Gerund My Day

Hunting down production schedules kept locked away tighter than state secrets, watching folks unwilling to make the effort to get doors unlocked, witnessing other folk holding back on getting the right keys cut, brewing espresso, crossing a field and a snow mountain to get a key attached to a wooden stick, coming across gak inadvertently left behind, testing a video line and having it work 'latency free,' buying milk, getting info together for upcoming one night wonders, dealing with a cancellation, trying to get some time on the stage, meeting clients in the lobby, listening to Alison Krause, being out with the wee ones as they skated, sewing a new button on my favourite jeans, handing out hours like candy, making a dinner for three from one pork chop, doing laundry with a machine leaking its transmission, cleaning off 1/3 of my desk, trying to figure out how to juggle yet another weekend of kids and work, carrying the girl down a rickety set of stairs underneath a pizza place, sorting out the carp shop, wondering why every room I walked into at work was playing live feeds from the NHL trade day, making lunch for tomorrow, waking up running in the morning, burning incense, emailing, telephoning, skipping, singing, driving, yelling, caressing, scheduling, loving.

Flower Dreams and Other Poop

I am a much relieved person today. I've been having the weirdest violent sort of dreams. I'm not sure why. I finished The DaVinci Code but, I don't recall any bloody monks in my dreams. Some friends of mine were smack dab in the middle of the 'civil' conflict in Nepal. They are safe and sound (thankfully and welcome back!) but, even the image of gun toting anti monarchists weren't the main players of my dreams. To be honest, I'm not sure what my dreams have been about. I have woken up tired and vaguely aware of being uncomfortable all night with violent movies playing out inside my head. Last night I finally was able to sleep. Well. I woke up shortly after 9am feeling foggy but refreshed. I still dreamed last night but I don't think the violence was there. My son, on the other hand was awake when J went into his bedroom this morning. He told J that he had had a nightmare. Apparently, among other things, the flowers that he had been dreaming about turned into poo. He then informed J that that part of his dream had been kinda funny. Dreams are funny things. I believe that some dreams are portents but most, in my case anyway, are poorly shot video images depicting the clutter that has accumulated in my brain.

Ok. A short book review. The DaVinci Code was a quick read. A pretty good read. I think the controversies surrounding the book are a bit over the top. Mind you, I don't see a problem with the idea that Jesus was married and had kids and his blood line survives today. It doesn't cripple my faith. Mind you, I believe that my family can be linked back to the great Genghis Khan. Virility has a power all its own. The predominance of the female goddess idea and the links between modern day Christianity and past pagan practices was refreshing but nothing really new. The book has a few characters who belong to Opus Dei. From the media accounts, I was expecting to see all the Opus Dei folk lumped together as crazy catholic fundamentalists. Seems there was only one. And what group of folks out there can't claim to have at least one crazy fundamentalist among them? The book was clever. Not mind blowing. Not overly deep. A good beach book.

Blog Response. I've been thinking about Canadian troops in Afghanistan. I'm against it. I've been trying to work out why. Yes the Taliban is bad. Yes, western powers have screwed things up over there and things need to be put right. But. It's the but that I have not been able to elaborate on ... I'll try now. Bear with me...this is off the cuff:

Ok. I can't think of any cases wherein a foreign army has been able to successfully move in and 'fix' things in a country. The only successful 'fixes' come from within. Sometimes it takes a civil war but, if the people want change, change will come. It might take a while but it will come. If a foreign army comes in, there will be some people who will welcome it thinking that the change they were hoping for will come faster. There will be others, however, who will be against the change and will fight the foreign forces. The foreign forces will fight back. People will die. Occasionally, civilians will be caught in the crossfire. Eventually, one of these civilians will be a child. Ok. Some of those people who had welcomed the foreign army will begin to rethink their position and start to criticize the foreign army. The foreign army will start to think 'why the hell are we here?' Depending on how long they've been there and how much is invested it becomes increasingly difficult to extricate the foreign army from the position. If they stay, morale will drop, more people will die and support from home will drop. If they go, they will be leaving the country in a worse position than when they started and, chances are, the conservative anti change factions will be able to garner more support.

Let's see what would happen if the foreign army stayed away...would the Taliban lose control? Yup. Eventually. Will people die? Yes. But, the people fighting for change will know that they are fighting for their lives and the lives of their children. They aren't foreign collaborators. They are Afghani people fighting for a better future for themselves. But, there are those who welcome foreign intervention because they know that they aren't alone...the world is watching. This is a good thing but...only if the intervention works--works in a timely, not too costly fashion. When has this ever happened?

But, is the Canadian army over there to help the Afghani people? Really? Is that its primary purpose? Or, was this the safest perceived option for Canada to show the U.S. that it stood behind the American war on terror without actually having to stand behind the U.S.? The games some folks play eh? Although I believe that a military option is sometimes necessary, I do not believe that it needs to be used as much as it has been over the years. Although, come to think of it, could early troop intervention lessoned the carnage of Rwanda? Hmmm... but Africa is a different thing altogether isn't it.

The feeling that 'if we do nothing bad things will happen' persists. Does 'doing something' always need to involve guns? I guess so. When things like oil and American interests are in play anyway huh? I know I'm being unfair. I'm proud of the Canadian troops. They do good things, work hard and literally stick their necks out so that others can feel safer. Afghanistan, however, is a non starter. History shows over and over again that foreign invasion forces don't win there. Is there, perhaps another way to help?

I just figured out my son's dream! We are starting a garden and I told him that we needed to fertilize the soil with poop. Sometimes beautiful things come out of shit. I guess his dream could be seen as a warning that sometimes, beautiful intentions can turn into shit as well. Or, instead, to paraphrase Freud, sometimes a pile of poop is a pile of poop.

Bunny Poop

Happy Easter Weekend everyone. Yes, it's a Christian holiday but, has enough of the pagan in it that the Christian overtones seem to have been watered down somewhat. Perhaps that's the real effect of commercialism. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny have eroded the importance of Christ as an ultimate symbol of good. Mind, we all become complicit don't we. Those of us who partake in these rituals know that we are all Santa and the Bunny. We do our bit. We shop for gifts and chocolate. We give as good as we get. Wonder if that's what gives some of us a god complex? Yes, the evils of pride, ownership, greed and gluttony come out and are promoted by the corporations from which we make our purchases. Jesus himself was shown to have a meltdown in a church once when he saw traders and merchants making profits from faith. Seems we all have a bit of a problem with folks gaining profit from our best wishes. We see it as a bit on the evil side of things don't we? Yet, overall, despite our collective misgivings, stores continue to stock little foil wrapped chocolate eggs resembling bunny poop this time of year and little chocolate eggs get sold. And on Sunday morning when my kids search the house for the eggs that have been hidden the night before by my own incarnation of bunny spirit, I hope that they gain a bit of this idea...sometimes, the good that you are searching for is right here at home. And, maybe if we all concentrate a bit on being good? Our homes will get that much bigger.

Cry

Certain things make me angry. And incredibly sad. One of these things is when I hear/read/become aware of any type of child abuse. I sense my brain actually turn numb and a visceral reaction wells up inside of me. I've started to try to consciously channel this anger/sadness into energy...and send it out to somehow soothe the wounds of the stricken. Is this prayer? Otherwise, I feel so helpless. I don't want to do nothing. Neither do I want in any way to be a voyeur to someone else's pain. I turn away from the headlines. Not that I don't want to be aware that it's going on...it's that the one's who have suffered deserve respect. They are not a sideshow. I won't link to the article. Unfortunately, it's one of many. Justice is being done? Two more people have been accused and summarily convicted. Two people who held the title, in name only, of grandparents. But, a child with shining eyes and a gorgeous smile died 4 years ago. And I never met him. But I'm praying. Praying that he is in a good place. That he knows he is cherished. That human beings will get over themselves enough to know that we can't afford to be mean. We need each other. Each of us is precious. And when the laughter of a child is silenced, we are each of us, to blame.

I Earned Over $300 Yesterday. What the F*&K Did You Do?

Money Money Money Money.
It's a drug
It's a means to an end.
It makes the world go 'round.
It can make people mean.

Money is important. It tends to suck when money is short. I get that. It's also a good feeling to know that one can earn it. It's a nice feeling to be self-sufficient and not dependent so much upon hand outs. What scares me, however, is when money is used as an indicator of self-worth. The value prescribed to money sometimes seems to overshadow even what money can be used to obtain. Money can then be used as a weapon, even before a single cent is spent. So and so is a better person because they have more money. Really. What's up with that? I tend to value kindness, respect, being good and the like. Although I agree with a solid work ethic, it's really too bad that the most common, and most valued, reward from having one is money. And, if you work really hard and don't make a lot of money, more often than not, you are perceived to be a chump. The notion that some people work hard because they gain a sense of satisfaction from a job well done takes a back seat to what the base rate of pay is. Is it any wonder why there seems to be so much disillusionment creeping into our collective psyche? How about focusing less on how much money is coming in -- yes, I know, keeping in mind the minimums to pay bills for food and housing and the like -- and more about what is really valuable. Being a good person. Loving and being loved. These things don't cost very much monetarily. The value of these things though? To me? Priceless.

Sorry I Barfed on Your Shoes.

It really has been one of those weeks. Just this weekend saw a strike of one show Friday afternoon followed by a quick lx refocus for Saturday's performance that was struck for Sunday morning's church service which was struck out for a variety show. And we keep cramming them in! Get 'em in, get 'em on, get 'em out! My crew and I specialize in show biz triage. If a client requests more then time/money/crew size(related back to $$) can handle, we tweek it and shave it and get their product up and running. Lately, it's more of a perk or job bonus if the product happens to be of any quality. Our work is good but, it's hard to tweek bad vocal pitch from a sound console (although my crew has been asking for years for the completion of the almost mythical 'don't suck' button). This leads me to wonder where all the talent is? What happened to quality? Does anyone else miss it? I have, and will, bend over backwards for a client who possesses 'it.' Sure, some people are born with 'it' but, even so, they have to work 'it.' It's hard work to act well. It's hard work to tech well. I am getting increasingly disheartened by the amount of shit passing for drama that gets on our airwaves. Movies seem to be slapped together with no effort to keep up basic elements of continuity. Shots are made cuz they look 'cool' with little or no artistic merit...ie. they don't support the overlying meaning of the piece. Perhaps because there is no meaning in the first place? People are winning acting awards who, frankly, don't seem to have the slightest idea of what they are doing. I can actually hear the punctuation when they speak. Last week, I had the pleasure of working with a group of people who are increasingly frustrated with the level of tech support they are getting 'back home.' They love our space. We love them because they are talented, nice and are willing to work with us to get the best possible product on stage. The actors, I could hardly believe it, could actually act!! It was obvious that they took their craft seriously and worked hard at it. The designers actually designed. After they left the theatre it really was much harder to deal with the attitude of the semi-pro wannabes seemingly more concerned with image than product. Maybe that's the problem in a nut shell. Image has taken over once again (are we reliving the court age of Louis the sun king?) What happens when the veils are dropped? When the Emperor is revealed shivering in his nakedness? I know that there are people out there in academic land who are studying image critically with an eye to understanding its role in society as a constructing force. I've also read some stuff though that appears to accept image as reality. The line is blurring between so called reality and fiction. Perhaps because neither has any real meaning anymore. I heard an interview with Atwood the other week wherein she commented (perhaps more than a little tongue in cheek) that 'the non-fiction writers are accused of writing fiction and the fiction writers are accused of writing non-fiction.' Perhaps a value shift is needed. Move the money quotient away from value and strip away the false idols/images. Maybe what is left over will actually be worth hanging on to. We could look at it this way. Image is a good drunk. An amazing drunk wherein you become the smartest, sexiest most sought after person around. People around you agree because they too are three or four sheets to the wind. Take away the drunk and what's left? Your head is over a toilet bowl yakking out the poison. Everyone is gone. Everyone except for maybe that one person. That one person who stuck around to hold your hair out of the bowl. Holding your hair even though you barfed over their shoes.

Are You Too Busy to Read This?

The concepts of time and busyness have been taking up my mental space lately. Not all of my mental space mind you but, it's fair to say that a good chunk of it is in use. I am not a busy person. There. I said it. And...it's true. Really. I'm not. I do things. Quite a number of things really. I'm just not busy. You see, if I want to take the time to read a book, I do. If I want to take the time to make cookies I will. If I want to add to this blog, I will. I don't feel rushed. Nor do I feel run off my feet. I'm rarely late for things but, if I am, it's never really a big deal. I understand my responsibilities--to myself and those around me--and do my darnedest to see them through but, I also realize that I really can't control things. Things like kids who adamently don't want to put on their boots or, idiocyncracies of the weather. I am, however, beginning to feel a bit left out. Looking around me, I witness people rushing back and forth and, when they actually stop to converse (no time for a real conversation) the first words they utter are often along the lines of 'I'm just sooooo busy' or 'I am running out of time.' I guess we are all 'running out of time' but, some people just appear to be running a whole lot faster. This, to me, is strange. So, I wonder if being busy is seen as some form of status symbol? The busier one is, the higher up on the evolutionary ladder? Has the concept of busyness replaced honest to goodness work ethic? Could there be more than just an aural/visual link between the words business and busyness? Is there a corporate conspiracy taking place here? I see university students on a daily basis. For the past couple years I have noticed that they are increasingly 'busy.' Unfortunately, this 'busyness' has not really translated into productivity. I think back to my undergrad years. I had about 4 part-time jobs, a full course load with a decent average and yet, I seemed to have a lot of time for reading and playing pool. I don't really remember feeling all that busy then either. Perhaps, I am not really alone. Perhaps busyness is being used as an excuse. People aren't really all that busy. They would just prefer to be doing something else so they cite busyness as a reason for not doing something. That so and so didn't call back wasn't that they were too busy, it was, instead because they prefered to be doing something else at that time. Busyness might be used as an excuse to not offend or hurt someone's feelings. Concurrently, busyness might be used as a tool to foster a sense of greater importance: 'I'm too busy to be wasting my time standing in this line.' Perhaps a sense of martyrship might also explain this phenomenon: 'I'm extremely busy right now but, I'll do this thing that you ask even though it pains me to add to my already great burden.' Now, I understand that there are times when one's plate is full. There are times when there is a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. There are, however, always choices (ok...maybe not always but surely most times there are choices?). We can't do more than we can do. We can't be other than who we are. Maybe it's time for a bit more acceptance and a little less busyness.

Contrary to Popular Indications, Logic Does Have a Place in the World

I wonder, at times, at how easy it is for people to live seemlessly within contradiction. It isn't ironic. It's just plain baffling. I listen as some theatre managerial types bemoan the lack of audiences to a show when, as they say this, they are standing beside a pile of posters for the event that never made it to a wall or telephone pole. Why was the money spent on making the posters? Gloss and colour included? Because publicity is important damn it! Why weren't they put up? Well...surely that was someone else's job eh?

Another example? When other folks print out scale stage drawings and wonder when they aren't all that close to scale when their printers are set to automatically change the scale to fit.

There's more.

When crew who get a call wonder why I might insist that if I offer a rehearsal and performance shift they can't get away with doing only one part. It really is all or nothing. I don't mean to be mean.

When people spend a great deal of time, focus and energy to label and catalogue items so they end up in the right spot but don't bother to actually notice the room numbers to the doors of the places where the items are to be placed and then wonder why they can't locate anything.

This one is to my mom who called the other night wondering if, over Christmas, I had taken a cabbage. Do you know your daughter? Really. Of all the goodies to be had in the house, do you really think I would avail myself of a cabbage?

If one doesn't save money, there won't be money left over. For anything. The same goes for fruitloop necklaces. If you eat all your fruitloops off the necklace, don't expect your brother to freely hand over his. And no. He really shouldn't automatically share.

We Are All Responsible

It takes a village. Yup. We've all heard it. Some actually believe it. I'm one of those believers. Even though, at times, it seemingly would make more sense to hole oneself up against the onslaught of narrow mindedness, self-absorption, arrogance and ineptitude on a multitude of levels that pervade our existences, it does take a village. Put another way, it takes all kinds. And, as it takes all kinds, one's responsibility increases. We become responsible for each other. We must look out for one another. We must accept one another regardless -- let's face it, we all have flaws eh? We really ought to stop nit picking and looking for reasons to discriminate and sigh a collective sigh of 'ok then...such and such is happening...what can be done? who is available to do something? can I do anything to help? ' and then we should just roll up our collective sleaves and get on with it. No person is an island. Each choice we make has consequences...ripples...like ice cream. I have faith that all will be sorted out. I'll accept some people's choice to disregard faith and put it in a storage box filled with other 'I can't believe people used to believe that!' non-sense. I hope to not be so arrogant as to decide that people's beliefs can be so callously discredited but, to those that do this, remember that you don't exist outside of the village. No matter how you may try. One also has to try to not allow the actions or non-actions of others to cause one disappointment. It's unfair to put so much weight on the actions of another. The only one you have control over is yourself. We have free will. We make choices. We have to live with them within the context of each other. I am trying to teach my children to enjoy the gifts that each day brings...not to dwell on perceived slights or what hasn't worked out as planned. I think they get it. More readily then I. But, I've made my choice. I voted yesterday. And, I'll live with the consequences. And add my support to the creation of a more tolerant and accepting world.

Are your ears burning?

As I was driving into work this frigid morning, a 'news' item came on the radio that disturbed me. Apparently, a woman in Sweden had a spider living in her ear. It had crawled up (supposedly while she slept) and spun its web. She experienced a slight hearing loss and then began to hear a scratching sound. She went to the drugstore and got some stuff to flush out her ears. When she did this, the spider and its web came tumbling out. The spider, unharmed, walked off non-plussed. My ears feel funny now.

And NO, I Don't Want to "Get Over It"

I passed by flags at half-mast the other day. 'who died?', I asked. I asked J. He shrugged his shoulders. I had forgotten. Then I remembered. Then I read this: take-minute-and-remember and I was sad. Sad because it happened. Sad because it still happens. Sad because I had forgotten to remember. Sad because a part of me wanted to forget. Sad because change doesn't seem to happen fast enough. Sad because some things change too quickly. Sad because I have a daughter. Sad because I have a son. Sad because December should mean "peace." Sad because some things are still not called hate crimes. Sad because I have inside me the capacity to hate. Then I smiled. The flags were at half-mast the other day. Everywhere! Someone remembered. And would continue to do so.

'Til Tuesday -- Wasn't that a rock band?

Strange how, at times, I feel like a voyeur of my own life. Even as I am in the act of doing certain things, I am simultaneously watching myself 'do.' My sickness has abated. My only reminder is awall of phlegm that refuses to dislodge completely from behind my nose. It sits in a toxic, gooey lump until those inopportune times that it decides to loosen just a little bit...its outlet usually coming from a surprise sneeze that shoots a yellowish mass either across a room onto the floor or into my hand...the floor is most often my office (don't pick up the papers on the floor folks...they've been placed for a reason)...I get a handful of slime when I'm driving. I know. This is gross. And pretty sick. But really, am I the only one? I doubt it (hopefully).

Ok. I'm back at work. Things are pretty slow but will pick up soon enough. I've been invited by the president of the university to breakfast next Tuesday (myself and 14 others). I had put my name forward last month to form a part of a task force looking into the possible future
direction(s) the university might take. I was not chosen. I figure this breakfast is a sort of consolation prize. The prez still wants to hear our thoughts on things though. That's rather heartening. I just have to figure out which crew shirt to wear. Judas Priest? Alberta Theatre Scene? Special Effects? The choices keep growing. Tomorrow morning I'll have a new U2 shirt to add to the pile. Membership does have its privileges. I want to represent/be representative of, the arts scene here at the university. Push an arts agenda as it were. Worth a shot, no?

I've been asked by people from my childrens' daycare to speak at the city council next Tuesday. I'm not entirely sure what I'll be saying but, I will meet with one of their union reps over the weekend in order to figure things out. This is something I never really pictured myself doing. Even as I said yes it felt more as if I was following a script than actually acting for real. Odd. What do I wear for that? Will I have to change from the morning or I can I find the perfect outfit to suit the prez and the 'right wing councillors?'

I played hookey today. And I joined a gym. Really. Me. Along with a personal trainer. Who wants to meet me on Tuesday. Between the breakfast with the prez and the city council. Why is everything happening on Tuesday? Something is gonna have to give.

I'm making a pot of chili on Sunday. Greycup weekend. I like watching football these days. I am actually beginning to 'get it.' It's smarter than I thought. It's also an excuse to watch something that is not entirely mind numbing/soul squelching on the tele.

Arrrrrrrgh

I bawled my eyes out last night. Made the mistake of watching the news. First 2 items did me in. The breaking story consisted of a description of a child sex/porn ring uncovered in Winnipeg (alleged). Ok, I thought, I can get through this. I'm strong enough. Most disturbing for me was the statement by one of the interviewees that things like this were indicative of a growing market for this type of crap. These things are not isolated happenings...and there is something seriously ill in our society if there is a growing market...something seriously fucked up. Fine. Our would is screwed up. I can deal. But then, good ol CTV threw in a description of a trial going on wherein grandparents are being accused of allowing a 3 year old to starve to death. I've heard about this case before. I was not prepared to here a taped interview with his sister (11 years old) and her description of what had been done to the poor child. I mean...FUCK. I'm angry, scared, dumbfounded, ... at a loss. This world we live in seems to have lost a moral compass. Not everything is fucking relative. Some things are wrong. From every angle. There can be no justification. And, certainly, there can be no justice.

It's All How You Play the Game

The last day to withdraw from Fall term classes is Nov. 7th. I know this because I finally got around to flipping the calendar page here at work. The picture shows a campus under snow. Odd to think of snow just yet while the temperature remains, during the day at least, in the double digits...but I digress. Thinking of withdrawing from classes brought to mind that I haven't had my economics dream for quite a while. Perhaps you may have had dreams like this? I am about to graduate and realize to my horror that I hadn't properly withdrawn from an economics course--taken on a whim--and am therefore faced with not only an F on my transcript but am not eligible to graduate. I would wake from this dream in a cold sweat and, it would take a good 5 minutes or so for me to convince myself that I was in no danger of not graduating because I had never signed up for an economics course. Well, not since highschool and that experience was enough to tell me that the pseudo sciences just weren't for me. I'll expand a little. In my highschool course, 60% of our final grade was based on a business 'game.' That is, grouped in pairs, our teams were to create and run a business. We were to study market forces and then make decisions that would (hopefully) increase our profit margin. Now my partner N and I had similarly ignorant views on the world of economics. My first question to the teacher was 'Why do we need a stock market?' His answer, as I remember, was not very satisfying. Anyway, my partner and I set about creating our business and making decisions. Looking around at what other groups were doing, we noticed them making charts, doing statistical analyses and the like. We decided on an alternative approach. We brought in a deck of cards, a pair of dice and a quarter. Yup. Our business was run on chance and luck. Some days we'd even dress up like fortune tellers. Why did we do this? We were brats. Plain and simple. As well, however, we were curious to see how we'd do. Much to our teacher's chagrin, we won the game and were awarded an automatic pass in the class. I must admit to having felt a bit guilty for not putting in all the work that the other students were doing. On the other hand, however, it did teach me/reinforce within me a healthy skepticism for:
a) teaching methods;
b) economics and other quasi/pseudo sciences;
c) what is deemed to be important;
d) business 'ethics,' and;
e) so-called experts (in any field).
This type of learning has proved invaluable.

Pass Me the Mushy Red Peas Please

I love the CBC. Keeps me centred through the very nature of its leftness. I can picture most of the annoucers sitting in my living room drinking wine, scotch or coffee (even beer if it's imported) and engaging me in fierce yet playful debate on all manner of topics. The CBC keeps me in touch with the rest of the country (although I'm always mindful of its evident bias) and provides news and information that interests me as a thoughtful and wanting to be informed Canadian. For example, this particular news item recently caught my eye: purple carrots . It's brilliant. To link a Newfoundland gardener's find to such issues as the Orange Lodge and food manipulation ... I love it. It's also a tad disconcerting. The very idea that carrots haven't always been orange and that the beta carotine that has been used as an excuse to get kids to eat them ('if you want to see in the dark you'd best eat your carrots!') is a pleasant? side effect of cross pollination for aesthetic purposes frightens me. If this is the case for carrots what about my other favourite veggies? Are beets supposed to be yellow? If Communism were to sweep across the nation, would scientists be attempting to make peas red?

Raise your hand

Way back in one of my present past lives I studied history. This probably has something to do with my distrust of all things sociological. Sociology has come to represent, for me, much that is evil in academia and in the world in general but I digress. Back to history. Anyhoo, one of my assignments was to write an essay on the political/military climate existing between the United States and China post WWII. The week after handing in my essay, the scheduled lecture was focused on this very same topic. As I settled into the lecture I became increasingly uncomfortable. In front of me and the rest of the class, the professor was disputing each and every point I had made in my paper. It was as if he had my paper in front of him along with his own notes and had as his intention that day to not only disagree with a few of my points but to utterly annihilate my entire argument. When he finished speaking I felt numb. After a short pause, the professor looked around the class and, I swear, ended up looking right at me. He said 'well, that's it for me. I have a feeling that I may have said some controversial things. But, one of the things you should all know about me is that I love a good controversy. If anyone would like to challenge what I have said, the floor is open. So,...' he continued to look at me...taunting me... 'so, is there anyone who would like to comment upon anything I said? Anyone at all?' No point in staying silent I thought. I raised my hand.

God Bless

There is, sadly, something quintessentially American in the image of a group of people comprised of elderly, infirmed and poor huddled together in a football stadium for safety as they await a coming storm.

Managing to Lead?

Semantic masturbation aside, I think that there is more to the leader/manager question than meets the eye. I don't really know why this subject is taking up such a large portion of my public consciousness these days but, until I dwell on it some more, I fear that it may take up permanent residence--something I do not want. I work at a University. The purpose of gaining a 'higher' education at a university, at least to my way of thinking, is to provide one with a challenging, thought provoking environment where one can sample from a vast pool of knowledge bases. Then one can begin thinking for oneself having thereby learned to take in information, chew on it for awhile and come up with one's own conclusions. Yes, I support a liberal arts education. It disturbs me when I speak to students who are embarking upon their university studies and their purpose for being here is to get the information/tools they need to be highly paid (therefore respected?) members of the work force. Forget about learning for the sake, and love, of learning. The university is buying into this corporate/cookie cutter mentality. Students are becoming clients. Guest speakers at the university include the CEO of Magma International (only a handful of actual students came to this one...a lot of profs and high level admin folks were present however). Add to this that the Arts department is promoting a new service that will group arts students together so that one is kept with the same group of people taking the same courses for the next 4 years (much like highschool...I wasn't very much fond of highschool myself). The mentality behind this is to create a more postive, nurturing space for students to learn in and giving them constant 'study buddies' with whom they may share thier intellectual journey. Heaven forbid we expect these kids to flourish in new and challenging situations where they are forced to think for themselves!! There is also a department here that states as its purpose that it is to create the leaders of tomorrow. (yup...finally got back to the L word) Here students study such things as public affairs and management. Ok, I'll reveal yet another bias of mine...the bias against corporate management training. The methodologies keep changing but the results seem the same...let's create cloned managment types that are able to work in very particular types of atmospheres...once again, lets leave out original thought. Yes, I will concede that management skills are important but...where are the leaders? Can leadership even be taught? Is the connection between management and leadership similar to that between a musician's technical skill and his/her abilities to emote musically? I would think that actual leaders would come out from a field of study where original thought was promoted--a place where their innate? leadership/visionary abilities are able to flourish but, I don't have any stats to back up this claim. Just a hunch. Or wishful thinking.

Public Spaces

When I returned home from work yesterday, I walked into laundry in piles all over the dining room, the cats pouncing on me as a food source, breakfast dishes piled in sink, no food taken out of the freezer to thaw for dinner, cat piss and shit piled in the litter boxes and...no sign of J. I tried his cell. No response. I tried again. And again. I knew what he was doing. You see I had actually talked to him in the afternoon and he said that he was over at 'Bruce's.' This only meant one thing. He was enjoying a mid summer, mid afternoon piss up. So be it. But, it was getting close to the time to pick up the kids and, there was quite a lot of house work to be done and there was dinner that needed to be created. Back in the pre kids days, dinner could be skipped on any day...not now. So, I left a message on his cell. 'Are you going to pick up the kids?' He responded with a text message ... 'no.' I lost it.

The funny thing about cell phones, pagers and the like is that although they appear to bring people closer and more in touch, they seem to have the opposite effect. When one is separated from another without any technological aids, it is accepted that one will have to wait in order to have contact. With these 'aids' however, waiting is more painful. The one being called can turn off the phone...refuse to answer...create a real or imagined snub. It drives me crazy. If the phone is answered, it is much easier to lie to the person on the other side...trust and truth become warped concepts...

Anyway, I finally got in touch with him. He said he'd meet me at the daycare. I saw him on the road. He was doing his best to walk straight and be friendly. Perhaps I should have been more accepting? I couldn't. I asked him to wait outside. I tried my best to not cry. We finally got home and the bitching began. Thing is, I know I've been bitchy lately. The difference between me and J when he has been drinking is that he is mean. Mean people suck. (I still want that bumper sticker). I made a decision...spend an evening of tension hell with a smelly inebriated man in a small humid apartment or, bugger off. I called his mom and told her that her son was drunk and the kids and I would be coming over for dinner. So, very much like scenes from the movies...I got the kids in the car and we went to 'mother's' (in law).

Now please note that I do not want this to read like a J - slam. I love him. He does stupid and hurtful things at times...but, overall, he tries. He is a great father, compassionate guy and my best friend. This whole scene, however, got me thinking about public and private spaces. I find it funny that in a society/culture where borders and boundaries are (supposedly) being stretched, taboos are broken, and everything 'seems to go' once again, like with cell phones, the opposite seems to be true. Perceived 'freedoms' are ultimately illusions that create distance ... or...am I wrong to think that freedom/equality can't happen unless issues are faced head on? Discussed, examined, shouted and cried and laughed over? Silence is only golden for the status quo.

When I arrived at J's mom's, I provided a brief outline of events to his sister...she nodded with a 'well, he was stupid,' and we both shrugged. His mom brought out beer for the three of us. (can't beat 'em may as well join 'em?) I did my best to ignore the bottle and ended up not drinking it. I just wanted all my wits with me...plus...I didn't want to lose it in front of the kids. There's a whole lot of undertones cruising around at his mom's but, suffice it to say (for now) that we ate, kids had fun, and we all returned home unscathed. J had been crashed on the couch. He woke in time to help tuck the kids into bed. Then we snapped at each other again (I mentioned something along the lines that I would be better off with him gone) and he took off for 'Bruce's.' I spent the evening packing. 'Idle hands make ?????'

Please note that undertones is an understatement but, having a brief acquaintance with other families and a deeper knowledge of my own, the weird dynamics and basic fucked uppedness of families is not something I have the time nor patience to get into here.

Ok, I tried to call J around 11...and then 11:30 ... can't help it...have I mentioned that cell phones drive me crazy? J finally answered...he would be home 'soon.' He actually made it home before midnight and I met him on the front porch (quick side line here...J quit smoking about a week ago...and even through all of this stupidity...he didn't light up...hurray!) J proceeded to tell me that I had pissed him off greatly...by calling his mom...telling her that he was drunk...taking the kids and that if I ever dared do anything like that again, he'd be gone. Just after that, our upstairs neighbour came home...he and J started talking. Interesting, I thought. Both know that I'm here...both know that I'm upset...both are avoiding any dialogue with me at all costs. J even mentioned how I would bring the car home for him the next day so he and the neighbour could go biking?!

Ok...for me this was verrrryyyy interesting. First, that J was most upset, not at my telling him that I was better off without him and other shit to the same e/affect...but...that I had told someone from the outside of our 'sphere.' He even told me that what happened at home should stay at home--maybe if we lived in Vegas but...sheesh. I had 'gone public' with what had happened. Worse yet? I had gone public with his mom. Interesting still was that his mom did her best to avoid the topic. Her only comments were a) in the action of providing a beer; and b) saying 'it was good for you to be here, even though the circumstances that brought you here may not have been' as we were packing up to go. Then there is our neighbour. I realize that there is an unspoken rule out there that people are not to get involved with each other...It's fascinating and scary at the same time. I wonder if he would have spoken up if I had had a bruise forming on my cheek or if blood had been slowly dripping from my nose...as weird as it sounds...to me at least...I doubt that he would have done anything. We watch t.v. and movies and witness violence and sexual innuendo ...so called 'adult situations' yet...the real adult situations are avoided on a daily basis. The private sphere...the adult world remains, for the most part 'untouchable.' We watch through lens after lens...much like an Agoyan film...and are pushed further and further from each other....voyeurs to our own selves.

I told J that I would be writing about this...he is ok with it ... I guess...maybe he's just saying that out of...???? In any case, I am glad that I can write this. (although last night, he went on the computer and stayed on quite late...then turned off the machine so as to not have me write last night...it was good for me to think about things with a bit more time behind me). I wonder if through the writing of this private/public blog in this private/public sphere that perhaps another crack may begin to form in the wall separating the two. Who knows? I'm just glad to get this off my chest.

Cycling

So I had a committee meeting today over the lunch hour. Lunch was free and quite tasty. Not ever being one to shy away from a free meal I dove right in. Now, in this particular committee, the other members are women ranging in age from mid 30's to mid 60's. Each one, without fail, commented upon her weight with things like...how she really shouldn't have any carbs...that potato salad was yummy but deadly and, my personal favourite, 'oh...that one and 1/4 sandwiches has done me in.' Yikes. Now I'm not thin and I too have had my own battles with the bulge (ok...still do) but, it seems a little strange to be talking about how one shouldn't eat while lunch is being served. I have a young daughter and, I'll be damned if she has to feel guilty about enjoying a yummy meal. It's a really hard cycle to break...this was brought home to me again when watching my own mother fuss in front of the mirror after we decided to 'dress up' for dinner...stating that she should really have worn smaller underwear so that her belly wouldn't show as much. A grandmother can't even be happy the way she is. I really hope that I will be able to look into future mirrors and appreciate what's there. Guess I should start doing that sort of thing now eh?

Another odd committee thing is that for the past couple meetings, I have been disagreeing with the group on a number of issues. This week, those same issues came out and I found that people were agreeing with what I had said. At first, I was flattered, until I figured out that no reference to my ever having had any opinion on these issues was made. My ideas were being argued from out of other people's mouths. This is what the writer must feel when touring the movie set while her work is being (re)worked. Very weird feeling. Voyeuristic. Strange being both manipulator and manipulated. I'm now interested in seeing if this type of thing will happen again. It's become very tempting to argue things for the sake of mental masturbation...with no real attachment to the issues at hand...and see how many can be made to come on side. Kinda like that scientology hubbert? fellow. You know, the ex-science fiction writer who, at one book signing mentioned out loud that the best way to become rich was to start one's own religion...several years later, voila.

Is it even possible anymore for people to think for themselves?