Open Letter

This is an open letter to you.  You know who you are. You read my blog, yet I believe you have no interest in my creative writing, I feel you are just keeping tabs on me.
I am not an angry, jealous or vengeful person.  Not at all.  I don't like to play games, try to figure out people's angles, or try to pit people one against the other.

I know that blogs are up - up for anybody to see.  I write how I feel at any given moment.  It may be about a pair of shoes I have, or an observation about a person I have encountered.

What you don't know about me could fill volumes of books. What you do know about me is only what I choose to share. 

What I want to share with you is that I in no way wish you any distress, bad fortune.  In fact, I wish you nothing but the very best.  You are successful, accomplished and have great business connections.  That is fantastic.  Your events are the toast of the town and that is so great.  Unfortunately you did not fit me properly, and I decided to leave.

That is all.  Just leave. I did.  And I had no idea you would be so upset.  for that I am sorry.  I will admit that perhaps I should have communicated better, but there are others who prevented me from doing so and help precipitate my departure. 

I will close by wishing you well.  

kaboom

It is not all that is good, pure, white
It is very visual, textural and unseen

Crackling moments of intense conversations
I can feel myself breathing, gasping, listening
Others are mere extras swirling around us when we meet

Undoing
Undone
I am not supposed to be more than what I am
You were never supposed to be anything at all

I am
You are

Craving Creative Space

I have a really great project that I am trying to launch... really great.  So great that I can't wait to get it all out on paper. The only problem that I am currently experiencing is finding a space that inspires me and gets my great ideas that are catalogued in my mind out and flourishing on paper.

I was trying to get my delicious project out today @ home and decided that it was not working.  I just can't seem to get very creative in the small laptop niche that the designer of this townhouse designated as "work space". It is right next to the kitchen cooking space, and that is just not right as far as I am concerned.

I decided to hit up the local coffee house on the North Shore that I like to go to when I want to gawk at celebs or overhear producers talk about their latest projects. So, espresso in hand, laptop juxtaposed on the table, I prepared to let loose.  I figured that I was breathing the very same air as the creative types, so I was in good company.  Let the creativeness flow!  

Not today.  Today I was subject to the back and forth of two very loud 50 something lulu lemon clad "Housewives of North Vancouver". They were dishing the dirt on their absentee friend who was a no-show, talking about their latest shopping conquests, discussing the deals at Costco and generally being super annoying.   So I let out a huge sigh,  collected my stuff and moved to a booth table by the window.

No success here either.  Not 5 minutes into my writing I was joined by a realtor who's cell kept buzzing on the table and he was taking calls and cutting deals in between rapid sips of espresso.  No bueno.

Not that any of this wasn't interesting, it just was not productive.  

I gave up and packed up and headed home.  By then all desire and creativity had literally "left the building" and now I am wondering where I need to go to get this project out of me and flowing.

I am probably giving up too easily.  One location down.  I have only two - well three actually- pre-qualifications for the space I must inhabit to work in.
1.  It must be modern / stylish.  
2. There must be ample espresso available at all times.  And mineral water.
3.  It must be quiet and smell nice.

Ok, perhaps that is 5, but am I asking too much?

I am ending this with a rather large sigh.  Or if you prefer, Les Beaucoup Sighs.

Longing.

Is it time yet? This spring that we all long for.
The warm weather for 2 days last week was a certain tease. Today black clouds loom like threats over the North shore mountains, the rain drops catching me quickly as I walk Aspen in the park.

As I rode my VBA in the early afternoon today, the air smelt like a heady mixture of flowers, 2-stroke exhaust, drinking chocolate, strong espresso and crisp mountain air.

All of this.  This. This promise of things to come.  This has to be a good sign. The rain must be tired of falling and the sun has patiently waited her turn since October. It is time.

Time for the sun to force my arms out hiding from their woolly sweater sleeves. Time for me to open up the roof top deck, stretch out like a cat with my neck craning upwards, trying to catch every single drop of sunshine that bears down upon me.

is it time yet? I have been so good, so patient. I have listened to others talk about their art, their holidays in the sun, their loves, their hates, their vacations, their money, their careers, their new homes, their dreams... is it time yet for my time in the sun?

Nesting

Fresh Art. Ahhhh. I love fresh art, wallpaper and paint. I am sorting out my living space this Easter weekend. Chocolate bunnies got distributed and eaten, Turkey was devoured and photos were taken.

I have spent the rest of the time re-arranging my art/space and time. It feels lovely.

Clearing out the old, bringing in the new. Rebirth. Spring.

Now I just need a tan to go with this change of seasons. hummmmm. California perhaps?


xoxoxo

C.

Click Clack Heels.

I don't know.

I don't know how to come up for air after you are hit in the gut so hard that it

completely

knocks you off your feet.

I don't know how to swim up through this.

I don't know how to recover from a side swipe that is so visceral.

Cradle me in your proverbial arms. Tell me I am the perfect fit.  Tell me I am brilliant, a rising star, that you are lucky to have me. Fill me with wine, cake and creature comforts.  Fly me to cities near and far.

Smile.

Whisper.

Tell me I can tell you anything.

Pry my mind open with a knife.

Take what you need, and laugh.

Smile and start to chip away at my softened exterior while my guard has been removed and sold as I thought I would no longer need it.

Chip away slowly, then scream. Then apologize.

Scream some more, threaten, cry and apologize once again.   Buy me lunch.

Buy us all lunch and force feed us your cake as you scream some more and stomp around in those click clack heels.

Take it all away without a sound.

Hello?  Is there anything left but an echo and a shell?

Helping animals in Japan.

I haven’t posted about the events in japan, but i’ve been following closely with a heavy heart. What about the poor animals that are lost / hungry / starving or hurt?    The enormity of all this leaves me in a sad place.

The artists, bloggers, designers and businesses reaching out is inspiring.


I just read that my friends at Firstmate pet foods recently made a huge donation of pet food to help feed the dogs & cats in need in japan. thanks firstmate!


I have decided to forgo dinners out for the next month and  made donations to these organizations on behalf of  Aspen (above) who wanted to reach out to her  fellow international animal friends.  She was a rescue and knows what it is like to be hungry and scared.

Some facts about Animal rescue orgs. and great people doing great things in Japan:

Animal rescue kansai: helped over 600 animals after the Great Hanshin quake in 1995.


World vets: World Vets is a non-government organization (NGO) providing veterinary aid around the globe in collaboration with animal advocacy groups, foreign governments, US and foreign military groups and veterinary professionals abroad.

wspa: world society for the protection of animals has a 30 year history of helping animals in disasters.

Cabin fever

It is Friday. March is nearly over - where did the time go? I have officially been at my new job for 2 months now and it has literally flown by. Spring is a time for renewal and I have been speaking to many different people and they seem to be emerging from their cocoons - as have I.

I have been heads down and working - travelling and cooped up in an office all day for weeks.

I am eager to shed these woolly clothes I adored and cooed about back in the fall/winter. I will willingly trade in my knee high boots for some ballet flats and sandals. I want to exchange these black tights and "jeggings" for light dresses and sweaters. A friend said that Spring is teasing us , and I could not agree more. The sun is out late, the birds are singing and the cherry trees have buds on them that are threatening to burst any day now. I am just itching to do something, anything that does not include being indoors all day.

I am longing for warmer nights and motorcycle rides with friends, for the smell of flowers and fresh leaves and for the better moods that people are in when there are more sunny days than rainy ones.

Spring can't come soon enough.

V-Day

Happy V-day. Words I love today:

Vulgar

Vexing

Vox

Veto

Vicious

Venomous

Varies

Variety

Vex

Voracious

Vengeance

Vile

Vulgar

Vulva

Volvo (see Vulva)

Victorious

Virtuous

Vagina

Venom

Flying Blind

Ok. Here is the deal. Not my best writing today, but what the hell.

I have a friend in a not-so-far-away town who is undergoing some personal stress coupled with surgery today.

I am sitting here in my office trying to get projects done, with a smile in my face. I am feigning interest in what is going on in my world. I am merely passing time, collecting a paycheque.

Trying to keep up appearances while I am trying to not think about my cherished friend today. I am trying not to wonder what they are up to, if the surgery went well, how they are feeling and wondering if they are being taken care of as well as I would take care of them?

It is really distressing and stressful. I actually ate a horrible lunch due to the stress (stress induced eating is a topic for another day)...and I feel much worse off.

They have shut off their phone, so essentially cut of all communication so I sit here and there is nothing at all I can do. nothing. shit. fuck. shit.

But then again, one would argue that I am far to vested in something that is non-existent, and maybe I have. But just maybe I haven't. Maybe , just perhaps they know that I am thinking of them, worried, caring, and maybe that is just enough.

shit shit shit fek!

c.

Another one down...

Ok, I am coming to terms that technology has changed the way we communited.

I understand that it is considered "normal" to be out and have people you are talking to constantly check their iphones/ bb or other mobile devices even though you are deep into a meaningful"ish" conversation.

I also understand and have accepted the fact that I don't get phone calls anymore - or rarely anyhow. If the phone rings it is either one of 3 people:

1. Telemarketers
2. My mother
3. My dentist

Thinking I should sur-charge the above categores to fund my landline... why do I have a landline anyway...I digress....

Anyhow, I get txt messages or invitations on facebook and that is how I seem to communicate with people via the chat features, etc....
SO, when a freind cancels their Facebook account, I get all up in arms about it. I mean really, I could call txt them. Have I become so used to being so connected? Have we become the Borg?
Just pondering this.....
c.
I keep

Thursday? Wish it was Saturday...

Worth a re-blog. Because I luv Saturdays an it is Thursday and sleeting out. and becuse I can. GRIN!
________

Yum, It's Saturday.

Saturday feels like a "do over" day to me. It is the one day that belongs to you and only you. The one day where you can sleep in as late as you feel like, drink most delicious french press coffee and take your time getting ready for anything.

The dog gets a nice walk to the local bakery, croissants get purchased, hello's get said to neighborhood friends, and you are not worried about watching the clock at all.


The best Saturdays are when you wake up in a hotel room in a distant city, full of possibilities and far away friends that are near, if only for a day or two.

Saturday feels like a long, soft, wet kiss.

sleep

movies and Thai food in bed

duvets and foreign newspapers

espresso

bakery fresh croissants

book store

gin, tonic and limes

sidewalk

the smell of oil and acrylics

stretched blank canvasses waiting to be brought to life

lawn mowers

cement slabs wet slick with oil

olives slippery and tart

french cheese

newspaper wrapped flowers

scooter rides in far away cities with friends old and new

more espresso.

shopping for slick black boots

hair pulled back, sunglasses on

You. You looking dashing. You with all of your confidence. You know who you are.

twitterpated

Les grande sigh.
I am a giant bag of getting nothing done this weekend. It took all my energy to host a party on Friday and now the rest of the weekend to figure out what to do next. I seem to be lost in a stupid school girlesque crush cycle that is vicious as can be. But I am savouring every moment of it and lounging around town. Somebody at coffee today said that I looked like a cat that ate the canary. Bloody delicious canary at that. Nothing good or productive can come of this. Nothing. Perfect!!

Best intentions went right out the window. Damn. What did not get done (in no particular order as I am feeling quite lazy at the moment):

Nah. never mind. What I did do was a huge amount of drinking wine and petting the kitty. really. cat. Nimbus got a ton of loving, lounging with me and this weekend and she is looking pretty pleased with herself.

Me I am supposed to be prepping for my new career start tomorrow.. and what am I doing? Sitting around in my yoga pants, with my hair in braids and letting my mind wander to it's secret place and smiling.

Damn.

Happening @ the Charles Bar....

It's been a strange month.

Stranger to Caprice " Excuse me, but I have to tell you... you smell like candy". Caprice to stranger standing next to her @ The Charles Bar "What?"
Stranger to Caprice "Yes, Candy, takes a sniff.... but I am OK with it."
Caprice "????"
Stephen: Snorts loudly... and spills his drink.. all over the table and Caprice. Stephen to stranger "Well, now she smells like Guinness.. which I am OK with.....".

ME - Laughing and laughing until I realize that I do indeed smell like Guinness... in fact it is all over my new dress and somehow in my fab clutch bag too. Now was he being possessive or just clumsy?

Men, I don't get you at all sometimes... but thank you for the excuse to go shopping today.

C.