Life in progress

Tag Archives: writing


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My Baby is a Teenager

Ah, the innocent narcissism of a child. Not to be confused with the pathological sickness found in some adults, we are born with a strong sense of self-preservation, and it’s not until we grow that we realize our own needs aren’t all there are. I wonder where we cross over. Is it the first time we see our own mother cry? Somewhere, somehow, compassion becomes a part of our psyche, and that’s where the narcissism of childhood ends.

However, on days like today nothing matters to my son, Alex, except Alex. My baby turns thirteen years old today and he’s extremely proud of himself. It’s delightful to me to see him bask in his own glow. It was beyond my wildest dreams when he was born that he’d ever reach this milestone, and so I’m happy to make his every wish come true.

Alex 'n' Me (1)

Alex ‘n’ Me

Four foot two, and sixty pounds, he’s a dynamo of enthusiasm and love for everyone around him. In his mind he is as small as his frail physique; as much as his physical age is telling him he needs independence, he still comes to mom for cuddles when something hurts. He retains that childish innocence – that me me me mindset, and yet he’ll pat me lovingly on the cheek if I say I have a headache.

I have no idea how long his childishness will last… I have no idea what to expect of tomorrow, but I do know one thing:  Today, nothing matters but my baby.


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7/16 – Yesterday’s News – A Bad Idea?

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On October 21st, 1879, Thomas Edison tested the first incandescent light bulb. Also in yesterday’s news, the government of Canada will finish with its phase-out of these very same sources of soft, comforting light that we’ve come to count on for generations, in January.

First the penny, now the light bulb. What’s next?

 


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5/16 – Yesterday’s News – Labels

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According to an article in yesterday’s newspaper, the government of Ontario’s health ministry will be taking the warning labels on food products a step further. They are proposing legislation that will require major fast food chains to advertise, right on their menus, the calorie count and other pertinent information (fat content?) of the food they are serving. It will be right up there with the price, so we can see exactly what we’re doing to our bodies – at least those of us who understand the ramifications of ingesting 1,000+ calories in one sitting. For those who don’t, I suppose it’s not going to make a difference.

Is this information for the benefit of those who haven’t seen the movie “Supersize Me“?  Or for those who didn’t realize when they watched it how, much like “Titanic,” predictable the ending would be?

I’m not saying I’m above anyone who ignores the obvious health risk of eating at fast food restaurants – I enjoy a Big Mac as much as the next guy. What gets me is that the government feels the need to plaster the fact in our faces each time we visit one of these chains.  How much faith must they have in us to think we’re too stupid to realize what we’re doing to ourselves? The reason they’re planning this is to be proactive, and reduce the need for health care because as a society, we tend to be overweight… in essence they’re trying to save us from ourselves and in the same breath, admit that they are failing to educate us in the first place.

Part of me leans toward what it says in the picture, and the other part of me wishes the government would be even more proactive in the first place. By finding a better way to teach our kids to care about themselves and their future families while they’re still in school, maybe our society can learn what moderation means.

What do you think?

The posts in the category “Yesterday’s News” reflect inspiration found in the previous day’s edition of my local newspaper. They are not a retelling of the news. This is a challenge to post a blog entry once a day, every day until Hallowe’en, and possibly beyond.


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4/16 – Yesterday’s News – The Horror of Hallowe’en

Hallowe’en is coming and houses are being decorated in preparation for the big night. Parents will usher their kiddies up and down the street, teens will dress up one last time in hopes of scoring a vomit-worthy stash. Our little ghouls and goblins who are out to trick and receive treats are anticipating not only the sweets, but also the scares. The frightening begins and ends with monsters, ghosts, jack-o-lanterns and creatures of the night. Or does it?

Personally, I find the worst – the most chilling of the lot, are the yearly list of warnings:

Check the candy before you eat it!

Don’t accept anything not prepackaged!

Of course the safety list goes on. But what the hell with the poisoned, razor-blade-ladened food? Do we distrust our neighbours this much? Is anyone actually stupid enough to still attempt to get away with such abominations? After all, it’s been what… 40 years since all this paranoia began? I suppose we’ve become so accustomed to being told that there are real threats everywhere that we accept this the way we do anything else.

So kiddies, watch out, because it’s not the vampire hovering at your window, or the mummy banging at the lid of its coffin you have to worry about. It’s the nice little old lady down the street who spent weeks making candy apples that you need to fear the most.

freedigitalphotos.net

freedigitalphotos.net

Edit: The statistics of poisoning in Hallowe’en candy – here.


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2/16 Yesterday’s News – Don’t Try So Hard

In the pursuit of changing it up once in a while, we are encouraged as writers to search for different words to say the same thing. Using the same ones over and over can distract the reader from the point we are trying to make. But at the same time, if we do a bad job of it, the wrong turn of phrase can be even worse than the repetitive one.

Take the article I found in yesterday’s paper for instance. The piece is well written; it concerns the annual recognition of immigrants, refugees and international students learning English as a Second Language. There is no credit given to the writer of the article – credit is given to the paper’s “Staff,” and I have to wonder if this is the reason why:

Second Tongue

I don’t know about anyone else, but for me this phrase conjures up all kinds of horror.

Is it possible to take the whole “find another way to say it” process too far? Absolutely. You have to appreciate it when someone has the guts to publish it in a font four times the size of the rest of the text… but then again, whoever did, lacked the balls to put his/her name on it.  I know I wouldn’t.

“Yesterday’s News” is a challenge I have set for myself to post a blog entry once a day, every day until Hallowe’en, and possibly beyond.


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Yet Again

It’s Thanksgiving here in Canada today, so I have my mother visiting for an extra day; normally she only spends Saturday night at my house. There are many changes going on with her, in her advancing age, though for an octogenarian she’s not doing too bad. Her memory is going, she has a harder time getting around, and her skin is thin, so she tends to cut herself quite easily. But the change I see in her that bothers me, personally, the most is her increase in being judgmental. It affects the way I feel I must do things, even in my own home.

Take last night for example. After the kids go to bed I must sit in the room with her while she watches TV. If I don’t, I don’t hear the end of it. If I decide to stay up, she stays up. If I go to bed, no matter how early, so does she. So last night I wanted to get some homework done for my course. I couldn’t concentrate on the story I was reading from my textbook with the TV going, so I thought I’d read in bed. With a glass of wine. I know that this is unacceptable behaviour, in her eyes, so I waited until she was brushing her teeth and I snuck upstairs with my glass of wine and my book and pretended I was going to sleep.

I’m almost 50 years old, and I’m still sneaking booze – just like when I was a teenager, except now it’s in my own house. Why don’t I just put my foot down? It’s not worth the aggravation of having to explain to her over and over that just because I have a glass of wine before bed doesn’t mean I’m an alcoholic, nor does staying up for an extra half an hour mean I’m going to be tired all day.

Just one of the many reasons my mother won’t be living with me any time soon.


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A Minor Dilemma concerning my Short Story Course

A first world problem has arisen. It was bound to happen. Because I have some experience in writing short stories, I’m kinda ahead of the class. We’re learning, at the moment, terminology such as character, setting, conflict, theme, point of view, and narrative unity. Not to toot my own horn, but most of this stuff I already manage without thinking about it.

So our first major assignment is to write a first draft of a short story. We’ll be marked on the above points. Fine, no problem so far. I am, however, having a problem with the second major assignment. Why, you ask? Because we have yet to learn about ‘style.’ In the second assignment we must fix what the professor tells us we need fixing – which is the first half of the mark – but then we need to apply to our story what we have yet to learn about style and writing in our own voice. The problem is, I don’t know how to write, not using my own voice and style in the first place, so that I have something to be marked.

I’ve thought about trying to write the first draft in someone else’s style, but I know I’ll be so unhappy with it I won’t be able to hand it in.

What to do…what to do…?


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Home is Where the Heart Is

I consider myself lucky to live here in Canada; far enough away from the east coast not to experience the dreadful weather that comes off the Atlantic, and with plenty of distance between me and the west coast to worry about major earthquakes.  Of course it’s nice as well that I don’t need to survive through winters with no sunlight. Such a vast country… Yet, I’ve always lived within the same 300 mile stretch of Ontario and Quebec, at varying distances from Highway 401.

I’m glad to have had the opportunity to travel a little. I realise my view of the world would be quite narrow, otherwise.

When I started writing this post, I had no idea where I was going with it. But I have a picture. This is part of the walk I take every day on my paper route:

walk

Looking at this picture I get a profound sense of where I am, and the circumstances that brought me here. I didn’t aspire to live in this town. I was guided here by the needs of my son. I’m not sure that I will stay here – there is not much here for me that feels like home. But then, I don’t know that any place along the 300 mile stretch of land in which I’ve lived feels that way.

What is home? My extended family lives in the U.K.; there is only my immediate family here, and they have followed me everywhere I’ve chosen to settle. There are places I’m familiar with. But are they home? I hold no attachment to the places I’ve lived. Home is most definitely where my children are.

I’m blessed to have been born in Canada, and consider it a wise decision to have stayed to bear my children here. But if I did decide to leave, where ever I go will be home, as long as my family comes with me.


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Silence

Silence is the loudest sound on earth.

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From every thing that exists, when affected by another element, there comes the potential for vibration; energy transformed into sound. Consider the leaf hanging from a branch on still day. It is alive and in all its glory is a a source of energy that can be sensed by any who are sensitive to it. In its existence is potential. When a breeze picks up and the leaf brushes against another, it is able to sing. Energies clash in a song so fine, so perfect – it is nature’s own harmony.

Silence holds potential. Silence is energy, energy produces vibration, vibration is sound, silence is the loudest sound on earth.


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Field Trip

covered bridge

I had to drive and hour out of town to feed my youngest son his lunch today – the teachers aren’t allowed (according to school board rules) to give him a gastric-tube feeding.

Normally I get pissed off when I have to do this, but today, as you can see from the picture I took with my phone, it was worth it for the scenery.