Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Quick! before you're Thirty!!
Standing at my friend, Cristina,'s funeral the other day. I heard a woman behind me whisper " She lived fuller life than most 50 year olds" as pictures of Cristina's musical career, OMNI 1 interviews, life growing up in Portugal, skater life in toronto and her feature in the Ryerson art gallery last April flickered on the projector screen. I find it interesting. To look into another person's life is so easy. You can see their accomplishments. You can have faith that they will make something of themselves.
Cristina would have. I believe that moreover because I know she already had. She died at the age of 23.
So now I am sitting here, with a pile of applications for masters programs, post grad diplomas, paramedical college and seasonal guiding jobs on my bed, in my parents home in Toronto, Ontario. Also 23, I am feeling the pressure of a ticking clock on my mind. I have been conditioned to believe that it runs out when I hit 30 years old. When this generation hits thirty, there is an unwritten expectation that you will have completed the path to success, have a lover whom you have married, have a steady job and be generally settled into a mundane existence. This is the socially accepted path our families and friends expect and hope that we take.
Now, this is very different from our parents generation. Those baby boomers were a productive crew. They married in the early 20s, moved out of our grandparents homes, they built their empires and worked hard. Now they are smiling at their investments and planning their retirement ventures. I am starting to get the vague feeling that many folks in our generation are on the outside, looking in at a lifestyle that we will never know and I'm not even sure that we are aware of it.
Marriage later in life now means to most that life must be lived prior to marriage. Marriage tends to become a priority on the 364th day of your 29th year.
Suddenly, with only 7 years to go and another lap around the calendar before I can apply to any masters programs ( thanks to recent roadtrips and adventures), I am stressing out over what I want to be when I grow up. I mean honestly, they started asking us in the pre-teens to plan our careers, shouldn't I know by now? I have been taught by my parents that I should follow my heart, but with the daunting task of nurturing our planet at my fingertips I am completely lost.
I am not alone in this boat. I know it because of Facebook status updates mostly.
I think everyone is anxious at this stage. They are looking to climb the ladder of success but unsure of which ladder they will be climbing. What BA/BSC meant 20 years ago is what MA means now, also meaning two more years ( at least) of school are necessary to achieve it. Because of our parents choices and the explosion of globalization our options really are infinite. Even if we know we need the masters under our belt it is sometimes very hard to understand or accept where our minds will be as the product of the school we choose. I know this because every time I open a google search, I end up with a new ' even better!' plan for internships, masters programs and neat jobs. This often leads to me lifting my foggy eyes to a clock and wondering how it could possibly be 3am already.
So maybe our problem lies in our generations expectations, many of us were not driven at age 16 to become doctors or lawyers ( then again I remember a few who were...). And maybe 30 really isn't the end of the world as we know it. I mean, I understand the 27 thing if you are a rockstar...if you make it to 28 you really have accomplished something. But for the rest of us, I think we need to remember all our yoga classes and buddhist teaches. Stop planning the future, be responsible for yourself and live in the now.
Cristina Taborda's funeral was beautiful and mournful, of the potential that this girl had. But potential means different things to different people and Cristina did live her life to its full potential. If we open our eyes we can see that there should never be a time limit for what you can accomplish and that race to a successful thirty is just an illusion created to induce depression and scare us into careers. You should not be finished learning, and you should not be settled, not until you too close your eyes.
"Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t." - Baz Luhrman, the sunscreen song. (http://www.lyricscrawler.com/song/3953.html)
Hm... I remember loving this song but I hear the words again and wonder why it is that I keep forgetting them.
Anyways... it is 12:30pm on December 28th 2010. I am tired of looking for a future, so I am going to take a deep breathe and live in the now.
PS: big screen TV, mansion, a husband, 2 cars in the driveway and cool touch screen phones are not necessities. You know better. Do not forget what you want to work towards. But please please please Lauren! put some blinders on and accomplish something!!!
Cristina would have. I believe that moreover because I know she already had. She died at the age of 23.
So now I am sitting here, with a pile of applications for masters programs, post grad diplomas, paramedical college and seasonal guiding jobs on my bed, in my parents home in Toronto, Ontario. Also 23, I am feeling the pressure of a ticking clock on my mind. I have been conditioned to believe that it runs out when I hit 30 years old. When this generation hits thirty, there is an unwritten expectation that you will have completed the path to success, have a lover whom you have married, have a steady job and be generally settled into a mundane existence. This is the socially accepted path our families and friends expect and hope that we take.
Now, this is very different from our parents generation. Those baby boomers were a productive crew. They married in the early 20s, moved out of our grandparents homes, they built their empires and worked hard. Now they are smiling at their investments and planning their retirement ventures. I am starting to get the vague feeling that many folks in our generation are on the outside, looking in at a lifestyle that we will never know and I'm not even sure that we are aware of it.
Marriage later in life now means to most that life must be lived prior to marriage. Marriage tends to become a priority on the 364th day of your 29th year.
Suddenly, with only 7 years to go and another lap around the calendar before I can apply to any masters programs ( thanks to recent roadtrips and adventures), I am stressing out over what I want to be when I grow up. I mean honestly, they started asking us in the pre-teens to plan our careers, shouldn't I know by now? I have been taught by my parents that I should follow my heart, but with the daunting task of nurturing our planet at my fingertips I am completely lost.
I am not alone in this boat. I know it because of Facebook status updates mostly.
I think everyone is anxious at this stage. They are looking to climb the ladder of success but unsure of which ladder they will be climbing. What BA/BSC meant 20 years ago is what MA means now, also meaning two more years ( at least) of school are necessary to achieve it. Because of our parents choices and the explosion of globalization our options really are infinite. Even if we know we need the masters under our belt it is sometimes very hard to understand or accept where our minds will be as the product of the school we choose. I know this because every time I open a google search, I end up with a new ' even better!' plan for internships, masters programs and neat jobs. This often leads to me lifting my foggy eyes to a clock and wondering how it could possibly be 3am already.
So maybe our problem lies in our generations expectations, many of us were not driven at age 16 to become doctors or lawyers ( then again I remember a few who were...). And maybe 30 really isn't the end of the world as we know it. I mean, I understand the 27 thing if you are a rockstar...if you make it to 28 you really have accomplished something. But for the rest of us, I think we need to remember all our yoga classes and buddhist teaches. Stop planning the future, be responsible for yourself and live in the now.
Cristina Taborda's funeral was beautiful and mournful, of the potential that this girl had. But potential means different things to different people and Cristina did live her life to its full potential. If we open our eyes we can see that there should never be a time limit for what you can accomplish and that race to a successful thirty is just an illusion created to induce depression and scare us into careers. You should not be finished learning, and you should not be settled, not until you too close your eyes.
"Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t." - Baz Luhrman, the sunscreen song. (http://www.lyricscrawler.com/song/3953.html)
Hm... I remember loving this song but I hear the words again and wonder why it is that I keep forgetting them.
Anyways... it is 12:30pm on December 28th 2010. I am tired of looking for a future, so I am going to take a deep breathe and live in the now.
PS: big screen TV, mansion, a husband, 2 cars in the driveway and cool touch screen phones are not necessities. You know better. Do not forget what you want to work towards. But please please please Lauren! put some blinders on and accomplish something!!!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas 2010.
The car pulled up to the house and before the engine was off the four of us, the four Watson children, were standing at attention by the passenger door. Gran had already opened the door and was pushing through excruciating pain to try and stand. Tim and Mike were the first to grab her arms and support her.
Gran, 85 year old Gran, does not take kindly to help. Throughout the evening I felt like I really understand where she was coming from. I remember my own depression this summer when I broke my foot. How much I hated the idea of being cared for and carried and supported. Grans situation is that... to the Nth degree.
A woman, who has cared for her husbands throughout his slow death, who has helped Mother Teresa change the world, who has always given herself to those around... looks around at us and ,with embarrassment, concedes " this is ridiculous".
She suffers from chronic arthritis and back pain, she has a horrible shake in her hand which prevents her from painting and writing, she cannot stand on her own at the moment and cringes every time her upper body twists and she laughs when she tells us she is in denial of her age. Last week she was working with a physiotherapist and ended up pulling muscles in her back. Muscles which still have not healed.
Still living on her own in a retirement home, Gran tries desperately to fend for herself. She makes meals and attends parties with her other retired friends. My mother, her daughter, still cannot bring herself to ask Gran if she needs an assistant. Gran would never have it.
We eat Christmas dinner in the living room this year so as to limit Gran's walking. My mother brings her a plate, which she accepts sheepishly. She smiles and jokes with us, laughing about our horrible singing while Mike plays Christmas carols on the piano.
The end of the night somewhat resembles an Egyptian parade, with gran as the princess in a wheelchair and us carrying her down the steps to the car. Through our joking and laughing there is a somber tone... you can tell she hates the honor.
I held her hand before while she was waiting in the car to leave and I kissed her soft cheek. I realized how much I have taken for granted being so close with such an amazing human being. The mortality, hers and my own, of our time together became a reality and not just a distant relative I hear about through my mother's relayed messages.
Christmas is not about presents, we know that though. It is about family, something many people do not get the privilege of. And I think it is a gentle reminder to all of us that we need to take care of each other, especially those who have taken such nurturing care of us. I will probably benefit the most from these words, but I do want to wish anyone reading this a very merry holiday. Enjoy the chance to really give yourself.
Love,
Lauren
Gran, 85 year old Gran, does not take kindly to help. Throughout the evening I felt like I really understand where she was coming from. I remember my own depression this summer when I broke my foot. How much I hated the idea of being cared for and carried and supported. Grans situation is that... to the Nth degree.
A woman, who has cared for her husbands throughout his slow death, who has helped Mother Teresa change the world, who has always given herself to those around... looks around at us and ,with embarrassment, concedes " this is ridiculous".
She suffers from chronic arthritis and back pain, she has a horrible shake in her hand which prevents her from painting and writing, she cannot stand on her own at the moment and cringes every time her upper body twists and she laughs when she tells us she is in denial of her age. Last week she was working with a physiotherapist and ended up pulling muscles in her back. Muscles which still have not healed.
Still living on her own in a retirement home, Gran tries desperately to fend for herself. She makes meals and attends parties with her other retired friends. My mother, her daughter, still cannot bring herself to ask Gran if she needs an assistant. Gran would never have it.
We eat Christmas dinner in the living room this year so as to limit Gran's walking. My mother brings her a plate, which she accepts sheepishly. She smiles and jokes with us, laughing about our horrible singing while Mike plays Christmas carols on the piano.
The end of the night somewhat resembles an Egyptian parade, with gran as the princess in a wheelchair and us carrying her down the steps to the car. Through our joking and laughing there is a somber tone... you can tell she hates the honor.
I held her hand before while she was waiting in the car to leave and I kissed her soft cheek. I realized how much I have taken for granted being so close with such an amazing human being. The mortality, hers and my own, of our time together became a reality and not just a distant relative I hear about through my mother's relayed messages.
Christmas is not about presents, we know that though. It is about family, something many people do not get the privilege of. And I think it is a gentle reminder to all of us that we need to take care of each other, especially those who have taken such nurturing care of us. I will probably benefit the most from these words, but I do want to wish anyone reading this a very merry holiday. Enjoy the chance to really give yourself.
Love,
Lauren
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Written on Saturday December 11th 2010
Cristina Taborda.
It is a true mark up to who she was, what I saw today, standing in the Cardinal Memorial homes at Dundas and Bathurst. It was solidarity amoungst the masses, coming together to mourn a great loss in our world. Coming together to see who was left behind.
Funerals are for the living. I strongly believe that.
Funerals are for condolences, distractions and support groups for the ones who are left behind. Funerals for young people, are especially hard. I am in a room of over 300, and more than 3 quarters of the guests are under 30 years old.
“ how did you know Cristina?” The question circulates and I feel almost challenged to come up with a good enough answer to be present. It is sad because when I think hard enough I don’t know if I do have a good enough reason to be crying. Hell, I have barely had a conversation with Cristina that was not small talk. But I feel like I was touched by her, and I cried, and I laughed and I smiled at her photos. That girl had energy.
You can hear people in the back of the room saying that this 24 year old lived more of a life than many who survive age 50. The photos on the overhead flip through, most recognized from facebook albums and tagged shots, mostly with a guitar in hand, Cristina is smiling and welcoming the world into her life. You get the feeling she did this often.
Considering the spontaneity of her passing, the crowd seems to take the news relatively well. So many questions of why we lost such a shining light are muted but hanging above us, beyond the small talk and empathetic hugs.
It is love that the room is feeling. We loved this girl. She stood for happiness and passion, she sang for her roots and her family, she smiled for her friends and her fans. Cristina Taborda was the best kind of rock star.
You will be missed.
It is a true mark up to who she was, what I saw today, standing in the Cardinal Memorial homes at Dundas and Bathurst. It was solidarity amoungst the masses, coming together to mourn a great loss in our world. Coming together to see who was left behind.
Funerals are for the living. I strongly believe that.
Funerals are for condolences, distractions and support groups for the ones who are left behind. Funerals for young people, are especially hard. I am in a room of over 300, and more than 3 quarters of the guests are under 30 years old.
“ how did you know Cristina?” The question circulates and I feel almost challenged to come up with a good enough answer to be present. It is sad because when I think hard enough I don’t know if I do have a good enough reason to be crying. Hell, I have barely had a conversation with Cristina that was not small talk. But I feel like I was touched by her, and I cried, and I laughed and I smiled at her photos. That girl had energy.
You can hear people in the back of the room saying that this 24 year old lived more of a life than many who survive age 50. The photos on the overhead flip through, most recognized from facebook albums and tagged shots, mostly with a guitar in hand, Cristina is smiling and welcoming the world into her life. You get the feeling she did this often.
Considering the spontaneity of her passing, the crowd seems to take the news relatively well. So many questions of why we lost such a shining light are muted but hanging above us, beyond the small talk and empathetic hugs.
It is love that the room is feeling. We loved this girl. She stood for happiness and passion, she sang for her roots and her family, she smiled for her friends and her fans. Cristina Taborda was the best kind of rock star.
You will be missed.
Monday, December 13, 2010
2:33 am.
Oh, the Euphoria of knowing what you want to do with yourself.
Unexplicable.
time.
for.
bed.
Unexplicable.
time.
for.
bed.
Hello, I am back.
I just returned to Toronto after a 6 month sebadical to the rest of north America.
First thing I did was buy a bike to replace the one that was stolen the week before I left Toronto. It is cheaper than a metropass and more environmentally friendly than a car. After 6 months of retrieving my daily cardio from the great outdoors I do not intend to spend money to get to a building where I can pay for that same work out. I would rather get the work out on the way to work. Call me crazy.
So after suiting myself up with a nice 90 dollar, most likely stolen bicycle off of craigslist. I proceeded to kick up the kickstand and coast out onto the streets of Toronto.
Somehow I always seem to forget this part. Everytime I leave Toronto I forget this part about coming back….
Bicycling in Toronto is the scariest thing I have ever done on a daily basis. This comes from the mouth of a seasoned whitewater raft guide who climbs multipitch trad in her spare time. …. I am much more worried about my wellbeing when I am trying to navigate the potholes and SUVs of torontos dangerous roadways.
Sometimes I do ponder that perhaps this too will help keep my heart rate up, every time I try to make a left turn or go under the spadina/ Dupont tunnel.
But its wrong. Bikers should not be punished, Biking is the most economical, environmentaly and healthy form of transportation that exists… why is Toronto punishing them?
First thing I did was buy a bike to replace the one that was stolen the week before I left Toronto. It is cheaper than a metropass and more environmentally friendly than a car. After 6 months of retrieving my daily cardio from the great outdoors I do not intend to spend money to get to a building where I can pay for that same work out. I would rather get the work out on the way to work. Call me crazy.
So after suiting myself up with a nice 90 dollar, most likely stolen bicycle off of craigslist. I proceeded to kick up the kickstand and coast out onto the streets of Toronto.
Somehow I always seem to forget this part. Everytime I leave Toronto I forget this part about coming back….
Bicycling in Toronto is the scariest thing I have ever done on a daily basis. This comes from the mouth of a seasoned whitewater raft guide who climbs multipitch trad in her spare time. …. I am much more worried about my wellbeing when I am trying to navigate the potholes and SUVs of torontos dangerous roadways.
Sometimes I do ponder that perhaps this too will help keep my heart rate up, every time I try to make a left turn or go under the spadina/ Dupont tunnel.
But its wrong. Bikers should not be punished, Biking is the most economical, environmentaly and healthy form of transportation that exists… why is Toronto punishing them?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Now.
I think the reason I write about the "now" so much... is because I have no idea where it is or how I can live in it.
I get lost.
I get worried.
I think down the road and I have no idea if what I am choosing right now will effect my future. And that fucking scares me.
_________________________________________________
Words written using a security guards pen in the waiting room at St. Mikes hospital, family Practice:
What makes us who we are?
Is it the trips we take?
Is it the blind and frightened choices we make?
is it our mistakes?
One of the most valuable lessons, which i would have never known i was
receiving at the time of delivery... comes from a trip leader on a rafting tour years ago...
" its not about what goes wrong. Its not about how you fucked it up. In the end, it is all about how you clean up, how you get yourself out of it. that is all that matters."
It is about how you deal with what the world thrusts at your chest. When you are suffocating and panicked. It is not about how sad your situation is. it is about your ability to breathe under those pressures you never could have imagined or foreseen.
It is about your ability to live and still love your life and those in it.
yea I think that guy was onto something there...
I get lost.
I get worried.
I think down the road and I have no idea if what I am choosing right now will effect my future. And that fucking scares me.
_________________________________________________
Words written using a security guards pen in the waiting room at St. Mikes hospital, family Practice:
What makes us who we are?
Is it the trips we take?
Is it the blind and frightened choices we make?
is it our mistakes?
One of the most valuable lessons, which i would have never known i was
receiving at the time of delivery... comes from a trip leader on a rafting tour years ago...
" its not about what goes wrong. Its not about how you fucked it up. In the end, it is all about how you clean up, how you get yourself out of it. that is all that matters."
It is about how you deal with what the world thrusts at your chest. When you are suffocating and panicked. It is not about how sad your situation is. it is about your ability to breathe under those pressures you never could have imagined or foreseen.
It is about your ability to live and still love your life and those in it.
yea I think that guy was onto something there...
Sunday, November 21, 2010
HOME
I have been thinking about this word a lot.
I have been thinking about edward sharp's definition, Elliot Brood's definition and my mother's definition.
In the past few months I have watched many beautiful people define this word for them selves.
I think home is just a state of mind. Your home is where you are happy and content and safe. It is a place from which you can bounce out into the unknown and return to safely at the end of the day. It should be cherished and loved. It should never be disrespected or avoided. It is important to have a home.
I have been thinking about edward sharp's definition, Elliot Brood's definition and my mother's definition.
In the past few months I have watched many beautiful people define this word for them selves.
I think home is just a state of mind. Your home is where you are happy and content and safe. It is a place from which you can bounce out into the unknown and return to safely at the end of the day. It should be cherished and loved. It should never be disrespected or avoided. It is important to have a home.
Monday, May 31, 2010
you said ain't this just like the present. To be showing up like this...
If you are always leaving, you are also in a constant state of arrival.
Settle down.
Find your roots, or make them.
No, not yet.
That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell
it fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause its running you with red.
Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar
you said ain't this just like the present
To be showing up like this
There's a moon waning crescent
we started to kiss
And I said I know it well
That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
what's that noise up the stairs baby
Is that Christmas morning
Bon Iver's words.
Settle down.
Find your roots, or make them.
No, not yet.
That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell
it fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause its running you with red.
Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar
you said ain't this just like the present
To be showing up like this
There's a moon waning crescent
we started to kiss
And I said I know it well
That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
what's that noise up the stairs baby
Is that Christmas morning
Bon Iver's words.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Heart of stone.
Am I finally a boy?
I remember looking into the mirror as my six year old self and trying to tie a tie like my brothers. I remember looking into the mirror at 12 years old... same day i realized that once a month I would be tortured and embarassed for the rest of my child bearing years and wishing to god that I could just grow a penis instead.
I remember looking into the mirror through glossy, tear soaked eyes and swearing at all things male... all things capable of making that definitive separation between sex and love with more of a feeling of jealousy than contempt.
And here I am. Between adventures, between boys, between worlds.
I feel nothing.
This must be what all those boys who seem to go on with their lives and not feel the need to stop the world for something they love...
... and then the feeling came back.
I spoke too soon. wishful thinking I guess.
damnit.
I remember looking into the mirror as my six year old self and trying to tie a tie like my brothers. I remember looking into the mirror at 12 years old... same day i realized that once a month I would be tortured and embarassed for the rest of my child bearing years and wishing to god that I could just grow a penis instead.
I remember looking into the mirror through glossy, tear soaked eyes and swearing at all things male... all things capable of making that definitive separation between sex and love with more of a feeling of jealousy than contempt.
And here I am. Between adventures, between boys, between worlds.
I feel nothing.
This must be what all those boys who seem to go on with their lives and not feel the need to stop the world for something they love...
... and then the feeling came back.
I spoke too soon. wishful thinking I guess.
damnit.
T'was the night before adventure...
So here we are... T-6 hours till departure.
It is midnight.
The chances of me sleeping are zero.
I told myself that I need to write more if I was to be a journalist and I am ... writing.
I tried to write an article about boulderz climbing center, and it has yet to be finished... but not for lack of inspiration. I am finding that one of the hardest things to do is to write about what you love... to make something that you are truely enthralled with into a tangible, imaginable, impressionable and straight forward imagine. I get jumbled with different ideas, and all the personalities in my head and my life, who see Boulderz as something different, try to hold the same pen... ends up being scribbles.
Weaving a story... something I can practice over the next two weeks in Costa Rica.
I am planning to write... to video and to photograph my heart out. and then some.
oh boy.
It is midnight.
The chances of me sleeping are zero.
I told myself that I need to write more if I was to be a journalist and I am ... writing.
I tried to write an article about boulderz climbing center, and it has yet to be finished... but not for lack of inspiration. I am finding that one of the hardest things to do is to write about what you love... to make something that you are truely enthralled with into a tangible, imaginable, impressionable and straight forward imagine. I get jumbled with different ideas, and all the personalities in my head and my life, who see Boulderz as something different, try to hold the same pen... ends up being scribbles.
Weaving a story... something I can practice over the next two weeks in Costa Rica.
I am planning to write... to video and to photograph my heart out. and then some.
oh boy.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
An Adventure from without.
I suppose we really don’t get a choice as to when our writing will be best.
Here I am trying to carry on a normal day-loving life, when I know quite well that creativity comes when the night shift punches in upstairs and the logical, functional men of my brain are long gone to bed, home with wife kids and dreams of summer vacations.
All it takes is one late night, and the preface to a good book to get me started, here I am.
I have been trying to make words for weeks. I have been trying so hard and telling myself I can do it without actually trying. I suppose that has something to do with how I am currently conducting my life.
In one week and one day I will be in another world. How exciting!
I have never been to another world before, and I can already watch myself trying to dumb it down into not being another world at all.
But maybe it will be exactly what I need.
Lauren Watson, you are a traveler.
I have been told this before, by those who haven’t read my autobiography of course. If one did exist, and if they had put the time into reading it, they would have found that I have not really been all that far and definitely not in harms way. The North American tour can be pumped into a beautiful adventure, but it was safe. And other travels I have done have been leashed and time constrained or sheltered by friends and family.
I suppose next weeks adventure will be too in a way. But it will be a taste of something which I need to dip into. Travel… real sight seeing. The danger of the world, the preciousness of it. All that which we apparently have to see to believe, because as human beings we can never really trust someone else’s judgement. I suppose I still need to make all the mistakes to really want to be a vegetarian, not drive cars, not fly planes, not have babies, eat organic and boycott plastic and child labour.
I bought my ticket.
I can barely wait.
Here I am trying to carry on a normal day-loving life, when I know quite well that creativity comes when the night shift punches in upstairs and the logical, functional men of my brain are long gone to bed, home with wife kids and dreams of summer vacations.
All it takes is one late night, and the preface to a good book to get me started, here I am.
I have been trying to make words for weeks. I have been trying so hard and telling myself I can do it without actually trying. I suppose that has something to do with how I am currently conducting my life.
In one week and one day I will be in another world. How exciting!
I have never been to another world before, and I can already watch myself trying to dumb it down into not being another world at all.
But maybe it will be exactly what I need.
Lauren Watson, you are a traveler.
I have been told this before, by those who haven’t read my autobiography of course. If one did exist, and if they had put the time into reading it, they would have found that I have not really been all that far and definitely not in harms way. The North American tour can be pumped into a beautiful adventure, but it was safe. And other travels I have done have been leashed and time constrained or sheltered by friends and family.
I suppose next weeks adventure will be too in a way. But it will be a taste of something which I need to dip into. Travel… real sight seeing. The danger of the world, the preciousness of it. All that which we apparently have to see to believe, because as human beings we can never really trust someone else’s judgement. I suppose I still need to make all the mistakes to really want to be a vegetarian, not drive cars, not fly planes, not have babies, eat organic and boycott plastic and child labour.
I bought my ticket.
I can barely wait.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Wake up and realize the last year of your life was just a dream.
Even before I open my eyes I know where I am.
I can hear it, I can feel it and I can even smell it. The sunlight is bathing me but I still feel enough cold falling on me from the window to stay wrapped in my thick heavy comforter. I roll, and hit the side of the futon. I never quite fit in the nook, but it always kept me company that way.
Speaking of company, the predictable sounds of scrambling and squeeking chime in above me... the squirrels upstairs are at it again. I roll again and open my eyes slowly... Everything is so comfortable.
For a very long second, I am waking up from a dream. I have a month left of school, and within the next 5 minutes I am going to remember my schedule for the day, full of climbing, swimming, library hours and most likely a visit to the market to start it all off, if its not too late.
For a very long second I mull over the details of my dream, the trip out west, living in canmore, discovering myself, hitch hiking, kayaking, climbing, living in toronto... all a dream.
I take a deep breathe and notice the comforter is not mine and the posters have changed.
I stretch my toes and roll again burrowing deeper into the covers, trying so hard to go back into my dreams.
I can hear it, I can feel it and I can even smell it. The sunlight is bathing me but I still feel enough cold falling on me from the window to stay wrapped in my thick heavy comforter. I roll, and hit the side of the futon. I never quite fit in the nook, but it always kept me company that way.
Speaking of company, the predictable sounds of scrambling and squeeking chime in above me... the squirrels upstairs are at it again. I roll again and open my eyes slowly... Everything is so comfortable.
For a very long second, I am waking up from a dream. I have a month left of school, and within the next 5 minutes I am going to remember my schedule for the day, full of climbing, swimming, library hours and most likely a visit to the market to start it all off, if its not too late.
For a very long second I mull over the details of my dream, the trip out west, living in canmore, discovering myself, hitch hiking, kayaking, climbing, living in toronto... all a dream.
I take a deep breathe and notice the comforter is not mine and the posters have changed.
I stretch my toes and roll again burrowing deeper into the covers, trying so hard to go back into my dreams.
Friday, March 26, 2010
P-L-A-N-(E)-S
I have never really been let down by spontaneity/intuition and will not let the universe prove me otherwise.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The song remains the same.
I can write nothing new.
Nothing is new,
Nothing.
Our understanding of the events and words we are subjected to is what changes.
Words I have heard a hundred times before still floor me when used in the right context.
I have this epiphany all over again which I swear I knew before.
I am that very gold fish that Ani Difranco talks about in her song, with no memory for the little plastic castle. I am like sysyphus pushing that boulder up a mountain. I am have a history which repeats. I am a broken record. I am words. I am action and reaction. I am evolution. I am human. I will die just like everyone else but I am not worried because the memory of me will live on forever.
I have never learned anything new, because everything i know was inside of me already I just keep being reminded of it, rediscovering the irrelevance of direction.
Its like searching so hard for some new way to do or say something when you realize...
what you need is always with you.
so many ways to say the same things.
So many people with the same goals, only to be confused by words and stories and the illusion of linear movement.
What I have is with me.
What I know is inside of me.
What time is it?
Where am I?
Nothing is new,
Nothing.
Our understanding of the events and words we are subjected to is what changes.
Words I have heard a hundred times before still floor me when used in the right context.
I have this epiphany all over again which I swear I knew before.
I am that very gold fish that Ani Difranco talks about in her song, with no memory for the little plastic castle. I am like sysyphus pushing that boulder up a mountain. I am have a history which repeats. I am a broken record. I am words. I am action and reaction. I am evolution. I am human. I will die just like everyone else but I am not worried because the memory of me will live on forever.
I have never learned anything new, because everything i know was inside of me already I just keep being reminded of it, rediscovering the irrelevance of direction.
Its like searching so hard for some new way to do or say something when you realize...
what you need is always with you.
so many ways to say the same things.
So many people with the same goals, only to be confused by words and stories and the illusion of linear movement.
What I have is with me.
What I know is inside of me.
What time is it?
Where am I?
Friday, March 19, 2010
Rock Climbing.
I was in denial for such a long time.
Not unlike all the other good things that have come my way.
Take vegetables, rest days, family and all the other aspects of my life I denied myself the pleasure of just enjoying for so long.
But climbing really has taken over my life.
I am lying here, looking at a blue sky and feeling the rush of warm ?march? air rush my face as a freight train cuts its path through my neighboorhood. I call it my neighborhood because i think I am there more than I am home right now.
I just finished an 8 hour day of teaching kids to climb and all i can think about is how amazing the session will be tonight. Back in I go.
It began innocently enough.
I am good at it and I realized that when I was 11 years old.
A gymnastics bred child, slightly underweight shows up at camp with no fear for heights and enthusiasm for strong, dangling, flexible moves. I did not hurt that, as a lightweight, I was easily hoisted up the wall in competitions and races. I was quickly dubbed the designated climbing member of any team.
But through the past 11 years I have still been unable to fully accept and appreciate what climbing has offered me. It is the lifestyle, the mindset, the physical power and the accomplishment and the friends that I have yet to find anywhere else, and yet I am still watching myself skirt a headfirst dive in, telling myself there is something better out there for me.
But when I think that my favorite place on earth is a mountain in Alabama.
My best job I have ever done was as a volunteer president at a climbing gym.
My post grad adventure was a road-trip to all the main climbing spots in NA.
The first time i smiled in Canmore this summer was in the Vsion.
And that quite frankly I am currently working, STAYING in toronto just to continue and progress a community I respect more than I know.
well I'll be damned.
Maybe its time i woke up and smelled the sweaty chalk balls and bad foot odour.
Not unlike all the other good things that have come my way.
Take vegetables, rest days, family and all the other aspects of my life I denied myself the pleasure of just enjoying for so long.
But climbing really has taken over my life.
I am lying here, looking at a blue sky and feeling the rush of warm ?march? air rush my face as a freight train cuts its path through my neighboorhood. I call it my neighborhood because i think I am there more than I am home right now.
I just finished an 8 hour day of teaching kids to climb and all i can think about is how amazing the session will be tonight. Back in I go.
It began innocently enough.
I am good at it and I realized that when I was 11 years old.
A gymnastics bred child, slightly underweight shows up at camp with no fear for heights and enthusiasm for strong, dangling, flexible moves. I did not hurt that, as a lightweight, I was easily hoisted up the wall in competitions and races. I was quickly dubbed the designated climbing member of any team.
But through the past 11 years I have still been unable to fully accept and appreciate what climbing has offered me. It is the lifestyle, the mindset, the physical power and the accomplishment and the friends that I have yet to find anywhere else, and yet I am still watching myself skirt a headfirst dive in, telling myself there is something better out there for me.
But when I think that my favorite place on earth is a mountain in Alabama.
My best job I have ever done was as a volunteer president at a climbing gym.
My post grad adventure was a road-trip to all the main climbing spots in NA.
The first time i smiled in Canmore this summer was in the Vsion.
And that quite frankly I am currently working, STAYING in toronto just to continue and progress a community I respect more than I know.
well I'll be damned.
Maybe its time i woke up and smelled the sweaty chalk balls and bad foot odour.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Excerpts from septembers Journal.
Start video-
Anna- “ So here we are, day 3 on the North Coast trail… we have been hiking for over 10 kilometers today and there is a bear in front of us… Lauren is going to light off the bear banger… do it dude, up in the air, up in the air…
( bear banger goes off)
Anna- … There it goes… and the bears gone.”…. Oh wait, it's not gone….”
(pause…)
Lauren and Anna- “ HEY BEAR, hey bear, hey bear hey bear….!”
Welcome to the next two hours of my life. Yelling at the top of my lungs, at a very large, very close and very confused animal. The same animal which less than a week ago would have caused Anna and myself to swerve across the Trans Canada Highway and join the traffic jam of tourists taking a chance at paparazzi...
Life has changed since last week.
Anna- “ So here we are, day 3 on the North Coast trail… we have been hiking for over 10 kilometers today and there is a bear in front of us… Lauren is going to light off the bear banger… do it dude, up in the air, up in the air…
( bear banger goes off)
Anna- … There it goes… and the bears gone.”…. Oh wait, it's not gone….”
(pause…)
Lauren and Anna- “ HEY BEAR, hey bear, hey bear hey bear….!”
Welcome to the next two hours of my life. Yelling at the top of my lungs, at a very large, very close and very confused animal. The same animal which less than a week ago would have caused Anna and myself to swerve across the Trans Canada Highway and join the traffic jam of tourists taking a chance at paparazzi...
Life has changed since last week.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Teacher.
YOU.
This is the most important message I can think to leave with you, Troubled Child.
You are the most interesting person you will ever meet, and the only person you will ever have such an intimate chance to get to know.
So cherish it.
Never accept anything as a rational explanation, because rationale is what you make it. Its just a silly rule, its a reason someone else gave you or you gave yourself to make things easier. Always wonder. Wonder why you act the way you do, why you choose the things you do, why you say what you do, wonder how your own mind works, why it pulls forth anger and sadness and happiness when it does.
If you are wondering why others like or don't like you, stop focusing on what they are doing and focus on what you are doing, how you are reacting to your environment. Maybe then you will find out that you are in fact so fascinating that you will forget about the rest.
It is peculiar. I believe most of the time that you can only truly love and care for another person when you have a firm grasp on yourself and your ways and thoughts.
So really, maybe you can be happy.
Maybe you can feel the love that you have.
But only when you treat yourself as the amazing creature you really are.
You were right when you told me that it is all about respect today.
It's a shame you can say words that you really don't seem to understand yet though.
It's a shame that any of us can,
I have been saying words for years and I am only now realizing how many of them I never really heard or bothered to really think about.
The only real folk in this world are the ones who embrace their actions and reactions for what they are without rationalizing them.
...Now do as I say, not as I do.
This is the most important message I can think to leave with you, Troubled Child.
You are the most interesting person you will ever meet, and the only person you will ever have such an intimate chance to get to know.
So cherish it.
Never accept anything as a rational explanation, because rationale is what you make it. Its just a silly rule, its a reason someone else gave you or you gave yourself to make things easier. Always wonder. Wonder why you act the way you do, why you choose the things you do, why you say what you do, wonder how your own mind works, why it pulls forth anger and sadness and happiness when it does.
If you are wondering why others like or don't like you, stop focusing on what they are doing and focus on what you are doing, how you are reacting to your environment. Maybe then you will find out that you are in fact so fascinating that you will forget about the rest.
It is peculiar. I believe most of the time that you can only truly love and care for another person when you have a firm grasp on yourself and your ways and thoughts.
So really, maybe you can be happy.
Maybe you can feel the love that you have.
But only when you treat yourself as the amazing creature you really are.
You were right when you told me that it is all about respect today.
It's a shame you can say words that you really don't seem to understand yet though.
It's a shame that any of us can,
I have been saying words for years and I am only now realizing how many of them I never really heard or bothered to really think about.
The only real folk in this world are the ones who embrace their actions and reactions for what they are without rationalizing them.
...Now do as I say, not as I do.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Zombies.
Yep,
Thats right.
Last night I dreamt about zombies.
I am 22 years old and I had a nightmare so bad that i woke up and lay petrified in bed for over an hour, nearly getting up the courage to go wake up my parents.
Fuckin right.
What prompts that kind of imagination?
I haven't seen a good zombie movie in years.
I suppose this dream was loosely based on "I am legend" though.
I remember a few friends met me in a parking lot of a grocery store. We tied our dog up outside and drove right up to the door of the store, knowing it would be dark soon and we would need to make a run for the car to avoid the zombies. Once we were in I realized if we were really planning on coming back out when zombies were a possibility, I should go get the dog and bike and set up the car so we could really just make a run for it.
I went out to grab the dog and thought to myself "I am glad i did!" because the dog was tied near the woods. On my way back inside I saw one zombie following us though the forest. I realized the sun was going down. I started rushing for the safety of the sliding doors of the grocery store but it was too late... The Zombie was in front of us. I kicked him and punched but it seemed useless...He laughed at me demonically and I realized me and the dog were about to die.
Then,in that desperate moment, I woke up.
Waking up terrified and helpless really doesn't get much better with age. I tried like hell to go back to sleep and continue the dream, lucidly... I tried to imagine kicking the zombies ass and making a 'light brigde' to the car so we could getting inside and being safe. Unfortunately my mind wouldn't let me....It kept reminding me that I was making it up, not following the rules... I technically never defeated the zombie outside the store and let's be serious... zombies can open car doors, by the time I got everyone inside, the undead would have broken a window.
So instead I lay there... trying to convince myself I was safe but some anti-logic function in my head kept reminding me I was laying in a dark room and zombies like the dark.
What's up with that?
I am 22.
grow up.
Thats right.
Last night I dreamt about zombies.
I am 22 years old and I had a nightmare so bad that i woke up and lay petrified in bed for over an hour, nearly getting up the courage to go wake up my parents.
Fuckin right.
What prompts that kind of imagination?
I haven't seen a good zombie movie in years.
I suppose this dream was loosely based on "I am legend" though.
I remember a few friends met me in a parking lot of a grocery store. We tied our dog up outside and drove right up to the door of the store, knowing it would be dark soon and we would need to make a run for the car to avoid the zombies. Once we were in I realized if we were really planning on coming back out when zombies were a possibility, I should go get the dog and bike and set up the car so we could really just make a run for it.
I went out to grab the dog and thought to myself "I am glad i did!" because the dog was tied near the woods. On my way back inside I saw one zombie following us though the forest. I realized the sun was going down. I started rushing for the safety of the sliding doors of the grocery store but it was too late... The Zombie was in front of us. I kicked him and punched but it seemed useless...He laughed at me demonically and I realized me and the dog were about to die.
Then,in that desperate moment, I woke up.
Waking up terrified and helpless really doesn't get much better with age. I tried like hell to go back to sleep and continue the dream, lucidly... I tried to imagine kicking the zombies ass and making a 'light brigde' to the car so we could getting inside and being safe. Unfortunately my mind wouldn't let me....It kept reminding me that I was making it up, not following the rules... I technically never defeated the zombie outside the store and let's be serious... zombies can open car doors, by the time I got everyone inside, the undead would have broken a window.
So instead I lay there... trying to convince myself I was safe but some anti-logic function in my head kept reminding me I was laying in a dark room and zombies like the dark.
What's up with that?
I am 22.
grow up.
I can't wait
This statement no longer means that I am anxious for the future. I am here, the adventure is now. There is no limbo, there is no plateau.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
March 6 2010
Lessons of the week:
1)
listo!
Si Se puede escalade mas arriba!!!!
morado!!
deje van!!!!
... Teaching Spanish/Portuguese children to climb is worth its weight in gold.
2)
Breathing and awareness will take much more time than previously anticipated.
3)
Nothing is random and nothing is ordinary.
1)
listo!
Si Se puede escalade mas arriba!!!!
morado!!
deje van!!!!
... Teaching Spanish/Portuguese children to climb is worth its weight in gold.
2)
Breathing and awareness will take much more time than previously anticipated.
3)
Nothing is random and nothing is ordinary.
Monday, March 1, 2010
March on!
So It has been a while since I last posted and I realized I really should type something.
But when I sat down and my pen hit the paper it stopped right there. ( yes, i still use those instruments.. pens, paper.)
It is not that i haven't been thinking, because THAT is still foreign for me. I can only sigh and be jealous of all those can meditate and consolidate their thoughts, breathe and move forward. However I am definitely working on it. Solider of peace? nono. that doesn't make any sense... but a warrior?
I am trying to write a column for the globe and mail about the world and how cold it has become. I want to talk about the human revolution and how we need to start talking to one another, we need to be reminded that we are part of this world and so much more importantly this world is part of us. I am listening and watching more than trying to break things down into words... which doesn't make for good phone interviews, believe me.
I am trying to embrace the concept of peace. Because i don't think i ever really defined that word for myself.
Where are you? Here.
What time is it? Now.
Okay continue.
But when I sat down and my pen hit the paper it stopped right there. ( yes, i still use those instruments.. pens, paper.)
It is not that i haven't been thinking, because THAT is still foreign for me. I can only sigh and be jealous of all those can meditate and consolidate their thoughts, breathe and move forward. However I am definitely working on it. Solider of peace? nono. that doesn't make any sense... but a warrior?
I am trying to write a column for the globe and mail about the world and how cold it has become. I want to talk about the human revolution and how we need to start talking to one another, we need to be reminded that we are part of this world and so much more importantly this world is part of us. I am listening and watching more than trying to break things down into words... which doesn't make for good phone interviews, believe me.
I am trying to embrace the concept of peace. Because i don't think i ever really defined that word for myself.
Where are you? Here.
What time is it? Now.
Okay continue.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Rapid Eye Movement Love Affair
I was in a dream, the kind where you think you're awake...
Of course you were there.
http://www.myspace.com/parksandrecmusic
Of course you were there.
http://www.myspace.com/parksandrecmusic
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Keep. It. Simple. Stupid.
As we hugged goodnight, my nose and head filled with your familiar smell and I let my head fall into your shoulder. For a moment I let my mind wander off to a place I usually keep under glass and far from reach. The little girl in my mind has a paintbrush and canvas and has been conjuring up a fantasy. Who ever says that scent is a strong aphrodisiac, I could be your 'exhibit A".
***
The sun is streaming through the window as my eyes lighten and my body begins to tingle, recognizing its position. It is warm, and I can feel that it is still early. My feet glide over the texture of the sheets and collide with one of your hairy legs. I turn over to see you are still silent, off in a far away land.
I smile, and slip out of bed.
Under cold water I feel revived and awake, thinking over my day’s to do list. I am a teacher, no a journalist, no a doctor…
Regardless, I am awake, and I am happy.
Wrapped in a towel go to check my clothes which are still drying on a clothesline. The dog runs out the back as I grab the paper and return into the kitchen.
Starting the kettle and the stovetop, I crack the eggs, finding what vegetables are available for scrambling.
Just as the masterpiece in a pan begins to look delicious, I back up into you. “ Can I help?” you smile.
You are an Architect and I am… something. We live in a smaller town, near a larger one, with forest behind our house. We grow our own vegetables and live simply but sustainably. We have many friends and go on many adventures together and separately. These include canoe trips with our community, far away ventures and weekend climbing trips. We have a dog, which found us more than we found it. We live near the mountains, maybe in Canada, maybe not. We can each bike to work each day. Once a month we invite the kids of the town to our house to help us collect our veggies and make a feast and a jamboree. It is awesome.
We are not perfect, but we understand each other and support each other, we know when to give space and when to give comfort, and dear god, we are definitely still learning when to give either.
One of my favorite parts of the day is hearing about yours and telling my own adventures. It is so nice to have someone to share this with in confidence.
***
It’s funny to think about our parents. Our, being the generation of adventure craving, 20-something lost souls looking to finish school and make something of ourselves by age 30.
Our parents met, and supported each other through school. One for the other. Until one had a solid enough career to support a family. I am watching as my parents smile at eachother and plan adventures now... with the hard work and time clocked in their youth they are enjoying each other and the world around them now that their children have almost all moved out.
They married to ensure their relationship would survive because in those days god knows that it would be unheard of to share a bed or an apartment unless you were seriously involved. Their marriage was a pledge of trust and love and patience. I look at many of my close friends right now whose parents are splitting up, and I think to myself… I never want that. I listen to my friends talk about how thier parents married too young and ended up unhappy and lost, a lesson they have taken to heart. I look at my own parents and their communication and happiness with life and each other and I can’t help but wonder if what they have is just that rare and unattainable of a case. Something I should not expect?
***
as you left this morning, I hugged you good bye and felt a strange peace. Logic man, the day planners and the little girl all had questions and theories for me to revel, but Socrates declared to myself in as few words as possible " It is what it is".
***
Personally I am not even sure I am mature enough or WANT to be mature enough to commit to another person right now… but for a split second this morning that is exactly what I wanted. These are my thoughts right here right now.
Man, Honesty is a bitch.
***
The sun is streaming through the window as my eyes lighten and my body begins to tingle, recognizing its position. It is warm, and I can feel that it is still early. My feet glide over the texture of the sheets and collide with one of your hairy legs. I turn over to see you are still silent, off in a far away land.
I smile, and slip out of bed.
Under cold water I feel revived and awake, thinking over my day’s to do list. I am a teacher, no a journalist, no a doctor…
Regardless, I am awake, and I am happy.
Wrapped in a towel go to check my clothes which are still drying on a clothesline. The dog runs out the back as I grab the paper and return into the kitchen.
Starting the kettle and the stovetop, I crack the eggs, finding what vegetables are available for scrambling.
Just as the masterpiece in a pan begins to look delicious, I back up into you. “ Can I help?” you smile.
You are an Architect and I am… something. We live in a smaller town, near a larger one, with forest behind our house. We grow our own vegetables and live simply but sustainably. We have many friends and go on many adventures together and separately. These include canoe trips with our community, far away ventures and weekend climbing trips. We have a dog, which found us more than we found it. We live near the mountains, maybe in Canada, maybe not. We can each bike to work each day. Once a month we invite the kids of the town to our house to help us collect our veggies and make a feast and a jamboree. It is awesome.
We are not perfect, but we understand each other and support each other, we know when to give space and when to give comfort, and dear god, we are definitely still learning when to give either.
One of my favorite parts of the day is hearing about yours and telling my own adventures. It is so nice to have someone to share this with in confidence.
***
It’s funny to think about our parents. Our, being the generation of adventure craving, 20-something lost souls looking to finish school and make something of ourselves by age 30.
Our parents met, and supported each other through school. One for the other. Until one had a solid enough career to support a family. I am watching as my parents smile at eachother and plan adventures now... with the hard work and time clocked in their youth they are enjoying each other and the world around them now that their children have almost all moved out.
They married to ensure their relationship would survive because in those days god knows that it would be unheard of to share a bed or an apartment unless you were seriously involved. Their marriage was a pledge of trust and love and patience. I look at many of my close friends right now whose parents are splitting up, and I think to myself… I never want that. I listen to my friends talk about how thier parents married too young and ended up unhappy and lost, a lesson they have taken to heart. I look at my own parents and their communication and happiness with life and each other and I can’t help but wonder if what they have is just that rare and unattainable of a case. Something I should not expect?
***
as you left this morning, I hugged you good bye and felt a strange peace. Logic man, the day planners and the little girl all had questions and theories for me to revel, but Socrates declared to myself in as few words as possible " It is what it is".
***
Personally I am not even sure I am mature enough or WANT to be mature enough to commit to another person right now… but for a split second this morning that is exactly what I wanted. These are my thoughts right here right now.
Man, Honesty is a bitch.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The first 83 words of 800.
Imagine for a moment the last time you were on the highway, nagivating the on ramps and off ramps of the 401 on your way out of town. It’s not rush hour and you are not in any hurry to arrive at your destination. Suddenly an unfamiliar sight pans into view… a hitch hiker. He is young, he is scruffy and his sign is orange scribble on cardboard, so really you could not see if you wanted to where he was going. Do you stop?
I did.
I did.
Monday, February 1, 2010
And yet I bite my tongue.
What separates Action from Idle?
Not very much.
Its those few seconds, After your rant and rave... when you are plopped down on the road and look ahead at the path... and you make that choice to either persue what may indeed be a rewarding and socially powerful display which you ( whilst ranting) felt so passionately about, Accepting the fact that the road is long and arduous and the sign that reads "success this way", has no kilometer marker on it... or you will wait.
The successful people are the ones who give it their all ya?
the ones who choose wisely.
Its those few seconds I worry about. Its that desire for change without the desire to dive in and abandon the rest of your 1000 world-bettering- life-inspired- projects.
Its Bloggers vs. Columnists vs. Activists?
...I wish my Journalism Class used reusable bottles. Every week its plastic and tim hortons cups. Week after week... the same people.
It is unacceptable to be so ignorant.
NOW SAY SOMETHING TO THEM LAUREN. DO IT.
Not very much.
Its those few seconds, After your rant and rave... when you are plopped down on the road and look ahead at the path... and you make that choice to either persue what may indeed be a rewarding and socially powerful display which you ( whilst ranting) felt so passionately about, Accepting the fact that the road is long and arduous and the sign that reads "success this way", has no kilometer marker on it... or you will wait.
The successful people are the ones who give it their all ya?
the ones who choose wisely.
Its those few seconds I worry about. Its that desire for change without the desire to dive in and abandon the rest of your 1000 world-bettering- life-inspired- projects.
Its Bloggers vs. Columnists vs. Activists?
...I wish my Journalism Class used reusable bottles. Every week its plastic and tim hortons cups. Week after week... the same people.
It is unacceptable to be so ignorant.
NOW SAY SOMETHING TO THEM LAUREN. DO IT.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The procedure of a birthday party.
It all begins with a 7 year old, usually they are turning 8.
They turn to their mother one day and say " mommy... I want to have the best birthday party ever".
Mommy begins the epic search... through neighborhood fliers, through internet searches and through school bulletin boards.
She presents this research to the 7, soon to be 8 year old and says " choose, baby choose" . The child reviews the options and eventually, after extensive visualizations of his/her friends high fiving and leaving all smiley with loot bags turns to their mother with their finger defintively at the picture of a small child smiling at the top of a rock wall.
"I want that one :D "
This leads to the hurdles of invitations, booking a date and time, finding food, food allergies, designing a cake, loot-bags preparation and most importantly a guest list.
After distribution of usually handcrafted or maybe these days designer invitations, the wait begins... RSVPs.
The child undergoes one of thier first experiences of social distress and anxiety... who will come to my party?!
Cousins? of course.
Brothers and sisters? ..yes if its a cool party.
Friends of brothers and sisters? yes.
class mates? ... oh god... who?!
All things lead eventually up to the big day.
A mothers nightmare.
Preparation of the cake, the pizza order, the allergy requirements and the medical status of all children is required.
Parents arrive to a war-zone of waivers, directions, introductions and the eye widening experience of realizing they have brought their children to a place which actually encourages them to climb the walls.
One by one the children with snowflake stamped/ waiver signed hands are herded into the waiting hands of the instructors, whilst mom runs upstairs to prepare the feast and post-climbing treats. The anxious and hesitant youngsters stare in awe at their new habitat, barely noticing that strangers are strapping them in and harnessing them up. They fitted with shoes and explained the 2 simple rules of the gym which, with fingers crossed, will help the instructors avoid donating the next 5 years of thier lives to law suits and hospital visits.
Regardless of rules, these children soon realize they are at long last in an environment where they can literally... climb... the... walls.
There is more... I am just exhausted.
They turn to their mother one day and say " mommy... I want to have the best birthday party ever".
Mommy begins the epic search... through neighborhood fliers, through internet searches and through school bulletin boards.
She presents this research to the 7, soon to be 8 year old and says " choose, baby choose" . The child reviews the options and eventually, after extensive visualizations of his/her friends high fiving and leaving all smiley with loot bags turns to their mother with their finger defintively at the picture of a small child smiling at the top of a rock wall.
"I want that one :D "
This leads to the hurdles of invitations, booking a date and time, finding food, food allergies, designing a cake, loot-bags preparation and most importantly a guest list.
After distribution of usually handcrafted or maybe these days designer invitations, the wait begins... RSVPs.
The child undergoes one of thier first experiences of social distress and anxiety... who will come to my party?!
Cousins? of course.
Brothers and sisters? ..yes if its a cool party.
Friends of brothers and sisters? yes.
class mates? ... oh god... who?!
All things lead eventually up to the big day.
A mothers nightmare.
Preparation of the cake, the pizza order, the allergy requirements and the medical status of all children is required.
Parents arrive to a war-zone of waivers, directions, introductions and the eye widening experience of realizing they have brought their children to a place which actually encourages them to climb the walls.
One by one the children with snowflake stamped/ waiver signed hands are herded into the waiting hands of the instructors, whilst mom runs upstairs to prepare the feast and post-climbing treats. The anxious and hesitant youngsters stare in awe at their new habitat, barely noticing that strangers are strapping them in and harnessing them up. They fitted with shoes and explained the 2 simple rules of the gym which, with fingers crossed, will help the instructors avoid donating the next 5 years of thier lives to law suits and hospital visits.
Regardless of rules, these children soon realize they are at long last in an environment where they can literally... climb... the... walls.
There is more... I am just exhausted.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
No thinking Aloud.
The little men in my head all had manuals out, frantically flipping through the protocols for this type of situation. In all the co-motion, the infamous little girl snuck into the command room and pulled the plug on all the computers, cutting control from the little people of logic and reason. They all panicked, reaching for the plug, the safety button the eject button… anything!
The little girl held strong though, silencing the men of logic and reason. She gave a gentle smile and put her finger to her mouth, whispering “shhh…”.
No Drama. No thinking.
Strong Silent type.
The little girl held strong though, silencing the men of logic and reason. She gave a gentle smile and put her finger to her mouth, whispering “shhh…”.
No Drama. No thinking.
Strong Silent type.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Its movies like this which just make me hate my way of life and living.
Dear James Cameron,
You are a moron. With respect to your new multi-mill film which I have affectionately come to know as " Pochahontas with Smirfs"...
My reaction to Avatar as i was watching it was thinking you are either playing a sick joke, showing how incredibly placid the mass audience really is... to watch this movie and not immediately take action ( which they obviously wont do because no one has any friggen clue how to step out of thier comfort zone and their top 1% of the worlds wealth reality).
Or you are just that blind and hypocritical that you think spending 100 million dollars on your art is an appropriate way to please a crowd and send a positive message.
You have just added to the mass desensitization of our peoples, the peoples of planet earth, to our manipulation and destruction of our own mother. The fact that I read that you based your easily coughed up 80 page script on "every single science fiction book I read as a kid" just further proves that we have all seen what you showed us before. The scariest part is that I have heard George Bush talk about the war on Terror... I have heard scientists talk about "one more sample" and I have watched so many people blindly follow the leader just because the leader is the loudest. Are you actually standing up against the imperialistic bastards that run this world? or are you playing into the irony of us being moved by this... in a theater, eating popcorn, wearing 3D glasses which will later be shipped back to california and boiled down into a new pair. FUCK.
I AM SO FRUSTRATED WITH THIS WORLD.
Sure, ya did it in 3D, and you added some new words but in the end game you simply provided the first world, our world watching with another reality to escape to, another dimension to forget that we do indeed live in a concrete jungle, and we are actually killing our planet, and we are actually mass-murdering our indigenous peoples.
This isn't news. But stop telling people and start acting. You empowered tons of people to make a movie. Now empower tons of people to change their way of life. Pure entertainment is not enough anymore.
You are a moron. With respect to your new multi-mill film which I have affectionately come to know as " Pochahontas with Smirfs"...
My reaction to Avatar as i was watching it was thinking you are either playing a sick joke, showing how incredibly placid the mass audience really is... to watch this movie and not immediately take action ( which they obviously wont do because no one has any friggen clue how to step out of thier comfort zone and their top 1% of the worlds wealth reality).
Or you are just that blind and hypocritical that you think spending 100 million dollars on your art is an appropriate way to please a crowd and send a positive message.
You have just added to the mass desensitization of our peoples, the peoples of planet earth, to our manipulation and destruction of our own mother. The fact that I read that you based your easily coughed up 80 page script on "every single science fiction book I read as a kid" just further proves that we have all seen what you showed us before. The scariest part is that I have heard George Bush talk about the war on Terror... I have heard scientists talk about "one more sample" and I have watched so many people blindly follow the leader just because the leader is the loudest. Are you actually standing up against the imperialistic bastards that run this world? or are you playing into the irony of us being moved by this... in a theater, eating popcorn, wearing 3D glasses which will later be shipped back to california and boiled down into a new pair. FUCK.
I AM SO FRUSTRATED WITH THIS WORLD.
Sure, ya did it in 3D, and you added some new words but in the end game you simply provided the first world, our world watching with another reality to escape to, another dimension to forget that we do indeed live in a concrete jungle, and we are actually killing our planet, and we are actually mass-murdering our indigenous peoples.
This isn't news. But stop telling people and start acting. You empowered tons of people to make a movie. Now empower tons of people to change their way of life. Pure entertainment is not enough anymore.
Friday, January 22, 2010
So Young.
I sat down in the corner of the climbing gym last week with a boy no older than 11.
I asked him why he was so sad and angry with everyone, and why I could not help him to climb.
He looked at me and answered " I have never won anything in my life, and I never will." Now this boy is not the strongest climber in the class, he is often distracted and causing a ruckus while the other kids are trying to learn and practice. I looked at him and didn't know what to say... I could not lie to him so I started trying to explain to him how some games are played against yourself, and you really should not compare yourself to others- He stopped me and continued " none of the other kids like me and i have no friends... no one really loves me".
When should a young boy ever have these ideas in his head?
Why are some kids so burdened with social awareness when they still lack the ability to understand themselves?
I am afraid for this boy.
I gave him a hug and asked him to come back and play with the group, but he walked away from me and cried in a corner.
Teaching kids to climb is teaching me more than I ever expected.
And I need to do something with this knowledge. I cannot forget it.
I asked him why he was so sad and angry with everyone, and why I could not help him to climb.
He looked at me and answered " I have never won anything in my life, and I never will." Now this boy is not the strongest climber in the class, he is often distracted and causing a ruckus while the other kids are trying to learn and practice. I looked at him and didn't know what to say... I could not lie to him so I started trying to explain to him how some games are played against yourself, and you really should not compare yourself to others- He stopped me and continued " none of the other kids like me and i have no friends... no one really loves me".
When should a young boy ever have these ideas in his head?
Why are some kids so burdened with social awareness when they still lack the ability to understand themselves?
I am afraid for this boy.
I gave him a hug and asked him to come back and play with the group, but he walked away from me and cried in a corner.
Teaching kids to climb is teaching me more than I ever expected.
And I need to do something with this knowledge. I cannot forget it.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Over the Rainbow.
So here is my life in Toronto.
I am mostly stressed out because im not living my life the way I expected I could so easily and confidently would. I go to the one place that keeps me here, hesitantly but voluntarily, compete in a competition a year ago I would have been dumbstruck not to win and I end up not placing, and being filled with this wonderful energy of such amazing people. Right when I am reminded of how much I love the place, and simultaneously how much living in Toronto makes me sleepless, I turn to my boss and ask if there is anything else I can do to help out tomorrow.
He looks at me, dumbfounded and sleepy eyed and pauses, then smiles bashfully and says “ sorry, its just… well, you were in my dream last night”. I am suddenly curious and confused, and a little worried…
"Yea "he smiles "well we were at this Kareoke bar, and I was feeling down…. And you knew it… so you grabbed the microphone and you stood on stage and you started singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ and it really made me feel better”…
This is enough to floor me. I officially am amidst being flattered and relieved and very amused. All I can say is “ I am stoked that I can do that for you” and laugh a bit. It seems I am fulfilling my duties as the hippy child I so esteem to be.
Unfortuantely that place is still the only thing really making me happy in Toronto. Thoughts of friends flying away and adventures I could be having… the what ifs of the present and near future are weighing me down.
This is never how I wanted to live. Something has to change… be it me, or my surroundings…
Only time will tell.
...Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
...
I am mostly stressed out because im not living my life the way I expected I could so easily and confidently would. I go to the one place that keeps me here, hesitantly but voluntarily, compete in a competition a year ago I would have been dumbstruck not to win and I end up not placing, and being filled with this wonderful energy of such amazing people. Right when I am reminded of how much I love the place, and simultaneously how much living in Toronto makes me sleepless, I turn to my boss and ask if there is anything else I can do to help out tomorrow.
He looks at me, dumbfounded and sleepy eyed and pauses, then smiles bashfully and says “ sorry, its just… well, you were in my dream last night”. I am suddenly curious and confused, and a little worried…
"Yea "he smiles "well we were at this Kareoke bar, and I was feeling down…. And you knew it… so you grabbed the microphone and you stood on stage and you started singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ and it really made me feel better”…
This is enough to floor me. I officially am amidst being flattered and relieved and very amused. All I can say is “ I am stoked that I can do that for you” and laugh a bit. It seems I am fulfilling my duties as the hippy child I so esteem to be.
Unfortuantely that place is still the only thing really making me happy in Toronto. Thoughts of friends flying away and adventures I could be having… the what ifs of the present and near future are weighing me down.
This is never how I wanted to live. Something has to change… be it me, or my surroundings…
Only time will tell.
...Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
...
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Dig Deeper Watson
The Phrase often used by someone who also holds " no shit sherlock" in thier vocabulary.
My mother has been watching me lately. She has been watching my actions, my dreams, my goals, my mood swings...
She has taken all of this research and created a statement about me, which she feels has a profound affect on the outcome of the next few years for me.
" you are digging many shallow wells. You will never find water this way..."
My mother, being the wise woman she is, is completely right.
The only problem is, that i have no idea what to do about it. I cannot even fathom committing to just one or two of my
ideas right now... The funny thing is though, that by not committing, I already have and that is even more frightening. A jack of all trades, a master of none. I love my life, I love what i know.
How can your love and passion possibly be the thing that holds you back?
tell me.
Now.
before i apply to any more restaurants.
My mother has been watching me lately. She has been watching my actions, my dreams, my goals, my mood swings...
She has taken all of this research and created a statement about me, which she feels has a profound affect on the outcome of the next few years for me.
" you are digging many shallow wells. You will never find water this way..."
My mother, being the wise woman she is, is completely right.
The only problem is, that i have no idea what to do about it. I cannot even fathom committing to just one or two of my
ideas right now... The funny thing is though, that by not committing, I already have and that is even more frightening. A jack of all trades, a master of none. I love my life, I love what i know.
How can your love and passion possibly be the thing that holds you back?
tell me.
Now.
before i apply to any more restaurants.
Monday, January 4, 2010
tradition like brussle sprouts.
Today I decided to attempt not to go to sleep with a computer on my lap.
...After a couple of hours being entertained, and truly entertained, by Sylvia Plath's 'Bell Jar' my separation anxiety is just too much and here i am on the computer... in bed.
Gosh, I miss the good old days when i would be forced to bed at a certain hour and would read until 1 or 2 am, when my mother would come in and turn out the light angrily because i had promised to stop at chapter twenty-three and now only had 5 pages till the end. I think if i ever have Children I will own a dusty old atari-equivalent which will sit in a frightening cold basement under poor lighting and strange looking bugs just to detract my child from the addiction of chatting, twittering, blogging and general animated/ cyber-social time-holes I find myself so drawn to these days by convenience.
But I suppose that child would still probably be found shivering cold and puffy eyed, curled up in a swiveling desk chair at early hours of the morning, sulking that they didn't get to finish their last message to a friend, or edit their last thought... As i also remember fighting for in the later years of my adolescence.
I hope kids will read in generations to come. I hope they will read books. on paper with print and bedside lamps.
Reading always reminds me how to write. If I lose that I lose my memory and then nothing can be gained. Computers just do not offer the same permanence, the same loyalties.
I suppose I will try again tomorrow.
Goodnight.
...After a couple of hours being entertained, and truly entertained, by Sylvia Plath's 'Bell Jar' my separation anxiety is just too much and here i am on the computer... in bed.
Gosh, I miss the good old days when i would be forced to bed at a certain hour and would read until 1 or 2 am, when my mother would come in and turn out the light angrily because i had promised to stop at chapter twenty-three and now only had 5 pages till the end. I think if i ever have Children I will own a dusty old atari-equivalent which will sit in a frightening cold basement under poor lighting and strange looking bugs just to detract my child from the addiction of chatting, twittering, blogging and general animated/ cyber-social time-holes I find myself so drawn to these days by convenience.
But I suppose that child would still probably be found shivering cold and puffy eyed, curled up in a swiveling desk chair at early hours of the morning, sulking that they didn't get to finish their last message to a friend, or edit their last thought... As i also remember fighting for in the later years of my adolescence.
I hope kids will read in generations to come. I hope they will read books. on paper with print and bedside lamps.
Reading always reminds me how to write. If I lose that I lose my memory and then nothing can be gained. Computers just do not offer the same permanence, the same loyalties.
I suppose I will try again tomorrow.
Goodnight.
Friday, January 1, 2010
2009
A year.
A year can be measured in a number of ways. It can be measured in Accomplishments, in failures, in Adventures, in maturity... In days...
I used to measure my year in Semesters... In Grades. I suppose i still do.
This morning, sitting around the breakfast nook in Guelph after a night of amazing celebration... I looked at everyone and reflected on what I knew about each person at the table, what they have shared with me about their year. I thought to myself that this year actually seems like one of the longer years of my life, if you measure it by days. Everyone agreed.
I feel aged this time around. I really do and I love it. I think a lot of my new missions, new perspectives have been realized, including how I do not really know much at all about where I will be going next and god, how humbling that is.
This year I completed the standard level of education within my social circles. I got a lot stronger mentally I learned how to see things ( jobs, friendships, relationships, passions) through. I also learned when to walk away from them. I learned what is like to be very alone. and I learned about how to travel, who to travel with. I learned take care of myself, I learned my limitations and a little more about my strengths. I learned the extent to which I really do need very solid people around me, influences in my life, in order to continue on...and I am so thankful for them.
Most of all i think I learned about adventure. The word in itself.
I am on the Adventure of a lifetime. I am not waiting for it. I am there now.
The hermit in Toronto. An adventure of my own mind.
I hope you are too, where ever you may be.
Safe Travels.
Songs:
Safe Travels - peter and the wolf.
Heres looking at you kid- The Gaslight Anthem
A year can be measured in a number of ways. It can be measured in Accomplishments, in failures, in Adventures, in maturity... In days...
I used to measure my year in Semesters... In Grades. I suppose i still do.
This morning, sitting around the breakfast nook in Guelph after a night of amazing celebration... I looked at everyone and reflected on what I knew about each person at the table, what they have shared with me about their year. I thought to myself that this year actually seems like one of the longer years of my life, if you measure it by days. Everyone agreed.
I feel aged this time around. I really do and I love it. I think a lot of my new missions, new perspectives have been realized, including how I do not really know much at all about where I will be going next and god, how humbling that is.
This year I completed the standard level of education within my social circles. I got a lot stronger mentally I learned how to see things ( jobs, friendships, relationships, passions) through. I also learned when to walk away from them. I learned what is like to be very alone. and I learned about how to travel, who to travel with. I learned take care of myself, I learned my limitations and a little more about my strengths. I learned the extent to which I really do need very solid people around me, influences in my life, in order to continue on...and I am so thankful for them.
Most of all i think I learned about adventure. The word in itself.
I am on the Adventure of a lifetime. I am not waiting for it. I am there now.
The hermit in Toronto. An adventure of my own mind.
I hope you are too, where ever you may be.
Safe Travels.
Songs:
Safe Travels - peter and the wolf.
Heres looking at you kid- The Gaslight Anthem
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