Aunt Doris and Uncle Gordon

Many years ago, on a previous blog, I wrote a poem for my Great Aunt Doris, who had Alzheimer's. She and my Great Uncle Gordon were very special people in my life, and I learned a lot from both of

Aunt Doris. Photo from the Albert County
Funeral Home's website.

them. Aunt Doris passed away in April of 2008, and Uncle Gordon left us just two weeks ago. Rather than making this a sad post, I'm going to reflect on some fond memories I have of them. There are a lot.

I was lucky to have loving grandparents growing up, but I also had some very special great aunts and uncles. Aunt Doris, my Nana's younger sister, would visit with Uncle Gordon to stay in the cabin in our lower lot--a cabin Aunt Doris's parents used to rent out to tourists many years prior. Due to the frequency of their visits, and the time we would spend together, they became like a third set of grandparents to me. Their care and love was so strong.

They were also very generous with their time. They never had any children of their own, thus having no grandchildren, so they always treated me like the granddaughter they didn't have. They took me on drives in the park, and, with my parents, we would all go on hikes together to enjoy the natural beauty of Fundy National Park. They told me that when they were visiting, I could come over anytime. Once, I took this entirely too literally. I was invited to come and see them for breakfast one morning. I combined the two offers and decided to show up to visit for breakfast--at seven AM.

A much older picture of Uncle
Gordon.

I was still in my pyjamas and I was excited. I went down to the lower lot and knocked on the cabin door. Uncle Gordon greeted me in his own pyjamas, his hair dishevelled--obviously they hadn't been expecting me so early. But he didn't turn me away. He greeted me with his booming "hello!" and welcomed me indoors, and I had breakfast with him and Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris made these beautiful little shortbread cookies, and she would feed them to me with milk every time I visited them. These shortbreads were always topped with colourful rainbow sprinkles, and I would dip them in the milk to let the colours run. We would eat them together while playing dominos. She was a fantastic cook, and I would join them for suppers and lunches on a regular basis, as well. Both of them were very patient with me. When I couldn't figure out how to tie my shoes, Uncle Gordon, knowing I learned things a little differently than other kids, showed me the "bunny ears" method. To this day, I still use that method.

I'll end this with a poem I wrote in the years that Aunt Doris's Alzheimer's got to the point she didn't recognise most of us. I've edited it recently.

A decorated tin filled with
White shortbread cookies topped by
Round rainbow sprinkles that make the
Milk turn colour 
Sits on the
Kitchen table.
A fold-out table made of tin with
Sturdy aluminum legs and the scene of a
Forest brook in autumn, surrounded by sepia foliage and
The glimpse of a deer is set up before the
Couch, with a
Small box of dominoes spilled over: a
Game to be played.
I can't quite tie my
Shoes yet, but he helps me.
Two bunny ears. Tuck under. Pull. Now it's a
Bow.

An overstuffed yellow armchair sits by the
Dusty screen door, and beyond that, the
Porch, where the
June bugs used to collect at night and buzz in our ears.
Strawberries grow here too, hidden in the
Tufts of grass.
She has me gather them in a
Porcelain dish. I pick them and
She washes them for me.
We eat them together.

This is what I remember, and though
You cannot, I will keep remembering
For both of us.

I'm glad I took a break from university.

Throughout high school and university, I was always a bit of a laissez-faire student. Didn't pass that math test? Meh, there's always another--final mark be damned. Slept through my 8:30 AM class because I was up all night gaming? Wouldn't be the first time. I was that one cringe-worthy student that no one wanted to be paired up with for a project--unless, of course, it was one of the rare projects I was actually interested in doing.

I graduated high school and made a beeline for Université de Moncton in 2004, not really knowing what to expect. I stumbled through a few years of skipping classes, dropping out of classes and, occasionally, failing classes. It may not be a time I'm proud of, but it was an immensely important learning experience for me. I'm the type of person who, sometimes, has to learn the hard way.

In 2007, I finally finished my required English courses, minus one. Since I was an English major, this took all the fun out of university. Suddenly, I had to take a number of required courses that weren't at all related to English. This was my own fault. I didn't pace myself over the years, and I got all the fun courses out of the way early because of that. That fall, I failed a linguistics class, resulting in a panic attack--something I'd never really experienced before.

I went back to university in the winter, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I signed up for a full course load of five. Within the first few weeks, I had dropped two courses that gave me so much anxiety I couldn't stand to even attend class. One of them--oddly enough a drama class--had me breaking out in hives. Another class I took, a three-hour long ethics class with a lot of homework, forced us to read our answers out in front of the class. I left half-way through the class one day, tears rolling down my cheeks at the mere thought of it.

I also had enrolled in one English class, and it was one that I had failed in the past--the only English class I've ever failed, and my very last requirement for my major. When I got my midterm back and saw that, despite my best efforts, I had failed it, I lost myself. I handed the exam back and ran from the administration building to the arts building, right up to my mother's office. She saw the look on my face and I'm sure she must have known what was coming next. "I'm leaving university," I blurted between my sobs. "I can't do this anymore". She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded, and said "okay". I went to my doctor in the days that followed and asked him to write me a note so I could get out of university without suffering failures in all of my enrolled courses.

I didn't really know what I was going to do. Brad and I were living together at the time, and I hated our apartment. I would be going back home for the summer in a few short months, so I couldn't get a job. I visited my Nana in the hospital; I drew; I sewed; I wrote. When summer came, I went back home to work at the general store. I told people I was taking a break from university, and they advised me not to take too long a break. Some people told me I'd never go back. But my closest friends, my mom and dad, and Brad, all knew better. They were always supportive.

Brad and I moved to Moncton permanently in late summer, 2008. We got a new apartment--coincidentally on Alma Street--and got a cat. I spent the next five years working a few different jobs: waitressing at a Tex-Mex restaurant (I lasted four months), being a barista at a Second Cup kiosk in the mall (a year and nine months), and going from regular employee to assistant manager to store manager at DAVIDsTEA (three whole years).

While managing DAVIDsTEA, in winter of 2012, I found out that I could take the English course I had failed previously, and I decided to get it done. I went back and shocked myself by achieving an A overall in the course. I wasn't just pleased, I was ecstatic. I had overcome a hurdle that had been in my way for years. I wouldn't take another university course for a year and a half, but it was an event that put the option of going back to university back on my radar.

In the summer of 2013, I enrolled for an evening course for the coming fall. The course was with a prof I had in my second year and really liked. I started to realise that I was getting a little too close to the ten year mark. I was 27--inching ever closer to thirty--and wasn't really sure where my life was going. My job was taking up most of my time, and while I liked it, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing for the rest of my life. It was time to make a decision, and my choices were: 1. to spend the next few years taking one or two evening courses while continuing to work full time, 2. to let my credits expire and never finish my degree, or 3. to take a leave from my full-time job and go back to school. Option 3 ended up being the one I wanted the most, but after looking into it, I discovered that it wasn't an option for me at all: my workplace would only provide one month of study leave, but I really wanted to finish things off. If option 3 was really what I wanted, I would have to step down from my position, and drop to part-time. So, with that big risk in place, I did, and I went back to school full-time in January 2014.

Was it easy? Absolutely not. I worked so hard from January to April that there wasn't much in my life that wasn't school-related, except my part-time job. I re-took the ethics course that I had dropped five years before, and while it was still a stressful course, I found that I got far more out of it the second time around than I had the first time. When the winter semester was done, I felt so much relief. That was the last time I would ever have to take a full-time semester. I had two intersession courses lined up--one spring and one summer--but they would be nothing compared to the insanity the winter brought.

Near the end of the winter semester, I attended the Annual Atlantic Undergraduate English Conference--something I probably wouldn't have even considered doing when I was in university before. I was more of a shut-in during my previous years, and I wouldn't even spend time with people on campus. This semester, I was hanging out in the English Department's Reading Room, making friends and studying with others.

In May, during my spring course, I discovered I was pregnant. At first, I was terrified! What if I didn't get my degree finished on time? Then, after calculating my due date, I discovered that the timing was actually perfect. My exams for my two fall courses would end in December, and the baby is due in January. This fall, I am taking my two final classes while pregnant, and so far it's not a whole lot different.

Do I recommend breaks for everyone? Absolutely not. Some people really don't go back--which is fine, too, as long as that's what you want. I'll always be glad for that five years away from university, though, and I will never regret it. I learned so much during that time, and it prepared me for going back. In a big way, I actually feel that those five years away from university were for me to figure out why I wanted to finish my degree, and to give me the skills I needed to complete it. When February 2015 arrives, I will have a baby in one hand, and a completed bachelor's degree in the other. I always have done things a little differently, so I guess with university I have just taken a bit of a detour on the way. My life story isn't linear, but I like it that way.

Further public embarrassment for the parties this is dedicated to.

I'm not the greatest friend. I'll be the first person to admit that, even if it pains me to do it.  From the early years of my life up until university, I've had a few poisonous friendships that benefited neither party. We would argue incessantly over petty things, fight over significant others, and, whether we were conscious of it or not, silently compete with each

Sally on the left, and me on the right, at her and
Danny's wedding reception on August 9th, 2014.

other's accomplishments. I would never try to blame these things on a specific one of us--we were equally to blame for the shortcomings of our friendships. Regardless, this trained me to become a pretty crappy friend.

It was in my fourth year of university that my view of friendship was about to change. I was going through a pretty difficult time--I hated my classes and was even failing a few of them. I was developing an anxiety problem that brought on sudden anxiety attacks and was experiencing depression as a result. I couldn't see an end in sight, despite being nearly finished my degree. Through all this, I met a girl named Sally in one of my classes.

To say we hit it off pretty much immediately is an understatement. The next thing I knew, she was telling me all about her boyfriend Danny and saying I should introduce Brad to him. Before long, the four of us were inseparable.

While I did have a few really good friendships early on--Brad being one of them--I never had to work through any glaring friendship problems because the friendships were rarely important enough for me to be worth it. It's a sad reality that I talk to few of those friends these days, often because our friendships, to me, just weren't worth working on. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. It's not always the case, of course: I do still talk to a few friends from early on, but they are the minority. Sally and I supported each other through good and bad throughout the years, and she was one of the people, along with Brad and my parents, who supported and agreed with my decision to temporarily leave university when the anxiety got to be too much. Of course, we had our differences as well, but we worked through everything in honest, open communication, and our friendship is that much stronger for it, even if I resisted it at first.

The long and short is this: over the years, I have been more than willing to work through and openly discuss any problems Brad and I may be having, and the same goes for my parents and any family members, but I haven't always been that willing to work through problems openly and honestly with friends. Sally has changed that in me, and she has inspired that change in my other friendships, as well. I haven't always cared whether friendships lasted or not. To be honest, when I was very young, I was often separated with anyone I considered a best friend, due to distance. I can confidently say that even if Sally and Danny were to move away, we'd still be in contact. I like to think that the same is the case with a number of my friendships now.

I can't write all this about Sally without saying anything about Danny, of course. Though I've had more opportunities to really bond with Sally, I feel just as comfortable with Danny, and have hung out with him readily if Sally's busy. This guy is one of the sweetest and most caring friends I've known. He'll give you the shirt off his back and do anything for a friend. I'm not exaggerating. If you're a friend in need, he will help you out. If he can't immediately help, he will find a way and look for a solution as creatively as he needs to, often enlisting other friends as well. The phrase "he has a big heart" is a little cliché and overused, but in Danny's instance, it makes perfect sense.

Why am I writing all of this about these people? Well, Sally and Danny got married on August 9th. Brad and I had gone up to Bathurst several days earlier to stay with Sally's parents for the week. I cooked meals for all six of us and helped out when I could to make preparations go more smoothly. When the wedding day finally arrived, we greeted it eagerly. What a privilege for both Brad and I to be in the wedding party, standing next to our closest friends as they pledged themselves formally to one another. Both of them were a part of our wedding party years before, as well, making our reciprocation feel that much more awesome.

This isn't a picture of just the wedding party, but of a big group of our
friends. That should tell you how much friendship means to
these guys. Sally and Danny are in the front. Photo by Kate
Meisner.

Part of the reason I'm writing this in the first place is because I ended up giving a speech that night. I hadn't planned on it. Sally and Danny had decided that their kissing game would revolve around friends and family telling stories about one or both of them. My speech had started off as the story of my first time meeting Sally, but the more I thought about it, the more I added. I started adding things about our friendship, things about Danny, and wishing them the best. I knew this would have to be a speech.

I have a story, but it kind of evolved into a speech, so here I am now.
Sally and I met in a third year philo course at Université de Moncton. We already kind of knew of each other, but as I sat next to her that day, I took note of a tiny Pokémon keychain on her bag. I immediately knew: I can talk to this girl. What started as in-class acquaintance bloomed into a fast friendship. The next thing I knew, I was bringing my now-husband Brad over to her house and introducing him to Danny.
Never before have Brad and I clicked so well with a couple. In the months that followed, the four of us ran the Pokémon League together for little kids. And now here we are, seven years later.
If there's one thing I can say about this couple, it is this: these two are the best friends anyone can have. They will do anything for their friends and they have so much love to give. If you count these two among your circle of friends, you have something rare and special.
Sally and Danny, you are both wonderful people, and I wish you all the happiness--though I know you'll have many happy years to come. Brad and I are so thankful to be a part of your lives.

To be honest, there was a lot more I wanted to say, but I don't think I could have gotten it out without crying--my voice cracked during this version! I didn't want to get too long, or too sappy. So, that's what's happening here. My blog has plenty of room for lengthy sappitude. Sappitude is a word I just invented.

So, this was a bit of a public embarrassment for Sally and Danny. Isn't that what friends are for? I owe a lot to these two, though, and like a couple of other recent blog posts I've made, this is just my own way of expressing my gratitude. I've grown and changed a lot as a person over the years, and the people around me have always been an influence on how that growth has manifested. I know this: my life would be a lot different if I hadn't taken note of that little Pachirisu keychain on Sally's bag that day in class. I like to think that the way my life has evolved to this point is better for that event.

I love the crap outta you guys, Sally and Danny. Congratulations on your new beginning, for the 38452th time.

New Year, New Leaf

(Alternate title: This is not another post about Animal Crossing, so don't worry.)

It's 2014. And things are changing for me.

Sounds cliché, doesn't it? A lot of people take the New Year as a time for renewal and changes. Lots of people make weight loss or fitness-related goals for themselves in 2014. That's not a judgment by any means; it's merely an observation. Whether it's cliché or not, it's still a great opportunity to stop and look at where you are in your life and think of what you'd like to change.

I did this a little earlier--August 2013, to be precise. I was thinking about where I'd like to be right now and school really stood out for me.

I've been on hiatus from university since spring of 2008. I'd had 11 courses remaining, but felt the need to take a break for personal reasons. I just wasn't ready to be where I was and didn't know what I'd do afterwards, anyway. So, I took a step away to figure things out. I don't regret this at all. I had people telling me not to take too long a break because I would never go back. This year, I realised that I was running out of time, and that I had two options: let my courses expire and not finish, or go back and get it all done.

It was a tough decision, because both sides meant a lot of sacrifices. I'll never regret the time I took away from university because I learned so much about myself during it. I worked really hard, made a ton of new friends and acquaintances and even wrote a novella. I took a couple of courses over the last two years and earned higher marks than I had while studying full time, leading me further into the idea that I had learned enough to finally give it full throttle. Doing that while working full time was very difficult and it took a lot out of me, but I succeeded. I now have nine courses remaining. Nine. I have 5 coming up in January, then I'm hoping to take some intercession courses in spring and summer, then whatever is left to take in the fall. I will, finally, finish in December 2014. One year from now, I will finally have my degree. Better late than never!

I struggled with the need to make a change a year ago. I wasn't sure what that change was supposed to be and ended up not making a change at all in the process. I'm glad I didn't, because I don't know if I would have made this decision otherwise.

So, welcome, 2014. I'm glad to see you. I know I have a lot of resolutions that I really want to make this year, but I think I'm just going to keep it to one: focus on school. What's even more exciting is that after this degree is finished, I'll be free, and I'll be able to move on to other things without feeling like I'm half-doing something else.

Who cares if New Year's resolutions are cliché? Who cares if you don't keep them? Thinking actively about your life and what you can do to change it for the better is still a worthwhile exercise. Better to resolve, try, and not keep your resolution, than to do nothing at all. Better to be self aware and fix anything broken than to be ignorant, whether you perceive that ignorance to be bliss or not. Try, and, in trying, may you succeed.

Happy New Year.

A brutally honest account from an introvert

I love people. Don't get me wrong.

It took me a really long time to adjust to living with another person. As an only child, I got used to sharing space and time with no one in particular. I had a fair amount of friends as a child, and a handful of good friends in high school as well. When Brad and I were about 20, we decided to move in together. It took awhile for Brad to get used to how much I liked solitude, and frankly, it took me just as long to get used to living with another person. Brad also was an only child growing up, but would spend more time with neighbouring children and had more friends at close proximity.

I didn't even know what an introvert was until many years later. At around 2008, I started developing some harsh anxiety and left university to focus on my mental health. Because I suddenly had gained some free time and didn't spend much time around other people, I had a pretty constant desire to see friends. I didn't find myself drained or exhausted. I genuinely wanted to spend time around them.

Summer came and went, and Brad and I moved into a new apartment with our new family member--a kitten named Lady Pansy--while I adjusted to my new job as a waitress. I suddenly started to realise that I didn't like spending time around people as much as I thought I did. The very idea of hanging out with friends became an exhausting prospect. I would start to ignore my phone to catch up on some well-needed writing and reading time. Even planned dates or hang outs with people would become things I would dread. I didn't know that this was because I was spending much more time around people and needed to recharge.

I'm going to stop for a moment and point out that if you think this makes me a bad friend, you likely don't know what an introvert is. Here are a few articles to help you along your way: How to Intract with the Introverted, 7 Positives that only Introverts would Understand, 23 Signs that you Might be an Introvert, 5 Things you need to Know about Introverts. Think you've got it now? Excellent. I'll proceed.

I didn't really know I was an introvert. In fact, a lot of people would likely think of me as an extrovert upon meeting me. I'm very friendly and approachable. I work in customer service, so I see and talk to a number of people on a daily basis. I have a metric ton of acquaintances; it's hard for me to go anywhere without seeing someone I know. I have extroverted hobbies, like singing, acting and going to concerts. Sounds like an extrovert? Not quite.

I have cancelled many plans for the mere reason that I have seen far too many people that week and I just want to sit quietly with my cats and recharge. I have, out of frustration, ignored doorbells when not expecting anyone over. The only time I answer my phone without hesitation is when work is calling me, and that's only because being available is part of my job description. Otherwise, I very regularly screen my phone calls.

Continuing with my story, I had some friends who were starting to wonder if something was wrong. I had a lot less time than before, plus I was seeing an awful lot of people a day and, as a waitress, dealing with conflict as well. I would pass on hangouts and tell Brad to see our friends alone while I caught up with my own mind. I changed jobs and was finding myself working 40 hours a week as a barista, which made my introversion even more prominent.

Eventually, I embraced it. I stopped letting myself worry about whether or not people would be upset if I wanted to spend time with them. I explained to my closest friends that I've never really spent a lot of time with others and that the period of time that I did was the real anomaly. I started to worry less about feeling pressured and decided that I simply am who I am.

Interestingly, the comment section of one of the articles I posted above had an extrovert asking "so, what? Extroverts are just supposed to cater to introverts all the time?" to which another poster responded "the world caters to extroverts". Good point.

I am only spontaneous a good 1 out of 10 times. Very rare is the time that you will ask me "want to go do this right now?" and I'll say "yeah!". Often, I come to the conclusion by myself. If something sounds good enough and I'm not being pressured, I may ask to tag along, because the worst thing you will say is "no" and then I can get back to whatever it was I was doing.

If you identify as an introvert, I recommend you embrace it and teach your friends and family to embrace it, too. After all, it makes you unique. I read online--so, you know, take this with a grain of salt--that only an estimated 25% of the population identify as introverts. Personally, I love being an introvert. It's helped me learn to stand up for myself a little better, and it keeps me self-sufficient. It's not to say that I'm always alone; I'm often seen with my husband and we spend a lot of time together. I can just be content when he's busy or working that I can do things by myself, too.

Here's a little handful of things I hate as an introvert:

10. "You should get out more!"
How about I decide that for myself?

9. Too much stimuli in one place
I love going out to eat, but if we're in a place with 5 TVs, loud music and I also have to order and socialize with the person I'm sitting with, it's overwhelming.

8. In equal amounts, the sound of the telephone or the doorbell
No.

7. "What are you doing on Tuesday?"
I'll tell you what. Invite me to something on Tuesday, and then I'll tell you.

6. Sudden plans
If you pop by my workplace to ask if I want to catch a movie after work, my answer will most likely be "no". It's not that I have any special plans myself. Maybe I just wanted to go home after. It's nothing against you--I just need a bare minimum of a day to get used to the idea of changing plans.

5. Guilt trips
Never ever ever guilt an introvert for not wanting to hang out. This is for the sanity of both parties. This will only push the introvert further away, because he or she will come to associate spending time with the non-introvert friend as an impending guilt trip or just filling a "quota". The more understanding you are of your friend's nature, the more likely they are to seek time with you on their own.

4. Awkward conversation
If I see you in public, I'll likely smile and wave, and carry on my way. I'm not a huge fan of small chat outside of work--I'd much rather keep doing what I was doing. This is nothing against anyone. This is more of a situation that I don't know how to control or respond to. Small talk simply isn't necessary if I know you. I'd rather hear updates and changes with you rather than go back and forth with "what's new?" "not much, you?" "how's Brad?" "good" etc.

3. When I'm done, I'm done
Don't try to keep me around at a party. It will not work, you will be disappointed, and I'll be annoyed.

2. "Are you okay?"
I'M FINE. If I'm not crying or screaming, I am fine. I'm just not saying anything. That happens sometimes.

1. Dropping by
If you just drop by with no announcement, I may never speak to you again. I don't care who you are--unless you're the mail carrier with that package I was waiting for, CALL FIRST.

Some of my favourite things include cancelled plans, power outages in busy places, getting to places before everyone else (i.e., coming into work early before any other customers or co-workers arrive), and early mornings when very few other people are up and about.

To be clear, I don't necessarily advocate using labels to define people. I don't think that being an introvert defines me as a human being, but it does provide a little context as to why I act a certain way socially. I don't think it gives me carte blanche to be a jerk, either, but I do think that it can help people understand why certain friends seem more distant than others. I don't hide behind my introversion or use it as an excuse. Rather, I feel that I define my own sect of introversion.

November is pretty great.

I spent most of my life resenting the very existence of November, until recently. In high school, November is The Month Before Christmas (also known as Not Christmas Yet or What do you Mean we Still Have Two Months Left Before the Holidays? month). In university, November is Final Papers Month (which becomes even worse if you're an English major). In the wonderful world of retail, November is Ah Crap it's Already Christmas and we Have Lineups a Mile Long month, also known as There's Still Two Months of This Before we See a Holiday month.

Somewhere between Final Papers Month and Ah Crap Month, something in me changed. I discovered NaNoWriMo while still in university and, despite all the final papers I had to write and the reading I skipped did, found it to be an exciting and worthwhile exercise. I'm sadly not participating this year because I barely have the time to squeeze this blog post in, but the excellence of NaNoWriMo will be mine once more next year.

There's something inherently quiet about November. If you spend any amount of time in the woods or in nature in general, you may notice a certain kind of peace. Though I love the warmth that summer and spring will offer every year, I've grown accustomed to the chill air of autumn, the early snows and the gentle frost that sits on the grass. The mornings that are quiet and dark seem to be the only source of peace. When you wake up, it's still dark. I like that. When it's that dark in the morning, it seems like no one can approach me. November mornings give me an impenetrable barrier of solitude. No one needs me for anything and I don't have to do anything. I can relax.

A hot cup of coffee tastes best on a November morning, when I'm not chilled to the bone but just cold enough to experience the pleasant contrast in temperatures. The slow cooker comes out and hot soup is just a sleep away as it cooks overnight. Waking up to a golden sun, beaming over the ice-kissed lawn looks like something out of a fairytale.

There's also Movember. Though I can't condone moustaches on anyone under 45 (I'm sorry, I just can't), it's a fantastic cause. And, you know, some participate in full-out No-Shave November, which simply means a greater abundance of beards. That, I can totally get behind.

Now, if only I could feel this way about January, February and March, I'd be all set. For now, at least I can enjoy the tranquility that November brings.

When Kamelot went to Montreal, and I went to Kamelot

The year is 2000.

A 14-year old me is scouring the internet for news about the new Zelda game, which was up until recently known as "Zelda Gaiden", set to release later this year. The game, now titled Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask promises to be an darker, deeper sequel to Ocarina of Time.

I stumble across a site called Hyrule: The Land of Zelda. The splash page loads a flash video of the Skull Kid wearing Majora's Mask. Suddenly, the most mesmerizing piece of music I've ever heard plays in the background. It's the first 26 seconds of this song. And all I see is "Music by Nightwish" at the bottom.

 

And this is what got me interested in symphonic metal. Weirdest, stupidest way to get interested in a type of music, but it's the truth. To be honest, a very similar event occurred to get me interested in Daft Punk: a clip of Digital Love on a GAP commercial.

I had no idea what the song was called, only that the first 26 seconds had pulled me into an obsession. I had to know what that song was. And instead of doing the obvious thing and emailing the webmaster, I decided my best course of action would be to download songs until I found the right one.

I underestimated Nightwish's discography. 

It took me about a full year to find the song, but in the meantime, I fell in love with the band. It hadn't been long after Wishmaster had released, and the first full song I heard had been Sleepwalker, the bonus song from that album. 

Years later, after their album Once had released in late 2004, I discovered they were playing a show in Montreal and knew I would have to go see it. I took a 13 hour train ride with a friend who wasn't even remotely interested in this kind of music and went to see them live. As the first notes of Dark Chest of Wonders swept across the crowd in the Metropolis, I knew. This is my favourite band. 

Years still later, I managed to see them live--in Montreal and Quebec City, because few good bands come to New Brunswick--three times with their new singer, Anette. The first show, I even brought the band a small doll I had made based on the character Eva from one of their songs. I was floored when Anette brought it onstage during the encore. Anette told me after the show that she was planning to bring it for other performances as well, and she was true to her word--she brought it onstage in Toronto the same week. Again, Nightwish was cemented firmly as my favourite band. 

Slowly but surly, a contender appeared. Kamelot, at first, was unassuming to me. Seeing their video for March of Mephisto on MuchMusic in 2005 got me interested, but it wasn't until I sat down and listened to the Black Halo as a whole that I truly understood what a fine band they are. I spent the entire summer of 2009 listening to that album on repeat. I couldn't stop. "All right," I told myself, "this is your favourite album. But Nightwish is still your favourite band."

Then, disaster struck. Last October, just a day before I was due to make a trip to Montreal for work, I discovered that Anette was no longer a part of Nightwish. I was heartbroken to hear that yet another of the band's prolific, talented singers was gone. I'm not ashamed to admit I shed tears at both Tarja and Anette's respective departures. Both times, the future was uncertain. The second time, though, I was starting to develop trust issues. I don't like to take sides when I don't know the full story, but I couldn't help but feel a little bitter.

Floor Jansen joined Nightwish to promote their Imaginaerum album and, from what I've heard from the live videos uploaded to YouTube, has done a magnificent job singing in the interim. Since the summer of the Black Halo, I had fully listened to two more albums of Kamelot's--Ghost Opera and Poetry for the Poisoned--and started to feel that second place was coming up very closely behind Nightwish. I didn't want to think about my precious Nightwish being kicked out of the position I had mentally put them in. Not because I think they would care, but only because I'm particularly stubborn. 

Kamelot had experienced some lead singer problems of their own. Roy Khan, their talented singer with a voice like velvet, had suffered a serious collapse during their tour to promote Poetry for the Poisoned. After a year's break and having Rhapsody of Fire's Fabio Lione take over for the tour, Khan announced in his blog that he would no longer be a part of the band, and he has since left he music industry altogether. 

I fell into a period of musical confusion. My two favourite active singers were no longer a part of the bands I loved. There was a period of time that I avoided metal altogether. It was a brief period, but it was there. I listened to Gorillaz and Mother Mother and wondered if I would ever love metal again.

And then I discovered this song. 

When I heard the singer, at first I thought it was Roy Khan in a new band, or that perhaps he had changed his mind. When I got to the chorus, though, I realized that it wasn't Khan at all, but someone new, and that Kamelot was alive and well. I was overjoyed. Not only were they releasing a new album, but they sounded as good as ever. While new singer Tommy Karevik had some big shoes to fill, it seemed he was doing a very good job of it.

I purchased their most recent album, Silverthorn, and was blown away by it. To me, it was their best album since the Black Halo. It helped me through a particularly rough patch in winter. Every day I would look forward to coming home, cranking the album as loudly as I could, and... well. Cooking supper. I cooked supper like a badass.

I bought concert tickets on a whim in late March, foolishly overlooking the VIP tickets and going straight for the regular show, thinking it would save me money. For some reason I was neglecting the fact that I was attending a concert 13 hours away and that saving money was a little bit out of the question. Many months passed. Random Access Memories was released and kept me actively listening to something in the meantime. When September arrived, I was ready, and terribly excited.

We woke up at 4:30 AM to board the plane to Montreal the morning of the show and met with a friend who was also in town to see the band. We spent the day hanging out in Montreal, more or less killing time until we could enter the venue.

Brad and I waited outside in the line in the rather uncharacteristic cold for about an hour and a half until finally the line started moving and we were allowed inside the venue. We found a spot on the floor to stand and were surprised when everything started exactly on time. Opening band Eklipse took the stage promptly at 7 PM and blew us all away with their unique, harmonic blend of string instruments. 4 ladies--3 violinists, and one cellist. They played popular cover tunes as well as their own atmospheric originals.

Closely following Eklipse was Delain, a Dutch group who are actually far better live than their recordings would suggest. Lead singer Charlotte Wessels seemed to be an absolute sweetheart, smiling at the crowd at every opportunity. She packed a powerful vocal punch as well. At one point, the crowd was cheering so loud that Charlotte just stopped and watched us, positively beaming. All around, the show was shaping up to be one of the best shows I'd seen, and that was before the main act even came out.

At 8:30, Delain thanked us and left the stage. Just a half hour before Kamelot came on. It was a pretty long half hour. But the lights dimmed, the crowd cheered, and a familiar voice from just offstage shouted "Montreal!". The opening notes of Rule the World started to play, and like the revelation I had when I saw Nightwish live for the first time, I realised right then that Kamelot's succession had arrived. They had dethroned Nightwish, my favourite band for almost 10 years, and taken their place.

Their set was absolutely magical. Alissa White-Gluz of the Agonist--my personal girl-crush and current musical inspiration--accompanied and sang backing vocals and the female vocalists on many of the songs. She also growled during Sacrimony. Eklipse returned for My Confession, playing their strings just as they do on the album. Acadian artist and fellow East Coaster Angie Arsenault took the stage to sing a duet of Don't you Cry in French alongside Tommy. Incredible.

The band said goodbye for the time being, but was, as always, met with a series of cheers and chants from the crowd, begging them to come back on stage. They did, opening the encore with Ghost Opera ("welcome all to curtain call/at the opera/raging voices in my mind/rise above the orchestra/like a crescendo of gratitude"--fitting!). The final song of the night was March of Mephisto, which began with two members of Eklipse coming onstage to play a drumbeat, and followed up with Alissa growling the role of Mephisto. I think that was when I lost my mind. And my voice.

It was an incredible, magical evening. But it wasn't over.

We stopped by our hotel room for a few minutes, then went back out to see if the band might hang around the venue a bit afterwards.

And then, this happened. That's Sean Tibbetts, Kamelot's bassist. I wasn't in pain, by the way, I just can't take a decent photo to save my life.

We saw a few people coming and going, but Sean Tibbetts stopped to talk to us and take a few photos. After seeing no other members coming out, we decided they were likely tired and we headed out to Foufounes for a post-concert drink.

It was when I was ordering a round of Shocktop when my husband Brad leaned over to me and asked "Isn't that Thomas Youngblood over there?". I looked over, and sure enough, the guitarist and founder of Kamelot was standing not far away, chatting with fellow musicians and having a drink of his own. Marcel, our friend who accompanied us--also the lead singer in Moncton-area metal band Shades of Sorrow--suggested we say hello. I'm shy, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity. We approached Youngblood to say hello, and he reciprocated with a smile, shook our hands and clinked glasses with us. Wow. To say it was the perfect end to an already magical evening would be a bit of an understatement.

While I didn't get to meet everyone in the band, it's safe to say I'll be getting VIP tickets next time to ensure this happens. When I first heard of Khan's departure, I was uncertain whether Kamelot would keep going, or that the new singer might not measure up. It seems now, though, that my sentiments echo Youngblood's from this Blabbermouth article:

"In the beginning, when this whole thing started, we were a little unsure of what the future might be, but now we're really excited about it."

I couldn't agree with him more. I'm excited, too.

Nightwish will always be special to me, but times change and so do our perceptions. I'll still see Nightwish on their next North American tour, I'm sure, but I don't know that I can get attached to another singer in the same capacity. It's not right to compare two bands, and though it may sound like it, I'm not. One has just slowly and steadily grown on me to the point that I can no longer see myself calling any other band my favourite. Thanks for September 8th, Kamelot. I'll never forget it.

A post-script to note that seeing Kamelot was the musical kick in the ass I needed. I finished recording this song this week. It's the first song I've ever written. Please let me know what you think!

Moncton life

I grew up in a small rural community surrounded by trees and gorgeous vistas. Our house was a 2-minute drive from the the Bay of Fundy, which boasts the highest tides in the world. If I wanted to be alone, I could easily go find a place where no one would be able to find me. Fog drifted in and out like a familiar friend, and the salt scent of bay air met your nose the moment you opened a window.

Naturally, moving to a city proved to be a bit of a challenge for me at first. Though not a particularly big city by any means, Moncton still had an unsettling tree-to-person ratio. I had grown accustomed to the quiet solitude that came from walking in the woods or watching the tide roll in. That was something that was now missing for me.

Rest area at the Tankville School trail.

My first year of university, I would sit in my dorm alone. That part wasn't so bad--but what I didn't like was the sound of ambulance sirens blaring at all hours of the day. Université de Moncton's Lafrance dormitory was where I stayed, and it loomed above the Georges Dumont hospital. During the week I didn't take many opportunities to go anywhere other than my room or class, but on the weekends I would go home and that would give me the chance to go on those long beautiful walks I craved. In the summer, I would also go home to work from May until the end of August, when school would start again.

One of the highlights of the apartment we rented just off Elmwood was the little duck pond and walking trail down the road. The wildlife made me feel at home, and seeing people walking their dogs made me even happier.

There was a small patch of woods right by the Université de Moncton campus that I used to take a shortcut through, despite the sign that barred pedestrians from passing through. I wasn't the only rule-breaker and often found other students doing the same thing. That one little strip of forest was enough to reconnect me to the place that I wanted to be: the forest. As much as I hate the term, calling me a tree-hugger wouldn't be far from the truth.

Five years ago, in October 2008, Brad and I moved to Moncton permanently. I got a job downtown, we got a new apartment and adopted our cat, Lady Pansy. All of a sudden, life was much different for me. Having no specific days off, I found visiting home much more difficult. In addition, Brad and I would often have separate days off. I would get to visit home very rarely and found myself exhausted from being on my feet all day anyway. 

We weren't anywhere near any kind of walking trail or park. The best we had was the little area in front of the cultural centre across the road. 

Gradually I found out about various places to go in town. First it was the Irishtown Nature Park just off Elmwood Drive. Next was Mapleton Park off the Gorge Road. Both places provided scenic, woodsy walks that put me at ease. We often saw many other people there, but for some reason I didn't mind. Those places are like communities in themselves; many people smile and say hello as they pass, even if you've never met. 

After walking on those paths for some time, we started to locate smaller, less travelled paths. A recurring favourite became the Tankville School trail, just down the road from the Irishtown Nature Park. It seems the Tankville trail hooks onto the back end of another trail, because we found that one, too. The first time, we found it by walking over the frozen lake at Tankville School. The second time, we took the real entrance--just a short drive down the road.

Now we've taken to other sorts of adventures, whether it's through Centennial Park or through visiting outlying villages, cities or towns. One thing that can be said for Moncton is that it lives up to its nickname--the Hub City. Moncton is a short drive away from all kinds of interesting places. It's still close enough, too, that I can get down home when I need to reconnect. On Labour Day, for kicks, we took a little drive down to Cape Tormentine for a change of scenery.

Definitely a change of scenery.

At first, I didn't like the noise and I didn't like the street lights getting in the way of the stars. I still don't like the way the air smells compared to the fresh drifting sea breeze of Alma. Moncton has become home for me in many ways now, though, from the coffee I pick up at Read's on my way to work, to the people I've met simply from working in the mall. While I still sometimes think I'd prefer living out of the city, right now I'm happy with our life in Moncton.

My Life as a Nerd

Growing up geeky in my generation wasn't always easy. I had much different interests from other girls my age. I remember well, sitting in my pyjamas at the age of 10 with a loose tooth, playing through Super Mario RPG on my Super Nintendo. In grade 6, when I went to a brand new school, I was bullied and teased for my braces and my weird sense of style. I went home in tears nearly every day. My mom gave me a Sailor Moon doll to help give me incentive to stay at the new school, because I wanted to leave so badly. While I didn't play with my doll, she was a part of my growing collection of Sailor Moon toys and other items: another sign I wasn't like the others.

Summer Fear III led to me getting zombified.

No one wanted to be near me at school dances, which, for some reason, I took to heart in an extreme way. I was that girl you saw, sitting alone in the corner, crying because I was lonely.

I didn't really have anyone to spend time with at school for about a year, when a boy named Johnny and I decided we were destined to be best friends. We'd trade Pokemon cards and watch anime together. I'd go to his house for lunch and we'd play Harvest Moon or Ocarina of Time on his Nintendo 64. We'd spend hours on the phone, giving play-by-plays of the shows we were watching and the games we were playing.

We weren't teased any less, but at least we had each other.

Later on in high school, I had a bit of a broader set of friends--nearly all of them guys. We played card games and our GameBoys together in empty classrooms at noon. Some of my "in-between" friends--not overly popular, but not teased either--couldn't figure out why I wouldn't just hide my weird interests and wear my makeup differently. They told me I could get a boyfriend easily if I changed a few things. I didn't want to change, though. And that did pay off, because now I'm actually married to Brad, who is one of those guys I used to play card games with.

Growing up geeky, as I said, wasn't always easy, and in fact, there were a lot of times that it would have been easier to hide my interests. But, I didn't, hoping that one day it would pay off. When I finally got out of high school and made my way into university, it did.

I lived on dorm by myself, which was fine with me. Brad would come to visit me on weekends, so living alone gave me the freedom to have him over whenever I pleased. The two of us would stay up until the wee hours watching anime and playing Baldur's Gate on my GameCube. I didn't have many friends in university right away, but having Brad visit from the university he attended helped ease the loneliness on weekends.

One day, as I was leaving my dorm room, I caught a glimpse of my neighbour's door and saw a poster that read "Animaritime". Reading further, I saw that this was an anime and gaming convention--something I had always wanted to attend, but was sadly unavailable to kids in the Maritimes. I was instantly on the website from the poster and signed up for the forums. I chatted with people about the event and, eventually, I met my neighbour--through the forums! We exchanged private messages, and she invited me over to her room to hang out.

A year later, I was walking to class. A keychain of Sakura from Naruto dangled off my backpack. The girl walking behind me hurried to catch up, and she quickly engaged me in conversation. We were fast friends, too, and were a big part of each other's lives for the next few years.

Animaritime was a cornerstone for me to find more people who like the same things I do, and with the intensity I like it. I got into cosplay and started becoming friends with the people I met at conventions. It seemed like, for the first time, I had found my people. 

In 2006, I started getting tired of waiting between Animaritime events to cosplay and see people, so I decided to spearhead an event of my own. At first, I just referred to it as "Moncton Cosplay Picnic", but with some help from my good friend and fellow nerd Tom Savage, we came up with the name Picnicon. The event has been happening on a yearly basis ever since, with a break of only one year in the interim.

After Animaritime one year, Brad and I were invited by a local gaming store to start up a Pokemon League for kids to learn how to play and meet other kids for free. Five years later, we're still at it--Brad's a League-officiated Pokemon Professor, in fact. And yeah, we're pretty pumped for X and Y. I'm getting X, because that deer is too fabulous to pass up.

Attending Animaritime as a staff member this year, I got to witness firsthand as teenagers and young adults made new friends, brought together by the love they feel for various geeky pursuits. I thought to myself how lucky all of these kids are, growing up in an age that these events take place on a regular basis. When I was young, Maritime con-goers would have to travel to Quebec or Ontario to enjoy a large-scale event. Now, after nearly ten years of Animaritime, the event has reached over 1,700 attendees. This is a far cry from the 200-something attendees that were there the year I started going, which was their second year of operation.

Picnicon 2013 is coming up very soon, with thanks to my staff and the attendees for their ongoing support. Picnicon will never be a 1,700 person event, but it has been expanding every year and has been a lot of fun. Just last weekend I had the opportunity to go to Harbour Con-Fusion to meet people who have made an incredible living off being awesome and geeky. Some day, I hope to be among them.

I could go on for hours on this topic. To end, here is an amazing video featuring super-nerd Wil Wheaton that, I feel, sums up why it's awesome to be a geek today. 

Harbour Con-Fusion 2013

A picture of me with my table-neighbour Darren Hann.

This past weekend, I had a rare opportunity: I was invited to attend a convention to do nothing but promote myself. I set out to do just that and, of course, to meet new people. Meeting new people was not only a goal, but also a necessity, as it turned out. On day one, I knew only a small handful of attendees.

Did I ever meet a friendly group of people! All the other guests, it seemed, were just as willing to meet new people as I was, and they all went out of their way to introduce themselves to me at some point or another.

It's always fascinating, to me, when a group of creators are placed into a room together. It seems to me that they are always working on various projects and, at this event in particular, seemed to have a keen interest in what everyone else was doing. I spent the weekend collecting business cards and discussing works in progress, as well as swapping notes, resources, and suggesting collaborations.

It's hard to believe all of this came from the lot of us meeting at a sci-fi/horror/fantasy/anime/gaming/etc. convention, but there you have it--sometimes when creators meet, friendships are inevitable!

It was nice to see such a supportive group, as well. I ended up doing book trades with 3 guests who were interested in my book and had books of their own.

I had the opportunity to run a panel on publishing and self-publishing with Matthieu Gallant, who was one of the authors I book-swapped with. I had great conversations with illustrator and comic artist Sandy Carruthers about his work, and was the lucky table neighbour to independent filmmaker and outstandingly friendly Trekkie Darren Hann. I got to spend time hanging out and having a couple of drinks with the guys of Geeks vs. Nerds, in particular fellow writer Larry Gent. Artist (and fellow Daft Punk fan) André Myette was a couple of tables down on the first day, and we had some great chats as well.

Aside from the connections I made, I want to give a shout out to Drakon Designs and Blind Leviathan for their lovely tables! Drakon did some beautiful facepainting on attendees this weekend, and Blind Leviathan was selling everything Lon Lon Milk pendants to Companion Cube earrings. Being the huge zombie fanatic that I am, I got some bottled zombie virus.

Obviously.

I should mention I got numerous StreetPasses as well, and compliments about my special edition Legend of Zelda 3DS. Maybe I didn't need to mention that. Whatever.

On the third day, the moon crashed into Termina I held a small panel about events planning and running your own event or meetup. It was attended by only 2, but I had held the same panel at Animaritime last month and had a good turnout there. I'm going to keep working on expanding the panel, particularly with feedback I've been receiving about it, and hope to turn it into a PowerPoint presentation so I can spread it even further. Giving panels is always interesting because not only do the attendees learn something, but quite often the person or people holding the panel will learn, as well.

All in all, I had a fantastic weekend, and I managed to sell out of all printed copies of Hub City Survival! Amazing! I also managed to get a lot of work done on Retail Hell, the webcomic I am writing. I was surrounded by so many talented people all weekend that it was hard not to be inspired to work.

I won't be drawing the comic myself, and am looking for an artist. If you're interested in the project, send me an e-mail! I'll likely be throwing some sketches or other tidbits up here before long.

Right now, I'm looking for a new home for HCS because my print-on-demand publisher, Lightning Demand Press, is currently isn't printing due to a flood. As well, I am working on my new novel with the working title A Couple of Dreamers. I have written a silent screenplay that is very short, and I hope to film it in the next month or so. There's certainly a lot going on creatively, but that doesn't mean I don't have time for more! I'm always interested in collaborations or working with others on various projects. Give me a shout if you have something that you think might interest me.

I'm on vacation currently, which means that I'll likely be posting another entry or two in the next little while. You'll be hearing from me before too long.

Girls just wanna have fun

On May 22, 2013, an e-mail I wrote was sent to the 20,000+ subscribers of mailing list The Listserve. I included my e-mail address at the end so anyone could write back to me.

Nearly 100 e-mails later, I have received articles, book recommendations, and a few very interesting counter-thoughts. I'm pleased to say that, as of writing this, I have received only a single troll.

I've been recommended the books The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir and Lean in - Women, Work, and the Will to Lead by Sheryl Sandberg. I'll be looking both of these up the next time I go to a book store.

There is a plethora of feminist articles that readers sent to me, as well, that I wouldn't feel right if I didn't share.

A good one from Curator of Dialogue
Why society still needs feminism, on Tumblr
Clara Fritts' take on feminism
A TED Talk that might turn every man who watches it into a feminist
Serenade my Soul on my article
Men are from Mars, women are from Venus (such bollocks!)

 Some people directed me to causes they feel strongly about as well, such as Girl Develop It, whose mission is to empower women from diverse backgrounds to learn how to code and develop software, and a non-feminist but very real humanitarian movement based out of NYC that is actively moving against the controversial stop-and-frisk program. I have learned a lot about people from all over and their views and impressions of feminism by sending a single e-mail.

Thanks to everyone who read my e-mail and who felt compelled to write to me, and those who remained silent as well.

The title of my e-mail was Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, which meant as an ironic twist to the well-known song.  I've pasted it below for you to read.

---

I was going to take this opportunity to talk about something entirely different, but after something that happened yesterday, I’m going to use it to clear up a few misconceptions about a topic very dear to me.

My mom is an English professor. During one of her classes, she looked at her students and asked “How many of you here would identify as a feminist?”. To her dismay, about three or four of the twenty-some students raised their hands, and all of them were female.

“Let me ask you something,” she said. “How many of you believe in equal rights for women?” Everyone raised their hands. “How many of you believe women should be paid the same amount as men in the workplace?” They all raised her hands again. Mom smiled. “Then you are all feminists.”

The first two definitions of feminism, as per dictionary.com, are:
fem·i·nism
[fem-uh-niz-uhm] Show IPA
noun
1.
the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men.
2.
( sometimes initial capital letter ) an organized movement for the attainment of such rights for women.
If you’ll look, you see none of the common misconceptions of feminism, which include:
1. hating men
2. burning bras
3. getting angry when men hold doors open for them
4. trying to take over the world with our feminine wiles
5. obliterating men altogther and releasing them as a fine powder into the atmosphere (okay, I’m embellishing just a bit)

The reality is that feminists are sick of the way women are portrayed, the way they are pitted against each other and the way that society tells women that their bodies are shameful and that they should hate them for not looking good enough for men.

Yesterday I had a guy refuse to let me help him lift heavy things for the mere fact that I was a woman, even though I had just carried one of those “heavy” things (which, for the record, really weren’t that heavy) across the floor to him with ease. Instead of standing there and arguing with him, I decided it said more about him than me, and I left. And that was when I knew what to write about for the Listserve.

A few traditional sexist practices need a little clarification, too. If a man refuses to hit a woman because he just doesn’t hit women, he’s doing it for the wrong reason. You shouldn’t hit a woman because she’s a person, just like you shouldn’t hit a man because he’s a person--a quick digression to add that I am absolutely not referring to domestic abuse here, rather the old "I wouldn't hit a girl" adage. When you hold a door open for a woman, you should hold it open because it’s polite to hold a door open for anyone. And, regardless of which gender the person holding the door open identifies with, you should always say thank you. But that’s a “common courtesy” issue, so I’ll stop there.

My aim with this e-mail wasn’t necessarily to change minds, but rather to help some of you understand that you might just be a feminist without knowing it. And that’s okay. Most of the negative aspects associated with feminism are radical and certainly not the thoughts of every feminist, or are non-existant altogether.

I have a lot to say on various topics, not all of them necessarily political, social, or even negative. If you’re interested, I invite you to check out my blog. Google “kcooperwriting” and you’ll find me a few links down under my Twitter account.

Thanks for reading. I’ve really enjoyed all the Listserve e-mails so far, especially those with projects linked to them.

---

To finish off, another reader sent me this great cover of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Enjoy.

 

Role models

I hope everyone has at least one role model growing up. I was privileged to have had several. My parents, obviously, were (and still are!) the biggest ones, but I was fortunate to have numerous teachers who impacted my life, too. Belinda Myers was one of those teachers.

I found out a week ago that Mrs. Myers had passed away suddenly in a motorcycle accident, and the news hit me hard. I had seen another teacher a few weeks prior and, oddly enough, had asked what Mrs. Myers was up to. It was jarring, to say the least, to hear that she passed away not long after.

There's a lot that needs to be said about Mrs. Myers, but I can only speak from the perspective of a former student. I will say that as a "black sheep" sort of attendee, I found Mrs. Myers to be welcoming and understanding. I could always go to her if I had an issue of any kind, and if she couldn't fix it, she could at least change my perspective on it so it didn't seem so bad. She always had something constructive to say, so if you were doing something she didn't agree with, she would tell you why and how to change it. She was calm and didn't yell or raise her voice, but she was still fair and wouldn't let students get away with breaking rules. She also didn't make it a secret how much she cared for her students.

Since high school, which has been nearly ten years now, I've had the opportunity to catch up with a lot of teachers, and even tell some of them how much their instruction meant to me. One thing that I'll always regret now is that I never got to do that with Mrs. Myers. She was the vice principal when I graduated and I had always thought, while attending, how I would have liked to see how she ran it as principal. She was principal for several years after, and I can only imagine she did a great job with that, too.

That is my fond, little memorial of Mrs. Myers and the great teacher she was. I had three classes with her: Media Studies, Law, and Journalism, and I still think of all of them. My thoughts are, especially, with her family at this time.

Thank you, Mrs. Myers.

A reading

A few weeks back, I had the distinct pleasure of seeing a group of people that I knew from all walks of life read before an audience. There were five people in total: one is the head of the Writer's Federation I'm a member of, one was my professor, one a customer, one a co-worker, and one is my father.

Seeing these five people, all of whom have affected my life in different ways, work together so flawlessly was inspiring. The five of them had been meeting together to discuss poetry and draw inspiration from one another. What came from these meetings was beautiful poetry--some of which was read that evening.

Cafe Aberdeen was filled with people, some of whom knew these poets, as well. It was very well-attended, and the cafe workers actually had to bring in more chairs to accommodate people. While the poets read, the audience, rapt and attentive, said nothing. The magic of poetry hung heavy in the air like snow on a branch. No one dared speak out of turn to break the spell.

It was an inspiring night, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who left with an unfinished poem in my head. In fact, I saw a woman scrawling notes down during the reading, probably for later use.

In honor of that evening, I wrote this one unfinished and unedited poem. It's aptly named, I think; I call it "At a Poetry Reading".

Perched
like a cat watching a bird
on the edge of the stool
you listen and watch
attentively
held in balance
suspended
absorbing every word
and never losing focus
or wavering
from the person who reads before you.

When the poems are done
you do not clap
but continue staring ahead
in the pose you assume
that looks so uncomfortable to me
but you hold so effortlessly
it must be a second nature
to you.

Do you refrain from clapping
because you didn't enjoy it?
Or rather
were the words so powerful
they shocked you into stillness
and led you to believe
that no sound
of appreciation
could really do them justice?

Do you
like so many others in this room
have your own way
of keeping the silent magic?

This winter has been a bit strange for me, and finding inspiration for writing has been scarce. This reading was like a shining beacon in the (literal) storm that has been the past two months.  When I say literal storm, I mean that my house is currently sitting under a good six feet of snow!

I'm not kidding!

 I have a week of vacation next week, so there may be more blog posts forthcoming. In the meantime, I'm still regularly updating thisindiegameblog, as winter is a perfect time of year to sit inside and play games!

Things come full circle

About one year ago, my family and I said farewell to an old friend of ours. Our cat, Jake, who had been with us for fifteen years, died of old age as her heart failed. I posted the blog post on Oct. 24, 2011, and the one-year anniversary of that post is in just two days.

This post is meant to be an homage to Jake's fond memory through new, happy news. It seems that, for me and my family, things have truly come full circle.

The two momma cats.

Just under a month ago, my Dad came home to find a pair of sister mother cats and their respective litters of kittens--6 in total--hiding under the cabin in the lower lot. For a man who loves cats as much as my father, this was a pleasant surprise. For about a week, he took good care of those cats and kittens. He fed them and cleaned up after them, gave them a roof over their heads and gave them all the love and attention they could ask for. I went down to visit and was getting ready to decide which kitten would come home with me. The decision was impossible--six sweet kittens, and all of them with their own lovable traits. Absolutely impossible.

Just under a week later, the cats vanished without a trace. We were all devastated and concerned. Maybe something got to the kittens, or the mothers moved them somewhere else. I hadn't decided which kitten to give a home to, but I was excited about the prospect of another cat in the house. Regardless of this, the safety of the cats and kittens was our foremost concern.

My parents searched for a few weeks, but to no avail. As time stretched on, we began to lose hope that we would see them again. Nonetheless, my parents kept up the search.

One day, without warning, the mother cats came back, alone. Dad caught wind of people adopting the kittens, which made me happy but a bit sad. I was happy they got homes, but obviously, sad that I couldn't be the person to give them one. Dad started feeding the cats and they hung around outside the house, giving the place a new life it hadn't seen since Jake died.

The night the mother cats returned, I had a dream. I dreamt that the cats appeared at my parents' house, with one of the kittens in tow, and that I took that kitten home with me. That kitten was orange and white, like four of the six kittens in the litter were. It wasn't a strange dream to have, to be honest; I was already thinking about the cats so of course I dreamed of them. I woke up and told Dad about my dream, then, to my surprise, discovered that he had the exact same dream.

That night, my phone rang. I answered, and my Dad, on the other end, frantically relayed a message that the cats appeared as Mom was on her way up to town... with two kittens in tow. I couldn't believe it! But then, he told me that they had flea collars on, so they obviously belonged to someone. He asked me for advice so I, without being able to hide my disappointment, suggested that he call around. He said that he would and he would get back to me.

Not long after, my husband and I were sitting down to have supper when my dad called back. The kittens, it seemed, belonged to the neighbors, and as did the mother cats. It certainly explained why they were over so often! The good news, then, was that they would be visiting, considering they were indoor-outdoor cats and, well, they were just next door. Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment as I hung up the phone. The cats had homes, and they were nearby. I should have been happy. I never thought I'd see those cats or kittens again, and they were just next door, and, it seemed, more than happy to migrate back and forth. This should have been excellent news.

But, I'm only human, and I'm a bit selfish. I was disappointed to hear that one of those kittens wouldn't be coming to live with me. It seemed like the end of it.

Just as we were finishing up supper, my phone rang again. I answered to my mother, quite suddenly, asking if I wanted a kitten. Shocked and stuttering (and, admittedly, after shouting "YES" into the phone), I asked for an explanation.

It seemed the neighbors had the two mother cats and three kittens, but really, were giving most of the kittens a home simply because they had the mothers living there. While one of them wanted to keep the little tabby kitten, they told my parents "Kate can have one of the orange ones, if she wants". Rewind back to the dream I had. An orange and white kitten.

I don't want to necessarily say that there is such a thing as fate, or things happening for a reason, but this seems a bit too much to be a coincidence. All I know is that if you had told me, yesterday morning, that one of those kittens would be living in my house by the end of the day, I would have called you a liar.

About an hour and a half after I got off the phone with Mom, I had a very happy reunion with a little guy I named Rusty. Even his name has a story behind it: he was the kitten with the most vibrant, bright orange red in his fur, and the time I helped Dad out with the cats about a month ago, I also spent naming the kittens individually. It certainly beat "orange kitten", "other orange kitten", "runt tabby" and "the white kitten with an orange tail and a couple orange spots on his back".

Dad and I were talking about something I can't really remember while we were standing on the deck, and he pointed to something, saying "that's all rusty". Rusty, I thought to myself. Indeed. And thus, the first kitten was named.

Lady Pansy, our four-year old tabby, is (very) slowly starting to warm up to him. I think that, in time, they will grow to be great friends.

Rusty, then and now. He was only about eight weeks old when we found them, and here he is now at twelve. Notice his pretty amber eyes!




The best part? I didn't even have to decide. The kitten was chosen for me, and I was more than happy to take him. I would have given any of them a home, but the decision-making process was excruciating.

And now, I have shared my story about the latest addition to our family! Thank you for reading.