Monday, September 28, 2009

run girl run

i've never reached that runner's high that people speak of. i really enjoy my soccer games and there will be moments when i'm chasing down a ball and i successfully get a foot on it that i feel pretty rock star awesome. those moments don't last.

but these photos pretty well capture how i feel when i'm chasing down a ball and my energy is right. twinkle toes.

by the chimes

When I began running three-odd years ago, I started with the Learn to Run clinic. We ran one minute and walked for two. Over the course of ten weeks, we worked our way up to running ten minutes and walking one minute; each interval marked by the beeping of a watch. I have continued with the ten and one’s ever since and I now find myself utterly trained to the sound of the beeps. I can be mid-sentence in a conversation, the beep sounds, and I’m off running. I have to laugh – and apologize for interrupted conversations. Sit, heel, stay.

Cherry on top

In life, many things can be the icing on top. I got flowers on my birthday, that was the icing on a great day. Just that something that makes everything so much better. There’s also icing of the baking variety which I find people often subscribe to the opinion that more is more better. Not the case. I am not a fan of heavy icing on my baked goods – I tend feel ill and it overpowers whatever treat I’m trying to enjoy. There is one icing however, that I do love – funfetti icing. It’s an explosion of fun! And tasty!

hoo ya

The other night, amazing!M and I watched G.I. Jane while I made funfetti cupcakes to bring to my bowling birthday party. (Sadly, the funfetti icing melted all over the cupcakes in the covered container so now amazing!M and I will be eating 20 cupcakes. Which brings me back to the movie.) I like G.I. Jane, I think it’s neat to showcase a woman entering and competing equally in such a boy’s club atmosphere. The scenes with Demi Moore doing all the different pushups though? Yow-za. I feel the need to go to the gym – and not leave. Meaning, no cupcakes.

Details, details

There are many ways to gauge civilization and quality of life. I’m going to take a moment to be shallow – my quality of life expectations include en suite laundry. (Do you see how blessed my life is? Not food, water or shelter – but appliances. Still.) The search to find a one bedroom apartment in Vancouver with en suite laundry is a very expensive one; rent’s not exactly cheap in the first place. The ease of washing your laundry in your own home, not worrying about things being stolen or if there will be a machine free or having exact change….

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

sports fans

I don’t often attend sporting events so I’m always surprised when I enjoy them so much. I really love the energy of the crowd and how into the game they are. This is always brought home to me when I watch a hockey game – right from the first time seven years ago. Sure, it may be a cliché that Canadians love their hockey. But…most Canadians love their hockey. Hell, I get into it and I know next to nothing about it! I love the spirit, the cheering, the jeering and the running commentaries. I love the smiles and the camaraderie.

Point of reference

I first became interested in 100 word segments because of writing "drabbles" in the CSI: Las Vegas fandom. These were my inspiration for this project:

Green – Health-wise – Group – G

Greg’s face reflected all of his suspicions and disgust, despite his intimate knowledge of all things swabbed, as he carefully shut the break room fridge door.

“Grissom’s at it again,” such simple words to inspire groans from all present in the room. “It’s green and…frothy. It might be growing.”

Neither Warrick nor Nick rose to confirm Greg’s analysis. They were still debating who would speak to Grissom this time when Sara and Catherine entered the room. Ignoring the boys’ squabbling, Sara grabbed her lunch and took a swig. Total silence met her as she asked, “What? You want some?”

Black – Buffed – Brass/Sofia – G

The leather shoes looked supple as Brass put away the blackened cleaning and buffing cloths, the little jars clinking as he placed them under the bathroom sink. He then swept the iron over his slacks quickly before pulling them on. Men didn’t dress as formally for the evening these days but he tucked his polo shirt in anyway. It was just drinks with a colleague, he told himself. But he combed his hair with care and patted on aftershave.

He knocked on her door promptly at eight and murmured a quiet “you look lovely Sofia” before taking her arm.

Brown – Wool – Grissom w/implied GSR – G

In the back of Grissom’s closet, behind the winter clothes he never used and the formal shoes rarely worn, there was a carefully wrapped package. Leaving the duvet in the guest room, he had long ago put a tan wool blanket inside. Perhaps not so long ago – not so long that the blanket still smelled of her and shared coffee. Not so long ago that she could pause just a moment with her arm over his shoulders.

These days the duvet rests in its plastic capsule and the wool blanket rests neatly folded across the foot of his bed.

Gold - Alloy - Brass - G

“You’ve got a real heart of gold, you know that?” the cuffed woman sneered at Brass as he ducked her head down into the patrol car.

“Actually,” he pointed to his name on the badge, “it’s an alloy of copper and zinc. You can look up ‘alloy’ when you get downtown.” He shut the door and thumped the roof of the car twice before turning to the amused CSIs next to him.

“Gee Jim,” Sara drawled, “I didn’t know that you had an interest in metallurgy.”

“I wonder who might’ve told me that.”

Grissom just shrugged and smiled.

Silver - Counting Game - Sara/Grissom - G

Sara sipped her coffee absently, a magazine forgotten in her lap. From the couch, her eyes narrowed as she counted the threads of silver in Grissom’s beard. Trouble was, she kept getting sidetracked by the curve of his lips or the gentle creases by his eyes. His hand briefly obscured her vision and she had to start over. One, two, three…. Grissom stood and Sara busied herself in her article only to feel a small tug at her scalp.

Sara looked up to meet Grissom’s gaze on a long silver hair held delicately between his fingers.

“Your first one.”

Pink - Working It - Warrick - G

Warrick was used to the murmurs when he walked into a crowded bar. Murmurs and no few admiring, and sometimes downright inviting, looks. It was a bit of a surprise to create that kind of stir around the lab, however. After people adjusted to his ‘do and seeing the top three buttons of his shirt undone, he got more comments if he covered up.

He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and checked his collar before shrugging and heading into locker room. “S’up?” he greeted Greg and sat down. Greg looked him over and said, “Nice pink shirt man.”

Red - Cherry Drop - Sara - PG

Sara paused in photographing the playground, her gaze caught by the staggered bars. She remembered hanging upside down from them as a child, arms and hair swaying as she tried to work up the guts to do a cherry drop. Most of the girls in her class had already mastered the dismount.

Sweaty palms had clenched the bar before she released her legs as she swung and dropped – onto her face. Later, she had winced as the school nurse disinfected the cut on her cheek, the gauze turning red. “I fell,” she said. And for once it was true.

Orange - Comedians - Nick/Greg - G

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one. There are two sausages in a frying pan, and one rolls over and says to other, ‘Man. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?’ And the other sausage goes, ‘Ahh!’” Nick held his hands to cheeks before continuing, “‘A talking sausage!’”

Greg laughed and said, “Alright. You’ve brought this upon yourself. Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”


“Banana who?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Orange you glad I cut this joke short?”

“Why don’t I show you how glad I am….”

No more jokes were told but there was still laughter.

Yellow - Daisies - Catherine - G

Catherine remembered tickling Lindsey’s feet with daisies while humming “You are my sunshine”. She remembered Lindsey’s hands reaching for yellow center of the daisy, reaching for the sun and giggling.

Catherine remembered Lindsey coming home from third grade and announcing that each petal on a daisy was a flower. “When you get daisies, you’re getting hundreds of flowers Mom. Hundreds.”

Catherine remembered daisy chains crowning Lindsey’s head on a hot summer day, the water coalescing on glasses of lemonade.

She wondered when Lindsey had stopped liking daisies, when she stopped seeing the sun – but Lindsey was always her sunshine.

Purple - Primer - Sara Sidle - G

When she was a child, Sara had wanted to paint her walls purple. Instead she got posters from school – fantasy art, science, calming nature scenes…things that took her away.

Grissom offered her a job; Sara went apartment hunting. “Can you paint the walls?”

She painted the living room one morning after a double shift. The coffee poured down her throat as the paint was rolled on the walls. It went smoothly over the surface with no blemishes or holes to mar its surface. She brushed her hair away from her face, a trace of paint left on the smooth plane of her cheek.

Blue - Laid Bare - Grissom/Reader's pick - G/PG-13

It would be so easy to spend time unmeasured studying the blue of his eyes. To describe how they were the windows to his soul and opened new windows to your eyes. And because it would be so easy to do, you don't.

Besides which, nothing about him is ever easy; he demands too much of life for that. He has no rough edges that offer a fingerhold; he is smooth, polished planes that reflect back only you.

And if you can accept that, then you can accept what you see in his blue eyes everytime he calls your name.

Variations 5

I wake up before my alarm goes off, light is filtering dimly past the quilt hung over my window and it brings out the warms tones of your skin. My hand comes up to rub at my eyes and I smile. “Good morning.” We snuggle in, legs tangled, face to face and eye to eye. Your eyes gaze into mine and flicker slightly as they watch your fingers trace my face. I smile, kiss the tip of your nose. My apartment is quiet and I enjoy the way your company fills it. No snooze, my eyes rest easy on you.

Variations 4

My alarm goes off, I throw back the covers and slip-slide my feet along the carpet (step over the internet cord in the middle of the room) and hit snooze the third time. I will treat myself today and take an extra snooze. I return to bed and rest on my left side; my right shoulder aches sometimes when I’ve been sleeping on it too long. Better to switch sides and acquaint myself with different pillows, positions. I wonder if it wouldn’t just be better to set my alarm for thirty minutes later and get the uninterrupted rest. Nine minutes.

Variations 3

My alarm goes off, I throw back the covers and slip-slide my feet along the carpet (step over the internet cord in the middle of the room) and turn off the alarm. I turn on the TV next to the alarm and retrace my path back towards the bedroom. I pause, lean and double tap the space bar of my keyboard. (Wakey-wakey.) I collect my glasses from my bedside table and go to the bathroom with the muted sounds of the Space channel coming from the living room. I pass through the kitchen, start the coffee and go sit down.

Variations 2

My alarm goes off, I throw back the covers and slip-slide my feet along the carpet (step over the internet cord in the middle of the room) and hit snooze the second time. Each time I pass my bookshelf I smell lavender – lavender from BC and from Maui – and it smells so comforting. I crawl back under the covers of my bed and rub my face against the weave of my pillow cover. (Sleepy head.) I like the way the fabric feels and I sigh, settling into sleep. I dream; disjointed fragments of reality and flights of fancy. Nine minutes.

Variations on a theme

My alarm is set for 5am – I have a system of three snoozes. Each snooze break is nine minutes: my alarm goes off, I throw back the covers and slip-slide my feet along the carpet (step over the internet cord in the middle of the room) and hit snooze the first time. My bedroom window is open so when I return to bed it has lost much of my body heat. I snuggle under the covers again, toss a leg over the body pillow and wrap an arm around my hippo to rest my chin on its nose. Nine minutes.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009



Unfinished wood, the raw materials with which you might begin to build something. Shape and form and slide a skin over to create something new, to remodel, to refine. Unfinished wood, with all the natural quirks – whorls – burns and growth – intact and displayed. Unvarnished; the whole truth, nothing but the truth – look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.

Unfinished fashion, raw edges and trailing serge threads that catch in your zipper. Deconstructed and unhemmed lines; messiness and laziness made fashionable and cheap construction rewarded with fancy price tags.

“Not altered from an original or natural state.”

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Spin, spun, spinning. The words come twisting, shaping, tapering down to the wheel from the sternum to pelvis focal point. What tentative mental tweaks and shifts attempt to eliminate the chaff to produce a smooth and strong, coherent, stream to the page, the ear, the heart. Anchored within myself, how long is the line cast to be caught and secured.

Once I read of cloth woven of spun emotions – such light, shimmering cloth of joy and the thorn studded chafing cloth of despair.

So, the words. So, the moments. So, so. Shh, shh. Let the fingers be deft, mind the weft, mind the warp – mind the mind and the waves cast upon its shores.

Compliments Tendered

For all that I enjoy giving compliments in a manner both over-the-top and sincere, I have a difficult time accepting compliments. Nowhere is this more evident than when I am playing soccer. During my most recent game, my coach complimented me during half-time; he said I was playing a solid game and I hadn’t cleared too many balls straight out. I was pleased of course but I could think only of all the balls that I had missed. When I went out onto the field again for the second half I had a hard time focusing and felt oddly self-conscious.

Pretty Ink

I have four tattoos; my last two were done five years ago. I am fighting off the urge to get a new one quite often now. I have thought of one or two new designs and of course there is always my dragon. I was thinking of getting the word “reflect” on my right wrist in the same style as my “quiet” tattoo. I’ve also thought of interlocking circles in an infinity symbol; one circle would be the Stargate and the other would be Xena’s chakram. But of course it always comes back to my dragon in flight design. Someday.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Mountain Air

Growing up in Truckee, a town whose main source of income was tourism, I developed a superior attitude regarding those people who were second-homers or visitors. Any visitor from the Bay Area or lived at sea level was a ‘flat lander’. I have spent the majority of the last nine years at sea level. I am become a flat lander when I return to visit my family.

I have to adjust my breathing. The winters seem colder. In short, I am what I mocked in my childhood.

Yet I am become myself, as an adult and following my own path.

Friday, September 11, 2009

leaf, or: how the title of my poem is actually the poem and not the title. leaf.

Twist and pull, give and take
Stretched out and elongated spine
Arms and breasts high
Eyes drawn closed
Draw down the lines
My jaw
My cheek
My collarbone

My desires
My heart
My mind
Draw down the lines
Lips parted to speak
Words brought so low
Coiled tight and unexpressed
Give and take, twist and pull

Too hasty
To draw down the lines


Free form
Flying form
From free fall
Through it all
To be so grounded
Want to pick up and go
Wings at my feet and
Should I feel so sore
Attribute that lacking
To lack of practice
Stop the useless mutterings
Stand up
And so bare
Without cringing, flinching, censure
And so standing
Stand free to bow
Down to the ground
Pinioned myself
Yet yearning still.


“I find sometimes it’s easy to be myself
Sometimes I find better to be somebody else”
DMB – “So Much To Say”

I can make myself mutable to better suit myself to what I perceive are my current social environments. When I was younger I alternated between quiet reticence and being keen to please others. The latter usually manifested itself in awkward and inappropriate joking and goofing around. The former no one believes of me any longer.

I have a tattoo on my wrist that says “quiet”. To remind me when I should be quieter – I do not have scream to fill the silence – and when I should be louder – I need to speak on my behalf, not just that of others.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

that girl - esthero

that girl

In the bat of an eye you already think about yourself
And I don't believe all the lies coming out of my mouth
Try to forget all the things that I did to myself
And in time I see it fading

One of these things just doesn't belong here
And look at that girl
Oh, I just don't belong here
And look at that girl

Aphrodite tonight, she's lifting up her dress and child
Her stomach is so tight and she feels herself fading

One of these things just doesn't belong here
And look at that girl
I just don't belong here
And look at that girl

And I'll try to catch my own vibe, leave behind the countryside
Who I'll be, when I'll be, cause it's my right to love design

One of these these things just doesn't belong here
And look at that girl
I just don't belong here
And look at that girl

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

singing in the rain

For whatever reason, song lyrics pop into my head for a variety of occasions; usually because some part of the lyrics matches the current events. After my run on Monday in the chill weather of Truckee, I should have been prepared for the return of Fall and Vancouver’s rain. There have been other early mornings when I’ve woken to the patter of steady rainfall. This morning the rain kept coming and as always, “Here Comes the Rain Again” came to mind. I love the song on its own but every time I’m out and it begins to rain, I hum.

here comes the rain again - eurythmics

Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you

So baby talk to me
Like lovers do
Walk with me
Like lovers do
Talk to me
Like lovers do

Here comes the rain again
Raining in my head like a tragedy
Tearing me apart like a new emotion
I want to breathe in the open wind
I want to kiss like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you

So baby talk to me
Like lovers do

Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
(here it comes again, here it comes again)
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you

video here

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

larger than life

Often when the scenes of childhood are revisited as an adult everything seems much smaller or not as clearly defined. I am in the rare position of being able to return to the house I grew up in when I visit my father. I can sleep in either my pre-teen room or the bigger room I moved to as a teenager. The décor of each amuses me and reminds me of each phase I grew through. What is funny is that the bathroom shower remains larger than in any of my apartments. Yesterday morning, I looked up and felt small.

Monday, September 7, 2009

what was that?

I have to make a better effort to write down my ideas when I think of them because I know that I had some ideas while I was running this morning in addition to scattered thoughts over the weekend. Now that I am seated and trying to gather them again however, they are reluctant to come at my beckoning. I’ve always had the problem of not remembering what I’ve come up with – quips will roll off my tongue but as soon as they are uttered they pass into the ether, never to be remembered precisely again. Need some ginko biloba.

ladies in space

For all that I love Star Trek, I have not watched much of the original series. It’s pretty campy and at times the American Way ™ themes can be a bit overpowering. This is a show that it is important to consider in the historical context – what other programming was on the air and the technology available to produce the show. I am watching the pilot episode of Star Trek and it’s a nice nod that the first officer is a woman. They were also one of the first shows to have a woman of color as a main character.

all you need is love

Amazing!S gave a talk about motivation to the half marathon clinic the other night; she spoke about her races but also what got her to those races. One of the things that she mentioned was that she surrounded herself with people who were positive and believed in her. I just spent the better part of my evening with three such women in my own life – one of whom was Amazing!S. She is indeed a sister from another mister; it’s one of those wonderful moments of synchronicity that we are friends. I thank the universe for my lovely friends and family.

Friday, September 4, 2009

queen of procrastination

I am a big procrastinator. It has to be one of my biggest faults: that I will leave off until the last minute most any project. It doesn’t matter how important or vital it is to myself, and worse, or to others. I will still sit on things until the situation reaches a critical point. This is not always the case but I do so frequently.

Take packing. I have never been packed for a trip early. I have always stayed up the night before I left doing laundry, packing and cleaning – getting a catnap if I sleep at all.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

tarot energy

This morning I drew the tarot card “romantic partner”; the deck description says: fairies love romance and they know the importance of feeling passion in a relationship. They remind you that romance is a state of mind and it involves playfulness and creativity.

I think it is interesting on several levels but mostly because I am, at heart, a hopeless romantic. I adore romantic comedies and one of my favorite novels is “Pride and Prejudice”. I can think of no greater thing than by word and deed making someone aware of your regard and affection. To woo and be won.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

sister, sister

Amazing!T is my childhood best friend and she is getting married this weekend. I have not always been there for her and we do not communicate regularly now. Still, were she to call me up and ask me for anything I would gladly give it. She is the first sister of my soul and inexorably linked to my sense of family. She is the first person that I truly loved that was not a blood family member or one of my “aunts” and “uncles”. I hope that the man she is marrying will make her feel happy, beautiful and brilliant.


Oh the irony of the phrase, “write off”. I am going to write off my attempts for August. Normally I would attempt to catch up on my word count but circumstances did not allow for it. Let me revise, circumstances did not make it easy for me to comply with my set goal. Which is no reason at all not to still pursue them and meet them. In fact, it is when times are busiest that it is all the more important that I set aside a moment to write. Life is busy and it’s not going to slow down.