Sometimes Awkward, Sometimes Brilliant: A Journey Of Self-Discovery

When I was a little girl music was huge in my family. We got together on the weekend and played bluegrass and gospel music around the kitchen table. Coffee percolating, cigarette smoke filled the air, music and laughter in abundance. Joy and comfort surround these memories.  Grandma played autoharp and sang, Grandpa played guitar and sang, my grandma's sister, Auntie Mae also played autoharp and sang, her husband the mandolin. Friends and family would come bringing their instruments or just listen and chat between songs.  I grew up singing, dancing, and longing to play an instrument. I got my first guitar when I was little. Like super little, four or five years old. I loved it so much, light wood colour, small enough for me to hold. When I moved out on my own I took it with me. I never really learnt to play on it. I tried but I grew up before I could use it, it became too small. My long arms and hands squished against the frets.  When I moved into my house in 2009 my guit...

It's been a rough little while and things just don't seem to be letting up.  I thought that maybe I was out of the thick of it.. But it seems like things just keep getting harder and harder.  Maybe one day the rainbow will appear after the storm. Financial difficulties: Thought of losing my car Having minimal groceries Stressing from paycheque to paycheque Behind on all the bills Lack of motivation from the stress  Weight gain from the stress Body aches and pains from the weight gain Etc. Etc. Etc. Does it get better? #thisisthirty

I enjoy writing and I found this piece I was working on years ago as I travelled into the city to meet someone for coffee. It was cold, windy, and dark and I had never done anything like this on my own before. As I sat waiting for him to arrive I jotted this down.  ------- The snow drifted across the highway as the cold air nipped at her nose.  "Why here, why now?" The words echoed in the darkness inside the car. The snowdrifts seemed to have grown in the ditch since she pulled over moments ago. The wind blowing snow across the hood of her black car. She pulled the sweater up around her neck to try and keep the winter chill out of her bones. One more glance at the cell phone in the cupholder, no service flashed menacingly across the top.  With a sigh, she spoke to the darkness in the car, "I'm going to be late for Christmas now." She pulled her mittens on and opened the driver's door and slid out onto the black stretch of highway. No cars in sig...

I haven't written anything for a bit. My mind is trying to process a lot of things.. In my personal life I am processing the death of my cat, Taz.  In my work life I am processing the demand on people in the new economic situation we are faced with. In the national world life I am processing the confirmation of so many dead Aboriginal children and people uncovered in residential schools yards and areas. I don't feel like I have anything I can add to the situations other than to listen and care. Of course the loss of my pet is easier to deal with than the other two. Why? Because I was in control. For the other two, I am not in control I cannot control the situations. I can simply listen. Do what you can to and listen.