my name is bee. this is my real-life nickname as well as a possible set of my initials.

i live in montreal; i am almost 29; i’m a perpetual student. i stand about 5’5″, have short black hair, my grandfather’s blue eyes, and a love of gemstone jewelry. people have told me before i have a good phone-sex voice.

i write a lot – i go to school to learn how. i live in a neighbourhood outside of downtown where there are lots of trees, parks where i love walking my dog, and little bakeries that serve great coffee. i share my apartment with my dog and my long-suffering cat. i live across the street from an elementary school, and i often wake up to the sound of birds singing in the tree outside my window. my apartment is half painted – from last december. i have been known to stash dirty dishes in the cupboards underneath the sink when i’m having company over. i have a perpetual “messy” energy, but when i concentrate on engaging with people, i really can.

i love to read – mostly fiction. (i consider it research. you’d find a lot of books by michael ondaatje, alice munro, and mordecai richler on my shelves). i bought a digital camera two months ago that i still haven’t figured out how to plug in. i collect magazines to clip art from. i am currently on a HUGE elliott smith kick, but i will devour any music you put in front of me – and right away start having vivid associations with each song. nina simone reminds me of my mother, and how jazz was the only thing my mother could listen to, after my dad (who thought that jazz was low-class) moved out. any song by the doors will evoke the memory of my twin-bed-pink-bedroom adolescence. dave matthews reminds me of my best friend.

my mother died when i was 20. i have c.p.

i have re-invented myself so many times through the years. i have been a teenage hellion (writing bad cheques, stealing, drinking, smoking), a depressed poet, a party girl. i have used myself and have had others use me.

through it all, it feels like i have been following a rope out of the darkness. one hand put blurrily ahead of me and pull, then the other. i am blessed to be who i am, because i am me…this is something i try to remember.

sometimes i am better at remembering than others – better at remembering that every situation can be a spiritual lesson, better at lying down on the grass in a patch of sun and feeling the earth restore my strength. better at letting the taste of coffee linger on my tongue. better at telling the people i love that i love them. better at knowing that i am human and spirit mixed together. better at loving myself and giving myself the space to be.

i can be jealous. i have a temper, but it takes a while for it to burn.

a cross section of my desk at this moment would show you: a cd of collected music from 1930, my anti-depressants, a camera bag, a hair band, a bodum, an empty bottle of red wine, a “wish box”, a book about environmental politics, and the account information to my cell phone, a book about the further adventures of batman, and my tarot cards.

i am at my best in the summer, and in a body of water. i love making love. i love kissing. i love eating grapes in my underwear. i love that what i love can change from minute to minute, but that there is an essential core that stays the same.

i am who i am.Β to find out who other people are, go here.

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