Being Parkes O'Neil

The Gaping Wound

2006-01-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

So, when you have surgery and the stitches fall out - word to the wise - don't listen to the receptionist at the Doctors' office who tells you it is fine and don't bother coming in. Anyway, nothing major, nothing serious in the end. I have an extra centimetre or two of scarring today - but a much nicer scar fah sure. Everyone is happier, especially me.

A bolt from the blue

2006-01-21T11:54:00.000-07:00

My friend* called it a procedure.

Procedure: A series of steps taken to accomplish an end: a medical procedure; evacuation procedures.

In this case, a medical procedure. I don't call it a procedure. A procedure makes it sound like, I dunno, a music concert (or getting the snip) This wasn't fun at all. I had a bolt, a lipoma, a cluster of fat, growing with a cyst on the back of my neck.

Today, I didn't have a medical procedure. I had SURGERY. Even though it doesn't sounds as nice, it is what it is. Calling it a different name doesn't really make it easier. Not that she was suggesting that at all.

Surgery: A surgical operation, especially one involving the removal or replacement of a diseased organ or tissue.

The difference between a medical procedure and surgery is simple. A medical procedure is all civilized, like taking a pill. Surgery is a brutal thing. They take a knife and cut you open, exposing your insides to the world. It is not glamorous. It is disgusting. It fucking hurts. It is scary. I didn't want to do it. I knew it was going to hurt. And it did. It does.

They took a knife and cut open my skin. They ripped and pulled and cut with knives and other instruments. It took an hour and a half. The promised one centimetre cut became an inch or more. That'll leave a scar.

Sure, after that they removed the lipoma. But that poor little bolt was a part of me. He's been with me for all my latest life adventures. I almost loved him, especially after Mary-Ann and I went from making fun of him to loving him, to taking him out on a night on the town etc. But, I knew that I had to get rid of him. I'd farted and tarted and been scared of doing something for long enough.

It's just that the time had come. Time to do something. And now its done. Not in an elegant 'procedural' way, but rather in a brutal prehistoric surgery, albeit with modern knives instead of flint tools, kind of a way.

It just had to be done. Now. Not tomorrow while I thought about it some more, concluded that it was fine just to leave it for a while. No. It might be cancerous. Then what? It might ruin my future. So, I had to be harsh and determined, get over my fear, and 'out damned bolt! Out I say'1

Well, it's done now. It was harder than I ever thought. Harder than it should have ever been. But, I get my neck back now. It will always have a scar, a wound from my battle with life, another wound, not my first, not my last. Iwill be reminded of it whenever I look at that part of my anatomy in the mirror or when someone else spots it and asks.

It will for a brief time in the future hurt or embarrass me when that happens, but I suppose one day I'll look back and say I've been through worse, and I won't even notice or remember that it hurt. I'll always have the dreams and memories of my bolt and how he affected me emotionally2. I'll think fondly. MA will remind me about it from time to time. We may even laugh about it.

But, I'm better off without it. It will be nice to have my neck back, for other uses. I just needed to have surgery, get it over and done with. Who knows if I didn't act now what might have happened. Can you imagine what parts of my future I might have lost if I didn't do it today. I don't even want to think about it.

*Actual definition is still TBD.
1 From Macbeth (V, i, 38)
2 Embarrasment, fear and a few tears (because I'll miss him, sometimes)

Bareback Mountain

2006-01-20T13:10:00.000-07:00

Hey. Heather, have you seen the movie yet? Comments? Thoughts? Were you responsible for handing out the chaps on this one too?

New Year

2006-01-14T15:12:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year, belatedly I know. Back to blogging here I come. I can't decide if I should write a list of New Years resolutions or not. Maybe it's just because i don't know what exactly my resolutions should be. Eat better. Already done. Start Working Out. Already done. Find a better job? Well, no. Just work harder to make it happen. I like what I'm doing if I can just get it to make money. Make Money. Okay. There you go. A resolution. Get caught up. There, that's something I can put on the list every year. I'm never caught up with everything I need to do. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I'm not sure.

I haven't blogged in ages. Probably because at the height of long weekend season I felt so desperatly alone and just wanted to rage and rant in anger. Well, I just didn't feel like it. It has been a very emotionally turmultuous year. And this one starts off again like it left off. Except. Except the reason I have not resolutions is that, on New Years day, and the day before and the day after and the day after that, my life was perfect. I had just been on an adventure in London with the woman of my dreams. We had what she calls the 'best 24 hours of my life." And, well, i agree. The best 24 hours of "our" life.

I was with my family that I love and I miss, living almost 10,000 miles away from them as I do. And, i was sharing everything with the woman of my dreams. Showing her my old life. The places I've loved and hated. The people I admire. The people that made me who I am. My Mother, who loved her. So, really, when you have it all, you just don't need to make resolutions.

Except that I didn't have the forsight to make two very important resolutions.

1) Have patience with her. More patience than you have. It'll be worth it.
2) Don't fuck it up with her, you'll regret it forever if you do.

Well, resolutions not made. Girl, probably sick and tired of my rants and my insecurity, my lack of patience for her. I mean, I know. I've waited two years for her. What's waiting another few months or another year. Well, now I'll never know. How is it that you can have the best 24 hours of your life one week, get so angry the next that you ruin it all? If you want to know, just ask.

My List

2005-09-07T07:33:00.000-07:00

Reprise: I've had to look at this again. And change it again.

The original list that I posted a few days ago was not my original version but rather version two, because I thought I had lost the original, but I have now found it and so I am reposting the list with some of the original thoughts in it.

I want

no

I DESERVE

* someone who is honest and trustworthy and who thinks of me before they act in selfish ways
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who doesn't live in the past, someone who lives in the moment with an eye on the future; someone who learns from the mistakes of the past and doesn't repeat them ad nauseum.
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone that inspires and improves my security - my calmness - my ability to love - my spiritual, mental and emotional person - my stability
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who is full of affection. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be smothered with affection? Physical love. Touches. Hugs & Companionship. And don't forget words - tell me that you love me - you miss me - you want me
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone with a simple view of life
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone that has an honesty and openess that will allow me to connect with every fibre of my soul
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* some with a sense of humour
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone with a daring and fearless approach to life. Not someone who is without fear, but someone who is determined not to let that fear stop them
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who has peace, is calm and is loving
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who is comfortable with their sexuality, thier body and sex
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who can be selfless
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone gentle but strong
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* a tom-boy who morphs into the princess of the ball
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone with youthfulness & old soul wisdom; a woman who has a lot of girl in her; not a girl with lots of woman in her
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who is not afraid to challenge me; to laugh at me and with me
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* a mother to my children; someone kind, gentle, nurturing, a lover and a teacher
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* a restless soul who is commited to finding out more about life; themselves and the world around them
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who will compromise and sacrifice because I will do those things for her
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who will fight for me
* someone who wants me as much as I want her
* someone who will never judge me
* someone who wants me as much as I want her

WARNING

2005-08-01T18:12:00.000-07:00

Warning Warning Warning!

Doing the following things will not make you happy:

1) Going to Dairy Queen 4 times in 4 days.
2) Eating a whole box of popsicles - in one day
3) Drinking three cans of Coke - at the same time
4) Waisting countless dollars watching endless science fiction movies at the box office --
5) Babysitting room-mates mother and dog 4 the weekend
6) 3 hours naps every afternoon during a long weekend
7) Risking everything; trusting and hoping that everything she said was true and that it will work out despite the complete and utter heartache you are going through - it is what you think is best for you and for the Team.

Am I cute today - in a Vietnamese kind of a way

2005-07-20T20:44:00.000-07:00

I am a huge fan of Vietnamese food - it's fresh, it's healthy - it just plain tastes great. I have a couple of favorites - depending on the menu item - tonight I am stuck editing again - another night sitting over an editors shoulder trying to make a story out of nothing on what is officially the WORST home make-over show ever made - or as the editor said - trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit - and so - I thought - all this thinking of chicken has made me hungry - so I decided to take the company CEO out - I knew they don't do lemongrass chicken - so he'd hate it - but they have the BEST chicken SATE soup this side of Hanoi - so I'd love it.

Now, I spent the day in bed - readying myself for the dizzing night of frustration ahead - I didn't shave even though I am in a new phase of shaving as much as possible - not as little as possible - and I need to get a hair cut as well - I didn't iron my shirt - it was wrinkly - my jeans were dirty - but what the hell - I'm not gonna see anyone - I can be a slob --

So, in a break, or rather desperate attempt to get away from the pain of the edit suite for an hour, off the CEO and I go to CO DO Vietnamese. It's located on the corner of 17th Ave and 14th Street - at the end of the red mile - a pretty trendy area, just below the best of the wealthy neighbourhoods in Calgary, Mount Royal - and close to the densly populated areas around 17th. The drive was great - lots of beautiful people wandering around in the sun - the CEO bitching about how he hates beautiful people - me jammed between him and the baby seat in the '89 Chevy Pick-Up truck he drives.

CoDo is a ... well... one step above a dive. In appearance anyway. The last thing you expect when you go into the CoDo, even though it's on 17th, is that it will be filled with fifteen of Calgarys finest looking thirty something women. But there they were, well, when you could see them between the glinting shards of light extruding from the diamong engagement rings.

My mouth literally hit the floor - I mean, there were four or five STUNNING women in there, a few with babies, most in the prime baby making age, the rest were just beautiful - all well dressed but not snobby, all with a slightly longer left arm from the weight of the diamonds... I sat down and looked around - amazed -

And then I became even more amazed at what happened next - I made eye contact with one.. a little too long of a glance.. and then she smiled... then the next one.. then the next.. she smiled and looked away - for a moment before she looked back - what the? Was I imagining it? Must be... well I think I was..

But it went on - all through my chicken sate soup slurping - and finally - i thought - no - I'm being totally arrogant - none of these women would notice me - not tonight - not with the CEO - not here, at Co Co - until one.. long blonde hair - big diamond ring - brown eyes - early thirties .. approached my table as she was paying... and said 'hi'.... ummmm 'hi'.. er.. I think... ... what? okay I know the eye contact was long... over and over.. and I know that I smiled and she smiled.. but.. oh well.. needless to say I just stammered... smiled... agreed that the food was great... and let her pay and leave without further incident...

Well.. that was something... maybe she knew something I didn't... maybe she was just having a random compliment night ... and then - just before I got up to pay - the two large tables (each had 5 or 6 woman at them) started standing and introducing themselves and their babies to each other...

I paid and politely pushed my way through the crowd... and I made the same long eye contact with at least three of the other beauties on my way out... but not just eye contact.. but THAT eye contact.. what the hell? - was I that cute today.. despite feeling completly plain.. or is there just something in that Vietnamese water? I dunno.. probably just my arrogant imagination...

Stupid, dumb, idiot, brainless, foolish.. i could go on

2005-07-07T02:39:00.000-07:00

It's a funny thing how time just passes and suddenly, here you are, in the same place again. It's like I look around this room, and it's the same room in the same basement that I was in last year. I swore that I would change things, change me, change my ways and my habits, change where I lived, what I do, where I work, change all the things that I do not like, that cause me stress and put me here... staring at my ceiling at 330 a.m. in the morning... wondering what the hell it is I am doing with my life and why am I waiting for other people to make choices that they may never make, or probably won't make in my favour, so in the end I just stay here. I need to get to a place where I am the boss. The boss of me. The boss of my very own world. Where I am the one who chooses. I don't like being the middle man, powerless in this vacuum, just getting tossed around, back and forth. I should really look at the evidence of it all, listen to the words not spoken, the actions not taken, or rather, the actions actually taken andthe words actually spoken, and I should take charge. What the hell is wrong with me that I cannot commit to doing what I know I have to do in my life. If people want to join me on the ride, come along, if people just want to have an occasional visit, fine, if people want nothing more to do with me, then who cares?... but I shouldn't have to be held back because I am afraid of being alone, or afraid of failing on my own, or feeling that i need someone else with me to make it. I am fucking good. I am fucking GREAT. If anyone thinks they can find better, good fucking luck to ya. If that's not good enough, then fuck it, I'll do it by myself. I'll make something out of it.. as my new friend P just said - I'll turn "chicken shit into chicken salad"...

Ordinary Love

2005-05-13T00:05:00.000-07:00

"The myth of romantic love is a dreadful lie. Perhaps it is a necessary lie in that it assures the 'falling in love'experience that traps us into marriage. But as a psychiatrist I weep in my heart almost daily for the ghastly confusion and suffering that this myth fosters. Millions of people waste vast amounts of energy desperately in an attempt to make the reality of their lives conform to the unreality of the myth." - M. Scott Peck

Something to live by

2005-05-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

"[The movie is about the fact] that the best you'll ever do is not something you already did, it's not behind you," Black said. "It's in fact ahead of you, if you have enough faith to take that leap."

Read this great LA Times article about the new Shane Black (Lethal Weapon) movie, "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang." The line above is how we should always really think about our lives. This is something, that as a thirty plus year old, is very difficult to do in a culture that says that your high school years are the most fun, and that your twenties are as good as it ever gets. Fuck the culture. What does it know? It's only designed to sell shit to those stupid teens and twenties. The best that we'll ever do is that which we do when we are older and wiser. We just need to remember that. I'm looking forward to seeing "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" when it is released later this year.

PUDDEPHUTT

2005-04-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

My mother just found at that the surname "Puddephutt" appears several times in one line of our family tree. Here is part of her e-mail concerning the name. I like her comment at the end.

Two of the most probable origins are closely connected. In the days when the Saxons were the stroppy serfs of Norman barons or knights, they were bound to the soil, belonging to their owner, who could sell them on to someone else. So if they decided to leave town, the lord could get pretty annoyed, and if they were useful workmen, he would send the dogs (and his Normans) after them. When hauled back, they needed to be taught not to run again - so either shackles or even an iron spike through the foot, to lame them enough to stop running but not to make them useless for working.

The spiked foot would not heal well and often swelled up, giving the owner the name poddig fot, swell foot. If things went really wrong, the foot had to be amputated and replaced by an iron clog. - so poid de fer, iron foot.

So we've got runaways in the family, but at least runaways worth catching.

Well, some things don't change... but at least I feel better that this running away thing is genetic.

[EDIT} Okay.. so now there is some debate... some are saying that "puddephutt" means puffy fat. Huh. well... so maybe my ancestors were portly and round?

This guy my mom knows, he says "the serfs were never slaves, and that there is no evidence to prove they were. They were bound to a landlord, and lived on his land, but when the land was sold he usually was sold with the land, like we do with a tenancy today, if your landlord sells the property you are renting, then when the new one takes over you then pay him the rent, and he says they were allowed to move around as long as they paid their rent and any dues owed to the landowner."

Well, who knows.. I like the iron foot better... maybe that will be my SoCom 3 name

An old Sufi Tale

2005-04-17T15:05:00.000-07:00

"One afternoon, Nasruddin and his friend were sitting in a cafe, drinking tea and talking about life and love. His friend asked: 'How come you never married?'
'Well,' said Nasruddin, 'to tell you the truth, I spend my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo I met a beautiful and intelligent woman, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no common interests. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would always be something missing. Then one day, I met her; beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had very much in common. In fact, she was perfect!'
'So, what happened?' asked Nasruddin's friend, 'Why didn't you marry her?'
Nasruddin sipped his tea reflectively. 'Well,' he replied, 'it's really the sad story of my life.... It seemed that she was looking for the perfect man...' "

the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days and days

2005-04-15T02:38:00.000-07:00

...ugh....must I go through another night like this?...must every night be like this.... the waking up, reaching out, calling out, rolling over..... the empty space.... eyes open and they refuse to shut again...the pillows wet again.... gotta sleep... can't stop thinking... reaching out... gotta stop thinking... can't go on like this... gotta figger out how to get back to sleep... gotta figure out... no... stop brain!... take a deep breath... and sleep....

I'm not one to talk but

2005-04-14T10:53:00.000-07:00

I'm not one to talk, because I've done it, am doing it, but a friend of mine ... well... let me just tell you the story.

I was chatting with said 'friend', Renee, this morning, and she started the converstation like this:

"I know, I'm stupid, love is blind and dumb and I kind of hate it cause it makes me act like a fool."

At that moment I knew what had happened. Yes, she had returned to her ex-boyfriend, The Eel, as I like to refer to him.

You see, this friend, Renee, met this guy, The Eel, at work. The Eel is a tall, really skinny guy, quiet, not very good lookingguy who works hard and stays out of everyone's way. The Eel had been dating another woman, Carissa, from the office for several years and everyone knew it. Well, except Renee of course. Now Renee, she is this tall, beautiful former model type. She is wise beyond her years on some days, and a kid on others. I would never, in a million years, have seen her attraction for him.

Soon enough though, I heard the office gossip mill churning. Some had seen the looks, others the quick touch, the lunch hours spent away in the corner of a small restaurant in the basement of our building. Then, one day, a panic phone call from Renee, a voicemail, her voice barely audabile above her tears. "Please, meet me for a coffee."

Sure enough, she had just found out about Carissa, and yes, she had been dating The Eel for several months without knowing. He denied it at first, and then changed his story, and said that they had broken up months ago. Of course, those of us in the know, we knew that this was a lie and I told her as much. She cried, denied it, said I must just be out of the loop and stormed out of Starbucks.

I didn't talk to her much over the next few months, didn't see her, she didn't MSN me. I returned from my Christmas holidays in January to another panic voicemail and so I met her again for coffee. This time, she confided that I was right. The Eel hadn't dumped Carissa until after Renee found out about her but he had dumped her and Renee had given him a second chance. They were in love. They had a fantastic summer romance that lasted into the fall and if it weren't for Carissa's constant texting and phoning of The Eel's cell phone then it would have all been perfect.

Things suddenly changed in December when the company let The Eel go. Too much time socializing. Too many violent outbursts. Too many days off sick. The Eel found another job quickly enough though, in the oilfields of Northern Alberta. Renee was lost, her boyfriend gone for weeks on end, often without contact for days on end, but she would endure for love. Whenever he returned they would talk about marriage and children. They shopped for wedding rings and he bought one. He proposed and she said yes.

But somthing wasn't quite right. Friends would ask her and the Eel out to parties, but he couldn't go because he was away, and they would say how strange because they had seen his truck at the mall that morning. Strange because sometimes his cell phone worked up north, and at other times it would be days before she could get hold of him. Things weren't that rosy when he was around. His self-confidence was non-existant. She tired of his self-loathing, of his violent mood-swings due to his steroid use, but he countered it with loving tender moments.

She complained about his mood swings and he exploded and walked out. Renee felt terrible so she tried to contact him but couldn't. Suddenly on Christmas Eve, after a week of no contact, she recieved a call. He wanted to know if she would go to Mexico for New Years with him. Renee refused.

She just wanted to talk to him, sort things out, not go galavanting around on some holiday. He refused to see her and they didn't talk again until well into the New Year. He showed up on her doorstep and begged for forgiveness. He explained that on Christmas Day he had taken a two week stint in the oil patch and couldn't get hold of her.

They sat and talked until dawn and until all things were patched up. They made love for days on end until work called and again he travelled up North. Renee was filled with her love for him. Everything was going to be fine.

Until a text arrived. Then another. Then another. Hundreds of texts filled her phone. These were all the messages of love and longing that The Eel had sent to her over the past year. Except, he wasn't re-sending them to her. Carissa was sending them. Then came her phone calls, which Renee ignored until curiosity got the better of her and she listened to the voicemails.

"He never broke up with me, he told me you were just friends. We're still living together."
"Every text he sent to you, claiming he loved you, missed you, he sent to me. The same identical texts."
"We're getting married. He proposed in December, I already have my ring."
"We spent New years in Mexico."

On and on the messages came in, the texts, the voicemails, until Renee couldn't handle it and she answered the phone and she talked to Carissa for hours. They compared notes and Renee knew that everything that Carissa said was true. The Eel had never dumped Carissa. Half the time he claimed to be working up North he was with Carissa. Half the time he claimed to Carissa he was up North he was with Renee. He asked both to marry him, bought both rings, asked both to Mexico for New Years.

What did Renee do? The only thing a self respecting girl can, she told him to fuck off; and she called yours truly for council. I told her to be strong, that it was going to be hard, but she had to do the right thing. This guy, this guy wasn't the one for her. She deserved better. She agreed. She was going to ignore him. Date someone else. And she did. Once. But he wasn't The Eel. She loved the Eel.

So when I talked to her today, I knew upon her first line what had happened. He had phoned, texted, left voicemails, sent flowers until she broke down and answered his call. He apologised, like he always did. He cried on the phone about his mistakes, his insecurities getting the better of him, his fear of letting Carissa go. Renee listened, and listened some more. Until, yes, you guessed it, her love came back, and now, so has The Eel, back into her bedroom and her life.

There was no mention of Carissa. I asked and was ignored.

"I know, I'm stupid, I just can't help how I feel and he wants to make it work and make thing right and I want to give him another chance."

And then she said the line that rung home I guess. "There is no excuse for my stupidity" and I knew she was right. Love is blind. Love is dumb. But love is great, even though it makes us make fools of ourselves and despite my best intentions my only answer to her was "Well, this is an interesting turn"...

I know..

I should have told her to forget about him, told her that he'd had his chances and wasted them but I didn't. I told her that I hoped for the best. And I do. For her, for me and for everyone else in love.

And yes, Renee... I'm still available for another round of coffee and councilling, should it be needed.

Moving

2005-04-04T06:42:00.000-07:00

At the same time that I dream about moving from my present abode into a new home, I can't help but think about the actual process of moving, of the searching for a new house, making a list and checking it twice about what I want that house to be, and then gathering the courage to make the purchase and actually move into it.

Steve, my landlord, has found a house which intrigues him, and so I know he is considering moving. This will of course affect me, whether I move with him or find my own place.

Of course, sometimes you fall in love with a house, and it becomes home. Sometimes though, things change, you want something new, something cleaner with less maintenance and more space. Sometimes you just think 'I want to have children' and you know that your old home is not right for them and you have to move. Of course you get sad that you are leaving the house you loved but you love your new house even more when you get there, even though the move was difficult.

Jades Letter

2005-04-04T00:42:00.000-07:00

Hey O'Neil,

I thought I'd leave you a note - 'cause as much as girls like getting them, I think boys do to!

I'm privilaged to have a best friend as warm and caring as you Parkes. Please take comfort in the fact that that even if your heart gets broken, I'm here for you always.

So I say you should go for it - be bold and go after what you really want. You deserve to be happy. Who knows - maybe you'll find that one woman, but even in the end if it hasn't worked out you know that you gave it your all.

The fear of being rejected is in all of us, but we'll never be happy if we don't put it all on the line sometimes.

Take a risk and go for it.

love you always O'Neil,

Jade

p.s. Don't cry it's over; smile because it happened!

My Designed Life

2005-03-29T08:55:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, there is a lot of historial writing being posted... this is another.. several years old now - written 20 May, 2002.

I didn't turn 30 today, that strange occurance happened several months ago - but today - I am sitting on the toilet (because it is the only private space I have) feeling like it's my 30th birthday, lent, post heart attack and time for my New Years resolution list, all in one moment.

I am not happy. I do not like who I am. I do not like my life. I do not like the fact that I am not changing in the way that I know I need to change. I am in pain too, severely uncomfortable because my body has not been treated in the way that it needs to.

I am to blame. I am lazy, apathetic and unmotivated but tonight is the last full on pre-30, same old Parkes day. Tomorrow the new life begins. I'm calling it the designed life. Why? Because I will be the way I want to be. No more animal instinct, no more bad habits, I will decide who I will be and then put it into action. I choose to be emotional and I will live day to day. I will follow my heart and wear it on my sleeve like I used to and I choose to be happy.

I will decide everything. I will practice and practice until, like David Beckham, I can hit the target, swerve the ball anyway I wish and make myself the best I can be. -- Parkes

On the topic of kids

2005-03-27T09:36:00.000-07:00

I talked to my Mom and she said one of the most beautiful things to me. I asked her if I should have children and she talked about why she and my Dad decided to have children. The first reason was that they thought they had more love to give, and wanted to give it to their children. How sweet is that? And what is better is that they did.

My Father's eulogy

2005-03-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

On of the most difficult things I have ever done is to speak at my Father's funeral. I had no idea what to write and what to say. The night before I returned to England, I searched my files for letters that he had written me during my life and took those with me. I read and re-read them, but still nothing came to me. The night before the funeral, I awoke at 5 am and grabbed a blue sheet of paper. On the front was an invoice from my accountant, a bill for my tax preparation. On it, I started to scrawl the words below and to this day I keep this blue piece of paper close at hand.

I look around this room today and I wonder what my Dad would make of all this - all these sad faces in a place like this [Church]. I was going to read some words that Dad had written - both to me and to those in his community - words that I thought would fit this ceremony perhaps - but as most of you know Dad was not one for tradition or ceremony nor was he one for sombre words, rather he always spoke in words of hope.

He was a bit of rebel my Dad, especially when it came to prayer and religious ceremony. In fact I remember when I was a child, we were at my Granny's and she asked my Father to say a prayer. So, we all bowed our heads as best we knew how, since this was not a common practice in my household. And suddenly these words came out of my Father's mouth - Rub a dub dub, thank God for this Grub - and upon completing this sentence my Father dived in and started eating. Needless to say it was many months before we were invited back to Granny's.

I did find one line, and I will read it, because I think it is appropriate - but only this one line -

-- the spiritual lesson here is to live only on the NOW - we must not dwell on a past we cannot change or a future that leads eventually to a death that we do not fully understand because that is far too frightening - we should live only in the NOW --

By that, I think that Dad would want us to take our moment of remembrance and move on with our lives, and so today I would encourage everyone here to take this little bit of influence from his life -

And I hope that we also take forward with us the way he treated all those around him - we should be quick to respect and even quicker to love - we should make forgiveness a habit - something we do automatically before thought - we should always have a joke up our sleeve - no matter the hardship - no matter how we are suffering - we should live life with a smile and a twinkle in our eyes at all the joy of life.

This is the way my Father lived right to the end. When the Doctor, who had never met my Father, came to give him morphine in his last hours, my Dad stirred and asked him how long the morphine would take. The Doctor replied that it would take about five minutes, and my Dad smiled and said - "Don't worry about it then, I'll be dead before those five minutes." - trying his dry sense of humour and his jokes out until the end.

Actually - now that I look out into this room - I change my mind about what Dad would have thought. He would be happy to see a room filled with his family and friends, who are here as much for each other as for him - I'm sure he would have a smile for all of us and no doubt a joke about my seriousness and then he would want us to continue on with our lives, a day at a time, stiving just has he did to be better, kinder, gentler, more loving than we were the day before.

So - Dad - we are all going to miss you but we want to thank you for all the blessings you have given us.

My Home

2005-03-26T16:05:00.000-07:00

I live in a big old house surrounded by large old trees that fill a landscaped garden. There is a tennis court there, and a swimming pool. The ocean is so close that I can smell it, hear it, and see it filling the horizon. It is hot here today, but it is going to rain later. The city is filled with millions of people of every culture, ethnicity and language that you can imagine. There is a wonderful coffee shop just around the corner where they know my name. There is an abundance of the world's best restaurants and shops. The city is full of educated, liberal people, with many fascinating places to explore.

My house is warm, often filled with the gentle smell of a real fire. The fireplace is surrounded by a large comfortable chairs and couches that swallow you up - never wanting you to leave - a place I can fall asleep most nights. There is always music. There are books; the house smells of their leather bindings and decaying paper.

The chairs are often filled with the people I love, celebrating and sharing the joy of life.

There is no television in my house.

The kitchen is spacious and glorious and it is here where the food& drink of life is prepared.

The house is filled by the sun during the day and the warm, wet air of the ocean at night.

The bathroom is dominated by a large bathtub, surrounded by flowers and candles, and large enough for two.

My bedroom is the most inviting place of all. My king size bed is covered with the softest bed clothing you can imagine. The bed is always filled by her - the woman I dream about - it is here we often make love and sleep together, wrapped in each others arms.

Soul Mates?

2005-03-21T01:30:00.000-07:00

When I was transcribing my list I came across this - I wrote this in November/December 2003.

Where is she? Is she here in this city or somewhere else? What does she do? What does she like? How old is she? What does she smell like, taste like, look like? Is she the only one or are there many that could be happy with me, and me with her? Will I know the moment I see her? Will she? What if I don't know and she walks away forever? If I know, will I have the courage to chase her and will she even fall in love with me? What should I do to find her? How will we meet and when?

I want to be...

2005-02-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

I want to be more attentive and loving to my friends and my family

I want to be happier, less bitter and jaded

I want to be positive

I want to be good

I want to be loving

I want to be fearless

I want to be humble

I want to be selfless

I want to be gentle

I want to be healthy

I want to be a better friend

I want to be calm - I want to have internal calmness - no more fear - no more turmoil - no more anger... no more fear & anger

I want to be the kind of person that never loses perspective - my life is blessed because every day I have choice

Dear Inner Child,

2005-02-15T23:42:00.000-07:00

In the last year I seem to have found you again, that little 5 year old boy that resides in a secret place deep inside me; that little boy who views the world with wonder and amazement; that little shy boy who looks down at his shoes when a grown up approaches; that little boy dying to grab his mothers skirt in the supermarket to point out the new triangle cheeses;

Dearest Inner Child - you have not known heartache and heartbreak like I have - you do not have thirty three years of experience; of joy, sadness, pain; you have endured neither elation nor suffering like I have - you are still innocent and pure; you still look out onto the world with a passion for what adventure life may bring; you look with wonder at her - amazed that she has noticed you - loves you - sacrifices for you - has given one tiny bit of herself - yet she has given you so much - and I know that you see her staring back at you; this little curly haired girl with the smily eyes; don't you?

Little boy within - where have you been hiding all these years while I needed you? Have you been saving your virgin eyes and ears from all I have seen and heard? A smart move I think... and now I wonder what it is that brings you out to play? Is it her? What is it too, that sends you scurrying for cover? Is it your fear that I will return to that stormy place; to the place where that dark cloud would not lift? I know that your stomach turns at the very thought - just like when you ate all those triangle cheeses from Knowles - I know that we thought that it was gone but it hovers still - but trust me little one... I am stonger now... I am a man now... I will take care of myself- though I promise I will still suffer because I must love and loving hurts....

Five - I remember being five years old just like you - and I make this promise to you now, little boy within, that I will always take care of you so that you will always be five - I will love you and cherish you and you will always be me. Happy Birthday little M.

Is is now or was it thirty days ago

2005-01-30T09:13:00.000-07:00

I never know with anniversaries? Is it the day we met? No... that day stinks because if I had only TALKED to her then all our lives would be different... Is it the day we actually did start talking because I hope not... I missed that anniversary though not because I actually wanted to, but was so far away... Or is it this day... the day I had the courage to see her again, talk to her, kiss her. Yes it is this day because this is the day I gave in. It happened before I saw her, before her nervous eye contact and small talk; this giving in... just by showing up I knew I had given in to my desire for her. I have tried to back out of this desire but I have failed time and again (luckily)... so this is the day I think... Happy anniversary.

I hate Mondays...

2004-12-13T09:39:00.000-07:00

Defeat may test you; it need not stop you. If at first you don't succeed, try another way. For every obstacle there is a solution. Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. The greatest mistake is giving up. - Anonymous

My Lonely World

2004-12-12T21:24:00.000-07:00

If you ever came to feel my pain
or drowned for a day in my lonely rain
you would know what its like to suffer in my hell
if you listened to the tales I have to tell
you would never again pass judgement on me
you may even understand why sometimes I flee
why I sometimes hide when the road gets rough
or run away when life gets tough
if you spent 60 seconds locked inside my head
you'd understand why life I dread
if you took a min to feel what I feel
you understand that my pain is so real
if you for once, choked on my tears
or had to fight through my fears
if you had to spend a day in my solitude
my nightmares you couldnt elude
the judgements you first passed would fade away
you would probably hit the ground and pray
to never again see the things that I've seen
to never experience the dreams that i dream

by Jillian H