Hey it's Christmas

Everything feels wrong.

Focus on the positive. He's not in pain anymore. You're not moving forward without him, he's right there with you. Fuck you. Fuck that.

He's a little kid staring at the camera for his grade school photo. Each year as his teeth buck out further and his hair gets thicker, his smile gets smaller. He could have conquered the world, now he can hardly conquer elementary school.

I read a snippet of an interview. The person said each year the magic dies and the reality that the person won't jump out from behind a bush or meet you in the street becomes more real...

I'm tired. I'm always tired. I want to run and run and run and never stop.

Thank you

You're all around me, making each day a little easier.

Moving

We're sitting on a train letting the rhythmic bump-bump, bump-bump, lull us further into our catatonic state. Our eyes are empty. White sockets. No once else rides the rails, just me and my family. We boarded a week ago. We have no idea where we're going, just that one day we might get there.

We huddle together for dinner. We talk about the weather. We talk about the flowers. We talk about the food. We pay attention to the door that leads into the next car. We wait for it to open. We wait for someone to walk down the aisle to join us. We don't talk about waiting though, because we all know we'll be waiting forever.

1:23

I just need to know you're beyond this gravity ridden world and experiencing something greater than we can ever comprehend. I know J knows, but I really need to know to.

I love you forever.

For Shane

There are a million and one things I want to say to you. But all million and one are trying to get out at the same time and to be blunt, it's all pretty fucking confusing.

Confusing.

I'm confused how we got to this point so quickly. I'm confused how I didn't know I should have been here earlier.

Should have.

I should have listened harder. I should have jumped off my silver lined cloud and joined you in reality.

Reality.

You're gone. You've passed. You're dead.

Dead.

I feel fucking dead inside.

My older brother. My watchful eye. My guardian. My protector. My frustration. My pain. My hope. My love.

You mean more to me than you will ever know. Or did you know? Years ago I wrote a 'life's list' of things to do. Learn to drive standard. See a moose. Travel. Get to know Shane. See quicksand...

Maybe we didn't have the deep philosophical conversations I thought we were supposed to have and maybe I didn't know your deepest secrets, but when I take a deep breath and calm myself from all the should of's would of's could of's, I'm reminded that in the last two years we said I love you more than any other time in our lives. We sat quiet together, as you and I could, and we shared tears. We shared love.

You knew I loved you. I will always know how much you loved me. Love me. Because even though I can't call you on the phone or send you an email or look in the family room to see you anymore, I still know that you love me. I will always feel your love for me.

You are special beyond words, Duke Shane Larson. And as much as you felt protective over your sisters, your sisters felt the same way about you. And although we can't protect you anymore, we know you're in the best possible company until we see you again.

I love you so much. I miss you ever more.

oh

It's a funny thing to migrate to an online blog when your world feels at a panicked standstill. Like somehow the internet fairies are going to make it all better.

Please do that now, little binary buddies. Make me feel better. Make my mom and dad and sister and brother in law and nephew and grandpa and friends and relatives feel better. Maybe you can give us all a pain patch. Use your magic to reach through the screen and soothe our sorry souls because this world is going to lose someone very special soon and aside from magic, I got nothing.

Gump

I remember when my friend was dying of cancer years ago, I went for a run through trails we used to walk. It was a crisp, sunny day. The leaves were turning colour and the ground smelled of moist soil.

I ran and I ran and I ran and I ran.

I ran over a little bridge, through the wetlands and back again. I was running because I thought I was fat. At some point, I stopped. And I cried.

I looked at my feet. I thought of my friend. I thought of how pathetic the reason I was running was. I thought about how he'd never be able to run again, and how I was out there punishing myself for eating too much. I was running because I thought I had to, and he would never be able to run again. I was beating my perfectly healthy, strong, capable body, and he was dying.

Today was one of those days where reality set in. My brother is dying. He won't be able to run anymore. I sat on a rock on a beautiful beach in Hawaii surrounded by bustling coworkers, crashing waves and the howling wind and I stared at my shoes. My feet. I thought about how strong they were. I thought about how embarrassed I was for telling someone my day was just 'okay' only minutes before. I thought about how on any given day, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I run.

I run to get water. I run to the car. I run to get lunch. I run to the bathroom. I run and I run and I run.

Sometimes people tell me to slow down, ask what's the rush? Why am I running? And I simply say, because I can.

Blonde.

Sometimes I bounce my legs so fast when I'm sitting I get dizzy. I stop for a minute, let the spell pass, then start up again. I'm not 100% sure, but I might be the smartest person in the world.

Germans. Can't live with em...

Random German Dude - I'd do you with your glasses on.

Me - But not with them off?

RGD - No. Unless I was drunk.

How to wear fur casually

In flight services

I've been on two planes in the last three days and I feel the safety demonstration is aimed directly at me. And my family.

In case of emergency, oxygen masks will fall from the ceiling above. If you are traveling with someone that requires assistance, make sure to secure your mask before helping them. Because if you don't, you are no good to those around you. Not only will you die, but you will have inadvertently caused the death of the person you are trying to help.

11

Sometimes I feel farther away than I've ever been, and then I think to myself, self, you've never felt close to where you've been. If your own brain can make you feel like you're sailing the ocean on a brittle piece of ice, then what hope do you have for ever feeling sound with another person?

The highs and lows. The highs and lows.

In my world the most peaceful thing out there is water. It will cure what ails you. Period. I often think of myself, on the verge of scream crying, shaking to the core, unable to support my own body weight, and all it takes is falling into the ocean to feel at peace with the world again.

A world that goes momentarily silent.

Momentary silence.

My brother is 34. He may not make it to 35. He may not make it to 36. He may not make it so on and so on. I wish I could walk into the ocean with him. We'd close our eyes, we'd fall backwards, and all our problems would float away. The ocean would cleanse him. The ocean would cleanse us.

My stomach is full and my head is hitting the ground. I want to empty it out. All of it. I want to puke up his cancer. I want to puke up my frustration. I want to puke up the stress my family packs with them everyday.

I'm legal bitches!!!!!!!

Bring on YVR.

7:00 am

William Shatner singing a newly conceived rendition of "Take My Breath Away."

I wake up, snuggle Doc, talk to Brad, scratch the cat, stretch, then hear Take My Breath Away breeze through my head and smile. Cheapest entertainment there is.

5:45 am

Some people say your front teeth are 9% of the outfit.

Wait for the routine

I live in an english speaking city with millions of people and yet at this moment, I feel depressingly alienated.

Going home and coming home is hard to do.

Dream it up Chris, I'm about to.

You - What is that?

Me - A description.

Y - Of what?

M - Someone I tried to love for a very long time.

Doc Holliday

Oh you.

Sometimes days are rough and even though you know you have a charmed life, you want to complain about the inconveniences. Then you're in the kitchen washing dishes and your boyfriend is drying and your dog is lying at your feet and your cat is sitting as close to the dog as she's ever dared and you realize you have a nice little family and everything feels alright again.

Wishes are for fishes

I wish I wrote this:

"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering."
— Nicole Krauss (The History of Love)

Qualifying for life

Interviewer - What's one thing we should know about you, Marcie?

Me - I like to do things fast.

Int - I'm sorry?

Me - I like to do things fast.

Int - Yes I heard you, I'm afraid I don't understand you.

Me - Walking, driving, talking, running, typing, eating... everything. I like to do it fast. Slow drives me crazy.

Int - So you're saying you're impatient?

Me - No. I'm saying I like to do things fast.

Yowza!

I think the most romantic sexy song in the world is "You're The One That I Want" from Grease.

Shit girls. Can I get a new pair of panties, or what?!

Amazing, like the song.

I truly believe these commercials make our world a better place.

Papa can you hear me?

Last night, Brad, Trevor and I caught a movie which was followed by an intimate gathering of close personal friends. Except the movie was a red carpet premiere and the gathering was in the hollywood hills at a multimillion dollar mansion.

I don't want to name drop, but we were two rows behind a woman otherwise known as "Babs." That's right, we were breathing the same air as Barba... I mean, Babs Streisand. I'm pretty sure I could sell the clothes I was wearing on eBay and there would be a bidding war between a fabu homo in West Hollywood and an equally fabu homo in small town Poland, just because they were in the vicinity of her holiness. But as usual, I digress. So we watched the movie and boogied over to the wee house party.

After Trevor and I excused ourselves and pardoned ourselves through Oscar winners and someone I tastefully deemed Phil Spector, we were surprised to find a table covered in designer cupcakes, chocolate covered strawberries and other such deserts. An hour and a half later, Trevor left long enough to stand in line next to Diane Lane, order a Corona Light, and get the evil eye for being a pussy bitch that drinks Corona Light. Once back in the comforting glow of the cupcakes and after I had made fun of him for ordering a Corona Light, we left the table and joined Brad outside.

All night we had been eyeballing an older woman (albeit a hot one) in an impossibly tight dress and her young daughter in an even tighter dress, wondering, who the hell are these people? Then our questions were answered and we all felt the dumber for not previously cluing in. It was the forty year old director's twenty year girlfriend and her mom.

After our faces turned red with stupidity, we decided it was time to leave. We sashayed our way around the pool and after successfully not falling in, went into the humble abode in order to say goodbye to the host. At this point Trevor pointed out a starlet whose initials are Megan Fox and her boyfriend whose initials are BAG. They were sitting on a couch like casual humans and I couldn't help but snap a photo and send it to my contact at Star Magazine with the caption, "Stars! They're just like us."

We drove home and wondered to ourselves when we'd be able to afford the paint for the gate that surrounds the multimillion dollar mansion and I couldn't help but recite to myself; the happiest people don't have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything they have.

Interesting

I tried to search "unattractive children" in the search bar of my web browser, and it immediately tried to change my search to "attractive children."

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

My name is Marcie, I'm 29 years old and I'm an addict. I'm addicted to meth. And by meth I mean change.

Everyday I struggle with the reality that I'm not really doing anything. I've never 100% committed to a career goal which makes me feel like I'm not working towards anything. And it drives me insane. I'm a talker more than a doer and although I will eventually get around to doing what I talk about, it takes way longer than it should. I have a million and one great plans and ideas, but I execute about .5% of them. I feel like I want to blame our society for turning us into commitment phobe barbarians with the attention spans of gnats, but that would be too easy. It's always easy to not take responsibility. For the life of me, I just can't figure out the answer to the simple question we've all been asked since we were little.

"What do you want to do with your life?"

Well teacher, I want to go aboard the Steve Irwin and fight the evil Japanese whaling ships. I want to be a nutritionist. I want to write movies. I want to save the marine life in the gulf of mexico. I want to be a fitness coach. I want to be in sketch comedy. I want to write for a kids TV show. I want to work at an animal refuge. I want to be an advocate for mentally challenged people. I want to produce my own movies. I want to be amazingly passionate about something. Anything. Just pick one.

I want to take the amazing opportunities that are falling in my lap everyday and eat them. I want to stuff them deep down inside me and take full advantage of them. Instead, I sit on the computer writing in an online blog. There's only one thing to be said for the frustration I feel -

Oy vey!

My main man

Whenever the opportunity arises, I like to talk about my KC. And when the opportunity doesn't arise, I like to make it. I think about him countless times in a day. I like to wonder what he's doing, then text my sister and ask for a photo of him at that exact second.

Skypeing him makes my day because he's so interactive. He asks me what I'm doing and where Brad is and where the cat is. We go back and forth smacking our faces and yelling "D'oh!" We make noises with our tongues. After 10 or 15 minutes of this, Shanna will try and get him to move so she can talk, and he'll growl at her that it's his chair and he's not done. Then we'll smack our faces a few more times. Then he'll tell me he misses me and on particularly vulnerable days, that I make him sad. Ugh. Such little words, such incredible force.

A lot of people I know are having kids. They've grown up and are making the leap from child, to parent. I'm sure one day down the line I'll decide it's what I want as well, but for the time being, the thought doesn't appeal to me. Mainly because I don't think any other child in the world could compare to KC. It's as though I don't want to share my heart. I feel that although I know there's enough love to go around, I don't want there to be. I feel like I'd be cheating on him. When the time comes, I joke I won't like his brother or sister as much as I like him. But the truth is, I'm not joking. I just don't think it's possible. I know I'll love them and they'll be very special to me and I would end my own life for theirs, but deep down inside I know KC will always be my favourite.

Good things of the day...

My nephew's bedhead (artist's rendition)...

My boyfriend's movie has begun its journey of world domination...

Holey nightmare

Next time you find yourself complaining about where you live, think about THIS.

A little too clear

My beau and I went camping this weekend and it was wonderful. Nature makes me feel whole. It makes me feel strong. It makes me feel like a little kid that can conquer the world. It also makes me feel like my brain takes a vacay onto a distant planet whenever I fall asleep because I have the most unusually vivid dreams. Even more vivid than normal. Some are good, some are not so good. Case in point. (Is that actually the saying?)

I dreamt one of my friends and his boyfriend were going to have a baby. And that they had conceived it. T told me the good news and we had a very casual conversation about how he was pregnant and how he was going to give birth out of his asshole. He wasn't worried about the pain, but hoped he didn't have an orgasm while giving birth. We shared a laugh and I said I was sure he'd be fine.

The final countdown came and he went into labour. For the first time I thought to myself, how odd. My two male friends are having a baby. I guess there won't be any breast feeding. I wonder what their parents will think. Oh, how the world has changed! Anyhow, he gave birth and then left the hospital. The weird catch was that because he was a man, he had to leave and couldn't see his baby for two days. (At this point he disappeared for awhile.)

So, I went to their house and met V who had just picked up his new baby girl... in a shoebox. I questioned why she was in a shoebox, but much like the pregnancy in the first place, it just wasn't a big deal. I realized I was in a great position because I'd be able to be the female influence on their baby, then I remembered V had a dog and asked if I could have it since they probably didn't want to get fur all over the baby.

At this point I blinked and the day changed or there was one of those weird dream transitions and T came home. (To be exact, we were standing in an alley on a steep hill next to a wooden fence that sat atop a cement retaining wall. The sun was setting. It actually reminds me of a place I went when I was in Spain in 1999. Sometimes I think I've done a ton of acid because I have flashbacks of the most random places, but having never done acid, it must just be my brain partying. I digress.) T came home and suddenly the baby was gone. I asked where she was, and him and V laughed and laughed at me. T couldn't believe how gullible I was. There was no pregnancy! There was no baby! They were just playing a practical joke and I fell for it! Pfft, colour me red.

I woke up and felt kind of dirty. (There was a lot more to the dream by the way; including Brad's old assistant being pregnant and having turned into a white african princess, Justin Timberlake, like, five other babies, my dad's house, my cousin, sister, mom, dad's ex girlfriend, blah blah blah. As is my style, the dream was pretty epic.) Back to me feeling dirty. So I told Brad about it and had a hard time telling him all the details because, well, it meant that some part of me was thinking about my friend's asshole. And another part of me was obsessed with babies. To be honest, I don't know which part makes me feel dirtier.

On a lighter note, here's a picture of my new favourite camping accessory. A $7 fur coat I found at a garage sale in Idyllwild, California.

Dr. Mario

She walks into the tiny waiting room. In the 8' x 7' x 10' room, there are two doors, two chairs, and no receptionist. She tries to open the second door and finds it locked. She presses an intricate doorbell, and after hearing nothing, presses it again. Unsure if she's even at the right location, she shrugs to herself, sits down, and waits.

And waits.

She wakes up to the sound of a telephone ringing. She wipes the drool from her chin and notices, for the first time, a small cupboard carved into the wall, next to the second door. She opens the cupboard and picks up the phone.

She - Hello?

LW - The doctor will see you now. (click)

She hangs up. She tries the second door and this time, finds it unlocked.

She's stunned by the massive room she walks into. The massive empty room. She looks around her. Nothing except fours walls with a calming mauve paint.

LW - It's rude to keep the doctor waiting. He's a very busy man, as I'm sure you can tell by the waiting room.

Where did the voice come from?

LW - Keep walking. What kind of person enters a room and doesn't move beyond the door?

Good point. She walks towards the voice. At the very end of the massive room, she sees a large, beautifully made up woman sitting behind a desk. To one side of the woman is an examination table. To the other, a plant. She sits in the chair directly in front of the woman's desk.

LW - May I have your form?

Blank stare.

LW - You didn't fill out the form? (groan) Very well. Please fill it out now. But be fast about it. The doctor's a very busy man.

She stares at the form the woman hands her. Or better yet, the book. There are over 100 pages. Each page has over 25 questions.

She - I should fill out this whole thing?

LW - Do you expect us to guess?

She begins by writing her name... Over an hour later and after the large woman has eaten two peanut butter and jam sandwiches, she hands the book back. The large woman flips through the pages, scanning each one.

LW - Very good. The doctor will see you now.

She watches in horror as the large woman gets up from her desk, and shreds the book she's just filled out. Before she can object, a cough BOOMS throughout the room. She looks around her, but doesn't see anyone else. The large woman sits down again and groans her exasperation.

LW - Are you always this rude?

She - Excuse me?

LW - The doctor. You're keeping him waiting!

Dr - No need to be impolite, LW. You haven't told the poor girl where I am.

Again, the voice BOOMS throughout the room, but after swiveling in her chair, she sees there's no one else in vast space.

LW - Oh! Of course! And here I thought she was just a rude little beast of a girl.

More confused than ever, she looks back at the large woman, whose face has softened and is now pointing to an ornate stand alone magnifying glass sitting on her desk. She hesitates only as long as the large woman's impatience allows, then looks through the glass.

Astonished, she sees a teeny tiny area rug, holding a teeny tiny desk, and a teeny tiny chair holding a teeny tiny man.

Dr - Hello dear.

Again she flinches and looks around the room, trying to figure out his voice.

Dr - (laughing) I'm afraid without the microphone and sound system, I'd sound like nothing more than a high pitch annoyance. So tell me, LW, how can we help this young lady today?

LW - Well Dr, she's concerned with the fact that she's an emotional robot stuck in the body of an oversized elephant. She's noticing that the relationships around her seem to be going the way of the dodo bird and she'd like to know why. Better yet, she'd like to know why she doesn't care. She also wants to know what it feels like to feel. And she wants to know what's it's like to think of people other than herself. She puts on a very good front and for the most part has people convinced she's a genuinely caring person, but she's finding it harder and harder to keep the act up. All she thinks about is food and how unattractive and (cough) fat she is. She read your ad in the Post and would like you to help her flip the switch.

She looks at the large woman in utter shock.

LW - What? You didn't think I'd make you fill out that stack then shred all the information, did you? I assure you, I'm not interested in wasting anyone's time. (under her breath) Unlike some people...

Dr - Oh, LW, lighten up! Now dear, I have no problem helping you, but before I do, I want you to understand that once the switch is flipped, there's no going back. Are you 100% about having this procedure done?

She - Um, I think so.

LW - Are you trying to make a mockery of this very busy man!? Does "um, I think so" sound 100% sure to you? Because it certainly doesn't sound 100% sure to me. Maybe you should leave and come back in months when --

She - NO NO! I'm sure! Please don't make me wait 6 months. I'm desperate! I need help and you're my last line of defense. I'm worried that if the switch isn't flipped soon I'll wither away and die.

LW - (sigh) A little dramatic, no?

Dr - You say dramatic, I say passionate, LW. Our girl is 100%! Hold all my calls and prep the room for surgery. We have a switch to flip!

Thug life say whaa!?

I was delivering flowers all weekend and ended up in Compton today. As I was standing there in my birkenstocks filling my car with gas, a sleek black machine (car, not man) with no front bumper pulled up next to me. Blaring none other than, California Love, by my man Tupac.

Perfect.

Oh baby oh baby

You know those ear wax candles? You lay on your side and hold a wax candle (cause there's another kind...) in your ear. Then you light the other end of it and somehow it pulls all the wax out of your ears. Or maybe it pulls it into the candle. Either way, I need something like that, but for my brain. I would like to be able to lie on my side, put something in my ear, set fire to it, then have all my stress and worries flow out of my ear, down the side of my face, and pool on the cushion below me.

I'm thinking this is a very good business and am currently accepting resumes and sketches from potential inventors. I'm fair, you'll get 50% of the cut.

Calling all posi vibes

We need you in full force tomorrow (Tuesday.) Well, Jason needs them to be exact. Who is Jason you ask? Why does he need posi vibes you quip? Shhhh, less talk. More energy. Let's pump it out there, people!

DCC

You leave countless heavy hearts, but even more loving memories. The sun came out today. Pretty sure it was you.

Nuttin, honey

My darling knee (one of my favourites) is acting up on me today. I have one knee that doesn't like running and walking, and one knee that doesn't like getting up from chairs. I've been taking my Grandpa approved Sierra Sil, so what the fuck man? I don't like the thought of being slowed down. I have things to do. Sweat to be sweated and muscles to be exercised.

Man, war is hard! Those peeps in the Congo have no idea...

Revisiting Butter

I've heard from a few of you (yes, people read this thing) that you're confused by my sad news about my bff, butter. Let me explain.

I look like I did in grade nine. No, I'm not talking about the brown lipstick (sadly,) I'm talking about my teenage acne. I also have something new happening. My lips are dry. And not just dry from too much wind, but they seem to have a waxy film over them. And up in the top little mountains, they're peeling. That my dears, doesn't happen to me. And it feels sick. Like I put my mouth in wax paraffin and forgot to take it off.

Upon discussing my acne and wax lips with a few companions, it was brought to my attention that I might be dehydrated. I pondered this whilst sucking back on a coors lite. I have been drinking more now that I have some buddies here and Brad and I are all about getting social, but could that be it? The only other beverage I drink is water. Wait, I had been getting cheeky with the coffee and coffee does seem to be zit inducing and dehydrating. Then we discussed the wild dinner Brad and I were taken out for the other night. We had steaks the size of my head and lobster and cream spinach and more spinach and fried things and carrot cake and it all probably cost more than my post secondary education. The next day I felt like I had a horrible hangover. Horrible! I woke up in the middle of the night needing water. So maybe I WAS dehydrated! Then we thought, what am I eating that I wasn't eating before? Meat. Pure and simple. That could attribute to the lips, but the acne?

As we discussed I wandered into the kitchen for a snack of steamed greens and butter. I was quickly reminded that I am intolerant to dairy and a total idiot because I eat so much butter and what is butter made of? Cream. And what does cream give you aside from the toots and poops and cramps? Acne. So there you have it. I was told then and there I'm not allowed to eat meat or butter (I'd already since taken myself off cheese and cream) for a week. Oh, and I'm back to having one cup of coffee a day. If that.

Here's to hoping the wax and zits fall off!

Bitter bean

One of my favourite things in this world is being taken away from me for a week... maybe longer. Until I can prove I'm a responsible adult who takes her allergy pills, I'm not allowed to eat butter.

Last night's steamed vegetables tasted awful.

PS Thank god I have an online blog to help me through this tough time. It soothes me immensely knowing my words are floating through cyberspace and maybe, just maybe, they'll connect with someone else that knows my pain.

Rink

Lest we forget

Nancy Kerrigan

Enlighten me

Why did Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Austrian born governor of California who fights to keep what he calls "runaway productions" from coming to Vancouver thus jeopardizing a huge industry that employs thousands of people, carry the Olympic torch through Stanley Park?

The Cove

Needs to be watched by everyone!