My friend is totally grumpy until he has a puff (& he has to smoke almost everyday) - is that addicted?
When I was in art school, I studies ceramics for a while. I liked it and, the more I worked at it, the better I got. As students, we produced copious amounts of "sometimes beautiful, sometimes functional, sometimes not" bowls, vases, plates, cups, mugs, pots, etc. As a cancer survivor, I came up with the idea of donating handmade mugs to the BC Cancer Agency Foundation's gift shop in order to help raise funds for the cancer hospital. If my idea was successful, maybe it could become an ongoing thing! Excited, I spoke to my instructors, then I spoke to the hospital foundation and everyone loved the idea. I pitched the idea to the students in my class and put posters up around the ceramics studio asking for donations of handmade mugs to help raise money for the BC Cancer Agency. We set up a couple of shelves in one of the studio cabinets and labeled the cabinet clearly so folks would know where to leave their finished mugs. We ended up with a small but nice selection of mugs and even some of the instructors – all talented ceramic artists – donated a few mugs as well. On the Friday that I went to the studio to pick the mugs up to take them to the hospital gift shop, most of the mugs were gone, including every single mug that the instructors had donated. As I stood there, box dangling from my hand, wondering how this could have happened, the ceramics tech came by and told me that I should have locked them up. At the time the ceramics studio was card-access only (burning hot kilns and some highly toxic ingredients for making custom glazes made this a necessary safety protocol) so only a small group of students, instructors, techs and the maintenance staff had access to the studio; I figured that was enough security to keep the mugs safe from random thieves. Besides, who would steal from a hospital fundraiser? Any money that was generated would be going towards helping people who were fighting for their lives! I guess I was naive. I took all the posters down, informed the instructors, and made a humiliating call to the hospital foundation. The mugs may not have raised a ton of money, even if my idea had become an ongoing partnership between the school and the hospital but, as any hospital administrator will tell you, every little bit helps. I hope that the stinking, sh*t-soaked piece of human garbage that stole all those mugs remembers what s/he did when they find themselves in the cancer hospital that they stole from. Considering that one in three Canadians gets cancer, the chances are high that either s/he or someone s/he cares about is going to need the hospital's help at some point in their lives. Karma's going to bite you hard, a**wipe. Enjoy your coffee.
I. Am. Learning. Great. Patience. Oh. My. God. I week of chaperoning around Vancouver with her is worth years in some Tibetan monastery.
All I want to do is sing. But that is the thing I am most afraid to do. Why is it like that? Why are the things that are so close to our hearts the things we are most terrified of expressing? I know not everyone is like that, some people are just totally free and don't seem self-conscious about expressing themselves. But I have a bird in my heart that wants to fly, and I keep it caged, repressed, barely alive, and show it to no one. It's so painful but I keep doing it.
I confess that I’m feeling sad because I’m not in love anymore. It was like a constant that was always there, even though it was mostly heartbreaking. Now that I’ve realized that I don’t feel the same way about him, letting it go for one last time feels bittersweet. Now I have to get my mind wrapped around the idea of meeting someone new for the first time in so long. It’s daunting but exhilarating all at once. Single guys in your 50’s, I’m looking for you!
I'm not doing it anymore. It's not as rebellious. That was 99% of the fun.
I’m honestly okay living the rest of my life without a blowjob. I’ve been there and had my fill with that.
I left the bar at last call and walked home. Then realized that I had locked my bike outside of the club and had to go back so it didn't get stolen...
Its astounding how much a new manager can turn a job I loved into a place I dread going to every day. I actually thought I'd found a perfect fit but now I'm trying as hard as I can to find a new job.
It was my birthday this week. It's a day or early morning reflection for most people I think. I am so happy that I was born in Canada. I'm so happy I lived during a time when there was no internet and or cell phones. When you passed someone on the street you'd make eye contact and say hello. You respected other humans that were in your space, period. I'm happy that I have gained the power of knowledge by making many mistakes. I'm glad i've seen the world and it has humbled me. I'm glad I don't love freely, keep my circle tight and invest in it. The thing that made me the happiest this week, is waking up calm and zen-like. Happy to feel happy with what and who I have and need nothing more besides health.