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Not My Blog
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Tuesday, May 15, 2012
3 Signs That You Do Not Know How to Drive in a Traffic Circle/Roundabout:
1. You think there are alternating rights of way at all entrances to the circle.
Heresy, here. I can't believe how monumentally bored I am with "Game of Thrones." I know that most fantasy fiction isn't to my liking, with some notable exceptions (Pullman, particularly). So I accept that the fault is mine, not the book's. But sword sword dwarf fight wolf dress sword sex BLAH BLAH FREAKIN' BLAH.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Yeah, yeah. "The Hunger Games." I had heard about this young adult book series when I was still living on the RR and had access to a great many authors for free. A housemate had an audio copy of THG, but I came across a hard copy last summer. The first instalment was quite readable, even with its "and-then-what-happened," or basic, plot line. I decided to give the whole trilogy a try, despite hearing Howie T's voice in my head: "Why do these things always come in THREES?" So I downloaded the second and third books, and commenced to read. I was disappointed. Just like the Mormon vampire books, the first was okay, and the subsequent books dwindled into the basic formula of "I like two guys and they really like me, and I know I have to choose, but . . . like, this is such a hard choice, you know?" Blah, blah, blah. Is it me, or is everything turning into goddamned Facebook? Go ahead and post about what you wore and how hot that dude was, but don't publish the damn thing and call it literature. And no, I don't think I'll spend $20 to see THG in 3D. I'll be off now to kick at a puppy and drive the neighbours mad with the squeaks of my rocking chair on the porch.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
2011: Hit Rewind. Far from my best year. In fact, one of the tougher years of my life. It has been the year of heartbreak and setback. Currently I'm farm-sitting formy cousin L. in Washington state, with lots of time to reflect on the past year. Here it is in a nutshell: The oldest friendship of my life came to a sudden end in July, coupled with a move away from the farm. I was asked to leave the farm and given manifold family reasons as to why such a difficult decision was necessary. This was hard, and it has not been easier over the first few months as I realized that (a) the reasons were spurious, and (b) this decision was apparently made at least a year prior to the fateful day in July when I got the notice to leave. I suppose a more detective brain than mine might have seen the signs over the intervening months, but at any rate, I didn't. So: friendship over.
Forgiveness? Oh, no problem. I have forgiven the old friend, the co-instigator of my expulsion from my new home. I understand why this person did what she did. But I do not want to be around anyone who could do such a thing. Good people can do bad things and still be good people. I still don't want to be around the ones who've purposely done a bad thing to me. But the real heartbreak was Piper's death at the end of September. I am haunted by her final moments still, and I miss her terribly. I almost feel like one of Philip Pullman's characters who's had her daemon severed. Yep, I know: Piper was a dog, not a human. But in terms of losing a loved one, well. I've had beloved dogs die before, but none as much a part of my life as the varmint Pipes. Setbacks: work. There are many yoga teachers in greater Victoria. Being an older teacher, one who is still a big-framed peasant, is a disadvantage. Growing this career, if I decide to do so, may require relocation in addition to the ongoing quest for muscle tone. I just want to make this decision based on my own goals, not because my life has been fucked over this year and I want to run as far away as possible. ; I know I'm still one of the luckiest people on this planet, even as unhappy as I currently am. My father and brothers have been supportive in their way. My remaining friends have been steadfast and kind. So what did I learn? That even people you think you can trust forever can prove to be merely human and prone to fucking up colossally and irretrievably. Someone who's made as many missteps as I have over the decades shouldn't be surprised when others make them. Summary: bad year. What's important is not to consider that the past three years were a terrible mistake and waste of time, and that I should never have tried something new. Miles Davis said there are no mistakes. There was no guarantee of untrammelled happiness. If I'm to continue, then I have to look beyond the inevitable heartbreaks of life. People overcome heartbreak and loss. But I will not apologize for calling the events of 2011 heartbreaks or setbacks. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm feeling bad because shitty things have happened. I hope this feeling will pass and my flame will stop sputtering and once again burn brightly. Still, only a few more hours left in 2011. Thank fuck. Thursday, October 06, 2011
 Easy to Love. Piper was a shy puppy. I picked her up from a farm when she was four months old, and she was solemn and reserved. She perked up when we got to Jean's farm, with Doc and Diesel rocketing around her. That evening, she quietly curled up at my feet and slept profoundly after the day's events. She waggled her stubby bum in her sleep as I scratched her and talked to her. Easy.Friday, September 30, 2011
2004-2011. Adieu Piper, aka Varmint, Piper T. Beastie, Piperty-puppitty, Pipes, Beastly Dog, Red Mutt. You were definitely a character. One I'll never forget. Goodbye, sweet pup. And thanks to the kind vet and technicians at Elk Lake Veterinary Clinic. Your compassion was much appreciated. Goodbye, Piper sweetness.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Well, what a surprise. Over the past three days I've encountered two people who irritated me profoundly. The first was a young know-it-all who was attending the same seminar I was. She was the classic keener, always breaking into the discussion to show off how much she knew. Of course, she didn't really know much -- one of her pronouncements was that " 'Ego' is Latin for 'mask'." Um, no, it is not. "Ego" is Latin for "I." As in "I am very tired of you constantly sounding off."
The second was someone I had met nearly a dozen years ago, and who had been on the annoying side back then. This time she had an opinion on everything, even when she confessed to knowing very little about a subject. Also, her opinions were almost always negative. Example: she asked how long I had spent in teacher training for Bikram yoga. "Nine weeks," I replied. "ONLY nine weeks? How can you possibly learn enough in so short a time?" Was she a yoga teacher? No, but she had practiced yoga 20 or so years ago. I started to explain that the Bikram training is one of the most in-depth courses available, then caught myself in time. Explaining anything to such a person is a waste of goddamned time. To this add almost constant interruption -- obviously it's an unconscious habit with her, but it's the kind of behaviour that makes me livid. And if you're about to tell me that I found these two females vexing because they displayed my own most aggravating characteristics, you can hold off. Yes, I'm still kind of a know-it-all, but I can occasionally refrain from sharing my unbelievable genius with others. But I really, really don't interrupt others all the time. And if I don't know anything about a subject, I try to keep my fat mouth shut. Hardest of all was the decision. The decision I've been dreading for the last two months. But after an episode yesterday I realized I had merely postponed the inevitable. Compared to it, the ending of my longest friendship, the move, the current uncertainty . . . all trivial. Another difficult choice on a related matter was also made, but again, it's minor when set against the first. I'm thankful to have L. and B., who know how hard this decision is, on my side. Bless you both. Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Paradise, Paved. A month ago, July 15, 2011, I was asked to leave the farm. The official story is that the farm owners have had a family upheaval and need the room.
In July of 2008, I was finally convinced to move from my home in Calgary, Alberta, to start a new life on the farm in Victoria. This convincing took awhile, but was at last accomplished, and I left for Vancouver Island in December 2008. Farm chores, happy dogs, owning a horse . . . in many aspects it was a lifelong dream come true. But not all dreams last. Useless to say, now, that if I'd been told I could make my home on the farm only as long as it was convenient for the housemates, that would have changed matters considerably. Indeed, now, the only thing to do is celebrate what was good, like the farm lifestyle, the retraining as a yoga teacher, meeting new friends. And adjust to the new circumstances while planning ahead. Heartbreak and loss happen to many, if not most of us. If I think about the survivors in Japan and Oslo, whose 2011 can also be filed under "Never Again," I can put my own grief into perspective. Yet it is real grief. And I refuse to apologize for that. I had written a previous post listing the particulars of how this heartbreak was brought about, and was confronted this morning by one of the instigators about its tone and content. I can't tell you how tempting it was to say something flippant and fuck-offish. But that's giving in to my darker instincts. Hatred only wants more. So I deleted the post and have replaced it with this. It's not the whole story, of course. I'm reminded again of one James Richardson's 10-second Aphorisms: "Time heals. By taking even more." I don't know how long it'll be before I feel more balanced, or happy. But while this has definitely wrecked my summer, or perhaps my year, it's not going to wreck my life.
Copyright © 2000-2011 Jane Farries
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