Today is my best day!

 

Today I saw a shirt that had the above words, I thought to myself what a great slogan. No matter what type of day you are having “Today is my best day” and make it that.

These past few years have turned into a slump, after losing my job and forced to drop out of a course I wanted to take due to financial need I have been just going from one job to another looking for some way to make ends meet. The feeling like your running in a huge mud puddle and sinking. I believe that we have influences all around us in large or small ways, the milk spilled so now you are late for work, does that mean you have to behave like a Bitch to everyone? No, not at all.

As you are just spreading your negative influence so, when I see something that is a positive influence I try to embrace it into my day and week. We all have an abundant amount of negative influences all around us every second every day. How we handle them is what sets us apart from others, are we better than those negative influences? I’m trying to be.

Today is my best day, if I take a step back and ponder this, how profound it can be of a statement. I have had so few “best days” that I think I need to re-think how I look at myself. My daughter is invited to a wedding and we have nothing to give or even a dress for her to wear. I have not been able to buy cloths in well over three years and am down to two pants and 4 shirts and one bra. I now have every sock with holes that have been re-sewn so many times that the sock is see through with only strands of thread holding together. I have sewed my cloths so many times that the patches and torn material is so thin no patch or thread is going to save it. My jeans are practically see through and now a single mom looking for work again.

So when the “today is my best day” filled my head I have to admit first glance I thought “ya right!” but then I stopped stressing out and decided yes, today is my best day.

I have a roof over my families head, I have a small amount to food to stave of hunger, small amount and not very healthy but it will keep us alive. We do have cloths, even though they are the holiest things I have ever owned. We have each other.

I think I must stop focusing on the horizon, and start learning to enjoy the walk.  Just like this quote:

If you’re going through hell, keep going. Winston Churchill

So when I am down I just need to think of it as I am just passing through, not stopping, not dwelling on anything, I’m just passing through. So, today is my best day and so will tomorrow and the tomorrows after?

I want to pass on the inspiration, I do not know who made the shirt, if it is a famous quote or what it is, but I want to pass on the inspiration to you. Make today and every day your best day by looking at what you have and not what don’t.

Make today your best day.

Advertisements

Mom

A bit ago I was missing my father, a lot. And just wanted to say hello to him, ask him some fatherly advice. Since he died I felt like sending it out into the universe how I miss him. So I thought with Thanks Giving coming up and with the whole idea that we are to give thanks on this day, I thought it only fitting to thank my mom.

It’s no secret that we are like fire and ice, we do not see eye to eye at all. As a parent now  I try to understand her. Why she did and said what she did. I think that mom was sad for a long time, since I was adopted I feel like she resented me. She was all done raising children in her mind and now there is another baby in the house. I see that my mom, I think, may have had some mental troubles as well. She did not do well in crowds, she gets flustered and panicked. She is also up and down in moods so perhaps Bipolar. Either way, I know my mother loved me and I love her in our own strange way.

How wonderful it is to have a mother teach you to make cookies and let you lick the spoon, or even better, the bowl. My favourite memory as a kid was when my mom would make jello, she would make a little extra so I could have a 1/2 cup of warm jello before it cooled into the firm wiggly squares. I loved to drink the jello liquid while it was still hot, I still do and so does my daughter.

I was a very active child, a tom boy by all true meaning. I love that mom would get mad at me every time I came home with another cut, another nail through my foot, another gash and needed stitches. The best was when I came home with most of my flesh torn off most of my entire body from a major wipe out. She would get almost sick with worry that it would leave a scar.

“I don’t know if your nails will grow back in, why can’t you act like a girl? Why can’t you play with dolls? Why do you insist on this wild behaviour? You are not a boy and boys don’t date girls that act like boys.” She would say.

Mother would try many things over the years, I know she would stress out about what to bring to the pot luck dinners, and worry about what the other women are wearing. I know my mom never seemed to fit in with the other ladies. I know she felt a little on the outside no matter how hard she tried to fit in, to be a part of the women in the church.  I felt her pain, her tears of not understanding why they all won’t include her or even be nicer to her. Mom tried very hard. When dad couldn’t work anymore, mom went back to school and became a  nurse. She was in her 50’s. She was always doing her best to do what she could for her community, her family, and her neighbours. I respect her very much for all her hard work.

My mom was still in the 1800’s with the idea of a perfect lady. Some of that I agree with, respecting a woman is a big one. But a woman is not needing to be absolutely dependant on anyone else to be considered a lady. And there starts some of our arguments. I want to trust a man, I want to have a husband. I just can’t settle for any man, even if that means I am single my entire life and die alone. I will not settle for just any man just because he’s a “good church member”. Or just because he is “her choice”. But I love her for worrying about me and telling me to “get a man”.

When I was raising my daughter I looked at my parents for “what not to do” and “what to copy”. I believe that once you are of an adult age, you choose what person you want to be and make those changes. I can’t blame parents for everything that is wrong with me, I am to blame as I have freedom to make changes. As a parent, I tried to give my daughter the good things I loved about my upbringing. Like Sunday dinners my dad would cook dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, and mom would set the table and burn the toast. Like learning the value of hard work and the willingness to sacrifice yourself to help another person. Lick the cookie batter bowl. Playing games with my daughter. There are so many I can’t list them all, but as the years go by I learn to value what mom did all those years ago and even still. She is trying her best, to be her best parent she can be, best friend, best person she can be.

I love you for that mom, thank you for all you taught me, and thank you for all your love. It’s not easy to be a great parent, never knowing if the choice you made was right or if you picked the wrong battle.

Happy Thanks Giving to my mom and all you parents out there. Thank you for trying everyday to be a better parent and learning from your mistakes.

 

 

 

Woke up with icicles

Winter came in like a raging lion. It was so windy that icicles were forming faster than you can say icicles. In fear of my solar panel flying away I braved the spears and tucked the panel safely under the camper behind the tires. Yet I still had the thirty feet to brave to safety. I flipped up my hat and ran as fast as my chubby little legs would take me. oh I wish I put boots on, slippers are not a wise choice at this point.

“I’ll only be a few seconds,” famous last words as I am now frozen to the ground, its freezing at a nice and easy pace of .6 seconds. My car can reach 100km/h in a cool 2.5 minutes, yet the wind can stick me to the ground faster than I can blink. This is ridiculous, I am now in my stocking feet pulling my slippers off the ground and putting them back on my feet while being pelted by shards of ice that jack frost decided would be fun to throw at me.

What brave adventure would it be if there wasn’t at least one wipe out, oh no, I’ll make it two wipe outs and a bruised tailbone just for extra dramatic affect. I make it up those puny camper steps and threw the hobbit size door to safety. Once inside I discuss at length who’s great idea was it to make such small steps and narrow door, do they not know that people are entering these things?

We fire up the propane stove since we have no electricity, it took an hour to warm up the inside of the camper to 10 degree Celsius. OK, we are warm now. Time for bed, I can’t sleep since our camper is being pelted with spears and the wind is trying very hard to capsize our vessel.

I  managed to get a few hours of sleep under a pile of 10 blankets. I open my frosted eyes and exhale to see a cloud of breath. My daughter and I have breath races, who can make their breath go further. I don’t know who won, a tie I suppose. Time to get dressed and ready for the day. Like taking off a band aid we rip of the pile of blankets and race to get to the compost toilet. After I peeled my frozen but cheeks off the toilet seat I decided that it may be time to get dressed.

OOOOOHHH, I cried as I am now naked and my body is trying grow fur as fast as it can to get warm. I decided I am not shaving this winter, I will grow out what hair I can and help keep my pits and legs warm at least. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

So, this is what its like to winter camp in your camper. Well, the beginning of winter at least. I was told it was a three season camper, he lied!

 

 

Otaku Fest Calgary 2017

For those of you who don’t know what Otaku Fest is, it’s simply a gathering of people who love anime, manga and that whole culture that surrounds it. My daughter is one of them, and after watching Black Butler I have to admit, I am a fan as well. I think if I watched more Anime or red any manga I would probably be obsessed with it so I keep the reins pulled in tight.

It was held in the University of Calgary Science Theater, which I can tell you no one on campus knows how to get there. There were no signs to guide you to the location and even the advertising for it was barely out there, so if you wanted to go and didn’t know about it, I don’t blame you. My daughter found it because she was looking for the  big one that is coming in May 2018.  This was funded by the Calgary Culture and Arts I think it was, I am sorry I lost my paper to let you know for sure who funded it.

This was not hugely organized, it was basically three rooms that people moved throughout. While in each room there was games or Japanese foods such an awesome cream pop and a variety of steamed buns in shapes such as turtles.

I enjoyed seeing the costumes and trying to figure out what characters each person was trying to be. I was disappointed that Black Butler did not make an appearance, or even Ciel was not in the room. When I realized that Grell was not any place I could have cried a little tear. I mean come on, Grell is awesome, how could no one dress up as him. So think I found my costume plan for May 2018 at the Calgary Telus Convention Centre . I need to lose a lot of weight to look like him, but I have until May drop 80 lbs, grow my hair 2 feet, colour it bright red, file down my teeth, and get me a chain saw! I did see someone with a Black Butler bag, so the night was saved.

I really enjoyed watching the chess game with all the characters. The chess masters were slow and lacking in chess skills, but they are University kids, what do they know? They couldn’t even count five squares. It was funny to see how they got confused on how many squares they are to move. You know Alberta Education is top-notch when University Students can’t count 5 squares to the left. Heehee.  To see these kids act out the powers to kill other chess pieces was entertaining. Fake dying is always entertaining.

This was a fun day to spend in celebrating cultural weekend in Calgary. I will discuss the Culture Fest we attended in NW Calgary at the Genesis Centre in a different post.

I encourage everyone to join in the Otaku Fest in May 2018 if you have a chance to get to it. I hear it is supposed to be as big as Comicon, Look for Grell, it might just be me 🙂 Makenzie is going to go as her favourite character, Mikasa Acherman. If you don’t know any of these characters go ahead and look up the anime Black Butler and Attack on Titan.

I am not getting any funding for advertising for this, I just really like anime and want to share this culture with everyone I can. It’s a lot of fun to dress up and be someone else for a day, and to be with like-minded people. I mean come on, who doesn’t want to have to have powers and the freedom to behave as these characters do?

Do you like anime? who is your favourite character? what is your favourite anime, or manga?

Stay Positive. Venting

I know I must stand tall, I know I must always show strength, never show fear. Be brave and speak true. Speak only when spoken to, not judge, think positive, keep an open mind and always be kind. This past few years I have done my best. But yesterday broke me.

WARNING:
Today I am venting, there is no angle, just letting it loose and saying it. There may be language that is offensive, or something. But if you are not interested in reading my vent, you might as well stop here. For those who read on, please realize that I am hurting right now. I am EXTREMELY hurt, alone, scared and angry. If you like to comment please do, I can use some encouragement. But if you want to add to my misery, don’t comment, I am literally at the end of my point of … well, I’m at my end.

I have lived through rape, beatings, molestation, survived abusive relationships, raised a child alone, and never did I feel like I had any support. My father was my only support, now he has been dead for many years. I did it all alone. Really, I’m not kidding. My family did not help, more so they criticized, ignored, and abused me. So when I got old enough I gave them a choice. Here it was.

1) I want a positive relationship. Start to be positive, supportive, and stop abusing me, stop criticizing me and stop being assholes.
Now I am not completely stupid, I know family goes through hard times, but what I want is for them to stop being selfish, to stop putting me down, to stop everything negative. I know family will have arguments, my family… I am a chew toy for them.

2) Be an active roll. No more neglect, no more “pretending” to be the perfect family in public and behind closed doors its a nightmare. No more neglecting me and only saying hi at weddings or funerals. I want an active role. Every month take 10 minutes out of the 720 hours in a month and write me a hello note with something positive, something they want to share with me so we can know each other better. To respond to my stuff, to be a real family. Seriously, 10 minutes to send an email, or a phone call or something and be positive. Try to be a friend.

If they can not do those two things, I want them to know they are off the hook. They don’t need to be in my life at all. Be kind, or go away.

Pretty harsh some may think, but by putting yourself in my shoes, all that abuse I listed, and more not listed, most was from family! Right now I am all but homeless. And still family doesn’t help. I have 6 siblings, and not one of them have offered to help. NOT ONE.

I was adopted, and that seems to have made a problem with some of them. I am not their sibling they feel. Yup, said it they did. So, how is that supposed to make a person feel. They grew up in a family and even though it was a not so good relationship, you find out you are not wanted? Not welcomed? Not a part of something you thought you were? I have read a lot of other adopted posts and notice a pattern. They too get siblings claiming they are not. These siblings are grown adults acting like selfish children. Bad enough to be born and not wanted, but raised in a place you are not wanted, and they let you know it.

Here is a good one, when I did something as a child that may have been bad or maybe it was not bad but needed some addressing, sometimes I would not get beat. Sometimes my dad would talk with me and explain what I did and work through with me. Sometimes. My siblings did not like this. they said, that they got hit, and so will I, so they would beat me. Like wow! My father was trying to change his ways, to learn, to be a better person, and my siblings wanted, desired and craved for me to suffer what they thought I should suffer. Just because they wanted it.

So, back to what I was saying, yesterday about broke me. This past 7 years my daughter and I have had an extremely hard time. Now we have been sleeping in our car. I managed to find a room for us to sleep in, but that is about to be gone. Last month I asked the landlord to verify the rent amount, she flipped out. You see she is renting this place without a contract, so there is nothing written down. So she said that she can’t have a renter who is going to question her. And she texted me to leave in 30 days.

Now in Alberta this is not legal of her to do. So I served my refusal letter and there was nothing more said about it. Yesterday she served me a letter to leave in 60 days because her sister is moving into my room. When I talked to her, I told her that that is not legal again. You must give 90 days notice and the family moving in you must evict the entire home. Plus she already has one bedroom dedicated to her sisters. Plus, there are three bedrooms that are empty, not rented. I told her I would talk to the landlord and tenant act and get back to her.

Then she arranged to have the other tenants in the house to start treating me badly. If they don’t they are gone. So yesterday I had 4 people and the landlords attack me, insult me, mock me, and on top of that speak with racist criticisms. They are all Filipino except one and one highly manipulative Russian who just paced in the other room happily. One of the tenants refused to join in, she sat in the other room and refused to be a part of it. She later told me that they are wrong and she wants to support me. But with 6 people attacking me and my daughter, it was just too much.

I lost my family that I tried to get to be a family, no church, lost my father who was my only support, lost our home, our cat died, lost my job. My church actually told me that they would let me sleep in their parking lot, that was their support. And now in the winter, I am dealing with this. My daughter is numb now, she feels nothing she said. My daughter closed out the world because of all the hurt. I injured my spine and am in constant pain and because I can stand, the disability funds are refused, so we have no money, just what is last left from being laid off. There is nothing in me left to fight.

Holy fuck! What am I supposed to do? I have looked every single day for work, I try to just let it all run off my shoulders but right now, a fucking pistol is looking fucking better than standing out in that freezing snow. I can’t sleep, I have electric pain piercing my body all the time, I can’t eat, I try to eat something and there is no taste. So why bother eating it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRTRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG FFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK.

What am I supposed to do? I just wanted to get it off my chest. Just, yell it out that I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m tired, really tired. It takes all I have to get out of bed, sometimes I if I managed to get a couple winks, it feels like it is all dream, none of this is really happening. I mean if you went into more detail you could make a movie on it, because it all doesn’t seem like it would really happen, but oh no, it IS happening to us.

 

 

Why Write?

 

I saw a post in the LinkedIn group “Before the Ink Dries” by Don Gewywolf ford .This made me curious why writers write.

I’m a curious individual, so much so that I’ve been called a cat. I’m wondering why other writers write? Being new to this industry I have only met a couple of writers. What made you pick up that pencil, pen, or keyboard? What makes you tick, as a writer? What keeps you going?

I mean, it’s a cruel business to be in. Rejection is a guarantee. How many people would go to work everyday for a boss that tells them “We don’t like your work” or “You just don’t have what it takes to advance”? Everyone I know wouldn’t want to, they would find a different job, one that appreciates them.

Self-doubt, fear, that little voice inside always undermining every word you think or write. That thought “I’m not smart enough” and “No one reads my stuff anyway?” or “Is this post worthy?” The self-doubt is heavy, then add the naysayers telling you the same things you are thinking.

The fact that publishers will not even look at you if you are not published, yet you can’t get published unless someone publishes you. Yikes, that’s maddening. The pay is peanuts. Actually, it’s peanut dust. Some don’t pay you at all. You spend hours pouring out your soul, sharing pieces of yourself in your prose, then sell it for $25. Let’s dump some vinegar on that paper cut, that prose is kidnaped for months before you even see that money, since you don’t get paid until it’s printed. Worse, “they” change their minds and not print it, now there’s no money after waiting so long. When or if, you get a book published, you are the one who does all the work. You use your own money, (from that temporary job you do) you put in all your spare time to promote and sell your book. Then, how well you market your own book, and continue to market your book over the years; you may make some money. How’s your marketing skills and networking contacts?

So far, I have not painted the life of a writer in very good light. Painting it in the black of night I think is more accurate. When you consider all that is a “writer” it may not sound like a great career choice. The number of people who make a wealthy living on just writing is a small percentage. Is this maddening, crazy making career choice worth it? Are we just floating down that inevitable shit stream, with a ginormous hole in the bottom of a wobbly old wooden raft without a paddle? The answer I wish I could say is an absolute yes it’s worth it, but I can’t. The answer is very personal.

How much rejection can you take? How much do you want to invest of your time, finances, and emotionally? Why are you doing it in the first place? Have you forgotten why you are writing in the first place? Maybe you are unsure at this point.

I know for me I have those lows, but I write about it. Sometimes my most haunting stories come from those lows. Sometimes its just dripple on tear-stained paper. I say, write about it and keep writing. I do wish that it was a more welcoming industry choice. I wish all writers the courage to continue, only if it is what makes them happy.

So why do I do this? Originally, I wrote to escape reality; my imagination was a better place than what I lived. Over time I learned that through my stories they helped people. I love to influence people either a smile, anger, laughter or maybe even a tear. For whatever emotion sparked, I love influencing it. I want to live my dreams. Now that I am older, I must act on those dreams before I lose time, no more regrets. Perhaps this is selfish, but so be it. I’m too old to give a damn what you think of me type of thing. I write because I will not be told I can’t. I write because I want to be the best writer in the world. This will take some time, maybe 2 weeks. (I joke about the 2 weeks) I write because I want to, and I can. As I learn and grow, I want to write even more. Every rejection letter makes me want it even harder. Therefore, I write.

We can not blame the publishers for this writing game. Publishers are not bad people. It may feel like it as you have all this happening to you. But they are not these creatures with horns and a long pointy tail, smoking cigars in an expensively designed office, laughing at your work. They’re not gathering other creatures with horns and pointy tails to come laugh at your work. They are not laughing as they write that horrible rejection letter.

stamp-1726352_640

 

“We thank you for your effort, but really you suck, though we had a great laugh at your writing. Better luck next time.” -Fictitious rejection letter #1001

 

 

 

Publishers have thousands of papers fall on their desk. (I’m not talking about the creatures with horns and pointy tails, I’m now talking about actual human beings.) When the work day is done, they take a pile of those papers home and read while in bed, in front of the TV, or maybe while taking a bath. That’s my image of someone who is a publisher. Just a hard-working individual who obviously loves to read, a lot. They’re on the hunt for the next big league writer. Publishers, I believe genuinely want to find someone to publish. So, I am sorry, we can’t hate on the publishers.

So, what makes you write? Such a personal question I’m sure. For some it’s personal and private, others it’s a hobby. Some for delusions of grandeur. I really want to know.

Each time a writer creates, they’re sharing a piece of themselves. They exposed themselves to you the reader. You are given the opportunity to peek into the mind and spirit of that writer. Why do you expose yourself writing?

 

 

Well, it has been a fun ride to this point. I love this class and have learned so much. I hope I am progressing in my drawing.

We are to draw according to a description. In this description is a barn, a tractor in water or mud, a rainy, lightning, stormy night. So that is what I attempted today. I started with the thumb print and then my pic.

 

Today I am posting the results of my layout and design. This lesson has two drawings that will show the use of negative space and the golden points. I used the illusion for the use of the negative and positive space and then the central focal point for the golden points. I used the Koi fish for this drawing. Here is my attempt at this assignment, hope you enjoy.

 

 

 

 

Writing assignment

Well folks! For the last month I have attended way too many writing classes, one for beginners, one for essentials in writing and one for how to write to make some cash, plus I am taking 8 other courses. WAY too many at one time, talk about nuts around here, and my computer crashes two days ago and took me two days to get it up and going again! That is not what you are here for so let’s get on with the writing assignment, I am to write a creative piece with all the lessons I am learning in beginners writing class, I absolutely love me teacher Ann Linquist. Here I will let you in on the very first intro to the story that I am writing for this assignment. I have about two short stories done on this one so far, and I think I am going to take into the series direction, so I may post them on kindle or something like that.

 

 ? No title ?

             You know those stories with a happy ending and everything works out in the end? Ya, this isn’t one of those! This is like a bad black and white movie, you know the ones where the beautiful vivacious woman uses the clever and charming private investigator, he knows what she is doing but he loves the excitement. My story begins with a beautiful receptionist, or so she thinks she’s a receptionist, typing at her desk late at night. I don’t know what she could be typing, maybe her resume, we haven’t had work in months.

“Will that be all Dicky? I need to pick up bobby from the sitters soon.” My receptionist Wanda asks.

“Sure you can go, I’m gonna hang out here for a while and finish my last Cuban. Lock up on your way out will ya?”

“Sure thing Dicky, hey you have a good night sweetie? Tomorrow will be better, I just know you will get something tomorrow. OK then, good night.”

I hear her keys jingle as she locks the door and her heels tapping on the hardwood as she fades into the distance, again you are alone, and all you hear is the echoes from the street. My office is small but it’s comfortable, and cheap. To be honest I have slept on my office couch for the last two months. I like to sit in my office and smoke my cigar, and I like the low light of my desk lamp as it casts shadows around the room to entertain my imagination on these lonely nights. Just then a sound catches my full attention, a slow creek, possibly 210 Lbs, flat leather shoes, a hole in the left bottom soul. But how did he get in? I heard Wanda lock the front door, I reach under my desk and grasp my two faithful and ever reliable friends Smith and Wesson.

Closer… and closer he approaches, now at the door he stops. He seems to linger there a few seconds, contemplating. An envelope slid under the door and then he scurries away. I get up to examine the envelope, I don’t bother opening the door he’s already gone. 10 years as a P.I. has taught me to not kill the messenger. I glance at the contents and pull out the folded paper, just then something falls onto the floor. I reach down and pick up a gold necklace with a water droplet shape pendant and a blue gem in the centre. After examining the necklace I return to my desk to read the contents. The letter read: Hard Water Pier, tonight at 10:30

 

Well I hope my writing is getting better and hope you enjoyed the teaser of this new story. Have a great day.

 

 

 

Oh my word, this was a hard one for me, we had to do like a 3D type thing. Say a bird’s eye view of a building or ground view of a building. I did a bird’s eye view, I did not understand how to even start it off, do you just randomly stick in the shape, I mean how was I supposed to get it going? Really? But with a lot of attempts and a lot of erasing, I think I kinda figured it out. I know I have a long way to go on this one, but, with practice I will be able to move from a building to drawing the bird!

I have only one view for you today, the final drawing. Thank you for viewing. 🙂

bird's eye view of a made up sky scraper
bird’s eye view of a made up skyscraper