drivel.

Apologies to those of you who are used to me attempting the proper use of punctuation and capitalization in my entries. This piece was imported from another project.

i've been weaning myself off of the facebook. trying to get back in the habit of writing blog entries instead... June 2004 I wrote my first entry in this account. at one point i was seeing well over a thousand visitors to the site each month, not bad for a blog about nothing. there have been months and years of some quality writing, and months and years of drivel.

i want to get back to the quality again. i feel good when words are released.

yesterday i sat in on an informal songwriters' workshop led by a favourite musician of mine- someone i'm thankful to call "friend". it got me thinking about the release that comes from writing, the welling up and overflow of words. the feeling of relief when a thought becomes shared and available.

a heartbreakingly beautiful moment happened in that workshop when a favourite musician of mine showed up- a man who's music brings me to tears- i've put on his album often just to bring myself to that place of release. this lovely man came to the workshop because he was feeling a bit of block and thought "why not?" (side note- the whole location/ story of the workshop is worthy of it's own post) rick shared a song he's working on- one so beautiful and pain filled- i cried through it (and wasn't alone in my tears) after he talked a little about the experience of writing the piece and began to well up himself.

the afternoon just left me with a craving to find words- especially now, as i navigate through some major life changes. i miss expression.

found dew drop 3

::recovered from Digital Dewdrops, a writer's forum of sorts that I was a part of... and which disappeared a while back::

September '06

SVFF

WHAT a weekend. I don't know if I have the strength to put it into paraphrase.
No matter what I write, you won't have even a glimpse of the heart and soul and breath that went into this weekend. You'll NEVER grasp the enormity of what we just were a part of, the joy we had, or feel the pain and the heartbreak of it. And because of that, I don't want to write anything.
But, I have to.
My head feels like it's going to explode... it's been so long since I've written. And I feel like if I even start to scratch the surface of it... I'll lose it.
My head feels like it's going to explode... I haven't slept much in the in past week. And I feel like if I go to sleep, a real sleep, it'll all be over... and I want it to be just a little longer, I want that time to last a few more moments.
My head feels like it's going to explode... and my muscles are paining me, throbbing. waiting for that next chore crying to be completed.
My head feels like it's going to explode... I've watched death and rebirth of an even, and seen generations of history happening. I haven't even understood all that's gone on around me.
And my head feels like it's going to explode... I need water, but I've seen and sat in enough to be quenched for weeks.

361 days till Shelter Valley.

** this post was written the day after the 2006 festival. Hurricane Ernesto came along and robbed us of the beautiful weather we'd hoped for. The festival was shut down for the evening on Saturday, and the gates reopened Sunday morning, a small cue of people ushered in by a piper and clapping volunteers. I sobbed.
As for the generations of history- Nathan Rogers (son of the late great Stan Rogers) played this year's fest- his work, and his father's works were blended together in just the most beautiful way. I don't think I can capture the emotions surrounding the final concert....

found dew drop 2

:: recovered from digital dew drops, a writer's forum of sorts that I used to belong to::
October '06

fall seems to be a time of reflection. or at the very least, fall seems to bring reflection to me.
everything around me causes me to pause and look again.
the colours standing against the graying sky, the geese drifting to halt on fields bare of their crops. blankets of fog.
not just blankets,
heavy down comforters of fog, enveloping me.
this morning I drove up to peterborough, and the fog was whisping and swirling around.
I had a 15-20 foot envelope of visibility to work in most of the time, like a large parachute of vision.. pulled tight to the ground.
sometimes the chute was lifted and I could see a little farther, and sometimes for the briefest of moment, the air left the chute and fell to the ground as I hit a thick wall of mist, seeing nothing be the hood of my car.
at one point a single sun beam broke thru the clouds above, and I saw for the first time a rainbow inside the mist.
it was amazing.
it flickered like a candle, wept across the trees beside me and then lit them on fire with colour.
orange became ORANGE
reds became RED
and the green dripped with the deepest hues I'd ever seen.
amazing.


**after I moved back to the Burg from Peterborough, I still drove to the city a few times a week for a band I was a part of, and to visit friends. It takes time to let go of one community and move on to a new one.

found dew drop

:: recovered from the dew drop files- June '08::

I miss the rhythm of childhood.
The way each step followed the next.
The creak of the floorboards as mom came to the door.
Dad's nose honking in the shower.
Coffee grinder whizzing.
I miss the hope of summer in the smell of the flowers,
the push of the air,
the ants on their hills.
Climbing to the top of the dirt pile,
the flapping of the tissue kite.
Sliding down into the ravine,
sand in my shoes,
clay under my nails.


* I remember each summer we'd get a load of top soil for the garden. Piled at the top of the driveway, Little Bits (my sister) and I would play "mud men" rolling down the dirt pile, and jumping under the hose to clean off.
When we moved to the Port, a town of many hills, we had a ravine on each side of our subdivision- some days we'd head down to the ravine to the south- lunches packed, and get lost for the day in the woods (um... we weren't really lost). Other days we'd head to the "sand pit" to the North, and dig clay from the stream ... building ash trays for parents who didn't smoke, and digging into the sandy cliffs.

not so lost

I have 7 blogs listed on my blogrole.
several of them are listed as private.

I learned my lesson after some censorship at work- it doesn't matter which work, just ... at a job. A higher-up person came to me and wasn't happy with something I'd written.

Apparently, there was talk at work about what I'd written, and it had made some people upset. So I removed what I wrote- though there was nothing that pointed to the organization, or the people involved.

So I stated another blog where I could actually write what I was thinking about things.
ha.

At one point in my life I was part of this fantastic little writer's forum... an experiment.. I loved the challenge it offered, and when it (the blog) disappeared last year, I was quite sad. Today I discovered that I can go back and read the posts... that they haven't been lost to the interwebs, they've just been sitting quietly, waiting to be rediscovered.
I'm going to try to rescue a few of my old posts.

*grin*

do dew

I've been missing the routine of life.

more so, I've been missing my outlets.

I miss the dewdrops... I need to start writing.

Snap- Shot

Voice in the night.

That was the song that came on as I trotted down the road.. rather, the song that came on as I paused.

If I'd had a camera, I'd have blown the photo up, hung it on the wall.

Called it "half harvest travels" or some other such nonsense.

But it was beautiful, half a harvest orange moon, hovering just above the train tracks. Trees silhouetted, rails lightly glowing back the orange. 

** Been listening to R3:30 after my C25K, the run isn't quite long enough, but I still want to take it easy. Instead I finish the run, then walk for the first 10 songs of the countdown.

Valley Thoughts

People talked a lot about their "festival moments" this year. 

That single moment that defined what the festival meant to them... or the moment that fulfilled why we do what we do there.

I know mine... do you know yours?

Post 1000 (plus 23)

Awww, finally got it done.

Please be patient as I add all the little things back.

Going camping tomorrow (finally) just until Sunday- got to get into camping mode in prep for Shelter Valley! Consider this a warm up round.

Slimey.... and the 80's

They are travelers. People from a far away land. Friends of mine who have left their home to come to ours. Immigrants to our time.
Straight from another decade to our own.

Yes, the McFlies are at it again! I was out last night with the soon to be wed Jenny and a group of lovely ladies (ok, and one young male... he fits in just fine) (AND... he was better at picking up the waiters than we were) (sheesh!) I dragged them out to Hugh's room for a night of 80's uncovered. (that's right... not a cover band... a band that "uncovers"). Seriously, they put on such a great show. I don't know that my video will do them justice! You know when you go to a concert, and even if it's your favourite band, they only play half the songs you love? And even then... you can only sing along with like... 2 of them? Ok, so twice last night someone turned to me and said "you know what's the best part about this? It's like all of your favourite songs EVER... and you, and EVERYONE else can sing along... with every song!"
it's true.

here's some poorly lit Safety Dance for you. There was a lot of dancing going on by this point... so.. it's kinda noisy. but, note the Synth replaced by violin, harmonica, accordion, mandolin, etc... lol... Great show folks, looking forward to the next one.