hibernation-mode terminated?

so.  i haven’t written since january.

well, that’s not strictly true.  i have continued to jot down snippits from experiences and observations i have had since then.  just not here.

i have been following closely the train wreck that is trump’s presidency, weinstein’s predation calculation and other creepy things in the news.  here in canada, i have taken note that my being pleased that viola desmond would be on the $10 bill was met with the disappointment that she was not alone on the bill [as i expected] and instead can be found sharing the denomination with three men.  wtf?

i have been taking note of good things as well including jagmeet singh’s recent election to the ndp leadership, the magnificent gord downie’s legacy forcing canadians to think about the role they play in reconciliation and my regular enjoyment of the sunday edition on the cbc.  there are so many more but this post was not meant to be a list.

the point is: a lot has gone on since my wee one was born.

i am not ashamed to say that even on my best days, i have struggled as a first time working mum.  i had virtually no maternity leave; something which i had grasped intellectually but was not prepared for emotionally.

to those of you that took or plan to take the entire year, more power to you!  having a child is a difficult adjustment even with all of the right circumstances in place for success.  i did not consider how it would change me and how that time would be the necessity i went without.

in the past year, more than anything, i have missed reading.  sleep is an incredibly close second wish.  it is the lack of sleep that means the idea of concentrating on reading is laughable.  a cyclical problem.

the thought crossed my mind last week that i have not yet finished reading a book i started during the waiting room times ahead of ultrasound scans before my favourite one year old’s arrival.  that seemed like some kind of fail to me.

don’t get me wrong, i have read numerous articles concerning a wide array of topics.  i just couldn’t believe i had gone that long without reading an entire book.

i keep thinking about stephen king’s words regarding reading and writing a shit tonne in order to become a better writer – i’m paraphrasing here.  it just so happens the book i have yet to finish is his ‘on writing’.  is that ironic?  or is it more like morrisette’s version of the word?  either way it has been weighing on my mind.

as a result i decided to take control of my own destiny and make time to read and write.  i spent close to 3 hours in a cafe on saturday morning doing a few things i have missed so much since becoming a parent.  alone, i drank copious amounts of coffee, read a great deal and began writing furiously.

ensconced in my obsessive task, i found myself looking up every so often to see the changing dynamic of the clientele.  it went from very quiet single coffee drinkers and couples gazing in each other’s eyes over crepe florentine, to noisy busy families with adult children proclaiming that they told the staff that their parents were incapable of making reservations only to be surprised that one was made.

i left feeling recharged, refreshed.  a new outlook moving forward.

i even opted the next afternoon to read for 2 hours while my clever and gorgeous girl slept, leaving the cleaning i needed to do for later.  gotta build up her immune system somehow, right?

king suggests committing to writing 1000 words per day when starting to get serious about writing.  i cannot promise anything at this stage of my mum haze.  the thought, did however, get me thinking about how to move forward.

king writes about the need to have a room in which you are able to close the door; to shut out distractions in the beginning, to form good habits.  it reminded me immediately of virgina woolf’s take on women needing financial independence and a room of one’s own in order to write.  historically, most women have not had that luxury.

for now, my room will have to be my quiet flat when my wee girl is asleep and busy coffee shops.  i know that with time will come more choice.

i am determined to make a proper go of things.

i was in full agreement with gord when he said, ‘i want a book that will make me drunk, full of freaks and disenfranchised punks.’

my hope is that the freaks and punks will inspire my own writing and that i can declare this slump officially over.










imagine this: it has been 72 hours since your mucus plug was forcibly removed without your consent by a bright lipstick wearing, gum chewing (complete with smacking), tasmanian devil-like moving doctor that has been in the business of extreme vaginal examinations since before you were born.

since then: your water broke 12 hours before your scheduled induction, thanks to the aforementioned doctor.  you have been through 5 shift changes of doctors checking your cervix in the most painful and invasive way possible in hospital and 7 rounds of antibiotics because your gbs test was positive.  due to distress of your child – for the first time throughout the entire pregnancy – and after 18 hours of labour, the oxytocin was turned off long enough for your contractions to stop and your child to chill only for it to be turned back on with a vengeance.  your nurse told you for ages that you were not allowed to press the pain meds button as you wouldn’t be able to feel in order to push.  after having had an epidural your left leg is still frozen solid, yet you were able to feel every millimetre of your episiotomy and subsequent suture stitching.  you were unable to greet your child with skin-to-skin contact because the cord was round her neck so tightly a ‘code pink’ was called and the room filled with specialists co-ordinated to resuscitate her. you sat spaced out in your empty birthing room, a strange feeling of emptiness with your child now out of your body and into the world. during such time, your child was being cared for in the nic u and your room was being prepared.  you went nearly 36 hours without eating during labour and had only managed to eat a protein bar before being given the opportunity to sleep.  that was the best thing you had ever eaten in your life at 3:00am or any other time for that matter.  you had your sister-in-law to thank for the suggestion of bringing snacks.   you visited your beautiful baby on the way to your room from the surprising discomfort of a wheelchair and she was so high up in her plastic crib you couldn’t even see her face.   instead  you had to rely on the midwife informing you that your girl was hearing your voice and looking around for you as she wrapped her tiny hand round your index finger.  you were told to get some sleep but just laid there in shock after all you had been through.  you eventually fall asleep only to be awoken a couple of hours later by the plug removal doctor checking out your downstairs mix-up and her first comment is about how swollen you are [it had only been 4 hours since the main event].  you were told to eat breakfast and ask for some pain meds.  you did as you were told.

you wanted to hold your baby.  you wanted to sleep.  you wanted to be home.  you couldn’t even go to the bathroom without assistance because of your damned frozen leg.  what you wanted was not important now.

that was my reality a few short months ago.

it may have seemed like a lot to endure but then the real star of the show entered my life in the form of music we are all familiar with:

dun dun dun dun

da da da da da dun du la dun dun 

do do do doooo

dun du la dun dun

do do do doooo

dun du la dun dun

do do do do dooo

dun dun dun dun

the 20th century fox into.  badly written out for your reading pleasure.

so the person sharing this room was watching a film on a laptop with no headphones.  a bit inconsiderate but perhaps she just forgot her headphones and it was the day time after all.

intermittent sleep and visits to the nic u to breastfeed filled up my day.  the freezing was finally wearing off.  the doctor said my baby could join me the next day if all went well.

the curtain separated neighbour spent a lot of her day talking on the phone loudly and decided it was best to put the conversation on speaker phone so both sides of the discussion could be heard by all.  the topics covered include a number of issues that were not particularly pressing and involved some gossip about who told who about her being in the hospital.

this was the maternity ward and this person had not given birth.  confusing.  at first i thought, like me, her baby must have been in the nic u.  as the mindless conversation droned on, i came to realize she had some kind of lady parts infection and was mainly in hospital to receive intravenous anti-biotics.

i chalked this whole thing up to the fact she was young and that she had no idea about boundaries.  i had no idea what i was in for over the next 48 hours.

i came back to the room after an 11:00pm feeding time arranged with the nurses for my perfect wee girl.  i was more exhausted than i ever thought possible and was looking forward to some sleep before i was to return at 2:00am for the next boob session.

sleep was not a real option because my arrival was met with my roomie talking to a guy that was in the room.  i figured it must be her husband because visiting hours had been over for some time.

nope.  he was just some guy she had recently begun shagging.  and in no uncertain terms they proceeded to discuss all of their ‘kills’ – which i learned means sex partners – and how people of their generation have sex before a relationship to test the waters.

‘that’s just how it works,’ i heard one of them say.

they also talked about ‘getting cheese’… i still have no idea what that means because even urban dictionary has not heard of that trendy phrase.

this was pretty messed up but i drowned them out by putting in headphones and listening to music.

after the 2:00 feeding, i walked back in the hopes that the two idiots had finished their conversation and were sleeping.  no such luck.  headphones back in.

once i returned from the 5:00 feeding, those morons were finally asleep.  i rested.

later in the morning the male visitor left and the loud movies and phone calls continued.  i heard her blame the noisy babies on the ward for her lack of sleep.  i shook my head and laughed silently.  she was the reason she didn’t get any sleep.

despite having very low apgar scores, my daughter was meeting milestones and reacting positively to all of the interventions taken to stabilize her enough to leave the nic u.  she was able to join me in my room.  i was hoping my roomie would be discharged.   no luck there either.

the neighbour’s parents came to visit shortly after my daughter joined me in the room and they began talking very loudly immediately.  i poked my head round the corner and asked them if they could talk more quietly as my girl was sleeping.  i was told not to be shy and let her know at any point if she was disturbing me.  that was laughable, she was disturbance personified.

the parents brought the usual clean clothes and comfort items to her.  no headphones though.

i had to endure another night next to this ridiculous person.  i thought i was in the clear, that the dude she was seeing wouldn’t come around as it was after 9:00pm.  i was sure he wouldn’t be let in as visiting hours were over.  i was wrong. he arrived around 11:00pm and all i wanted was my daughter to be safe and for us both to get some sleep.

no such luck.  the same bullshit conversations continued.  i learned she was an early childhood education major.  that didn’t seem right after hearing her slagging off all of the babies.

i was up all night.  part of it was being on hyper alert as a new mum, worried my daughter would spontaneously combust or some other horrible vision i may have had at the time.  the mum fog was real.  the other part of course was the weirdos on the other side of the sheet thin curtain.

there was chat of her being discharged and i was told i could leave the next day myself.  i was hoping i would be allowed to leave early, or she would and i could get some respite.

again, i am not that lucky.

the stupid guy stayed all day.  the parents came and he was lying in bed with her.  and this is my favourite bit of the whole story… they saw this strange guy in their 21 year old daughter’s bed and asked who he was.

she just said ‘oh, this is phil.’  as if the whole family had known him for ages.

the mother asked if the hospital was ok with him being in the bed with her and the girl said something like ‘yeah, it’s no big deal’.

at one point i bashed my wheely table into phil’s foot.  he didn’t say anything.  it took a me a minute to realise i was hitting a person with the wheel of my table.  that struck me as odd.  i figured living things were able to respond to stimuli.  obviously there are exceptions to the rule.

long story short, she was discharged less than an hour before i was.

i wanted to shout at these two.  tell them they were inconsiderate a-holes.  let the nurses know what i was dealing with.  but i opted to keep quiet.  in my strange mum haze i thought my freaking out would just stress out my daughter.

the car ride home felt like the longest one i had ever endured.  i am just so happy i can look back on this crap as fairly funny over all.  it is amazing what can be overheard in a shared hospital room.





motherhood means mental freeze

i have the breeders to thank for the title above.  it seemed apt, considering i have not posted anything for months.  it is because i’ve been busy with this whole new life.

as of today, i have been a parent for 12 weeks.  my wee girl is a dream.  a calm demeanour like her father and the cutest little face.  though i am biased, i know she is perfect.

i was in hospital for nearly four solid days and it was a difficult labour and a traumatic birth.  i had too much amniotic fluid, i learned the term for which is polyhydramnios, and was induced a week before my due date.  in many respects, giving birth was the most difficult thing i have ever done.

i was going to make this post the hilarious story of the person i shared a room with in hospital but it feels like having that as its own story makes the most sense.

in the past few weeks i have begun to work properly again; really using my brain for things other than baby stuff and mum guilt.  though my plan is to ultimately write fiction, i am currently writing content for blog posts at dg bevan insurance.  it has piqued my interest and i hope to read and write loads every day, including posting here.

i have some fiction pieces on the go and will finish that piece about the hospital room-mate from hell before the end of the weekend.

please check back.  i anticipate having a lot more here very soon.  oh and thanks for visiting after a lengthy posting drought.

















this was written in march… though i agreed i would not put it out there in the universe until after our love creature was born.  i’m breaking the rules publishing it now.

i’m 33.  on 3 april, my husband and i will celebrate our third anniversary.  the champagne one.  no, i will not be drinking champagne this year.  i am growing our first shared human.  the link with the number 3 got me thinking about a dreamy song by the smashing pumpkins, entitled ’33’.  see the lyrics…

speak to me in a language i can hear
humour me before i have to go
deep in thought i forgive everyone
as the cluttered streets greet me once again
i know i can’t be late, supper’s waiting on the table
tomorrow’s just an excuse away
so i pull my collar up and face the cold, on my own
the earth laughs beneath my heavy feet
at the blasphemy in my old jangly walk
steeple guide me to my heart and home
the sun is out and up and down again
i know i’ll make it, love can last forever
graceful swans of never topple to the earth
and you can make it last, forever you
you can make it last, forever you
and for a moment i lose myself
wrapped up in the pleasures of the world
i’ve journeyed here and there and back again
but in the same old haunts i still find my friends
mysteries not ready to reveal
sympathies i’m ready to return
i’ll make the effort, love can last forever
graceful swans of never topple to the earth
tomorrow’s just an excuse
and you can make it last, forever you
you can make it last, forever you

i read about what made billy corgan write this song and it involved a point in his life when he was feeling really optimistic about his future.  he spoke about it on some mtv program, i think it was called ‘story tellers’.

some of the lyrics really stand out for me:

‘deep in thought i forgive everyone’

what a shift in thinking this idea brings.  priorities have changed and therefore, letting go of all sorts of petty bullshit seems appropriate.  i thought i would be in a panic but a strange sense of calm washed over me about 24 hours after finding out the good news.  in a weird way i had come to the conclusion that this child is something i am not worried about at all.  strange when all i tend to do is worry most of the time.

‘i know i’ll make it, love can last forever’

there was a time for at least 6 months, possibly not consecutive, last year where i had lost hope and found myself wondering what my purpose in life was.  i felt i wasn’t any good at my job and that i had to undergo some sort of period of belief revision.  yet with the news, a sort of positivity overcame me.  i have a reason other than myself to make it now.  it reminded me of how getting married made me less selfish when i began thinking for two instead of one.  now that number to think of is three.

‘i’ll make the effort, love can last forever’

pregnancy brings with it a number of changes necessary for a healthy human to enter the world.  perhaps the most interesting change for me has been the lack of delicious alcohol in my life.  as soon as i found out i was immediately disinterested in maintaining a relationship with the drink and that was fairly surprising.

i have been reading loads about what to expect and have seen my wee human on an ultrasound screen.  i have been very ill and vomited up some of my favourite foods.  i have slept longer hours than ever imagined possible and felt a debilitating fatigue difficult to comprehend.  lots of new experiences to come, i am sure.

plenty of people have offered advice.  citrus fruit to help with sickness, ginger biscuits for the same reason.  i have been told that women have babies every day and that if it is a girl we are talking serious good luck coming my way.

no matter what the future holds, i feel as though this life changing situation has happened at the exact right time.  it is a best of all possibles.

that hilarious film, parenthood, has come to mind a number of times.  especially the bit when mary steenburgen’s character tells steve martin’s character that she wants him to have the baby.  i think i’ll watch it again for a few pre-parental laughs.

very recently i have begun talking to my peach sized human, what to expect compares the size to different fruit all of the time.  i think i just got the whole fruit comparison.  hahahaha.  i have been telling my child about my plans and about how their dad is the best man i know.  kind, hard working and devoted to us both.  i know abu will love the child more than he loves me and i know that all of this will make me love abu more.  he is going to be an excellent parent.  he is calm, rational and caring.  we are both very lucky.


inevitability of death

is it insensitive of me to consider the title for this post when i consider the impact that gord downie and the tragically hip have had on my life?  i have been stewing over the news of gord’s brain cancer and thinking about all the things i associate with him.  i have also been listening to the band’s entire catalogue.  amazed at the number of songs i retain all lyrics to in my own brain.

i think of the title of this blog.  impossibilium.  about how i love abu even when i don’t know i’m doing it.  dismiss it out of hand, ’cause i don’t even know i’m doing it.  so many powerful ideas about so many different aspects of one’s life covered through the joy of mere words.

that is it, the thing with gord’s lyrics.  they are looking at the world both literally and figuratively.  they are encouraging reflection and relating us all to the human condition we sometimes forget because we dismiss it out of hand.  they cause pause.  they also comment on interesting things that happen, the one that stands out the most is the change in law and the line from poets: ‘lawns cut by bare breasted women‘.  i suppose it stands out because i lived through that as an old enough human to make the direct link between current affairs and the lyrics.  the woman had a point:  why can old ugly guys take their shirts off when cutting the grass but i can’t?

we can’t forget the music either.  from classic canadian style rock to all sorts of other interesting sounds to trigger things in us, there are not many hip songs i dislike.  the reality is i do not know much about music technically but i do know how it makes me feel.  tiger the lion gives me chills every time i listen to it.  i love music that makes me feel weird.  there are few artists that can send an eerie feeling up or down my spine.  another band i can think of having similar feeling was when i saw the scottish national ballet perform to radiohead’s music.  the awkwardness in music was brought to life by awkward movements in dance.  interpretive indeed.

on their live between us album, a favourite of mine, gord asks the audience to recognise the band playing before them [i think it was the rheostatics] and says ‘we’re all richer for having seen them here tonight’.  that praise was genuine.  gord has brought something to this high tech world that is so rare.  a thinking, caring, reflecting being that feels for other humans trying to figure out their way through life.

the first time the hip made me cry was in 2007.  i had lived in new zealand for a year while attending teacher training [i even introduced my students to the hip’s music], worked in a fun restaurant and toured the place with camping, hiking and kayaking.  i also ate some amazing food and spent many an afternoon drinking in the sun with pals.  when flying home from my nz adventure, i had to transfer at lax .  between los angeles and toronto i was checking out what air canada’s entertainment system had to offer.  there was a new hip album.  i wasn’t expecting to cry but the thought that i had been gone long enough to miss an album made me feel less canadian.

now, i always play new orleans is sinking whenever teaching the hurricane katrina case study to geographers.  the kids dig it, or at least they humour me into believing they do.  i always ask them what ‘hey north, you’re south, shut your big mouth‘ means.  it usually gets a laugh.

since the teacher training times, i have gone much longer with regard to stints away from my homeland but have managed to keep up with music as technology has allowed.  even still, i do love touching down on home soil; listening to canadian content rules [which i’m worried they might change] and doing ‘hip checks’ on the radio – meaning checking all the stations to see if one can find a hip song.

now the weirdest part of all, perhaps, is that i have always loved the hip and have never managed to see them live.  messed up, i know.  i think i got complacent and thought the hip would be around forever.  they are part of canadiana and what has made me the person i have become.  the news about gord’s cancer has put myself, along with other canadians in panic mode.  ticket companies are screwing fans and i just read that the cbc are in talks with the band about broadcasting their final concert live for all canadians to see.  i hope that happens.  i think it might be the canadian equivalent to the queen’s jubilee.  but let’s not talk about the royals…

lucky for me, a close pal has procured some tickets and i will get to see the hip in the hammer; the very place gord told strombo that is his favourite city to play in.  truth or no about it being his favourite place, i know it will be amazing.  i will also be able to tell my daughter that the hip were her first concert as she will be a month away from her debut in august.  i am so grateful that i will be richer for attending.  and if i can, i plan to make it a good life by not letting this weaken me.  instead i will appreciate how rich i have become through their words and music.

what it comes down to, is that gord can say it much better than i ever could:

i want a book that’ll make me drunk

full of freaks and disenfranchised punks

no amount of hate, no load of junk

no bag of words, no costume trunk

can make me feel the same way

an inch an hour, two feet a day

to move through night

in this most fashionable way

no ex-cape

‘oh, it’s you again.’

‘i had to see you.’

‘everything with you is some kind of emergency.’  tracy was annoyed.  ‘i thought you would get it by now: we’re not friends and haven’t been for ages.’

‘you don’t understand.  i know you’re supposed to be in my life.  i have been unhappy in my marriage for years and i had this dream last night and it confirmed my first love is my only love.’

‘dammit darren.  we broke up when i was 17.  when are you going to move on?  these interactions are exhausting.’

‘can i come in?  i just want to talk.’  darren pleaded.

‘ok, but this is the last time.  seriously.’  famous last words, against better judgement.

tracy lived alone and she liked it that way.  everything that happened in her life was on her terms.  not tonight though.

they sat in comfortable chairs that faced each other.  she was not going to make the mistake of sharing her seating with him, tracy knew what would happen if she did.  each supplied with a cold beer, he launched into the usual diatribe.

she drifted off into her imagination as he gave her the usual circular arguments about why they were meant to be and all of the things he would do to make it happen if she would just take him back.  this was boring, it had all been said before.  suddenly she remembered where she was and became aware of darren’s words, darren’s movements.

‘… you see, if you won’t be with me, there is no way i’m going to let you be with someone else.’  he calmly removed a handgun from his inside jacket pocket.

she paid so little attention to him these days she failed to notice the bulk in the jacket when he entered the flat and the fact that he had not taken it off when he sat down.  now concerned, she slunk back in the chair as far as she could and found herself unable to choke out any words.

‘tracy.  we’ve been through this and now i know it is you and me.  i finally got confirmation that cannot be denied.’  his voice was guttural, desperate.  ‘we are cosmically connected.’

in that moment, her perception of their entire history flashed across darren’s eyes like some fucked up home video while he carelessly waved the gun around in tune with his gestures.  it took her back 20 years…


grade nine.  that barenaked ladies song on repeat in their young brains.  adjusting to a new school and becoming the small fish in the big pond.  maths more difficult, expectations higher, at least getting involved in sport was easy enough.  then there were the social adjustments.  long gone were the days of the same teacher for every lesson; some feared it while others held on tight and enjoyed the ride.

fourteen-year-olds were trying to find their place in the world of kids that seemed so much older than they did.  a perspective which would change before christmas, if not before thanksgiving.

by november, tracy felt at home.  becoming a top basketball player, making decent grades and meeting loads of people helped her cause.  she even met a boy, darren.

darren was a year older and seemed to know everything.  after just a few months of seeing each other, tracy’s sociology class told her she was in that stage of love known as infatuation or attraction, the falling in love bit.  she was sure she’d never find anything disappointing about him or their love.  she looked at him through devoted teenage eyes.  he was the one.

the feeling was mutual.  darren showed his love through lifts and regular payment for outings to swiss chalet and famous players.  teenagery activities paid for as he was the only one of the two with a job.  at the same time it was clear he had his own things going on.  he played things cool.


she began working at dairy queen to make extra money to buy those designer jeans she wanted.  when tracy asked her parents to shell out the cash, her parents repeated the family motto in unison: ‘get it your damn self.’

‘this time that means get a real job.’ mum added.

‘but i’m babysitting for the steves nearly every weekend.’  tracy argued.  the steves were a neighbouring family in which half of the members bore the name steve, a clever nickname tracy’s family had come up with.  ‘could we split the cost?’

‘no possible way.’ simply put by dad.

no thought was given to contributing to her relationship with darren, at least not financially.  she was of the mind that it was his duty as the guy and the older one. a juvenile conclusion.  with the change in employment, darren added a further contribution: lifts to and from work.

‘you’re only dating him because he’s older.  he’s a loser.’ one of the davids stated matter of factly at work the next shift after darren collected her one summer night.

‘that’s not even close to the truth,’ she protested.  ‘he and i are in love.  and not that puppy bullshit kind, this is for real.’

‘you’ll see.  when he graduates, it’ll be over.’ david laughed.

tracy lost respect for that david immediately.  the other david was much kinder and interjected with, ‘don’t mind him.’


they both had their own friends, did their own thing.  they always came together to support each other no matter what.  when darren’s mum was caught cheating and asked for a divorce, tracy was there.  when tracy lost her dad to a pulmonary embolism which went without prompt treatment, darren was there.

tracy and darren shared the experience of nearly all firsts undertaken by young people: the kisses, the sleep-overs, the sneaking around, the sexual exploration, the bond of first loves.  it was sweet, really.  the way all young people should be introduced to all of those exciting and scary things, in a safe space with great trust.  complete with loads of inside jokes and secret encounters.

they were together for nearly four years.  over time the disappointment phase she was warned about creeped in and showed its ugly face at more frequent intervals.  it started off small, constant correction given.  then criticism for her spitting gum out onto the road, for disputes with friends and for clothing she wore.  she accepted it all but a strange feeling of discomfort overtook her young life.  tracy didn’t even consider that her habits were causing darren disappointment, it was all about her needs and feelings.

darren finished school a year before she did and he was off to another city at least three hours away.  there was no way tracy’s parents would let her visit.  tracy succumbed to david’s prediction and decided to break it off with darren.

it was a difficult conversation to begin:

‘so, you see darren, i want to be single when i go to uni and i don’t think it’s fair for you to not be afforded the same freedom.’  how egalitarian of her.

‘we can make this work, tracy.’  darren plead.  ‘i can come home at weekends and you can visit on the train.’

‘you’ll be busy and so will i.  our lives are headed in different directions.’

‘there’s no way breaking up is the right decision for us.  i know we can make it.’

‘i’m going to sharon’s cottage for labour day weekend.’

‘but that’s the weekend i go.  i was hoping you’d come up with my mum and i… see my new digs.’

‘why don’t we do something special the week before you go away and i go to the cottage?  one last goodbye.’

darren reluctantly agreed, with the idea that this was something they would overcome together.

the something special was a weekend together while parents were away, living for 48 hours as if it were a permanent set up.  they laughed and cried and reminisced over their years together and ended it all with a goodbye kiss through the window of darren’s car.  the song on the radio was that popular one by the clash that tracy didn’t initially believe was even a song, she had heard darren singing it many times.  the answer to the question in the song was clearly: go.


the long weekend came and went and they didn’t even speak for a month afterward.

the phone rang.  tracy could hear it from the bathroom.

‘darren’s on the phone.’ mum shouted up the stairs.

‘ok.’ tracy responded and picked up the phone in her room. ‘hey darren, how are you?’

‘all good here.  there’s so much to tell you about.  how have you been?’

‘why didn’t you tell me the final year would be so difficult?’

‘i did.  hahahaha.  you were never willing to take my advice.’

‘so what’s the occasion to call?  i thought i’d catch you on icq at some point, but a phone call…’ she trailed off.

‘i’ve decided to come home for thanksgiving weekend and figured we could hang out.  you interested?’

‘yeah, ok.  we’ve obviously got that big family dinner but saturday could work.’

‘perfect.  can’t wait to see you.’

‘cool.  well, i’ve gotta jet, they’re calling me from downstairs.  bye.’  a lie.

‘i love -‘

she hung up.

the agreed upon saturday arrived and they were both nervous.  they met in a local restaurant, having driven separately.

‘our life together would have been a lot better if you could have driven too.’

‘them’s the breaks, i guess.’  she was surprised at how good he looked to her after all that time.  she had anticipated feeling neutral.

they ate and chatted for hours.  tracy shared stories of mutual friends and teachers she was subjected to while darren told her of the adventure that is the first year of university.  they laughed and joked and discussed old times.

it became clear that they were both interested in some intimacy.  unfortunate for them they were teens with parents and siblings at home.  they opted for a local hotel.  tracy paid, a sort of attempt at reciprocity.  plus she knew he had a great deal more in the way of expenses than she did and she had worked her way up to shift manager slinging ice cream out to the masses.

it was exactly as they remembered it.  for a time they were in their own world.  perhaps it was closure, a way of saying ‘thanks’ and ‘nice knowing you’.

it ended late with both having to sneak into their respective houses.

tracy found it difficult in the coming weeks to get over it.  it was as if she hadn’t grieved the loss initially so it was smacking her in the face.  she was hurt, she was down, she was lost.  she called him regularly and her desperation was obvious.  it began to cramp his style and he stopped taking her calls.

darren’s room mate was tired of having to utilise the excuse rolodex with the incessant calls from this ex.  one day, in the week leading up to reading week, darren was stuck.  he answered the phone.


‘hey, it’s me.  i guess you’ve been really busy.  matt keeps getting the phone and telling me you’re out.  has he been passing on my messages?’

pause.  ‘uh, yeah.  it has been crazy hectic and you remember i told you how difficult this first year is.’

‘what are we doing here?’

‘we’re talking on the phone.’

‘you know what i mean.  what are we?  is there a future?’

‘to be honest, you broke up with me and really hurt me.  i spent my first 6 weeks in agony.  i thought that last encounter we arranged was a sort of closure for us both, the transition between together and single.  separate.’

crying now.  ‘darren, i was fine until you came back that weekend.  seeing you made me realise what a mistake i had made.’

‘look.  i should just tell you now, i have started seeing someone.  her name is tabitha and i even accidentally said your name in bed once.  she was really understanding about it, you being my first love and all.’

‘seeing someone?  how long has this been going on?’

‘since mid-november.’

‘i can’t fucking believe this.  just a few weeks after taking me to bed you start with this, this tabitha?’

‘tracy, you told me it couldn’t work out.  i’ve moved on.  just like you wanted.’

‘we need to talk about this.  you have so much explaining to do.’

‘actually, i don’t.  we’re not together.  we haven’t even seen each other or spoken in months.  i don’t have time for this, there’s a kegger i’m late for and after all this bullshit i’m in real need of some beer.  you should call kids help phone, they’ll have someone to support you in this awkward time.’

‘you can’t be serious.’

‘deadly.  move on tracy.’

and with a click the phone hung up.

tracy exploded.  a mess of tears and snot and hair pulling.  how could she have let herself fall into his trap again?  she thought about what a prick he had been and how she had been duped with some kind of revenge sex, a concept she had never considered before that moment.  lucky for her she was in the basement and the rest of the people in the house were too preoccupied to bother with her outburst.

she dialled the number.

‘good evening, kids help phone.  my name’s ross.  how can i help?’

‘it’s… it’s my boyfriend.  well ex-boyfriend i guess.  he told me he couldn’t deal with my shit and suggested i get support from you.  i’m not suicidal or anything.  i just want to be with him and he is now seeing someone else.  it is so long and complicated, i don’t even know where to begin.’  she paused to take a heaving breath, the kind when you are crying and forget to breathe in between.

‘i didn’t get your name.’


‘well tracy, it seems to me that the only person to discuss this matter with is the ex-boyfriend as he’s the one you are going through this difficulty because of.  perhaps you should call him back.’

‘thanks for nothing, ross.’  tracy slammed the phone down.

she began to cry uncontrollably again only to collect herself.  it seemed miraculous.  she laughed and said aloud, ‘fucking kids help phone.  good thing i didn’t have a real fucking problem.’

she emerged from the basement in effort to return to her room.  her mum clocked her in the periphery of the living room.

‘tracy, are you ok?  you look as though you’ve been crying.’

‘all good, mum.  night night.’

‘night night.’

tracy decided in that moment of crossing over the threshold of her bedroom that she would never again allow some silly high school love to affect her so deeply.  she slept well and awoke fresh.


months went by and it got to the point where tracy no longer thought of darren every day.  she found herself dating around, disinterested in any hint of commitment.  she was devoted to herself only and it was nearing the time for her to leave the nest a free bird in every sense.

the night before she left for uni, she rented 3 movies and spent way too much time chatting on msn messenger.  basically did anything but pack up her stuff.  she figured it would all get done at some point.  an unexpected message popped up.

darren81: hey sexy.  how are you? [20:56]

to reply or not to reply.  what a prick, attempting to insert himself in her life again, she thought.  why hadn’t she removed his contact?

tray-cee:  what is it? [21:03]

darren81:  we haven’t talked in ages and i thought i’d say hi. [21:03]

tray-cee:  hi [21:06]

darren81:  come on, where’s that fun girl i know? [21:06]

tray-cee:  she is having a great time without you in her life [21:08]

darren81:  i’m really missing you.  tabitha is allergic to everything. [21:08]

tray-cee:  oh yeah [21:09]

darren81:  i mean, she’s great.  don’t get me wrong.  but she isn’t you.  and she is not willing to give me head, says it grosses her out.  [21:10]

tracy-cee:  too much information.  [21:15]

darren81:  don’t you miss me? [21:15]

tray-cee:  not really.  have moved on.  besides, what would your girlfriend think if she knew you were saying these things to me?  [21:18]

darren81:  it’s not her business [21:18]

tray-cee:  whatever [21:18]

darren81:  i want you in my life [21:18]

tray-cee has left the chat [21:20]


reading week.  no one really did any reading but it was first year and tracy wasn’t onto that scam yet.  plus her grades were nothing to be proud of at this point either.

a few of her pals were heading out on the town and twisted her rubber arm to be in attendance.  she figured she deserved a night out after working for two days straight.  she thought, ‘what the hell?’

she wasn’t much for dressing up to go out.  her uniform for school usually consisted of sweat pants or jeans paired with a hoodie.  what did she know about this scene?  she was an expert beer drinker though.

she opted for jeans and a tank top and let her hair down.  she felt awkward but a few bottles of beer sorted that out.  she had even got involved in those test tube shots delivered to tables and the dance floor by degraded waitresses.  this one had on a cowboy hat, a waistcoat exposing a hot pink push-up bra and the shortest jean skirt known to man.  ‘a damn man must’ve invented that thing,’ tracy laughed to herself.

she was feeling good.  there was no conversation happening with anyone as the music was incredibly loud.  it was a good night.  laughs and dancing and way too many drinks, perhaps a record.

then it happened.  she saw darren.  in her bar.  in her uni town.  she tried to get away but he saw her.  she was caught.

giant smiles.  ‘hey there.’ he shouted.

‘hey.’ a reply.  she immediately sobered up.

‘i was hoping i’d catch you while i was in town.’

‘what?  i can’t hear you.’

he motioned to outside, where the smoking happens.  she reluctantly followed.

‘i was saying, i was hoping i’d catch you while i was here.’

‘why are you here?’

‘visiting my pal jim.  it’s his birthday and he is from here so a bunch of us have come down for a few days.’

she took a good long sip from her beer.

‘so, how are things with you, tracy?  we’ve not talked in ages.’

‘fine.  good.  just here with some friends.’

‘can i buy you a drink?  can we do some dancing together?’

‘i guess.’  her lack of enthusiasm seemed obvious to everyone except darren.  the way she saw it, her night was ruined.

when she returned to the dance floor with darren, her pal mouthed, ‘what the fuck?’

she mouthed,  ‘long story.’

as drunken nights go, they are not always remembered clearly and bad decisions are bound to be made.  darren ended up sharing a cab home with the girls, he claimed he had lost his friends in the craziness of closing time.

they got back to residence and had pizza.  the ugly truth was in the back of tracy’s mind.  where would darren sleep?

kaylie had an idea, ‘hey, i know, tracy.  darren can stay in your room and you can stay in jill’s bed, she won’t be back for days and we can wash her bedding in between.’

relief.  a get out of awkward jail card.

‘perfect.’ said tracy.  darren said nothing.

she walked him up to her room and set him up with everything he needed.  as she was about to leave he spoke up.

‘stay with me tonight.’

‘i can’t.’

‘i won’t touch you, i promise.’  he was almost begging.  ‘i just want to chat.’

‘no way, darren.  you have everything you need.  we’ll sort breakfast in the morning before your girlfriend collects you.’  he had made the mistake of informing her of this and was now regretting it.

tracy left as fast as she could and spend the better part of half an hour laughing with kaylie about how ridiculous this all was…

the next day, tabitha collected darren.  tracy had never seen her face to face and felt like shit from the drink.

all she could manage to say was, ‘let darren do some of the driving.’

tabitha just looked at her with cold eyes.  she was probably wondering what darren saw in her.  and possibly what the hell was going on.


it was late.  that philosophy paper for the star trek nut professor was due at 8:00, just 6 hours away.  tracy was nearly finished and she began day dreaming about the real dreaming she would get to do in less than an hour.

the phone rang and she didn’t want to wake her flat mates, even if they did spend their lives fucking strangers into the night and disturbing her sleep.  weird how that worked.  she spent most of her thoughts about them considering how much cash they’d make if they turned the place into a brothel or what fun it would be to create a sneak attack polaroid picture wall of shame.


‘hey tracy, it’s darren.’

‘wtf?  how did you get my number?  this better be good with you calling at this hour.’

‘it is.  vince committed suicide.  the memorial’s the day after tomorrow. i know he was your friend too.  it is just awful.’

‘you can’t be serious.’

‘i am.  so sorry to be the one to tell you but i thought it should come from someone close to you.’

tracy ignored the close to you part.  she was trying to absorb this information.

‘ok.  i’ll get a train home tomorrow and see you there, i guess.’

‘it is tough on all of us.’

‘ok, bye.’  she hung up.

she thought to herself that he was voted most likely to succeed and that she must be dreaming already.  how else would darren know how to get ahold of her?

somehow, she managed to be constructive with her blues and finish editing her essay.  she knew she needed at least one rem cycle before handing the damn thing in.  looking at her clock she saw she would get just that.

tracy dreamt of vince.  they were walking toward each other in the corridor of their high school.  he caught eye contact with her and smiled.  he asked her how she was.  tracy responded that she should be asking him.

when she awoke, she thought, that is just like him.  to be worried about others and not himself.

the train journey seemed longer than usual and she was unable to concentrate on reading for pleasure or for her courses.  she wrote madly in her notebook in between episodes of sleep.

tracy arrived home and her mum greeted her with a hug.  she knew vince was a kind young man and could understand her daughter’s grief.

the memorial was gut wrenching.  so many people were there it was impossible for everyone to sit down.  darren sat next to tracy and as she heaved and sobbed he put his arm around her.  she let him.  when it was over she spoke with vince’s brother tom, he was responsible for putting the service together.  she hugged him and told him how good he looked and how brave he had been.

every so often after that, tracy would think about vince and again be saddened by the loss.


summer time.  tracy moved back in with mum for a few months and was right back at dairy queen.  earning minimum wage and eating too many dilly bars.

that summer concert thing was on and everyone seemed back in town to see moist, or the philosopher kings or wide mouth mason… whoever the headliner was that year.

tracy was there with a bunch of mates from all over as her house was filled with high school, uni and work friends for pre and post concert partying.

she ran into tom.  he looked like shit.  and no wonder.  the loss of his brother was still hurting so many people.  tracy couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be for tom than the rest of the population.

‘how are you?’ she asked tom after hugging him tightly while trying not to spill her beer on him.  drunk as she was she could see his pain.

he struggled a smile and said, ‘i’m good tracy.  good to see you.’

she didn’t know it then but tom was only a few months from taking his life and joining his brother.  she could feel it, however, he was not ok.

up front for the show and staggering all over the place otherwise.  tracy and her friends were on the way to the porta-potties laughing about last year when chantal kreviazuk told her home town audience to be quiet and respect the artist playing, chantal being the artist in question.  they dispersed to separate toilets.

when tracy emerged, she was surprised to be the first one to free herself from one of the disgusting plastic boxes.

she immediately saw darren.  shit.  not again.

‘hey!’ an enthusiastic greeting.

‘oh, hi.’  tracy responded.  ‘i guess everyone comes back for this weekend.’  a generic comment.

‘just waiting for tabitha.’

‘right on.’  it was as if what she said was some kind of invitation.  he got real close, leaned in and grabbed her ass.  ‘what do you think you’re doing?’

darren was drunk, as she was, responding with, ‘we used to do more than that.’

‘do not ever touch me again.’

she saw her mates and got out of there, quick smart.


over the years, they talked intermittently.  darren always initiated contact.  it was facebook and personal questions about her sex life.  it was an invitation to his wedding, tabitha was the bride of course.  it was the occasional creepy crawling into her life.  she stopped trying to understand and simply blocked him from all contact.

tracy no longer thought of darren at all.  it had been at least a year since they had spoken and she was sure he had finally taken all of the hints.


subject:  long time

from:  darren81:hotmail.com

date:  august 12, 2015 at 18:06

to:  tracy.timmins@gmail.com

hey tracy

it has been ages and i wanted to write to you.  my uncle, you know, rob, that one you always got along with, has passed away.  i thought you should know.  i tried contacting you at tray-cee@hotmail.com to no avail.  

i hope you don’t mind but i googled your mom and managed to get your new email address off her.  she was really nice, just as i remember.

how are you?  i would really love to catch up and talk about rob and old times.  you know, trace, you were really a huge part of my life.  a part i miss and wish was still in my every day interactions.  we really have come a long way, eh?

hope to hear back from you soon.




subject:  information message

from: tracy.timmins@gmail.com

date:  august 17, 2015 at 12:54

to:  darren81@hotmail.com

you just can’t help yourself, darren.

i have not been in contact because i do not want to be in contact.  you would think that after all this time you would get the hint after being the one to initiate communication for the past decade.

please do not contact my mum again.  i haven’t talked about you in so long she had no way of knowing that i didn’t want to hear from you.

it was pretty low of you to try and get me to talk to you again by using a dead relative.  besides, i know your uncle rob died 2 years ago.  

i will not be manipulated into maintaining contact.

do not contact me again, i will not respond.


subject:  re: information message

from:  darren81:hotmail.com

date:  august 17, 2015 at 23:48

to:  tracy.timmins@gmail.com

dear tracy

i’m so sorry that you are upset with me.  my intention was not to hurt you.  you see, you mean so much to me, you have been a huge part of my life and have helped to shape the person i have become.  i hold our time together in such high regard and i thought that you would feel the same.

the thing i wish for most right now is that we could overcome these problems and work through them together.

i consider you my friend and i will always be here for you.  please write to me whenever you like.  i know we can get beyond this.

i’ll be in touch.




tracy was sure she would not hear from him again.  then she opened her email.

subject:  merry christmas!

from:  darren81:hotmail.com

date:  december 28, 2015 at 19:17

to:  tabitha.keller@gmail.com; drkeller@keller.com; judybateman@yahoo.com

bcc:  tracy.timmins@gmail.com

see attached.  pictures of the little rascals around the tree.

she couldn’t believe her eyes.  he had sent her pics of his kids; bcc’d her into an email to his wife and parents.  she considered replying all to let them in on this insanity.  then she thought it was better to ignore the nonsense

she checked her linkedin profile to see that he had requested a connection.  delete.  this situation was no longer funny to tracy.  she had once likened darren to that ex-girlfriend on wayne’s world and mike myers’ commentary about the gift of a gun rack.  it used to be funny.  now they were in their thirties, it wasn’t so much.


tracy snapped out of the trance and back into the now.

‘look.  darren.  you need help.  you don’t need me.’

‘that’s where you’re wrong.  that’s where you’ve always been wrong.’

silence.  tracy wasn’t frightened though she felt she should be.  it was hard to take such a desperado seriously.

‘i am willing to lose everything for you.’  darren started.  ‘willing to leave my wife and family, willing to accept the ridicule from my friends, willing to forego my house, a huge chunk of my salary.’

calmly and doing her best to pretend there was no gun, she spoke. ‘i did not ask for any of this.  i do not want you to give anything up or focus your attention on me.  i am finally happy in my life and what i really want is for you to leave and never contact me again.’

‘why can’t you get it through your thick skull?  we are one.’

‘you really need some help.  it is getting late.  i’ll walk you to the door.’

she stood up and he followed suit.  she turned her back to him as she moved toward the exit.

shots fired.  another statistic in the realm of domestic abuse.  or was it?  there was nothing domestic about their set-up.  she was, however, another woman too kind to allow her fears to supersede her need to avoid hurting the feelings of others.  she paid her debt to him: 17 years of harassment and now with her life.

darren showed himself out, tracy would not be able to assist there.  he returned home to his wife and kids, telling a lie about work holding him up.  he had won, though he wasn’t sure what.




poetic injustice?

a few poems written recently, gathered from my own observations.                                       take from them what you will/wish.


belonging, yet feeling on the periphery

clever, yet feeling inadequate

kind, yet feeling aloof

beautiful, yet feeling awkward

the doubt is strong in this one

it is there morning, noon and night

mistrusting her own strengths

hesitancy reigns supreme in decision making

overcome doubts and suspicions

see yourself like others do

let go of all that fear

undoubt to build confidence

undoubt to create calmness

undoubt to resist negativity

undoubt to experience peace of mind


not yet titled, suggestions welcome.

hell is other people

nausea a part of existence

live through this if you’ve got the grit

or throw it all away to promote mental stealth

what is the point in doing the right thing?

after all: no one’s looking

all good qualities are only skin deep

if you use your own brain

don’t you dare make a peep

the future is for the self-indulgent

a lack of work ethic is to be revered

pretend you enjoy life or you’ll be sorry

telling the truth only leads to worry

fixate on trivia, ignore what matters

for life is about getting flattered

self-awareness will only get you in trouble

blame shifting is the best way to preserve your bubble

the ass in class, the harm in charm

there is no cause to be alarmed

a picture of the future entails

human heads smashed like melons

the assault inflicted by ‘our own’



arrogance assumed through deep self-reverence

or the irreverence for all other humans

there is expedience in instant gratification

a satisfaction like no other in their collective conscience

menacing are those that point out the lack of substance

the subsequence of which ensures the sustenance of hatred

dissidence perceived as interference

consequences are non-existent for those who believe

enlightened are those belonging to this conspiracy

for independence of thought is irrelevant

petulance takes precedence over all other things

for showing one’s confidence weakens enemies

diffidence never found in the vocabulary

of those that shun intelligent experience

audacious diatribes provided without eloquence

one word grunted demands display command over every situation

hope for the future immaterial

idolisation of false prophets

lack of insight celebrated

realisation replaced with sanctimonious nonsense

me, me, me

mine, mine, mine

now, now, now

how is it that anything good will come from this?

ignoring is the only way

the negativity will definitely dissipate in haste, right?