Yep.

Irony...you cruel witch

Have you ever stopped and realized, to your horror, that the following sayings are true?

1) Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people;

2) Only the good die young; and,

3) No matter how hard you try to make your own happiness, it doesn't work. Happiness just seems appear on it's own, when you least expect it.

Perhaps, this post should not be titled 'Irony... you cruel witch', but instead be arranged something more like 'Life... you cruel witch.' Because it is true: life, in all her pleasantries and horrors, can be a cold heartless wench.

At this point, some people will point out that not everything ends that way, not everyone turns out that way, and there's always a stupid silver lining. But I do believe that some people have seen too many Hollywood romances to really understand that sometimes, the guy doesn't get the girl, the adorable dog dies, and not every prince and princess ride off into the sunset. Life just isn't like that.

Now, I'm not trying to be depressive or pessimistic. I'm just making a point: not everything in everyone's life is roses.

But that doesn't mean we can't change it.

I truly believe that if we want something to be different, we have the power to change it. Through patience, a bit of hard work, and more patience, we can make our own happiness... by know when to stop trying and just wait for it to happen.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: Easier said than done. No kidding. No one, especially me, said it would be easy. Relinquishing control and just letting it ride is hard. You're afraid that life is going to gallop out from underneath you. But hey, you still got the reins. You're just not yanking on them every five seconds.

I say all this because, well, I should really be doing just that.

So by writing it down, I'm hoping I can get it through my thick skull.

xo <3

My Father's Shop

This is a continuation from the blog post from years back, titled 'My Mother's Kitchen'.

Before my family moved to a new, larger home four years ago, we lived in a small semi-detached house in the north end of town. It wasn't very big, maybe 1300 square feet. 3 bedrooms, 1 bath (It was a long 17 years), a kitchen, dining room, and living room. However, our basement set us apart from our neighbors.

When we first moved in, the basement was renovated to have a laundry room, a pantry, and a full apartment. The apartment was rented out to students who attended the college/university in our town. It had a bedroom, another bathroom, a sitting area, and a very small kitchenette. When we stopped renting it out, it became a play room and a spare bedroom.

Tucked into a wall of the small hallway from the stairs to the laundry room is my dad's work shop. It was really more of a bench. It had a wide wooden counter for the vise grip, various pieces of wood and metal; a peg board with hooks for wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers and tape; and cupboards/drawers beneath the counter that held old paint cans, rags, and drill bits.

Inevitably, there was saw dust and wood scraps littered on the hallway floor. Pieces of metal pipes, nails and screws litter the top counter, along with busted doorknobs, broken necklaces, abused toys, borked appliances and malfunctioning electronics. Some objects sat there for a long time, waiting for repair pieces; other objects didn't linger there long, as they were quickly repaired by my dad.

My dad's dad was a auto-body specialist. He opened a joint business with a friend. It still runs to this day, under the efficient management of my uncles. In high school and between courses at university, my dad worked with him in the shop. Every time I'm in town, I visit the shop, see my roots and heritage.

I'm pretty sure that he picked up his tool-savvy and careful repair skills from his days in the shop with his dad. Anytime something does not work, it goes down to the workshop.

Now, however, the workshop has expanded. When we moved, dad's workshop became a whole room. The same bench traveled from one house to the other; and was it ever a job of moving that thing! There is now a counter, a few wall cupboards, a bookshelf, rolls of carpet and bags of bedding, and scrap pieces of wood. Whenever something is broken, or when we needed to make something for a school project, we inevitably troop down to the work bench for glue, wood, hammers, nails, and wire.

The workbench isn't needed for every repair. When my computer becomes finicky, when the DVD player skips, when the car needs washer fluid, it's not the workbench I visit first. It's Dad. Dad is the Fix-It-Man. Always. Even if we weren't sure the item was fixable or out of dad's knowledge (rarely possible), we'd go to him. He'd study it, ask questions about what happened, question what we'd already tried to fix it, fiddle with the various pieces or buttons, and then give the official ruling of "Yep, we can fix it" or "Sorry, sweetie, it's done".

Regardless of the answer, Dad would come with me and fix it, or he would look online at new/improved pieces. In situations of broken objects that come with broken hearts, Dad is always comfort when there is panic, reassurance where there is uncertainty, and calm peace where there is fear and doubt. Dad is the constant through broken walk-mans, busted favourite electronic games, and dying computers. He's always there, always up to the Fix-It challenge, and always supportive when things take a turn for the worst.

Thanks Dad. For being there for everything from broken toys to broken hearts. The one man I will always depend on for everything. I love you.

xo <3

Oh hi, this blog thingy is still here...

So, I realize that, yes, I have forgotten about this blog. I apologize.

Sometimes, life happens. And you just can't do a damn thing about it.

So what has changed on my end? Relationships, friendships, and work. Shit loads of work.

How about you? How's things? ;)

I've really been meaning to reopen this blog: let the creative juices flow and release the inner muse; find myself again and yet lose myself again in deep thought and endless speculation.

On top of that, I'm pretty sure without writing something down regularly, my emotions have become clogged; a very big mess in the area that is my heart, soul, and brain. I mean, that is what this blog was supposed to be all about for me. "Some days you are blue like the bottom of the sea. And other days, you're streaking across the sky like the sun. For every other day, there is this..."

Seriously, we're talking about that mess you get when you pull all the tape out of a cassette and try to put it back in. Nearly freakin' impossible to restore. Nearly.

So although August is no time for New Year's Resolutions, I'm resolving to get my blogger rear in gear and put SOMETHING up here in the next couple months.

So keep watching. I promise not to disappoint ;)

xo <3

I need a million copies of this image for several coworkers, family members, and friends...