i went out for margaritas with a friend of mine last night at this bar in the plateau that was, to me, perfectly her miki is turning 35 in a month, but unless you got up super, super close, you wouldn’t put her over 25. her half-burmese heritage is visible in the feline slant of her blue eyes, and her long black hair. she has a great laugh that frequently explodes. she has a great sense of style – effortless and yet somehow urban, if that makes sense. she’s a writer who always tells it like it is. she has this somewhat mysterious job that involves writing and something high-tech, she’s divorced…she has this exoticism to her. i really like her, and really like hanging out with her, but we’re not able to do it very often.

the bar we met at was very “montreal”, very miki. a narrow room, filled with lounge music and hip looking people, rotating soft red and green lights, right around the corner from where she lived. i don’t go out to “barbars” very often, and i’ve spent a lot of time with people who like drinking in the shabby holes – so it was a rare experience for me. i loved it.

let me say, she was inspiring in the most ass-kicking kind of way. we talked a lot about writing, and the ideas she was throwing at me for stories that she’s writing – i was astounded by their scope and weirdness, their inventiveness. she talked about working for this company that she loves, how she feels allowed to become the kind of creative person she feels she needs to be, how she’s exhausted through taking a credit at university, working full time, and working on her master’s portfolio. she’s applying to school in brooklyn, and said how if she gets accepted, she’ll take a year’s deferral because “i want to take it by storm, you know? i want to go to new york and bend it to my will, not be all, ‘oohhh, i’m in newwwww yorrrrrk.’ ”

i missed that energy. i hope i’m growing back into some of my own, but that sense of self-confidence, the outpouring of her creativity, the place that she had got herself to…it was awesome. she told me about moving out of willowdale, ontario, when she was 17 and getting on a plane to paris and staying for four years. when i asked her how she afforded it, she said…”like anyone else. with a part-time job. i was a tour guide, you know, like, ‘on your right are les champs elysee’.”
i would have loved to move to paris (still would, who am i kidding?) but the idea that i could just move there, with really no savings, wouldn’t have occurred to me. i would have imagined some roadblock and therefore not tried at all, imagining failure and a more bruised heart for trying.


at the same time, can i admit to some envy? i started to question my own story, the years i spent with my depression, as wasted, wondered why i couldn’t write, why i hadn’t been writing, missing that self-confidence i remembered having more of. that questioning happened all in a split-second, and until i slowed myself down with “bee….we each have our own story to live. use this as a wake-up call.”

so yes, i’ll continue to be gentle with my heart, but i’ll try and take last night as a reminder to be porous to all perceived limitations. i want to dream my biggest dreams and follow them, trust them, make them grow. i want to make my own mondo beyondo list, and have faith in my creative power again.


i realized today how much, even though i thought otherwise, for the past few years i’ve put out the vibe that i wanted to be alone. having field as my main go-to, when he’s so busy all the time…i said it bothered me, but on some level that level of intimacy was all that i could handle. i think i’m through with that. i want community, i want fulfilment, i want passion, sustainability, love.

it’s good to be back. i’m not promising daily posting, but i want to try and crack myself open.
your comments and love have been stunning. i’m honoured & humbled that you feel that way. it’s mutual.
please know that i’ll be around to visit you as soon as i’m able.