Hello women, How are you all? In good mind, body and health I hope. So I was thinking that I would ask a huge (little) favour of all of you. You see, I'm sort of working on this poem, or play, or story, or research report, or gonzo type project, and I need some other voices and opinions to harmonize with. I know most of you are probably thinking, you don't even know who I am, or perhaps didn't have this woman in a class once, or why does my grand daughter, coach, tutor, research assistant want my help for a poem, or play or story or research report or gonzo sort of thing. It's a cliteracy project (giggle, I know it's a funny word). And I've found that it takes more than one to know one. Cliterature is asking and writing and drawing and photographing and painting gynocentric, woman-positive …things…. You see it all started some months ago when a serious apathy for all things began brewing in this poor little Roo; and I said Maryszka you need to get some good vibes into your education. So I started looking for things that might have both good vibes and things to teach me. I looked all over the place, in books and lecture halls, in shopping malls and hair salons, on the fridge and in the oven, under rocks and in potholes, downtown and up stairwells…and well when I looked up a stairwell I saw something very good that got me vibrating and told me where to look; so I bent over and had a peek between my legs. Low and behold…well I was blushing good vibes and education. So now I'm writing but I want more input. So I'm calling for all of your cliterature. I'm looking for anything: writing, or drawings, photos, or citations that inspire you when you think of what it means to become cliterate: why are you a women? Please don't think I am looking for anything in particular, or profound, or that would take any woman a lifetime to think up. Take it anywhere you want; go downtown, to the gynaecologist's, to the morgue, take it to the birthing centre, the office, the film studio, the bedroom. I just want some ideas, and some voices other than my own. Even if all you've got is a three word response to this email about my strangeness, I would deeply appreciate the sound of your voice. What am I using the voices for? Depends really; strongly poetic voices may be asked to step into the poem, others may be spring boards into the report, and some whispering sorts of voices might be used as titles. It may happen that all your voices remain silent, in which case your silence will act as a sounding board for my mouth to cry about the climbing iccliteracy rates of our communities' women. Questions: just ask. Responses: just email. Want to join the project: just well email that too. I hope to hear from all of you or some of you or one or two of you. And if you know cliterate women who might have a word or two for me, please pass my email along. Mother, sisters, daughter, aunts, grandmothers, co-workers, piano teachers, pastors please…anyone who has a voice. In the mean time, stay strong in mind and body and health. I gift you all peace and mud for making a mess.  ps. men can respond to, the topic, why are you a woman/what makes you a woman/ gynocentric woman-positive… pps. see three examples of cliterate responses, though not necessarily to the question, below. 1. a doodle in alphabet crayons woman smells heavenly cream on salt skin more cream saintly smelling like sweet cream on woman skin 2. Introduction to Ethics <1 .2.2007=""> I had a discussion with a woman, once, about bad education. Or maybe I had the discussion twice. Nonetheless, I've had the discussion about bad education with a woman, or women. We said, there's no music to this education; some days the harmonies are all cacophonous. Coughing phlegm on stiffies and calling it knowledge. Humph, we said, like camels, and giggled…like women do. We said our bad education doesn't listen, doesn't even know that harmonies like drumbeats exists in education. Our bad education insists our drums be quite in class, our class education be quite in drumbeats. My women and I talked about how real education requires fingers and toes. Peripheral collisions of sensory, quiet sensory of course, overtures of input that out bang our drumbeats. The female education needs sand between the toes, oceans to stick our fingers in, and well I don't need to get too detailed about what my women and I discussed. Most of it I couldn't say anyway, decoded giggles, long pauses, hair, fingernails, deodorant. But I discuss with my women, or my woman, when silence breaks into laughter, that nature of sitting up straight, shoulders back ears up legs…closed (a habit we all agree). When silence breaks into laughter, we say humph to this bad education, its time that our education was— do we really need to be introduced to ethics… Professor: Woman this is ethics. Ethics, woman.>

Im not worried, but it is a bit strange

So apparently, I'm a bit of a stern person. It's true. I'm not very patient, particularly with perceived laziness. But, I am very forgiving, well presumably. 

Funny story from seminar though, because usually such confessionals only happen at the bar after class. So, we are in the middle of a class discussion about the "difficulty" level of the readings. Which, I admit, had I not been working in literacy research for the past 3 years I may have found difficult as well. Various classmates were chiming in, and the facilitator asked if i had any input. No, i thought. And one of my most respected classmates, chimed in, "she's probably too busy holding us lesser mortals in disdain, for our simplicity." 

 Is it just me or is that a bit harsh? 

I had no emotional inclination towards any of them. I was just listening to and observing their behavior. Without judging. Or perhaps I was judging it as irrelevant or unimportant. I don't really hold people in disdain, nor do i spend very much if any of my time disdaining anything (except, as i have noted, laziness in myself and those around me). Anyway, i suppose i should put some effort into appearing more lighthearted and sociable (i thought that's what rugby was for)

Yoga like calm...or is that sleep deprivation

i 'wouldn't call myself sleep deprived in the least. in fact I'm diligently developing my talent for being able to wake up at whatever time i want. I just go to sleep and tell myself 6:43, then i picture the time as if i was looking at it on my clock, and next thing i know I'm waking up and it is the time on my clock...of course some times its a bit palindromic or dyslexic...3:46 or 4:36 but its close... So it project season. Generation just sent out its call for submissions on Friday. super exciting. im writing again, finally; that was a far too long silence, it was a weight after Kendall's death, in a way i didn't realize it would be...last term was a fight every step, then i went to see some other peoples projects (the STITCHES display at school, Jackie's couch book, Michelle's mission to cut her electronic ties, a film here, a new language there) and finally my own projects are waking up and having a good morning stretch. 

A new play, i just finished a book Miss Baker gave me, i will supply a review some other time tho, i've stopped drinking for a bit, perhaps till after my first rugby game...detoxing i guess. Started back at the gym, more physio but i haven't gone back to those women...they were too much for me, just fixing my knee on my own.

 Im going to go for acupuncture as soon as I accept the fact that Sun will put needles through the incision scars (which seems like the most painful think i can imagine at the moment, although my breasts are doing a good job challenging that thought). Oh and i made roast beef, to a resounding success, i think it must be that roasting pan, whatever i do in it turns out good... i may have nearly killed one of my Jade plants, it was thoroughly neglected, she's got a priority seat by the window now however, i wouldn't forgive myself for killing her in neglect. 

but i have been organizing my millions of photos and started photoshopping all those hundreds that needed a "touch up" i think i might get some images blown up for the walls...yeah, that would be nice. anyway, projects Ony, always only projects. picked up, and paid for.

academic seppuku

Because i am trying to learn more about Japanese culture, i have decided to commit academic seppuku to better understand how honour systems work. 

They say a Samauri struggles not just for excellence in his defence of his master, but excellence in all aspects of life. I agree, that such excellence is an honourable and noble venture, and so have decided that i will continue with my 5 course course load, not because i have five credits required to graduate (as it is i only need four) but because the fifth course with Jacobs seems totally wicked...eh hem. So i will strive for the same excellence i think most appropriate to the life of a wannabe samauri appreciater. however, should i fail in this attempt i have a mount of term papers and text books which i will launch myself off of...should be fun. So anyway. homework time. atta.

Things that make me happy

Laryngitis. Back to school homework. Creative writing class. Biking to school in the snow, when the snow stops 45 seconds after i have arrived (cause i love biking in the snow when it snows for weeks after i do it and i can sit in the office and watch it snow on the world and think i still get to bike home to hot chocolate in this). Working. 

being an asshole.

i should write

i think i should go ride the rocket around the city and do some writing. its time to remember this place. or well...yea it is time to write at least. stories about penguins, or memories, marriages or games. i'm not sure...well, lets go wake the janitor

Happy Fakemas

Well for all of you out there celebrating Christmas this year, have a good one and put on a little speed for those of us whose families unilaterally converted to another end of December celebration without notice or other such warnings. 

Thats right, this year the Clovis's are celebrating fakemas. Much like its commertial counterpart which celebrates the birth of Santa with icon like the Christmas tree, candy canes, stockings and tinsel, gift giving and general grinch-free activities (such as visiting friends and family) Fakemass too has certain iconic traditions. The first and probably most important is the replacement of the tree with a lamppost...year a Fakemas lamppost which is strung with lights, chocolates and a stolen sombrero that reads Viva Mexico. The lamppost is lit for only an hour a day because of its Fakemas cheer (and the fact that it is mounted with a straw hat) it is an extreme fire hazard to illuminate it for much longer. Of course the 27 years of Christmas tree decorations are not just left in the box this year, they have been hung from the fake ceiling to act as things to hit our heads on...should we need something for hitting a head on this Fakemas Season. (For those of you unfamiliar with what a fake ceiling is, it is what we CLovis's have come to love, after a freak 6 month demolition accident in the spring of 2001 the ceiling of the main living room was stripped leaving onl the rathers. After 2 years of aa rafter roof, mum decided rather than finishing the reconstruction with the traditional drywall or paint she would buy a great big piece of fabric and staple it to the rafters. A great effect if you need somewhere to hang transformed Fakemas decorations) Next the crowd pleasing favorite, christmas morning stockings, hae been held hostage with the following demands, the stockings wil be safely returned once one of the five Clovis Kids procures, for the prima genertura, at least one grandchild (so im sure ou can imagine it may be a while before we see stockings hung by the fakemas lamppost). Until this time, the hostage letter read, the stockings will be relegated solely to their offseason job as rugby socks. Next, instead of the traditional visit to the great aunts for christmas dinner, we will gather round the fakemas fire (made of candles) and eat fakemas dinner at home just the seven of us (plus any other loyal fakemas celebrators...namely Jane and her mum). Finally, the best part of Fakemas, instead of family feuding or fighting, instead of the complications of worrying who got what for whom, instead of wondering whether we want to hang out or get out, we all gather for meals and talk and chat and banter about all the things in the world (except paris hilton) that are worth discussing. From the A&E program on home renovation that promoted not getting building liscences, drinking and shooting at things with rifles, and drinking and driving, to the woman who gave birth to tripets from her two wombs (what thats crazy...i know) to the best ways to introduce waste management reforms across Canada, topics for discussion are usually humours and heartily enjoyed. So enjoy your Christmases and I suppose I'll have to take my Fakemas this year. The beginning of the new traditions. All the best Miss Clovis

sneige!!!! huzzah. December 4 is the greatest

procrastination

killing me....seriously. maybe its time to get back on the bike...oh rocko i miss you...even though we got to ride to school this morning...time for some more good music...or sigh some bad class...

St Valentine's Day Hair Massacre

http://www.active.com/donate/makeawish/daniellep

For the past 4 years, on Valentines day, the Make a Wish Foundation has been facilitating an amazing fundraising event. The Hair Massacre is a mass head shaving extravaganza to generate funds for the amazing Make-a-Wish foundation.

This year, my dearly nutty Danielle is going Blue and Blad for Make a wish!

Below is a link to her donation site, the plan to dye her hair blue for the next few months then join the several hundred other fundraisers in London to try as break the record for most heads shaved under one roof in one day. Last Year the Edmonton head shave had 849 people. London is looking to breaka that.

So check it out, and support Danielle in her awesome quest for Make-a-Wish

http://www.active.com/donate/makeawish/daniellep

accident

i walked down two flights of stairs today, by accident. i didn't realize what i was doing till i reached the bottom step and reached down with my right leg, supporting my full weight through my left leg. walking down stairs is a "week 6 at the earliest activity" my physio said. i don't really like her, she it too scared to work. Im not saying push my leg, i don't want to push my leg, i want to heal, i don't need to be in the olympics in august (though it would be cool). im saying work at the level my body is wanting to work at. I didn't even realize i left my cane at physio today till i got to the bus stop (5 min walk) and had to walk back to get it. I walked down two flights of stairs not thinking, okay lets see how we go but thinking, okay i can go the the grad house drop of my bag, then go pick up some dinner, then work on the couches manuscript. I do think its amazing, we measured this morning: 134 degrees flexion -3 degrees extension (im already hyperextending my knee) and tomorrow ill be three weeks post semitendenosis ACl reconstruction. My incisions are completely sealed, and scar tissue is starting to breakdown. inflammation is almost back to normal. There was some serious atropheeing of the quad and hamstring, but they are already coming back...the calf too. i can leg press 50 lbs 3x10 reps. balance on a wobble board on my operated leg. its been over a week since i took my last pain killer. i can bike to school. What a team i have in this healing. From the pre-op with all its positive energy, the team that had nothing but solutions and ideas. To my surgeon and his operating team. To the post op nurses who let my mum stay and help me through the hardest night of the whole process. To my brothers for providing a fabulous football game while I was to drugged to watch tv. To Nathan and Sean who came from Windsor to babysit, and Michelle who came for a sleep over. Julia, who provided my post-op on-call nursing. Margeurite, my amazing energizer, Healing Touch theraphist, who energized my body and environment, reminding me to stay centred calm and at peace. Dani for doing an application that prolly would have taken a week in one day. Nombuso and Annette for writing letters of ref with 3 hours notice. Mum and dad for driving me back to windsor. And here, my teachers for being patient with my convalescence, everyone for their love, support and get dancing soons. Its really just been a whole bundle of support for this poor little acl. its funny last june when i hurt it, its seemed like this would be a battle, an ordeal, and yet here i am healing as though im getting over a cold, not a surgery. anyway. Thanks everyone, i guess. Gotta pack up. its home time. lady m

Injury, recovery and patience

It seems that like you my faithful readers, i am learning about patience very quickly. Last Thursday I finally, thirteen months after initial doctor contact, had my ACL fixed up nice. The hole experience was exquisite. the doctors, nurses and various caregivers at the Wellsley Orthopedic hospital were just amazing (well not the post surgery nurses on the floor...they were nice but not very good...but thanks to my amazing mum they didn't have to clean up buckets full of vomit they induced). I'll talk about them later. But post op at home has been fabulous, mum and I have been up to all sorts of mischief, making hats that are too small for anyone, doing physio on the kitchen floor, going for very slow walks to the end of the drive way and back, teaching Shihera to appreciate laser technology, going for walks to the bathroom and up and down the stairs, and watching British comedies about widows doing things like opening theaters and growing pot. There's been tones of narcotic induced nightmares, hallucinations and other scary stuff. I think tylenol will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. Mum says it's like when i was a baby and never went to sleep...well i go to sleep now but i wake up about 70 minutes later each time. and do that about 12 times a day. Well last night i had a lucid dream and slept nearly 5 hours straight. I thought i was going to do that tonite too, but mum just made me an icecream sunday (yea sugar high) 

 But let me tell you, everything happens very slowly right now, sometimes i get excited and ahead of myself and am constantly have to remember, slowly Roo, be patient. Patience is a virtue that i only have for other people, but am quickly learning with myself. I have a healer in my care team (well my whole care team is made up of healers) but i have one in particular, who is giving me healing touch therapy. Wow. what an amazing talent she has. She has taught me so much about listening to my cells and body and talking with them. She has energized me so much to aid my healing at all levels from the inside out. But lots has been up, today i had an amazing show of support from Dani and Nathan to finish my JET application, as well as by Dr Dufresne from the CMHA and Nombuso in supply me with letters of support with 2 hours notice (thank you thank you to both wonderful women). I am so nearly graduated. Sigh. I am gearing up for a new edition of Generation. And Sebastien is playing in the Grey Cup on Sunday (17 BC). I touched base with a love from high school today, oh miss jack beautiful to chat again. See you Dec 8. And hmm i suppose thats enough for now. Have a night all (and not a nightmare)

so long a silence

man im just exhausted. Post to follow

the rockinest day of the year

isn't everyday.

Red Sky at night

Mourning is so odd. I just want to celebrate life, and laugh and smile and be thankful for the reminder. And praise the time Kendall devoted to doing the same. And yet with every breath the word is "Are you okay" "I'm sorry" "oh my gosh thats horrible". but never another one of us moves and here we are together. and here we continue in our time. Things get easier, don't they, not harder. We embrace and remember that our inflated egos are mistaken, we are only responcible for being mortal. For the time we have here, and i say now, cause my time is happening now. as is yours if you are reading this, or as you are reading this.

I feel lighter. Thank you and Bless Kendall. Rest now. Good luck. Everyone.

Red Sky

What a beautiful morning. I woke before sunrise, Cocoa was on my chest. Some mornings I cheat, I get up instead of lying in bed and sit on the porch with a cup of tea as the sky turns grey, and flares of red began to creep in at the sides. my porch faces the sunset you see. I moved the dead fig tree so i could have a spot. I thought, I shouldn't be indulging in the sunrise, there is work to do. A paper to write before work, real work. So inside to put away the dishes and take out the garbage; I wanted to stay out to watch the rest of sunrise, but a certain paper called me back inside. Nathan called. "Have a good day; that's an order" imparitive, will do. Danielle called, "Have another question; hating work" find an answer. What a weird day. Beautiful calm peaceful. And now raining, like the worst kind of pathetic fallacy.

At work before the boss. Nothing left over to do, so I continued homework. Emails sent and received. Cut my losses on time, multiply through. Then I thought Dani might have more questions, might need more help, so i logged into MSN. "Rip Kendall Hebret" And I thought. oh. It can't be our Kendall.

I just found out one of my players, from the Belle River highschool team, was killed in a racing accident yesterday. What a weird day. Good luck Kendall, take grace and innocence with you. take love and peace too. take talent and potential energy. good luck Kendall.

And here I am. There is such a beauty that comes with mourning. A peace, a space for reflection, indulgence, laugher. To be closer and more forgiving. Thanks Kendall, for the gift of this space.

Nov 9th

I think I love it most when women squeeze their breasts together and glance down at their cleavage. I don't think we do to check that we have cleavage, or to note that our own tits can be voluptuous like a photo. I think we do it cause its such a comfort to be so close to a bossom. But I do love to see women do it, take a moment just to look. I don't think men can do anything that endearing. Or maybe they can but i don't get it.

i got a date. nov 9th i will be a new sort of whole. hamstrings this is your month!

long sort of silence

its been a while blog. don't worry i haven't forgot about you. I've been ill. of course what else would i be? really, let's consider... i suppose i could have been on a grand adventure, or perhaps have been busy working on a new play or reading a terrible book called Heroine by gail scott...okay its not that bad. its not that interesting...its kind of cliche, but perhaps a bit novel (well it is a novel, but i mean okay im sure you get it)

So i want to go to toronto. Hippy birfde custodian

What is PDT

i think its a time zone, but i haven't a clue which one. i hope it isn't soon. 

OKay. this is going to be a probably blasphemous post, on account of my general ignorance of faith/the faith/things of this nature. It may also be offensive because i am challenging the practices of christians in my life and their practices of faith. 

 problem number one: faithful person X has their msn name "speak lord your servant is listening" i think this is problematic, one because since when does a servant command their master, and two since when is "the lord" anyone's master. What does that mean...to be the master of something? it carries with it connotations of power relations, one who can enact a position of power over another; also it suggests that there is perhaps some sort of debt, or that a master is one with superior (skill/power/intellect) which merits their higher placement in some sort of hierarchy. So why do we make ourselves servants to "the lord"? is servant the right word; i thought the christian god asks for obedience not service. I mean what service to 'him' could we presume to do, that 'he' has not made us capable of, if that is the case isn't it just humble obedience to what good we were created for that we should be acting, rather than command 'him' to direct us as servant pawns? 

 i dunno, i hear too many people claiming their beliefs not as gifts, for which they are humbly thankful, but rather as a reason for their action in the world. which is a problematic and possibly dangerous position...is it not?

little folly

i said to myself this morning, i won't take my book to work because i don't need to carry the extra weight (my back being tight because of the shoulder injury sustained at the Pillon's stepgrandparent party...long story nevermind) and now im sitting in the office thinking, mhmm maybe i should go home cause i have nothing to do, but i'm sure there are still things that need doing, but the big boss aint here. ho hum.

So its all fairweather i suppose.