Saturday, January 29, 2011



I watch the sweet perfection in
the big snow flakes that fall
I see one ideal creation
manifested in them all

I observe the exquisite rhyme
in that poetry from the sky
adore a  masterpiece of nature
in the billions that fly

I watch crystalline transcendence
beyond the barrier of the drifts
and I sense it in the winter's  breeze
as it gusts and gently lifts

I rejoice the sweet perfection in
these cold flames upon my face
because the molecules of heaven
have now fallen into place


Friday, January 28, 2011

Every Second Counts!

Photo Credit:  Matt Oake

Today I awakened with the clearest understanding of one simple fact.  Every second of your life counts whether you make it count or not!

From your very first second until the last, you matter.  You are an important and vital part of this universe.  We read all of the literature about making life count and making your moments count but the fact of the matter is, even if you're doing nothing at all intentionally to make your time count, it still does.  It has meaning.

It is fine to be aware of the moment.  But don't get so caught up in the idea of making it matter that you forget to do the actual living.  In all things there must be balance.

Living in the moment simply means being subconsciously aware and knowing that you are divine.  That your spirit is perfect though your behaviour might not be considered so.  Understand that the seconds of your life are not only a gift to you but a gift to those around you, the people you love, who love you and who you are connected to. 

You don't have to do a damn thing only live it your own way, be the best you that you can be regardless of all that has gone on before in your life.  Those seconds counted...but only in the sense that when you lived them they were your present.

Your past, your so called mistakes are behind you, like the wake of the boat. The wake doesn't drive the boat so let it go and in this second, smile.  Or not.  What you do doesn't matter.  But YOU do.

This second counts.  You may consciously choose how to be in it.  Or not.  But it counts.  No matter what.


Thursday, January 27, 2011

And she'll have fun fun fun...

I am bored.  I am bored to tears. Seriously.  Rarely happens.  But it is winter.  it is cold and I do not have a snowmobile or skis or any of the fun stuff that gets many people through winter!

It is 4:35pm and I'm having dark chocolate with a hint of chili(I do love the heat) and a glass of shiraz...and I'm listening to Pink Floyd. (click link to hear)  Still bored.  Mellow but bored.

So  what shall I write about?  Not much going on here.  But though I am not having fun right in this minute, I do have some things on the go.

First off, I'm taking a flying lesson on April 10.  Yes, I will fly the aircraft..take off, land...all the middle stuff too like flying and flirting with the flight instructor (he's male but I would have flirted either way).  It's always been a dream of mine and since all my dreams always come true, I decided it was time for this one.

Second of all my book is entered in a competition.  I have no idea if there is even a remote chance of winning but it's been entered!

And there is another all hush hush top secret thing and like the book competition, who knows if anything will come of it but to actually have an idea and the means to pitch it is pretty exciting. (little clue there).

But today I'm bored.  Winter has too much time for imagination but is limiting in the freedom for me to do what I want to do.  If it were summer I'd hop off to the beach for a day or have a huge barbeque with beer and invite a bunch of people over to share it.

Meanwhile, I have been entertaining myself with some funny flying videos.  The second one particularly cracks me up every time!

Here you go!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

That Heart; The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle

No, the book isn't finished but it's in process.  I will be a resident of Newfoundland by the time this one is ready to hit the press.  What I did, though, just for fun, was make a mock up using a simple program I have.  I'm not sure what the cover will look like when the book is finished and after real graphic artist get hold of it but I thought it might be fun to have a visual! 

Here is a little excerpt from the writing I did today.

Dovey waited at the top of Lookout Point. Thrum, woosh, thrum, woosh-the ocean crashed and receded, crashed and receded, a bass drum rhythm accompanied but the seagulls’ song. She inhaled deeply, the fresh salty air heightening her senses, making the blue sky bluer and the ocean an even deeper hue of topaz.  In a moment he would be here.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Hard Truths

Photo Credit:  Matt Oake

There is something that takes place in people at a certain time in their lives.   For years this was called a midlife crisis.  People changed their entire lives, left their spouses, switched careers, did what the world judged as extremely self-destructive things, for no apparent good reason.   It happened to men and women alike at around the 40 year mark and up and even those who felt immune to the possibility, the sensible ones, the wise ones have fallen into this spiral of decisions that seem completely out of character and without merit, sometimes appear incredibly selfish and often change lives forever. 

In some you never see much of the change because they keep things internal or they behave as they've always behaved because that's how they've identified themselves for so long they are afraid to address the internal shift inside.  They suffer in silence.  Sometimes they become depressed.  The person who was always the "good" one is terrified of their sudden desire to break free from their lives.  The person who was wild and carefree and "bad" behaves worse to prove they're themselves still.  It feels normal to behave that way though every atom of their being is screaming "this isn't working anymore."

So shift happens.  

A few years ago , I watched a movie, coincidentally called The Shift. It was about the transition people make in their lives from ambition to meaning.  It put forth the idea that what people grow up to believe in such as the pursuit of a career, the putting aside our needs to raise a family, the chasing of money, prestige, reputation etc. that this becomes less and less important as we enter a new phase and begin to wonder at the meaning of our lives.

I believe the midlife crisis and the shift are one and the same.  I believe the behaviour is a direct result of trying to find equilibrium in a world that suddenly makes no sense. 

Carl Jung said "the afternoon of our life cannot be lived by the morning's rhythm." 

This time is a period of great transition and great opportunity for learning.  From change comes growth.  A muscle doesn't increase its mass unless it is damaged a tiny bit.  Life is the same.  It'll get  bigger the more you live it big. 

This is the most exciting time of my life.  I am returning to my home province this summer.  After 23 years in Ontario, I'm going home.  I'm going to build on a writing career I started just two years ago, in my forties.  I have come to the realisation that there is where my dreams lie and so I'm going back. I'm not waiting for change to come to me, I'm creating it. 

Over these past few years I have gained new insights into myself, experienced growth as a person, learned to love unconditionally, let go of harsh judgements of human behavior and become very in touch with the meaning of my life and how it should unfold, which means moment by moment with no expectation of anything beyond an extreme gratitude when the next moment comes.
I have learned that the greatest joy in my life is being the person I am.  It's not my car, it's not the house I live in, or how well behaved my children are or whether people read my book or not. 
It means I live out loud, that my life is mine and mine alone and that no one else gets to live it for me. And that my heart is becoming so free of judgement that I'm willing to let everyone around me do the same.  This is why, if you ask my opinion on something it likely will be very different from what most of the other people in your life will say. 

For example, my children can grow up and be who they are because I already see they are exceptionally compassionate and caring people so is there more I want for them than that?  The decisions they make, the paths they choose are theirs alone and my only job is to take care of them and to guide a little.
I was talking to a friend earlier and she posted this snippet of dialogue from a book by Neil Gaiman. 
I think, if you were to find yourself in the middle of a shift at any point in your life and you were to ask for direction...this is probably how the conversation should go.  And then you walk your path.  You live by the advice but you do it your way.  You'd be off in the right direction if you did so.
"Which path should I take?" he asked. "Which one is safe?"
"Take one, and you cannot take the other," she said. "But neither path is safe. Which way would you walk — the way of hard truths or the way of fine lies?"
"Truths," he said. "I've come too far for more lies."

Neil Gaiman from American Gods.



Sunday, January 23, 2011

Life is Like a Cup of Coffee!

I grind my dark-roast Kenyan beans fresh every morning and make my coffee rich and strong with a little cream to lighten it up a bit...what does this say about me?  I drink it from a Boston Bruin's cup or my very nice funky cup a special friend gave me last year.  But I've been known to drink wine from a Tim Horton's paper cup. 

Can't figure out what the heck I'm talking this video posted on facebook by a friend of mine(thanks Madge) IS like coffee!


Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle; Peer Review by Lia Mack.

Every love story owns a bit of privacy - secrecy. In "The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle", published poet and novelist Carolyn R. Parsons explores the consequences of holding onto such secrets, even those kept with the best of intentions.

A heart-pumping, transcendent modern day love story, this book will take you on the ride of a lifetime - the grand love shared between two souls.

Set in a lovely town where whales crest on the horizon and tongues wag with the day's gossip, this book will endear you with its small town charm and unique Newfoundland sayings and dialect.

Interspersed within its pages are many appearances of heartening poetry, penned by both the classics and the author herself.

As much as I enjoyed reading this book, I didn't want to put it down, ending it too soon. The imagery is beautiful, the characters are friends I'd be happy to have, and the surprise ending a gift.

The perfect foggy day read, with a glass of wine...

Monday, January 17, 2011

Tart and the Hussy~Video this time!

The Tart and The Hussy;  The conclusion!

Last post about this, I promise!

I've had people tell me all week that they saw me on ET Canada during their interview with Allan Hawco last Tuesday night.   Finally, someone posted the video and's me...for about a second.  Don't blink!

Pause at minute 1:06 and you'll see him holding up my book, The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle as I feel his arse..I mean...laugh and smile and behave perfectly lady like....okay, okay, that's a stretch because I was "this" close to grabbing his arse and you know it!  But I didn't.  I just thought about it!  And enjoyed the thought.  I still am...good lord I have will power...if I tried I'd likely be 105 pounds!  I haven't tried, I like cheese cake.

Damn...I think I have regrets...about the arse thing, not the cheese cake.

You may have to "LIKE" the Fionn MacCools Facebook Page to see the video but here's a LINK!

And by the way, Guinness is good and they pour a mighty fine pint at that place.



Just a Quick FYI post!

Last year I attended the launch of Lorette C. Luzajic's anthology of work about Michael Jackson entitled Goodbye Billie Jean;  The Meaning of Michael Jackson.  I am very proud to have been a part of this project and you can see my contribution is mentioned in one of the reviews.

Just last week she announced that her second book about Michael Jackson, a fanthology by fans for fans, was released on Amazon entitled Michael Jackson for the Soul and again I am honoured to have a piece published in this book as well.

In the coming weeks I hope to have an interview with Lorette here on the blog, meanwhile check out both books and if you're a fan of either of us, or Michael Jackson and you have a little Christmas money left over, order a copy! 

A portion of every book sold goes to Kids Help Phone, just as Michael would have liked!


Sunday, January 16, 2011

On the Titanic; First Class

Eva's boarding pass

Boarding Pass of Mrs. Edwin Nelson Kimball Jr. (Gertrude Parsons)

First Class Dishes

Third Class Dishes

Second Class Dishes
I stepped onto the gangplank with my two little girls.  It was exciting!  One of my bucket list items is to go across the Atlantic by water.  I wondered what those people who had stepped across the gangplank of that unsinkable ship so many years had felt.  Excitement?  Trepidation?  Wonder?  Sadness? 

I'm sure all of these emotions and more crossed their minds.  It was with this thought that I accepted the boarding pass to tour, Titanic, the exhibit at The Museum, in Kitchener, Ontario.

I gasped when I read the name on my boarding pass and showed it to the girl explaining my shock.  Now, while they do try to match up the boarding passes a little, a child will get the boarding pass of a real child, a woman, that of an actual woman who travelled on the ship and a man will get a man's pass etc.  beyond that it's very random.  So how is it, that out of the stack of over 2000 names, the one handed to me is that of Mrs. Edwin Nelson Kimball Jr.  Her maiden name is the same as mine and I'm shocked as I read it, Gertrude Parsons. 

Adding to the coincidence that this Ms. Parsons is exactly my age when she travelled and was born in 1866 and I was born 100  years later in 1966.  She is from Boston.  Anyone who knows my lifelong fascination with that city(and its hockey team) will see that as further coincidence.  My interest in Boston came from my knowledge as a little girl that I had wealthy relatives/ancestors there and it seemed so exotic and foreign.  I cannot help but wonder..but I cannot find anything about her family on that side.   Her husband was president of a piano company and they travelled on business.  They were first class passengers.

My little girls were handed two boarding passes as well.

 Martina got the pass of a 6 year old little girl, Annie Jessie Harper who was travelling with her father, a minister and a cousin, to Chicago.  Her mother had passed in childbirth.  She was called Nina.  She travelled second class.

Sophia became 7 year old, Miss Eva Miriam Hart, she was travelling with her mother, Esther and her father Benjamin to Winnipeg to start a new life.  Esther was terrified on the ship and stayed up at night to watch over Eva as she slept.  She thought the billing of "unsinkable" was a direct insult to God and only slept in the day as the ship travelled along on its voyage.

In another strange coincidence.  Though the kid's cards were picked from two different stacks.  The bottom of Nina's pass said "While on board, Nina found a playmate and friend in fellow seven-year old Eva Hart.  Yes, the girls had been issued the boarding passes of two little girls who had been friends 99 years ago,  on Titanic. 

As we toured through the exhibit, marvelling at how well preserved many of the artifacts were, viewing the opulence of the grand staircase and reading the descriptions of Titanic and gaining some scope of the size of her and the project, I became attached to the people on those little cards in our hands.

 Was little Nina as curious as my Martina.  Would she have asked, as Martina did when I explained what a "Mayday" call was, "so, do they go Mayday Mayday or do they go Mike Alpha Yankee, Delta Alpha Yankee?" (Anybody know this? Because I thought they went SOS..anyway.. )

Would little Eva have been as shocked as my Sophia was that there weren't enough lifeboats for everyone and asked, "Have they done something about this problem in modern times?" Which made the man next to us giggle and shake his head in amusement.

Little Nina and Eva touched the iceberg display, amazed as I was that it was real ice.  As we went along, the time on the wall posters letting us know about ice warnings, it became increasingly important to me that Eva and Nina be on the survival list that awaited at the end of the display.  What if they weren't?  What if their short lives had ended in those cold Newfoundland waters 99 years ago this spring.  I almost couldn't bear the thought of it.  What if one did and the other didn't.  How would I explain it to my little girls.  I consoled myself with the knowledge of the sad fact that, because they were second class passengers, the odds were with them.  I also felt oddly guilty at that thought and wondered, did the other Ms. Parsons have the same sort of guilt if she survived.  Was she grateful for not being one of the steerage passengers whose lives were so undervalued that most didn't make it?

Replica Chairs from Titanic

Finally we come to the end and my eyes are drawn to the wall where the lists are.  The passengers are divided into three boards, first, second and third class.  A forth board lists the crew.  I search for the names of survivors in second class, not allowing them to drift down to the list below of those who perished in those cold Atlantic waters.

Yes! There is Eva on the survivor list, and yes, nearby is Nina!  Both survived.  So did their female travel companions but both lost their father on the voyage. Women and Children first.  I shed tears in relief.  I'm sappy like that.  A man beside me looks at his card and says he didn't make it.  He was in first class.  How the  universe draws its straws is a mystery.
Eva and Nina aka Sophia and Martina

Then I go to the first class list.  I discovered that Ms. Gertrude Parsons Kimball and her husband were both on the survivor's list.  I was a little perturbed by the fact that so many first class men survived however, then I realised, life boat 5 was not even half full.  There was no life to be saved by his being lost.

What does one do when they've survived against all odds in one of the greatest marine tragedies, and certainly the most famous one, of all time.  I came home and started googling for answers.  Here is what I found out.

All three lived to be quite elderly.

I was delighted to be able to tell Sophia that yes, someone had done something about safety in marine travel in modern times and one of them was that young girl on her boarding pass, little Eva Hart.  When her parents wrapped her in that blanket and took her to lifeboat 14 they gave her the opportunity to make a difference and she was a staunch spokesperson for the cause of marine safety all of her life.  She died on Valentine's Day in 1996 at the age of 91.

Nina, born January 1, 1906,  became an orphan with the loss of her father, when he handed her aboard life boat 11 that fateful April night, and she was forbidden by her family that raised her, to speak of the tragedy.  She did, in later years however and she also corresponded with Eva Hart, her playmate on Titanic, all of her life.  She died on April 10, 1986, on the anniversary of the day Titanic left port on her maiden Voyage.  She was 80.

But what of Ms. Gertrude Parsons Kimball, first class passenger on Titanic.  Did she take advantage of her second chance?  Was she a first class passenger or a first class person?  I like to think that being given such a gift as this she would have made her life momentous and lived it well.  But there is nothing about her in the Boston archives that sets her apart from her husband's accomplishments, though he passed away in 1927.  Perhaps she remarried and her name changed.  She lived until 1962 and was 96 when she died. Surely she did something remarkable but if she did, I can't find evidence of it.  I'll continue to search.

Class divides people.  Not just in the sense that it gives people an advantage but because so many people set such store by it. 

Perhaps the lesson best taken away from this is that a person who is first class in the material sense, may leave no particular mark on the world.  It is those who who behave in a first class manner and have first class character, who seem to be remembered better and longer.  The stories of heroism and sacrifice posted on the walls of the exhibit tend to attest to this.  Their class status was not included in their stories of bravery.  It was irrelevant.

The exhibit is in Kitchener for the next ten days and then moves on to Calgary.  I highly recommend attending if it comes to your city.

The final resting place of Titanic and  many of her passengers and crew

Made famous by the James Cameron Movie, Rose's necklace

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Then Sings My Soul; A Tribute to my friend Roy McNeil March 14, 1947 to January 14, 2011

The Unbossiest Boss

A recent photo

The Smile and the Twinkle...and the beer!

He was so handsome and so very proud that day Kathleen.

A much younger Roy out ladies!

Perhaps, as a tribute to Roy,  you would like to play the song on the player below as it was one of Roy's favourites.

Oh Lord, my god..when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder...thy power throughout the universe displays...then sings my soul, my saviour God to thee....How Great thou art, How Great thou art.

When I, in awesome wonder, consider Roy McNeil, this song is the first thing that comes to mind.  Roy loved old hymns and quite often this one stumbled from those grinning lips unbidden as he went about his business of helping out a friend or flirting with the ladies.

Yesterday, Roy slipped away from this world and is now in another, far freer, more peaceful and joyful one unencumbered by silly human physical limitations.  Roy's heart ceased to beat so his spirit could soar.  He took that journey surrounded by love and family and the prayers of a multitude of friends.  No man could ask for more and none was more deserving.

I was talking to Kathleen, his daughter as she sat vigil with him,  and she told me he would be going to see God soon.  And I said to her, "when you really think about it...that's exciting for him...sad for all the rest of us but awesomesauce for your dad!"

Leave it to Roy to find the best party while we're all just sitting here!

Now.  To describe Roy. Mission Impossible but I'll give it a go!

Roy was, above all, a giving man.  I think his get up in the morning philosophy was, "who can I help out today?"  He helped people move, helped them move again, drove them places, gave them his car, took them into his home, invited them to his home(his place was a 24/7 open house).  God knows how much  money  he loaned to people, God only knows how much he simply gave.  He just did this.  There was a need.  There was Roy.  People were concerned he would be taken advantage of.  He never really was concerned about that.

Roy was  a happy man.  That saucy twinkle in his eye, that mischievous grin as he took a sip of his drink, pure happiness.  It was infectious, it was attractive, it was one hundred percent Roy.  People loved him.  It was hard not to.  Impossible really.  When I look at all of the parties I've gone to at his house over the years, there is always a mix of new friends he had just made but over and over the same old friends would show up.  I myself knew him for over 20 years and to go to Roy's last summer was a repeat of the first summer at his pool.  Welcome, have a drink, did you get something to eat? Smile.

In case you are unaware, Roy was also a boob man.  Yes.  I know, shocking.  You thought this was going to be a "sad, weep for Roy, he's gone piece,"  But that's not Roy.  He would prefer I tell it the way it was, and truth is, yup, he was a boob man!

I remember how he tried to peek as I nursed my baby on my way to Newfoundland(he gave me a ride there 16 years ago with my two older girls). And he didn't do it secretly,  nope, overt peeking with a grin and a "I'm a red blooded man, Carolyn!" as I smacked him away with laughter.

Over the years, I don't think I ever visited him without some request from him to take a peek.  I remember a few years back when I was sleeping over and Roy got up to go to the bathroom and missed the door and fell headlong down the stairs.

He was seriously injured.  His hand went through a glass picture and his head went through the drywall.  He had a mild concussion and required stitches in both his hand and his head.  I was working quickly to assess the injuries, bandage him up, stop the bleeding and apply some first aid before he went to the emergency room for treatment.  Then I noticed he was white and shaking and I said, "Roy, you're in shock," directing someone to get something to wrap him in to warm him up. 

Without missing a beat, with his devilish grin and twinkling blue eyes,  he said, "I'm in shock that I got this close to your beautiful breasts!" 

Dear Lord, how are you supposed to pull drywall chips out of a man's forehead with tweezers after that? 

Even during my most recent visit, he joked that he might not have long to live and that I should finally let him take a gander at the girls.  When I protested, "Roy, what about your weak ticker?" he grinned and said, "It might shock it into working right or it might stop it, I'll take me chances!"  Perhaps I should have yelled "CLEAR", hauled out my big old defibrillators and gave him a show!

Since I'm being straightforward here,  I'll just come out and say the truth of it.  Roy loved women.  He was an incorrigible flirt!   He had numerous girlfriends in the years I knew him.  I did notice though, that the women he dated were always great people.  Warm, loving, intelligent.  He had great taste in women.  And he loved them all.  It wasn't like he was this big, mean, manipulative player, he truly enjoyed their company.  And many, if not all of the women he dated and loved throughout the years, remained his close friends long after their romance was over and that is rare.  I think it was because Roy was so easy to love, but just as important, he was so easy to like.

Roy was, above all, a family man.  He was a dad.  He truly loved his children.  I watched him over the years and he was the kind of dad that just sort of loved his kids for who they are.  I never heard him criticize them  for their choices and to me, when he spoke of either of them it was never with disapproval.  They really could do no wrong.  He loved them, they loved him. He was dad and that was it.  It was probably one of the easiest parent/child dynamics I've ever seen.  And it shows in the dedication they all have shown to him over the course of his illness.  His strong, quiet acceptance is  the best gift a dad can give to his children and they'll miss that most of all in their daily lives.  And a testement to that is how well all of his children have turned out.  All are truly remarkable in their own right and, not to subtract anything from their moms' but I think it's because they carry a lot of Roy in them.

It is hard to get to the depth of a man with words on paper or on a screen.  I know how his spirit felt when you were in the room with him.  I knew he loved people and life and laughter and a drink of rye.  He sparkled like the sun glistening on the ocean in the moments before sunset.  He moved easily through life and enjoyed its gifts fully.  He never seemed to worry much or think much of the past.  He lived the moments as they came and I'm told he smiled even in that last moment.  The words, "then sings my soul," describe him best, because his soul did sing long before it left his body, its voice and rhythm moving outside of him and touching all who knew him.

He was a great man.  But most of all he was a good man.  He is loved and will always be loved.

And he will be greatly missed.  Someone said, "it's the end of an era," and that is how I feel.  Roy was more than a man, he was an experience.  Rest in Peace, my friend.

Thank you to Roy's family for your invitation to read this tribute at his memorial service on Tuesday.  I am honoured.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Excerpt from The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle: That Heart.

In the truth lies your greatest reward
in deceit your deepest regret
Make your choices with this knowledge always.

~Carolyn R. Parsons~
Excerpt from The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle;  That Heart

(Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words).


Thursday, January 13, 2011

Inside the Creative Mind; Well mine anyway.

Bus Stop in Montreal

The other day a friend's Face Book status said that they saw a yellow balloon go flying by.  I told him it was a sign and when he asked "of what?" I said, "A yellow balloon escape, silly."  We joked back and forth a little further and then moved on.

Sounds like a pretty frivolous conversation but my mind doesn't let go of things like that.  I wondered where had the balloon come from?  Where would it end up?  Was there some sad little girl crying over its loss.  Had it just floated away from a wedding.  And from there I reached further, imagining myself as that yellow balloon, escaping from something that held me down or perhaps just choosing to float freely, flying way off into the atmosphere.  The creative mind expands a thought and moves it to a whole other level.  From that simple image came the following poem that I've posted previously on this blog.

Yellow Balloon

Freedom came on a winter breeze

in a voice that whispered now you go
and blew me past the evergreen trees
and over bluffs of sparkling snow

Liberty then touched my hand
and guided me through unmarked trails
and past the glistening fields of sand
and over nature's dunes and hills

Unrestrained I escaped unblemished
a yellow balloon in a topaz sky
a worn out trinket no longer cherished?
No, a lucky break and a chance to fly!

It matters not how my spirit lifts
and finds a way to reach the heaven
as long as freedom is the gift
and I accept the prize I'm given

Immediately after I wrote it had a sense of utter joy and satisfaction.  A moment or two before this little poem did not exist.  Suddenly, I had created something that had never been here before.  All of the words had existed independently and I had rearranged them into such away as to create something new.  An idea, a rhythm and a rhyme.  All from within my imagination.  To do this, to create, gives an unparalleled feeling of bliss to me.  I am, when I write, completely on purpose. 

The photograph above is of a bus stop sign in Montreal.  I think that to most people that is all it is.  I looked at it and went. "WOW." and immediately knew this would show up somewhere in my writing. 

Can you see what excites me so?  Do you just see a bus stop?  I see so much more!

It has choices, direction, numbers and fresh sparkly snow on a red railing.  I picture a woman alone, in a strange city, unable to speak French.  I'm not sure how she got there.  She wears a red hat and she is cold, shivering, confused as she looks at the sign.  The 747 express goes to the airport, perhaps she'll go there.  Yes, she's running from something.  A broken heart perhaps. 

Also interesting that the Boeing 747 aircraft is so well known and the bus to the airport is #747.  What a cool coincidence.  Or is it? 

Oh, the places I can go with that little bit of numerology. 

I picture my character running a finger through the sparkling snow, her red knitted glove disturbing nature's perfection as humans generally do.  I see her perhaps hesitating and then writing her name there and I see her as an individual as different from the rest of humanity as each of those crystalline snowflakes is from the other.  She is as real to me as the street sign is.  Where she didn't exist before, she suddenly does now, in my imagination. 

And with the few words spoken above, she is suddenly real to you.  Tangible. You may want to know what she decided to do, where she goes, why she is running away.  And someday, when you read a story of mine, you will find out.  You'll recognise her by her long dark hair and deep blue eyes, those eyes that searched that sign for direction, as we all in our lives search for direction at one time or another.

There is no such thing as just a yellow balloon.  A sign is not just a sign.  Everything has the potential to expand into something that did not exist before.  Such is the magic of inspiration, the potential of creativity and the power of the expanded mind. 

This is a glimpse into how I create, how I open my eyes to possibility in the simplest of things and how the mundane is spectacular and why there are really no boring moments in my life.  My goal is to transport you. To take you to that bus stop, to stand you next to that girl and pique your curiosity.  And to do so, I first must pique mine.  Now I want to get to know her, follow her, chat with her on the bus, fly with her on that plane.  And I want to take you with me.

The Secrets of Rare Moon Tickle; That Heart is now in process.  Perhaps she's going there.  Perhaps she's going home.  I'm off to find out.


Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Memoirs of a Pop Tart! A night on the town!

Lauren and I with John Vatcher, exec. prod. ROD

Allan Hawco with his copy of my book!

What an amazing evening!  A night on the town, Guinness courtesy of the CBC and a chance to meet some of the most creative and fun people in the country!  We started at CBC studios with the taping of George Stroumboulopoulos Tonight and watched an amazing interview with Allan Hawco of Republic of Doyle and then a second interview with renowned Canadian actor Adam Beach who is one of the most unique and impressive individuals I have ever come across.  His emotional description brought a tear to this sap's eye and I have to say, I'm a fan of the man as much as his work.  No photo opportunities but a great way to spend a couple of hours.  Also, George is wonderful.  Exactly the same off the air as on and brilliant...television isn't easy but it is for George.  He's an important voice in this country and I was never as aware of that fact as I am now, after seeing the  man in action!

Then after a quick bite, (curried tofu and pineapple fried rice~delicious) it was off to the premiere of The Republic of Doyle, episode 1, season 2.  A couple pints of Guinness and we were soon fast friends with everyone around us.  All were great company, nearly all from Newfoundland and Lauren and we were fortunate enough to be settled directly across from the CBC crew.  Lauren already knew quite a few of them and they all recognised her from previous encounters.

Allan made his rounds and we chatted.  He remembered Lauren immediately from New Year's eve and we joked that it must have been early in the evening for him to remember anyone!  He was a delight, genuinely pleased with the copy of my book that I gave him and thanked me several times, even coming back after to thank me again.  But busy man, wonder if he'll ever find time to read it! 

Then Perry Chafe walked by so I accosted him and we had a lovely chat.  He is now my friend on Face Book.  We got a picture(which was blurry darnit) and Lauren got an autograph and then he offered to escort us to meet everybody else who was part of the production.  What a great guy and wow, fascinating, friendly and fun people work on that show!  Lauren knew many of them so we chatted for quite a while. 

Our pictures are all over the Republic of Doyle Website and you can check them out HERE .   And below are a few of mine.

The Venue..Red Carpet Time!

One of the most brilliant and funniest people in the country
Ladies in Red! 

My lovely friend Lauren!

The Tart and The Hussy! 

Best pint ever..paid for by your tax dollars!

New friends Rochelle and Pearl!

Yes..I'm touching his bum...

Seamus O'Regan and John Vatcher in the back
There's something about Guinness that makes me happy

Lauren outside CBC Studios
On the red carpet!