to help you... see the good. But also examine what is making you so upset. It's important. Happiness, joy... these are important in life.
Today my mind has been going almost crazy... jumping from one thought to the next. Relationships to pain, which I have been in a lot of lately... and one thing I can't help but wonder is, what does it feel like to be normal? To not have constant pain in your legs... or right now my left knee and upper back... What an incredible thing it must be to have a normal body. I'm not going to lie, there are times, right now being on of them, that I am jealous of those of you who do not suffer from this every minute of the day... sometimes it is almost unbearable. But those are the moments that I know and realize that God is with me the most. Because He carries me through those moments. There is no way I could go at this alone.
I digress. What did I even say? ...what is it like to feel normal? Honestly?
Buonasera,
Deena

sometimes I do not understand my life...

This has been a weird week. A good week. But definitely an interesting one to say the least. Many things have happened to me, many changes, both good and seemingly negative. Through it all, I am happy. I am content. I am reaching out and learning and growing. It is good. But then random things happen that, for some reason, shake you... this is one of those things. Though it seems like nothing and we laughed about it... it really got to me and I did not feel safe until I entered my house and locked the door.
I decided that I wanted to see a movie tonight. I figure I should before my life gets so busy that I don't have the desire or the energy to do so. So I called up a few friends and Mel, Erica and I decided to go see 500 Days of Summer. Fantastic movie by the way. Definitely worth seeing.
Now I'm a fairly observant person. I didn't really think much of the next few events until something happened later.
Erica and I met at Second Cup to grab a drink before the movie. There was a small Asian man in the store as well and he also ended up going to the movie theater. Erica and I arrived before Mel did, so we got in line and got our tickets the old fashion way. He was behind us in line. Erica was first up, I was second, and he ended up at the till that she had just been occupying. I heard him ask for the same movie as us and just thought it kind of strange that this guy would be seeing the movie. Took a small note of it, but nothing more. We met up with Mel and headed to the theater. When we got there, the first few rows were completely empty and we just ended up in the first row (it has this great railing that you can put your feet on without getting yelled on. Fantastic spot).
The movie was hilarious. Erica is brilliant to go to the theater with because she's so passionate about what's going on on screen :o) Haha I love it.
After the movie, we stuck around to watch the credits. I don't know... we all get a kick out of seeing peoples names and wanted to see the music credits as well. When we got up to leave, we were getting our stuff together and bam. The man is right behind us and he looks at us and asks us if we're in the 'industry'. Um... no. No we're not. "Oh no? You look like you're in the industry". Sorry. We're not. "Well, what are you in?" "Umm... the arts and medicine". "Oh. *looks at me* Why are you wearing a hat?" *nervous laughter* "Because I like hats?" and we leave... And he leaves with us... We head for the bathroom to put some space between us. We leave and see him hovering around the snack bar. We keep walking briskly and he sees us and comes after us. On the escalator we're stuck behind someone and the man is close behind us. As we exit the theater, we decide to go to Chapters. Surely he won't follow us in there... Clearly we're wrong.
We enter, so does he. This is a 3 story Chapters, so we think that we can lose him. We head to the second floor, which consists of a set apart music area and a Starbucks. As we're walking to the next escalator, we see our friend Chris in the music store and nearly attack him with happiness. We chat with him for a while. Man comes in and hovers, all around the small area, as we chat with Chris and try to think of a way to escape. We decide to split up in twos to see what will happen. Erica stays with Chris in the music store, while Mel and I head upstairs to see if they have any text books she needs for school.
Lucky us, he is suddenly upstairs and 'just happens' to end up in every single section than we end up in. Eventually we head back downstairs, to see how Erica and Chris are doing.
Now Chris, Chris is a good guy. The man has stayed upstairs, but by the railing right by the escalator so he can see us if we leave where we are. So Chris has decided that he will go to the escalator and chat the guy up if he tries to follow us. He must have succeeded, I have yet to hear his side of the story. We make a break for it. Erica is literally running out of the store, I'm sure they thought we were stealing. She runs to her bike and got home safe. Mel and I book it to Queen street so we can be surrounded by the masses.
Even on the subway, I was nervous. All of us were. Until we got home and were locked in our houses. I made the calls around, knowing that we all were safe, but just needing to hear it.
Now we are all strong, smart women. We can all take care of ourselves, stand up for ourselves, protect ourselves if we need to. But this situation just made us feel so vulnerable. I mean, Erica and I are both tall women. We had inches on this guy. Yet we felt vulnerable. We felt... violated.
It's a weird feeling. Being followed. I've been followed before, by guys who usually have been flirty or whatever and it's not that unnerving. They seem innocent enough and it doesn't feel that awkward. Sometimes the guy who constantly asks me out at work freaks me out. He'll stand outside of the shop and just stare at me for 30 seconds before walking away. All the girls know about him. I don't think he would do anything foolish. Sometimes I feel unnerved. Usually I feel ok with him.
But this guy. Though I could clearly take him out if anything were to happen. Though there were 3 of us. Though there were always people around. It can just make a woman feel so.... used.
I understand and get that women are not meant to be helpless and necessarily 'need' a man anymore. We're supposed to be these strong feminist types who can be independent and do things for themselves. But I don't always feel like a strong woman. This man, he made me feel so... small. Men are supposed to protect us. Men are supposed to make us feel safe. They are supposed to come to our rescue, like Dave did when Abby and I got our third flat tire on the side of the road in the middle of the night. THAT is what men are supposed to do. No matter how strong we make ourselves look. No matter how confident we appear. I know I need that protection. Tonight, when I saw Chris, I felt instant relief. Here is a good guy. A guy that I don't know well. But I know that he is a good guy. I know that he won't let anything happen to us. I know that he will help us with this situation.
Earlier this week, a random guy started talking to me in a tea shop. But he wasn't creepy and I felt instantly at ease. I felt like I had known him for years. And when he gave me his number at the end of our encounter, I knew that this was a guy that I would want to get to know.
So it is not every man. It is not every stranger that talks to me. I think I can read people pretty well. And this man... there was something not right there.
Mel thinks he was following me, because he came after us to the third floor. I don't know if I agree with that necessarily. But I do know that I still feel unnerved. I feel, like I've already said, violated. What makes any man think that he has the right to do that to us? And why are we, why am I, so willing to give him the power to make me feel so useless and afraid? That's the real question.
Blessings and love
Deena

People...

I think we often give other people too much strength. We care too much what they think, we are affected by their decisions and choices. Why can't we just be? Just be happy and content with who WE are and not really be that affected by other peoples thoughts and decisions? If only it were so easy...
Not only that, but I think we let other people stress us out without even realizing it. Throughout the past year and a half, I have worked at a store downtown. For most of that time, there was a person who would come into the store to... 'help out', lets say, and this person would constantly stress us all out. I found myself with this incredibly suffocating tension around my neck and shoulders. It was brutal. When this individual was eventually let go, that tension disappeared. I did not put two and two together until yesterday when I was told that this individual would be coming in to see something today. Almost instantly that tension, that blinding pain, was back. Today as well, as we waited with uncertainty for this person to show up, the tension kept mounting and mounting... it turns out that they were unavoidably detained today *cough* and will not be coming in until tomorrow. At an hour when I am not at the store. I will not see them. All of this tension for nothing.
But why did it happen? I am one of those people who can 'talk a good talk' away from people that stress me out. I can think about what to say to them, make up scenarios and conversations in my mind as to what I would ultimately LIKE to say to them... yet given the opportunity, I back down. I am polite and sweet. Why does this happen? With a few other people in my life this happens as well. I cannot speak my mind around them. Granted, I would never do it in a malicious way. I am tactful enough to be able to speak my mind without intentionally or mistakingly hurting anyone else. Yet I cannot do this. I clam up. I cannot express my true feelings.
Why is this!? Does it stem from a lack of self esteem? Do I still believe that my opinion is not important, merely because it is mine? Of is it that underlying need for people to like me?
Whatever it is, it is starting to slowly drive me insane. I live in fear of encountering these people that I would like to speak my mind to, on one of their bad days. On one of those days when they will, undoubtedly, take a negative situation out on me. I know it will happen. I know it is coming... it is just a matter of time... and that thought petrifies me.
How do I let go of these chains? How do I stop allowing people to have so much power?
I think it comes down to my relationship with God. Am I truly depending on Him as much as I need to? Do I actually trust Him to take care of certain situations? Do I prayerfully depend on Him to help me show His love to these people? No. I don't. And I'm beginning to understand that right now, more than anything, this is something that needs to be worked on. Because I cannot keep letting these people have a power over me. I should not have a physical, painful reaction at the thought of seeing someone. This is no way to live. And I am going to try to fight for this to end. Maybe the revolution is finally here...
blessings and love
Deena

Changes...

I wrote this on the subway today after hearing some rather... interesting and confusing news from home. Now it's starting to make sense in my mind, but this morning as I wrote, I was a wreck. I didn't understand. I felt barely sane. Completely discombobulated... these were my feelings at that time... I figured I might as well share... (I'm doing MUCH better now... sometimes you just have to get it out)

I feel like I have two constant things in my life. God and music. Everything else is constantly changing around me and inside of me...
As one of my closest friends heads back to Bible college... as I struggle to understand and comprehend difficult choices that are being made back at home and how these changes will affect my life... as I try in vain to understand new feelings and emotions that I did not know that I had... I wonder... how could I have prepared for this? For these events? Of course I realize that there is no way that I could have.
Sometimes I feel like emotions and situations sneak up behind us only to slap us in the face. A sneak attack, no warning. The death of a family member, the loss of a job, a surprise pregnancy... these awkward situations seemingly come out of nowhere and then what? What do we do? How do we deal? (Not that I am dealing with ANY of the above, they are just examples)
My brother told me last night that he thinks that I am a stronger person that I think I am... I'm really not so sure... maybe I sell myself short.
But I find myself shying away from situations instead of dealing with them. Sitting in my emotions instead of healing and moving forward. Sitting on the subway with my music blaring in order to block out the world and hopefully cloud some of the thoughts currently attacking my brain. Fefe Dobson, in one of my favorite songs, Revolutionary Song, sings that 'the deamons that stalk us will eventually turn to dust... together we can start this heeling...' but what if they remain until you try to deal with them? The demons? What if you're not sure how to even begin that process? What if... what if you're not sure how to reach out? Or feel too weak to face those demons head on?
You go through life longing for the revolution, but feel too small and insignificant to actually pick up a weapons and fight...
What if...
Blessings and love
Deena
p.s. sometimes you are so uncertain and afraid for the future that being in public is suffocating and at that moment, there is nothing more frightening.

feelings...

I've started carrying around a little pad of paper and a pen with me everywhere I go. I wrote this on a 45 minute subway ride yesterday to go for tea with my friend before going to ballet. Because I write slower than I type, it might not make as much sense (my thoughts fly past quickly) but here you go... this is what came out. I hope you like it...? ha.

As I struggle in vain to get over my latest crush, who is moving, I can't help but wonder where those feelings will go? Will they just simply disappear? Will they stay and just get deflected onto someone else? Do they change like water into different things made out of the same feeling? Moving into ice and gas seamlessly, into dislike and happiness?
Sometimes I think that is what happens when we break up with someone... the same feeling, that lump of emotions that saturates our entire being, changes from one thing to the next... anger, hope, pain, sorrow... and ultimately a numb, dull feeling that cannot really be labeled as much of anything. But sometimes I think that these feelings never really leave us. Sometimes I think that either initially or right after we have entered that confusing numb attack, our feelings merely hide on us. They set up camp in some dusty corner of our minds that we hardly ever use so we barely ever realize that these feelings still exist... I like to think that my feelings have camped out in the part of my brain meant for math and physics. That would explain so much.
Every so often these feelings wave their hands, which causes a memory to pop up and our heart to stir. Depending on how intense these feelings were to begin with, they may or may not be able to catch our attention. And the first time that we are able to ignore or avoid those feelings, they then disappear, move out.
Depending on initial attachment, I like to think that the feelings are forced to leave after 5 years... there is limited space... some, unfortunately cling on and will not leave.
What happens to the ones that are kicked out? Do we just completely forget that person? Or is it in that moment that we are able to finally look on the person with fondness again? Maybe that's it.
Maybe feelings are malleable. Maybe they mold and change and never really leave us, taking us on random roller coaster rides and through soft and beautiful meadows.
But can we actually change them or is it just a long process that we are forced to endure? Letting them set up camp until they are forced out of changed into fond memories by time and time only? I sometimes wish we could manipulate our feelings, control them. Sometimes, I guess, we can. But I think it's those times when we want to control our feelings the most that we are least able to do just that. That's my experience anyways. And right now... I am incredibly sad. And unfortunately, I cannot change that feeling.
Dang it.
Blessings and love,
Deena

happily ever after

I think to a large extent, Hollywood has ruined us... as I say goodbye to the current object of my affection, a guy who has no idea (or if he does, is gracefully choosing to ignore this fact which... is probably for the best) that I am into him, I realize that secretly I want to do something crazy. I want to rush to the airport before he leaves and confess my feelings, much like Ross in Friends. I want to make some grand gesture. Haha. But no, I'm not that cheesy. No, I'm not that forward. No. It will not, ever, EVER, happen. But still... a small part of me wants to. Because a small part of me believes that this is what happily ever after is made out of. Grand gestures. Because this is what Hollywood has lead me to believe.
But does happily ever after actually exist? I realize that relationships require work. That there is always some give and take to them. My last serious relationship was so flawed... so full of me trying to be perfect for the guy... that I'm not even sure what a relationship should look like. It frightens me. This is why, I think, that after over a year of knowing this guy, I didn't realize my feelings for him until now. Now, when he's leaving. Typical. Because it's safe. Because it would never happen. Because that grand gesture that Hollywood wants me to make will never happen. Lame. I'm kind of lame.
Speaking of that horrible past relationship... my ex contacted me yesterday. Why? I don't know. But it made me mad. I wish he could just leave me alone. He's long since moved on. I'm still shoveling up the pieces. I still see the sadness in my eyes at times... the sadness that somehow appeared on that Wednesday when he told me it was over. That sadness that has stayed with me until now. That encouraged me to make stupid decisions in foreign places. That has tainted every decision towards guys I have made since. Because for the second time in my life, I thought I would marry this ex. For the first time in my life, that person decided on his own that it wasn't going to happen. How do you ever deal with that? How do you ever deal with and get past the fact that you were not good enough for someone? That is a difficult reality to face.
But I try to move on. I try not to think about it, I try not to care. But in doing so, have I let myself heal? I'm not so sure anymore. Can I even be free to look for love if I have such a hard time letting go of this last love? Or will the chains that still hold me eventually fall off when some new man sweeps me off my feet? Who knows. I guess only time will tell.
So I'll move on. Past this current crush, suppressing my feelings once again, past the ex, ignoring the problem all over again, and look forward to the future. And though it is extremely naive to believe in fairy tale endings and happily ever after... a little bit of me does. A little part of me believes in the magic of movies. And for now, right now in this moment, I will cling to that. And I'll get through. And it will be ok. It always is.
Blessings and love,
Deena

an epic moment...

For some reason, I have always been obsessed with experiencing one of the weirdest things. My brain is like a photo album. Throughout every day, I see random snapshots of various moments of my life. I'll see my brothers wedding, a friends wedding, a hilarious moment from years ago, a recital, my graduation from college... Random. I don't control them, it just happens. Sometimes I search for a memory... I know it's in there somewhere, and it actually feels like and I can see, in my mind, myself struggling to turn the pages of this photo album to get to the memory that I intend to find.
One of these memories that comes back to me is, get ready to laugh, the beginning of the Disneyland ride, Pirates of the Caribbean. I KNOW. I told you it was weird. But at the beginning of this ride, you are taken in your watery boat through the backyards of Louisiana, from years ago. You see old grungy men sitting outside their shacks, with lanterns for their light, sometimes fishing, sometimes talking, enjoying the crickets and moonlight. For some reason, I love this.
For some reason, anytime I've seen a movie that has a scene like this, whether it be in Louisiana, circa 1889 or a more modern take like from the movie How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, when they are sitting in the back yard, laughing and talking, playing a card game, I am envious. I want this. I can't remember the last time I had something like this.
Then yesterday, I had an epic night. One that will, undoubtedly, be etched into my minds eye for years to come. One that, I am sure, has already ended up on a blank page of that never ending photo album. One that I will reach for in the future to brighten dark days and make me laugh on others.
Yesterday my friend's mom threw a birthday party for him. Though I've never met his parents, my roommate extended the invitation to me, and I to another friend who had met this one friend briefly. It was out in Oakville, so my 'plus one' came to pick me up and we headed out. The house itself was gorgeous. On a huge lot. Just stunning. Decorated in off whites, light greys and beige, candles and beautiful art work, the house had the touch of class that I hope to have in my life one day. When I own a place, I want it to look and feel like that house did. Extremely classy, yet warm and inviting at the same time.
We went, myself only knowing my roommate, my invited friend, and the birthday boy. Another dear friend showed up later, but we were basically among strangers. They invited us in with hugs and laughter and my friend and I settled in for a beautiful evening.
After giving my friend his birthday present (a childs 'yay you're 2!' card that i changed to read '21' and a gift certificate... listen, I had NO idea what to get him...), we settled in and met the people around us. Some beautiful older (I dislike that word, these people were younger at heart that I am, though in older bodies) people, who encouraged us to sing and applauded when we mockingly joined in to the beautiful c.d's playing. The soundtrack to the night was taken care of by our stunning host, and really was perfect. I think that this is what made the night so epic for me.
After a brilliant supper of home made goodness, most of the younger people left, leaving just a few of us with the older crowd. I loved it. I could listen to them talk for hours. I had a wonderful conversation about opera with our male host. As we sat around the fire on the patio, candles burning all around us, inside and outside of the house, with the soothing sounds of Josh Groban, Diana Krall, Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and many others cooing to us, laughter popping up in the pocket conversations all around us... I couldn't help but feel extremely blessed. Looking up at the sky to see the stars that I so often miss in Toronto, I couldn't help but feeling extremely content and happy.
These people, this family, embraced us. Hugged us and brought us in. It was one of the warmest and happiest times, tinged with little moments of sadness for a boy who will be leaving for Montreal soon that I will likely (though regrettably... and I will fight to not let this happen) lose touch with, it was a perfect evening on a perfect summers night in August.
I had my epic night. I enjoyed the brilliance and the beauty of the people all around me, lapping up their warmth and feeling recharged by the simplicity of it all.
And though I had some weird mixed emotions rolling through me, throughout the night, it really was a night to remember. One that I will not soon forget. One that will stay with me always, that I will look to often.
For those involved... thank you.
Blessings and love
Deena

Emotional habits

A talk with a friend last night prompted many thoughts throughout the night and this morning...
He had mentioned how it had been a difficult summer for him, how he had encountered many negative and even destructive thoughts. He then suggested that I would obviously have no idea what he was talking about or be able to understand... haha. How wrong he was.
I grew up in a small town. My school, K-12 was 600 people. My graduating class was 32, I believe. When you grow up in these conditions, there is no way to make a new, fresh start. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, the 'cool kids' in my school, right from grade 1 on, hated me. Made fun of me. Called me fat, ugly, worthless... and what do you do when you're a child being told these things by the people that you want to be like? You believe them.
I grew up with 2 battling thoughts and ideas in my head... my upbringing (and continuing belief and practice) in the Christian church lead me to believe that I was a beautiful creation, that God did not make mistakes. Yet my reality showed me that I was worthless. Ugly. Not needed. Not important. Through a series of events, I learned not to trust people. I learned to be careful. But I also learned to lie... because I didn't believe that people would like the real me. I thought that I was so pathetic, I had to make up lies and schemes in order for people to like me.
Towards the end of grade 7, a new group of friends somehow invited me in. They loved me. They laughed with me. And in the beginning, I lied to them. Constantly. I didn't believe, I didn't trust that they would care about me. Slowly, I let my guard down. And slowly they embraced me. Slowly I became a real person, instead of a shallow shell that merely existed. I started to dream. I started to live. For that, for them, I am forever grateful.
But depression runs in my family and it soon hit. Many of my years were spent with laughter on the outside and pain on the inside. In college I started seeing images of myself hanging from buildings... and one day God took that all away. The images. I still struggled, still worried that no one cared, even though anyone who knew me would tell you that I was extremely popular.
The musician Moby has made a great impact on my life. But it was not his music that first drew me to him, it was an interview I saw of him on Much Music in which one of the VJ's asked him why, in light of all of his success, he still seemed depressed, still was hard on himself. "It's hard to change the emotional habits of a lifetime" Moby responded. I was hooked. Because I agreed and could relate.
This conversation with my friend last night helped me to see something. As he told me about how he had put his music off throughout the summer, how he had no passion for it, I was reminded of the fact that when I get depressed or even just down, I barely practice. But when I start to practice again, my spirits rise.
I am never happier than when I am singing. I often forget this.
Having just done a performance a week ago, I can tell you that as I've grown up, as I've matured, as I've become more confident in my music, I have become more confident as a person. The same is in reverse. As I have become more confident as a person, stood up for myself in many instances, I have become a much more confident singer. The two, for me, go hand in hand. As I've dove head first into my dream, it has held me with gentle arms, allowing me to grow and change myself into a stronger, more passionate, more confident person. Music is my life. Music leads me back to God when I have gone astray. Music continually breaks me. Music reminds me that I am loved. Music, singing, is a part of my soul.
I still have a difficult time believing the positive about me. When people, friends, tell me that I did a good job performing, though I thank them and appreciate it, these words never penetrate my heart, I don't think that I ever truly believe them. Yet, after the performance last Friday, a gentleman that I had never met came up to me and said "You have a beautiful voice. Truly. Keep singing". And for once... for once I believed it.
I'm still learning. Still growing. Still trying to figure life out. But aren't we all?
Blessings and love
Deena

destruction...

It is amazing what words can do to a person. They can lift them up, they can make a day. Or they can destroy a friendship, they can ruin and end a life.
Harsh words, verbal abuse, can lead to suicide, to masked gun men massacring countless people that they don't know... can lead to eating disorders, cutting problems, low self esteem, further disruptive relationships, physical abuse... can leave a wonderful, brilliant, caring, beautiful, Godly person in a crying, trembling heap on the floor, crying out to God for healing yet continually being bombarded with words of hate ringing in their ears... leaving other people to sit back and think how in the world can we help?
I beg of you. All of you. If you are in a verbally abusive relationship, GET OUT. Or at the very least, confront the person. Communication is key... please... communication is everything. I was chatting with a friend tonight and he said that he had heard that communication is 80% physical. Can we please change that number?
I think that it is SO important to talk to people when they have hurt you, when you have cooled down enough to talk to them in a calm manner. It is very important.
Now, I'm one to talk... I'm extremely upset at someone right now, have been for weeks, but can I talk to them? Can I confront them about this? No. Though I find that my feelings are somewhat unfair, I have been upset by their actions, or lack there of, but cannot find the courage to say anything. So, instead, I walk around tense... knowing at some point I am going to explode, whether it is on that person or not. Tell me, what is the healthiest thing to do here? TALK TO THEM?! Right. Right, I should do that. If not for their sanity, but for mine.
We need to start taking care of ourselves mentally. That includes standing up for ourselves, (though I always maintain that for as long as possible, this should be done in a respectful way), not putting up with relationships that are abusive in any way, we should find the time to be with people who are up lifting to us, and steer clear of people who constantly bring us down.
Please... take care of yourselves... or someday you could end up in a terrible situation and have no idea how you have gotten there... and completely lose hope... please, don't lose hope... please... take care of yourselves...
Blessings and love
De

a hilarious reminder of how God takes care of us...

Throughout my life, I have been in a few situations that could possibly have ended in death. None of these situations, however, have even ended up in an accident. For that, I am eternally grateful.
I think that God gets a kick out of reminding me that I'm not supposed to die yet, that I have a great work to do here on this earth. For someone who used to be suicidal... that's an incredibly humbling and beautiful reminder.
Saturday, after a fantastic last week and performance with Opera Atelier, my friend Abby and I were off to a wedding. I didn't know the bride and groom. But Abby's friends had created excuses not to go and I became her 'plus one'. Why not. Free food? Road trip to Hamilton? Sounds like a good time. Little did I know that God was going to incredibly bless us the entire day!
Abby lives in Mississauga, but came to Toronto to pick me up. We were flipping a U-turn to go to Starbucks before hitting the road, when a couple on the street flagged us down to tell us that our back right tire was flat. Wow. If that had happened on the highway, we could have gotten into an accident, or worse. Ok, no worries.
We drove to a gas station that I knew about, filled the tire up with air, were just about to check the pressure when BAM. Right in my ear, the tire bursts. I thought it was hilarious. Abby, not so much. But after a call to her parents, and a stern 'Gods got this' from me, the tears dried and we got to work. We pulled out the spare tire and were about to start changing this sucker in our skirts when a lovely gentleman, who was clearly on his way to the office or to a wedding himself, pulled into the station and helped us. We had a nice chat. The tire was rusted on a bit and so another gentleman came over and helped him pry it off. After giving them bottles of water and much appreciation, they left and we were on our way, planning to stop off at Abby's house to change cars.
We were on the QEW, I believe, when she heard and felt something... we pulled over to the side of the road, looked out the door and bam. More tears from her, more laughter from me. Left front tire, flat, on the side of the highway. AGAIN, no accident, we were safe, we were good. As she was calling her mom, a guy from a side street beside us, came over to see if we were ok. We were, I motioned to him, and he left, to get back into a tow truck! What are the odds!? We pulled off the highway into a parking lot and got Starbucks :o) Which was fabulous.
Her mom showed up and we switched cars to her step-dads. Her mom, bless her heart, then dealt with the other car problem. 2 flat tires down... and we're on the way to the wedding.
Knowing we were going to be late, but hoping to catch at least the ending, we showed up to the location right when everyone was streaming out of the door. Opps! Oh well, we still got to go to the reception!
We had about 3 and a half hours in between, so we spent them at a Wendy's, studying out music and me teaching Abby some Italian for her junior recital.
While we were there, Abby's step dad called to inform us that the car that we now had, had a slow leak on the back left tire. No problem, we would fill it up and keep an eye on it.
Before we drove out to the reception location, we topped the tire up and were on our way.
The reception was fantastic. Even though Abby only knew one or two people there and I only knew her, the girls at our table embraced us and we had a fantastic time on the dance floor! The DJ, and 2 other guys chatted and danced with the girls from our table (us included) the whole night as well and it was a fabulous time. It really was!
We left around 10, with promises of finding some of our new friends on facebook, and headed to Dairy Queen for a little snack.
When we came out, we checked the tire again, it looked fine, and we set off.
Now, why we ended up where we did in Toronto, I'll never know. We were extremely north... and I live very south... but when Abby heard something, we were north of Finch on the 427, a 3 lane highway. We pulled over to the side of the road, and sure enough, the tire was flat. More tears, more laughter.
It is now 11:15. We're exhausted, but this is just too hilarious for me, so I'm hardly able to contain myself as we set to work to change this tire. I'm calling a few people to help us, to come get us, anything. Abby told her parents not to bother coming, that we could do this and it would be fine. Bless their hearts, they came anyways. We loosened all of the nuts and were looking for the jack when we realized... we didn't have a jack. WHAT THE HECK!?! No jack. This is when I start calling more friends... no one is answering... and the one person who does tells me that he doesn't know where we are, so he can't help us. Wow. Nice. Thanks for leaving us stranded on the side of the road because you can't look at a map... Kind of bitter about that. 2 friends DID call back however. One who was, unfortunately, extremely far from Toronto, and one, my dear, David Ross. Dave, before I was even able to tell him that I was going to need a ride home because Abby's parents were now there and were't too impressed and wouldn't want to drive me home, offered to come and get me. Bless his heart.
We sat in the other car, while Charles, Abby's step-dad, tried to get the tire off. But it wouldn't budge. Dave showed up, all knight in shining armor like, in his blue mazda, and around 1:15 in the morning, 14 hours and 3 flat tires after we left, Dave had me on my way home and Abby and her parents had taken the car to a parking lot where it would stay for the night.
Throughout the whole situation, I could see Gods fingerprints. He took care of us every step of the way. While we were stranded on the highway, NO ONE stopped that third time. Until Charles was out trying to get the tire off and Dave was on his way. One, single biker, stopped to see if he could help. That was it. Abby and I, clearly not planning on harming anyone, in skirts, dressed up, on the side of the road, trying to change a tire... and no one stopped. But you know, through it all, there was never a paniced moment for me. There was never any real fear. Because God had taken care of us so brilliantly... because Abby had noticed something wrong every time there was a problem... because there were no accidents, no broken bones, no even chance of death... I was completely calm. God was with us every single step of the way.
What a beautiful reminder that we can praise Him through it ALL. Through the most ridiculous of circumstances. When we are exhausted and at our wits end, He still is there, He is constant, He will take care of us and provide. Even though sometimes, in His incredible wisdom, He will say 'no' to us... He is always there. Constant. Providing, taking care of us. In the little things and the big things, He never gives us more than we can handle... and even when a situation seems crushing, seems like we cannot survive... with Him, we can. Anything is possible when God is in the picture.
What a fantastic day. What a fantastic reminder. What a fantastic story. What a brilliant God we serve and love :o)
Blessings and love
Deena

Jen and Jeff's Wedding

It seems extremely fitting that I would be broken at my dear friend Jen's wedding. Broken continually throughout the whole night... was not something that I was expecting on prepared for.
It was a beautiful wedding. My parents were supposed to come out, but were unable to make it, so my dear friend Dalton stepped up and was a fabulous date. He held his own in the crowds as I reconnected with friends, ended up on stage playing bongos with the band, lead the singing when the mics suddenly stopped working, got me on the dance floor, and even danced with the grooms mom! A good date! haha.
Jen is a very special friend. A very special friend that I have slowly pushed very gently out of my life these past few months... though I'm not sure why.
Bruxy, my pastor, once said that when we are going through hard times spiritually, we tend to push away our good Christian friends because we are afraid that they will judge us. Well, I KNOW Jen and there is no way she would ever judge anyone. Yet somehow my subconscious started pushing and without realizing, I let it happen.
Jen has known me longer than most of my friends. This summer is our 10th anniversary of meeting. She was 22, I was 15, when we met. She describes me as a very dark teenager, and describes the different now as a change from darkness to light. Somehow though, I think that the darkness has seeped a bit back in...
Jen has been there for me through it all... I don't know if she realizes it or not, but she is one the most important spiritual leaders in my life. I have no idea why she loves me. Yet she does. Maybe she sees the hurt that other people don't tend to see. Maybe it's because she's known me for so long. Maybe she knows that I just sometimes need a hug. Maybe.... I don't know.
Jen is the most beautiful person that I know. Hands down. Inside and out, she just exudes joy, love, laughter. I look at her and I see Jesus. Every time. It is by the grace of God alone that she found someone to share her life that is EXACTLY the same in this sense, in every way. Her new husband also shines with joy, love, laughter, life, and looks like Jesus as well. To witness these two get married today... what a treat. What a joy. To have them in my life, even if just in a small way... what an unbelievable blessing.
Jeff embraced me as well. Though I'm crazy and weird, he embraced me fully. I look at the two of them and see how a relatinoship should be. Love. Openness. Communication. Focused on Jesus. They LIVE. They don't just merely survive. These are two people filled with life. And a life that is completely, 100% centered around Christ. I long for that... I strive for that... and I feel like I fall so short...
So today, you could feel the joy. You could feel the love. And this is why it was the most amazing and touching wedding that I have ever been to. Because the love that they share, they joy that they feel, it is infectious. And you cannot help but feel it as well, when they are around.
It is extremely fitting that I was continually broken today... because Jen is an inspiration to me. She is one of my heros. In every way possible. To see her so happy... I almost cried the last time I hugged her... I don't think she knew I was choking back tears... she was probably thinking 'why does she keep hugging me?'. I felt so much overwhelming love for her... I've seen her go through bad relationships in the past. To see this love... to see that this love is REAL... it's a miracle to my eyes. It's beautiful. It makes me cry.
And so today... as I humbly struggle to sweep together the pieces of a relationship with Christ that I have somehow left by the wayside, I was broken. At my beautiful friends' wedding. And that brokenness has never felt so right...
Blessings and love
Deena

Disheveled.

I don't have nightmares very often. But when I do, they are of one of three things. 1. demons. 2. the most important people in my life dying. 3. tornadoes.
Ever since the Pine Lake tornado hit my camp ground what... 11 years ago?... I've been petrified. This tornado killed 13 people. I found out about it while on tour, in Barrie, Ontario. I was horrified, yet SO thankful when I found out that my family had not gone up that weekend... which... well... could only have happened by the grace of God, because they ALWAYS went camping at that point.
Ever since this happened the most re-occurring nightmares I have are of tornadoes.
Last night, my home town was hit by a tornado like storm. 120 km winds... coming out of nowhere, constant lightning, non merciful thunder pulsating it's way through the wind and the biggest hail imaginable. The damage is ridiculous. My family is safe. I haven't heard of any injuries, which I am thankful for. Yet the hail damage... is grotesque.
All day long, I have been looking at friends and families updated pictures on facebook from the aftermath of this spontaneous storm.... I look around my town... the town that I grew up in... which is always changing... and I am heart broken.
Things will be repaired. Life will go on. Insurance companies will smile with glee.
But something, a small part of you, dies when you see the place that you grew up and loved, looking so disheveled. Though always changing and growing, it still remains the one constant thing in my life... the one place I can go back to and feel safe and like I'm home...
To see it hurting... to see my town ripped up, torn apart, ancient trees pulled down by unseen giants in the night... sidding on old familiar houses now showing gashes like chicken pox all over these innocent homes... windows smashed through like missing teeth...
I am uneasy. I am grateful that everyone is ok. But a part of me is torn. I want to go back. To see this with my own eyes, first hand. To help repare what was damaged. I wish I could have been there to cower with my family in the basement in the middle of the darkest night of their lives. I wish I could just hug them all... right now... because when my world collapses... just a little bit... that's all I want. Is that reassuring hug that everything will be ok. And I know that it will be. In time.
Blessings and love
Deena

Judgement

There are times when I find myself laying on my bed, either too exhausted or in too much pain to move, when Java will come in and give me a look like 'Get up and do something Mum' (because she clearly would be British), and I realize in that moment that I have allowed my own cat to judge me.
Eleanor Roosevelt, in her 1937 autobiography, This Is My Story, said "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent". A brilliant quote from a brilliant lady.
A chat with roommate yesterday sparked my brain into over drive. Often at work, I find that I feel slightly ashamed. I feel as if people need to know that I'm still studying, that I'm a musician, something, because a part of me feels embarrassed to be 25 and serving tea to lawyers. I sometimes feel judged by the people that I serve, and I feel as if I need to clarify that this is not my chosen career path, that I am aiming for bigger and better things.
But wait a second... those people aren't ACTUALLY judging me are they? Nope. They really aren't. So what is my problem? I am doing a double judgment. I am judging them, thinking that they are in turn judging me. Thinking that they are too high and mighty to see myself for who I truly am. But most of the time, this is not the case.
Roommate, who studied psychology, brought up a very interesting point yesterday in the midst of our discussion. You know those beautiful girls in high school that all of us regular or not so popular girls tend to hate? We don't allow them to have any sort of feeling. They aren't allowed to be happy or sad or upset or struggle with things... we view them as being perfect and judgmental. We assume that they judge our every move, even though it's usually us that are judging them. I think that this still happens in every day life.
A attractive young lady came into work the other day and as I was making my way over to serve her, I actually thought to myself, this lady is going to suck... and yet she was nice and funny and we laughed together over lame comments we BOTH made... and I thought to myself after... what is MY problem!?
Sometimes I think that we are programed by society in many ways. Obviously, we are all aware of some of these issues, but what about this one? Where did we get the idea that beautiful people are jerks? Ok. Granted, some are. But some 'nomal' or even homely looking people (really, we're all beautiful, I'm just going with basic stereotypes here) are jerks too. So why is it that we are so easy and ready to judge the beautiful people who are snobs, who give us a dirty look, who walk all over us, who dump us? And less likely to judge the more earthy, normal, often more beautiful when you really get down to it, people who do the same?
I am a huge endorser of the thought that a personality can make you beautiful or ugly. The most beautiful person, to the eye, can have the ugliest soul. Where as the less attractive person, by the worlds standards, can have the most beautiful personality on the planet.
This huge rant kind of turned into something I wasn't planning. My main point, really, was that often when we feel judged by other people, it is often us, judging ourselves. Not them judging us.
I hope that all made sense... and we're all beautiful... :o)
Blessings and love
De

taylor the latte boy...

Last week I had a nice little treat. After being too exhausted to go out on Saturday night, but not wanting to be along (both of my roommate were gone), I called a dear friend who came over. We went to a local pub down the street for supper, grabbed a Starbucks, came home and cried over a movie. (Well... I cried...)
I will be the first to admit that I looked less than perfect. Frumpy... in my lulu lemons, sweatshirt, plaid hat to cover up my big hair that had air dried while I was talking to my fabulous best friend on the phone after my shower that afternoon and no make up... I looked pretty hot. :o)
We went to Starbucks and both my dear friend and I considered purchasing different portable vessels for our beverages. Her, a HUGE coffee made-from-recyclable-because-it's-fashionable traveling mug and me a red help-us-fight-Aids-Red-Campaign-because-all-of-the-famous-people-are-doing-it water jug. We loved both of them and at the time, bought neither. While we were looking, the guy behind the counter commented to us. When we ordered, they kept messing up our order, because we had kind of ordered at the same time. He put the drinks together, I said 'sorry, separate, is that ok? Sorry" and he said no worries and I laughed and mumbled something like 'you have the technology' and he laughed back. My friend handed me money, which I handed to him, and she went to pick up her drink. I went to pay for mine, and was mindlessly pulling out my debit card when he said 'you know, it's on me' and went to help the next customer. I stared at him from under my hat in disbelief and stuttered "but... but I have my plastic out!" he smiled sweetly and said 'it's ok. It’s on me. We have the technology' and he may have added in a wink there, or it could have just been my faulty memory, adding the wink just to make it more saucy. Either way, it made my night.
Well, last night, after an exhausting week for both of us, the tradition happened again. The pub for supper, Starbucks, and crying over a movie (Well... I cried...). We walked into Starbucks and my friend commented with glee that the guy was there. We were having trouble deciding. The guy asked me if he could help me decide. I answered that he probably couldn't. After coveting our water and coffee vessels (I love the word vessel) for a week, we decided to buy them. So we picked them up and made our way to the counter. It was busier that night. He asked me something about having a Starbucks card and yada yada... I barely heard it... apparently if you had one and registered it that day, your drink was free or... something? I'm not sure. Anyways, I said that yes I had one and that it was already registered. "Well... that's too bad..." he commented, ringing through my fabulous deep red look-at-me-I-support-the-Aids-Campaign new water bottle. Then he looks at me and says "...lets just pretend...' and doesn't charge me for the drink. My friend tries not to laugh. I, again, am looking less than beautiful, hat again, smudged make up I'm sure, lulu lemons, old faded pink shirt... and I glance at him and mumble thanks... and then say something along the lines of 'ummm... wow. Thanks. Do you realize that this is the second drink in a week you've given me for free?' "Really?" he says and shrugs. 'yeah so... thanks for making my day!' He doesn't charge my friend either, as he just rings in her new I-recycle-because-I'm-cool-and-really-enjoy-my-coffee-look-at-how-flipping-big-this-is coffee traveling mug. We go to pick up our drinks. The barista hands me my lactose-free-because-lactose-hates-me grande chocolate banana vivano (since when did Italy allow Starbucks to make up Italian sounding words?). I mumble something about having something slightly inappropriate to say to him, and he smiles and says that now I have to tell him. In my ridiculous cheesy voice, I say 'are YOU lactose free?' No clue why. Maybe I was just feeling a bit randy. Who knows. But he laughed and it was a decent moment. All in all... I got my second free drink in a week and I was honored.
I've begun referring to this as the 'nice face discount' (alla Seinfeld). But I realized today that this guy is Taylor the latte boy. Taylor the latte boy is a hilarious musical-esk song by 2 writers in New York. (whose names, unfortunately, I am unable to find and cannot remember. Evie? Help me out?) It is a hilarious song (my cat, Java, is named after this song).
I leave you with the lyrics... enjoy

There's a boy who works at Starbucks
Who is very inspirational.
He is very inspirational because of many things.

I come in at 8:11, and he smiles and says, "How are you?"
When he smiles and says, "How are you?"
I could swear my heart grows wings!

So today at 8:11
I decided I should meet him
I decided I should meet him
In a proper formal way.

So today at 8:11 when he smiled and said "How are you?"
I said "Fine, and my name’s Kristin"
And he softly answered, "Hey."
And I said "My name is Kristen, and thank you for the extra foam…"

And he said his name was Taylor,
Which provides the inspiration for this poem:

Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…

So I’d like to get my nerve up
To recite my poem musical.
He would like the fact it’s musical
Because he plays guitar.
So today at 8:11, Taylor told me he was playing
In a band down in the village in the basement of a bar.

And he smoothly flipped the lever to prepare my double latte,
But for me he made it triple! And he didn’t think I knew
But I saw him flip the lever, and for me he made it triple,
And I knew that triple latte meant that Taylor loved me too!
I said, "What time are you playing? And thank you for the extra skim…"
He said, "Keep the $3.55," because this triple latte was on him.

Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…

I used to be the kind of girl who'd run when love rushed toward her.
But finally a voice whispered "Love can be yours, if you step up to the counter, and order."

Taylor, the latte boy
Bring me java, bring me joy
Oh Taylor the latte boy
I love him, I love him, I love him.

So many years my heart has waited,
Who’d have thought that love could be so caffeinated?
Taylor, the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him.

Blessings and love,
Deena

the wrong man...

So here's an interesting scenario.
In order to get to the aforementioned bathroom at work, we go through a small corridor and it's not a big deal. Unless it is after 5 pm. After 5, we have to walk around, make a few turns, past the mail room, down another corridor until we finally are greeted with our prize: the bathroom with many stalls and the unbelievably small passageway (that always smells strangely of potpourri). But this has already been discussed.
Every so often, in the past 6 months or so, a decently handsome, slightly darker man has stopped me, looked me straight in the eye and told me that he thinks that I am beautiful and then wishes me a nice day. Well, ladies, I am not attracted to this individual, but that does not stop my heart from racing a little bit (I'm sure you know what I mean). This happened a few times until one fateful day, he stopped me, introduced himself and asked me if he could take me out sometime. I was taken back and really had to use the bathroom (i really dislike going to the bathroom. I sometimes think it's a big waste of time... so I usually wait until I have no other choice and then book it there. Healthy, I know). So I mumbled something about being in the beginning stages of something with someone (which I had assumed that I was) and hurried off. Well, nothing actually came to fruition with the guy that I told the white lie about. But I did not bother to correct myself. When I told this to the man, I had believed it to be true. He, in turn, backed off a little bit, but still would stop me and wave at me when he walked past my store. He bowed once (weird) and would stand and the doorway and yell at me (when I was at the other side of the store) to see how I was. Harmless. Kind of weird. Made for a good story. I dealt with it.
Then Thursday happened. Thursday, I was rushing to the bathroom as usual. It was almost closing time, so I was hurrying to help close up shop. I turned the corner and thought I was home free, when he came out of a different door and caught me completely off guard. He was pleasantly surprised to see me (as I grimaced to myself) and asked me how I was and if I was still 'married'. I laughed and mumbled something about how things were rocky (with a different guy now...) but whatever... and he was extremely happy about this. I made my quick get away, hoping not to see him on my way back. I came around the corner and surprise, surprise, he is standing there, seemingly waiting for me. We mumble something to each other and he comes in for a hug. Before and after the hug that I felt trapped into, which lasted way too long to be comfortable, he kissed my cheek. AWKWARD. I scurried off while he laughed at me and comment on the fact that I walk too fast. "This is how fast I walk" I smugly shot back at him. Thankfully I was able to avoid him on Friday.
So here is my question. Why is it that the ONE guy that pursues us is never the guy that we want? There is a guy in my life that I very much adore. But I have backed off a bit and now we barely talk. Nothing. And I think to myself... did I initiate the conversation before? Every time? Was it me that was keeping this 'thing' going? Call me old fashioned, but I need to be pursued. Due largely, I think, to low self-esteem, I need a guy to pursue me in order to even believe that he likes me (which I will have a difficult time believing either way, but it will be less difficult if he pursues). Why can't this man, who has said that he is into me, find the time to drop me a quick note? Call me without me dropping the hint that I would like him to? Take initiative for SOMETHING? But no. It won't happen. So I let it go. He's busy, I tell myself. Of course that's what it is. He's busy, he's going back to school, he's moving. Yeah. Ok. So? Then I look at my life. How incredibly busy I am. School, work, practice, music, rehearsals, planning a recital, trying to find time to write a book... all while dealing with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, insomnia, and lets face it, a very mild eating disorder of sorts. Ok... so I guess I'm busy too. Yet I made time to get in touch... I was even planning on visiting...
Why is it that the one guy we want to pursue us just doesn't get it? Why does this other guy, who I have all but pushed away, keep coming back for more? Why is he insatiable for me? And why can't this other guy feel the same? It just doesn't seem fair.
But this makes me wonder one or two things... 1. is something wrong with me? This is an issue we won't address, because the answer is too simple and obvious. Yes :o) 2. Is it that we, women, are too fickle? Do we keep waiting for Mr. Right, and will he ever come along? Sometimes I feel like I'm afraid of settling for someone who's great to me... he's great, sure, but is he great enough!? Why in the world are we so fickle? Maybe it's unfair to lump all of us into the same group. Why am I so fickle?! Why do I desire the one guy that I seem to not be able to have, when this perfectly nice gentleman comes a-knocking and pursuing and I know that he would treat me right?
I don't have the greatest self-esteem. Yet I seem to be convinced that the RIGHT guy is out there. Yet what if I am too caught up in myself to see him? What if I miss him?
As a Christian, I feel kind of hypocritical asking these questions... Deep down, I do believe that God has someone for me and that He will, eventually, bring us together. Yet these fears... these doubts... have a way of seeping in. Unfortunately, I have a difficult time getting them to stop. Pray for me?
Blessings and love,
Deena

Sorry

The bathrooms in the corridor where I work are kind of ridiculous. There are a good number of stalls which are never full. To get to these stalls is a long hall, which is not a problem, but then you turn a corner and bam. There is a good 15 foot stretch where two people cannot pass comfortably. The number of times I have had to duck into a little nook to let other people pass by is not countable. Yesterday I encountered this situation with a lady. As usual, I ducked out of the way, but as she passed by on her way out, she apologized.
Why did she apologize? Why did the word 'sorry' slip from her lips? She wasn't the genius that designed this small space. I heard somewhere that Canadians are among the most polite countries in the world. A lot of my American friends would make fun of the fact that we were always apologizing for everything. As I think about it, I realize just how ridiculous it is. Only in Canada, so the joke goes, will someone apologize to the person who bumped into them. It is ridiculous but true.
At work this happens all the time. There are four of us, working in a small space to serve our customers well. We run into each other and bump each other all the time. I say sorry to my co-workers dozens of times a day. There used to be someone from the company who would come and check on us, organize a few things, etc. He would be with us, behind the counter, and would bump into us, brush past us, etc. And you know... he never once apologized. And it royally ticked us off.
We are programed to be polite to each other. Where did this come from? No idea. But everywhere I go, if someone bumps into me, I will apologize... As if it were my fault for being in their way and they were not in the wrong at all.
What does this do to us psychologically? It seems to be such a small thing, but I am beginning to think that these little apologies, though polite for sure, are slowly chipping away at our secure mental being. Though I will always apologize at work for nudging someone, is there really a reason for me to apologize to my voice teacher for singing something less than perfect? No.
This used to drive one of my voice teachers crazy. He was always telling me to stop saying I'm sorry. In that environment, in that room, I was supposed to make mistakes. He was supposed to fix them. And this is exactly what happened, but every time I would make that mistake, that fateful word, 'sorry' would slip out of my mouth.
When we apologize for no reason, I think it ends up being demeaning to ourselves. It is like we are putting ourselves down without realizing it. Slowly building up an insecure wall, without meaning to and without realizing it.
We need to be more positive. None of this negative speech. 'Sorry', when used in the proper context, when you are ACTUALLY in the wrong, is appropriate. But lets think about it a little bit... and use it a little bit less... because most of the time when you say it, I bet you anything that you are not, in fact, in the wrong.
Blessings and love
De