Looking Past

Another Halloween did and done. Boy was a mad scientist zombie. Girl was a black cat. Rain stopped around 4pm and the sun came out. Dinner consisted of spinach and cheese ravioli with Alfredo sauce tinted green with food colouring and some extra drops of red fc for blood. Trick or Treating went well. As we walked around from house to house my mind wandered into my mind's archives dredging up ghosts of Halloween's past.

I remembered being too young to trick or treat but not too young to remember my brother's costumes and that my mom would put their candy in the pot we used to boil potatoes. The pot was put on the high shelf in my parents' closet.

I remembered going out with my 3 brothers and mom one year and looking down to discover that there was a hole in my bag and I had lost all of my candy. The next day walking to school I say candy strewn around the road and in yards and I felt that I felt strangely proud of the mark I had left.

I remembered that our costumes were always last minute, homemade and, each year they were the 'best costumes ever!'

I remembered going to a Halloween sleep over at a girl's house that I didn't want to go to and my mom didn't want me to go to (she thought I would be too cold) but I went anyway because I knew I would probably be the only person to go. I was. Her mom had made many treats but she wasn't popular. We had fun. I remember thinking that the rest of the people in our class were jerks.

I remembered not being allowed to go to a Halloween party one year because I hadn't believed my parents when they had told me to be home by 7pm the night before. I had never before had a curfew. This was as close to being grounded as I ever got. Looking back, it was worth it.

I remembered my mother making peanut brittle to give out to the kids and having to put her name and phone number on the bags so that parents would feel safe to let their own kids eat a homemade treat. I remember that Jimmy loved the peanut brittle and my mom would always give him more than one bag.

I remembered putting on green eyeshadow as I prepped to dress up like Peter Pan. I explained to my older brother that even though Peter Pan was a boy it was good to accentuate the eyes. I remember feeling that not only did he believe me but he was actually listening to me. I suddenly felt quite grown up.

I remembered being asked to sing for candy at one house. I sang a French song I had just learned. I still remember part of the melody.

I remembered trick or treating in the rain, the snow and the wind. I loved all the weather cuz Halloween was always a night of magic. My favourite time was that period before dark where one's eyes would play tricks and the light would enhance and make unreal our everyday surroundings.

I remembered dumping candy onto the living room floor, sorting it and then proceeding to trade with my brothers to get the best deals. Chocolate was worth most. Those toffee 'kisses' that looked like dried up dog turds were worth least.

I remembered the different houses we would go to and the order/path we would take. Always the same. Each year the same house would be skipped and we would whisper in incredulity as we passed it: 'they don't celebrate Halloween.'

I remembered going to bed with my candy bucket on the floor beside me. My mom had stopped keeping the candy away from us when my little brother and I began trick or treating. We were all responsible with our own.

I remembered the unspoken competition between us as we all tried to see who could keep their candy the longest. It was not unheard of to still have some Halloween candy kicking around over Christmas.

I remembered being old enough to be the one to give out the candy. I would sit in our porch, read a book and wait.

I remembered giving out candy as a 'grown up' from my own various apartments pre children.

I remembered my children's very first Halloween.

I remembered that the path we took this year was the same as the one we took last year, the year before and the year before that. My kids' memories will be of this neighbourhood. My memories are enriched by theirs and the cycle of my life is entwined with theirs. Separate yet united.

Had a Thought but it Left so I Wrote this to Write Something

Pumpkin is carved. Seeds are roasting in the oven. Costumes are ready. The boy is getting over the flu. Hopefully he'll be ok to trick or treat tomorrow night. I'm just happy that he's feeling better. Happy is not quite the right word to describe the feeling. Overwhelmingly relieved? It has been a tough go. Not sure what type of flu nor do I really care. All that matters is that he's on the mend. Hopefully the girl will not get this one. This week I've been home and at work and at home and at work. Trying to care for my wee one but not letting other stuff slide. Selfish? Perhaps. The work keeps my worry for him at bay. Holding him puts the work worries into perspective. I'm not good at staying home. I'm not good at staying still. I'm most content when I'm juggling.

My voice is stronger. My singing voice. I've been singing more. Different styles. I'm being nudged to do something more. We'll see. I would want to do it right. Thoughtfully yet impulsively. Work and play. It has be the right time and place. I've been asked to record some stuff on my own and pass it along. The first step is sometimes the hardest. Leap of faith.

My inner dork is resurfacing as well. I did a routine reminiscent of vaudeville for the boy. He joined in by the end. So much fun. Joy. Finally feeling safe enough to be myself. Keeping the critical voices in abeyance--voices from inside and outside of my being. Damn but I can be a flake sometimes.

It's been a tough go as of late. I'm seeing the light though. I'm moving forward. I have no idea where I'll end up but I'm curious enough to keep going.

Home

Today was a day off. Beautiful blue sky and sunshine. Got lots done. Went to the market with the kidlings to the Lush store for bath bombs, bubble bath and shampoo followed by a quick trip to the grocery store. Then we gardened. Cleaned up and turned the veggie garden, raked leaves in the back, put the tarp on the barbecue, struck the hose, put summer toys away etc. Back then to the grocery store to get the two things we went to get in the first place but forgot -- oatmeal and butter. Home again to make apple oatmeal muffins. The girl read the recipe from the computer as the boy and I mixed the ingredients. They turned out fantastic. Then I put a chicken in the oven with a thai/peach glaze. Dinner was chicken, rice and a spinach salad with a warm goatcheese dressing. Three loads of laundry and kids in the bathtub. Bedtime for kids, tea for me and watch tele 'til a gf arrives later tonight. She wants to move to Ottawa and will crash here for a while until she gets things sorted.

I finally feel at home and it feels very good.

Pulling Punches

Interesting class last night. One moment brought to the forefront an issue that lately has been swirling around in my brain. Ok. Not an issue but a lens through which, after blowing on it and wiping away extraneous environmental and social crud and and then peering through, revealed a beautifully laid bare illustration of some of the crap that one has to go through to be a functional woman in a dude's world.

We were practicing a move wherein the attacker is thrown backwards after being pushed in the chest. I attacked and was pushed back. Sensei stopped to make a point. The fella that pushed me was told to 'be careful when practicing with a woman' so as to not, I inferred, hit the squishy bits on my torso. He should 'ask first' before touching me but even better should alter his technique so as to not risk touching/damaging? my breasts. (The squishy bits were not named but were merely alluded to. To name them I guess posed a further danger to my fragile self?).

Huh. First off. When I enter the dojo and step onto the mat I am giving implicit and explicit consent to have my body pushed, pulled, pinned and thrown. You don't have to ask me special permission cuz I have tits just as I don't expect to ask the dudes if it's ok to push, pull, pin or throw them. It's a martial arts class. Physical contact is part of the program.

Now, in class, I won't go around and punch or kick a dude in his 'junk' (that would be rude) but that does not stop us all from learning techniques that, if a dude puts his genitalia in harm's way the potential for it getting punched or kicked is pointed out. Many positions are explained in such a way as to tell the dudes to protect their valuable assets. Instead of telling my attacker to avoid my breasts, why not show me how to better protect them (ya, they are sensitive to being hit as is my face) and that way we can each learn to practice on a more even keel. Each body is different, male or female, and practicing with various sizes, abilities, sexes is a privilege. The attacker and receiver must each learn to protect themselves from being hurt. Ultimately, it becomes a personal responsibility. Protect your own body.

If we are practicing and you are stronger then me or have more experience, then yes, pull your punches. I will also pull mine if I am practicing with someone weaker or with less experience than myself. It is a sign of respect. Respect for the human being. It is also a part of a good practice. We learn from those more and less experienced then ourselves. If I get hurt, I look to myself to see what I had done to not better protect myself. If I hurt someone else I look to see how I could prevent that in the future. The point of the practice is not to disable someone but to learn the techniques. Ok. There are times when people are arseholes and go out to cause pain. They aren't fun to practice with but face it, if one is going to be attacked on the street is the attacker going to watch out for your delicate womanly/manly bits? Isn't it best to learn to protect oneself from all manner of attack?

Treat me like a human being and I will return the favour.

But wait, there's more! I have been so guilty this past while of complicity. Trying to play and be accepted in this dudely world where because I have tits I am, whether I like it or not (and I don't) shoved into the sex class. I am ashamed to say that I once convinced myself that being called 'fuckable' was a compliment. I listened in silence (actually my mind was playing the 'I Dream of Genie' soundtrack on full volume) as I hung out with dudes who claimed a distrust of woman because of their inherent duality and that women who expressed interest in some of these dudes were immediately labelled as prostitutes/whores cuz they couldn't possibly be out dancing at a bar without an ulterior motive. This unspoken motive was to somehow/someway screw said dudes of money, self respect or both. Geesh.

When I dared speak up I was told that my reaction was 'not intended.' Huh? Ok. One's intentions may be important but even if you don't intend to hurt someone and you end up hurting someone you have hurt someone. The hurt has been done. I will accept that I need to learn to protect myself from being hurt as I learn to protect myself physically in class. I'm not quite sure, in cases like this, how this may be accomplished. I could ignore the words/vitriolic/misogynistic sentiment, develop a thicker skin or even 'lighten up' but that just adds to my complicity. I could speak out and be beaten down time and time again for not buying into the dude perspective but this gets tiring.

In life we are taught to pick/choose our battles wisely. It doesn't make sense to kill your spirit over something that, at this time, may be unwinnable if you are left with nothing with which to carry on. At the same time, perhaps I have been seeing my attackers as somehow weaker or less experienced then me and have been treating them with an undue (and in keeping with dude centric compliance), maternal/nurturing gentleness. There are times, even in class, when a more experienced person will 'teach a lesson' to a less experienced one by going a wee bit harder/more martial in order to illustrate where the technique could lead.

Perhaps, it's time for me to stop pulling my punches.

Letting It Pass

The other day my son and I discussed lonliness. In the course of this talk I asked him if he were ever lonely. Looking at me with surprise he said 'of course mommy. I feel lonely all the time.' I was taken aback. I asked him what he did to make himself feel better when he felt lonely. He responded with yet another look. This time it was one of incrudulity.

'Mommy. There is nothing you can do when you feel lonely. You can only let it pass.'

Huh. How many people spend thousands of dollars on therapists or bang their heads over and over again on metaphoric brick walls before they come up with this answer. Honest. Elegant. To the point.

A Relationship Thing

Sunday. Slept in. Nothing really to do today except shower, laundry, groceries, water plants, sweep and wait for the return of my children. A busy weekend up til now to be sure. Three shows. Each with their own quirks but overall filled with delightful people. Went out for drinks with a gf last night. Saw an old friend who has recently been married. He stood up with me as a bridesmaid when I was married. Prior to that we had an on again off again 'thing.' He had called me a 'pain in the ass.' He had once asked me as we were both heading up the stairs to his apartment what I was going to do when he found a real girlfriend. I replied that I would find myself a real boyfriend. The next night I met Xman. After the birth of the children I lost touch with him. Family responsibilities kept me at home. Well, not just the responsibilities. I loved being at home. Being in a family.

People come and people go. When they reenter one's life I get the idea that there is something more to the relationships overall. These people who are in and out of my life are extraordinarily special.

I have just ended another 'thing' with another special person. He also called me 'a pain in the ass.' This 'thing' ended with hurt and anger. Accusations and name calling. According to him, I caused him to be rude to me. I am therefore a rude person. I know I'm pushy. Head strong. I was called rude and insensitive. Probably. I can see it. I can also see that these qualities have allowed me to survive. I work in an industry where being acquiescent and nice must be tempered with an ability to say 'no' regardless of who's feelings might be hurt. I work at saying 'no' in a nice way but this is not always possible. It's also a gender thing (what isn't?) and being a woman in a man's world comes with its own issues as one tries to navigate an unfamiliar and dangerous terrain.

After telling me that he wanted solitude and was not going to be involved with anyone he has started a relationship. I saw it on my facebook homepage. (Facebook is a whole other topic!) Yes it hurt. It caused me to question the 'thing' we had. What we had wasn't a relationship. It was a 'thing.' An amorphous undefined thing. Same type of thing as I had had with the fellow I saw last night. I questioned what this particular 'thing' was. This questioning caused more anger. More hurt. I questioned his intent. I questioned mine. Thing is, even though I knew from the outset that this 'thing' could not ever be more then a 'thing' I knew that it wasn't enough. So did he. Even though we both tried, at the end of the day a 'thing' is just a 'thing.'

What is the difference between a thing and a relationship? I don't know if it can be explained. If one is being honest, the difference is very obvious. One knows the difference. It's more of a feeling however then something that can be expressed in words. Can 'things' become relationships? I don't think so. Does this mean that one might not wish that they could? No. That's where the problems arise. Fervently wishing that things could be different but knowing full well that they can't. One tries to make the 'thing' into something else. Not wanting to lose the good part of the 'thing.' 'Things' must end though and usually end with unsettling feelings. Since the 'thing' can never really be defined, when it ends, one is at a loss as to what and how to feel about it. I don't think a 'thing' is less important then a relationship. 'Things' are necessary. Why? I'm not exactly sure. For myself, 'things' have coincided with periods of personal growth. I don't regret the 'things' I have had. Some of my fondest memories have arisen out from 'things.' Strange that I don't harbour any ill will for those I have had 'things' with but do tend to feel more antipathy toward those with whom I have had relationships.

Some past 'things' I have had have grown into friendships. The fellow I saw last night is one such person. We instantly hugged and bridged the time and distance that had separated us. Time has been required before this could occur. What made the 'thing' the 'thing' has had to fade before anything like a friendship can be allowed to grow. Will this latest 'thing' fade and grow into a friendship? Hard to say. Maybe. Maybe not. When put in the situation where I find myself involved in another 'thing' will I call a halt to it as soon as I realize what it is? Probably not. Interactions between people are complicated. Nothing is ever black and white. Reason, logic, emotions, spirits, personalities, past baggage, personal circumstances, and the like make most relations between folk difficult to say the least.

Why persist? For those moments of beauty. The joy that can only come when a moment of beauty is shared. And we realize that despite everything, we are not alone.