Wash me away

Miserable is the only word I can muster up at this ripe time of 2:15 am.

I started a liver cleanse a couple of days ago, as suggested by my naturopath; not because I am a heavy drinker but just because “its good to flush the toxins out once in awhile.”  Well I’m bitter because this drink tastes like shit.  Pardon the french, but its ass-in-a-glass; or rather an exotic blend of herbs that I cannot begin to pronounce or spell for that matter.  This hefty bottle thankfully for me holds 6 weeks worth of gag-shots all for the stellar price of $100.  So essentially, I am required to down three teaspoons per day .. not much right? i know, but this is truly the grossest thing that I have ever tasted.  I’ve tried to down the spoonful, suck it back with a straw and mix it with organic juice in a shot glass but all attempts have resulted in a relentless gag-fest.  The diet that goes along with this cocktail is quite dramatic for my taste … get this: no wheat, no dairy, no eggs, no bananas, no tomatoes, no red meat and no coffee/pop/alcohol .. OH and no sugar.  This is even more ridiculous as I read this.  I’m hoping that this will be the start I need to get negativity out of me, literally, from the inside out.  I’ll let you know how she goes.

On a more serious note, I continue to bear this sadness in my heart.  My uncle is dying of cancer.  Its progressing at a rapid pace and to see this happen before my eyes has impacted me in a way that I don’t know if I ever can recover from.  Right now as I type this, he lies in a hospital bed with tubes in his nose to control the bleeding on a wait list to be sent to our greatest cancer treatment centre.  There he will take a test that will pretty much determine whether treatment is even an option at this point.  My family is very close and this heartache is mutually felt by all.  There is not a moment that I dont think of him.  The most random of things will remind me of him, his mannerisms, his jollyness and his laugh … a laugh that can be heard from across the universe and then I picture him with this illness and how it has eaten away his spirit and more so, his body.  I cry.  I cry not only because I cannot imagine life without him, but because I still cannot believe that it is happening.  I pray that he finds peace … peace of mind, strength of spirit and a free heart.  Miracles happen, I truly believe that and right about now I am praying for one.

This is about all I can manage for today.

I’d love to take something to help me fall asleep, but that would defeat the purpose of this yummy cleanse.

Here’s to hoping that you’re sleeping and that I will be joining you soon.

g’nite

Please drop it off on my front step

Something knocked

I opened the door to breathe it in

A beauty that lifted my heart

Birds chirping messages of hope in my ear

Please let that be a miracle in a box

Because to see his face when he opens it

Would make the greatest picture

Back to Basics

Gosh, I hate to start this post on a negative note but well, “as life goes”…

I was doing alright there for a while, but I’ve hit a bit of a road block again and after some serious coffee and cigarettes I’ve arrived to the conclusion that I must go back to basics and get back to the things that excited me.  You see, I have this terrible tendency to over complicate my life thereby adding to an existing pile of pressure that I put on myself.  I need to go grassroots here and start to de-clutter …  you know, simplify my life.

There was a time in my life where little things excited me, and the most random things inspired me.  I was doing what I loved to do and it was that passion that helped me whiz through day to day conundrums.  Getting to that place was difficult.  I should mention that this place I speak of is the time that I was an active member of the fashion industry.  Anyway, the road was long and tough as I left one of Canada’s prestigious business programs (where I was granted full scholarship) in order to chase a deeper routed desire to be somewhere that I could express myself more artistically.  It came as a huge shock to my family of course and it didn’t help the situation any when I came home that day with a new tongue accessory.  My parents’ immediate reaction was that I was mixed up in drugs or part of a cult … yes quite extreme I know, but to their defense it was uncharacteristic of me or so they thought; but the artist in me was fighting to come through.  I could no longer pretend that a job behind a desk was right for me.  I do often think about what would have become of me had I stayed the course, completed the program and taken the offer for a very lucrative position upon graduation, but something in my heart knew that I would feel empty, not challenged and “out of place.” 

My time at the International Academy of Design was an interesting one.  It was a very intense program where I soon learned to function on adrenalin, cigarettes, coffee and very little sleep, but it was there that I was happy.  Every day served as a creative outlet and it was an exciting time because every day was different; each day presented new challenges for me and I excelled.  My final collection was received incredibly well and in the words of my mentors, “I showed promise.”  Upon completion of the program, I had several design and illustration stints, until I landed a production assistant position for a New York bridal couturier.  That job was everything I hoped it would be; pressure, deadlines and frequent trips to New York.  I even landed a styling gig for a Martha Stewart photoshoot.  Albeit a great time, I soon found myself questioning my purpose in life (you will see here that I do this often … its like I check-in with my head) and so I steered off my path.

Now my life since then has been nothing short of great because in that time I purchased my own home and was blessed with the gift of bringing into this world the most amazing spunky little girl that I’ve ever met and proudly call daughter.  Now the title of Mom brings to life the most amazing of challenges, but I’ve settled into this role quite nicely.  Hence, now that I have grounded myself I find that those same questions of where I should be come to mind.

So here I am full circle, back to where I was and I feel like the only answer for me now is to strip bare.  I need to start from scratch and create an environment for myself that will be conducive to this change and facilitate this found-again need for creativity.  The only logical first step here is to work from the inside out.  I need to start being a little more optimistic.  I need to weed out negative people and negative thoughts and I need to believe in good again.  I need to stop letting people get the better of me and start believing that I’m worth it and all of it.

Wow… that was pretty heavy.

And now for some fluff ……

My week has been busy.  I’ve been crazily running errands and making appointments that have been neglected for so long. But it wasn’t all work, I managed to squeeze in some great dinners, movies, reading, baking, shopping and a very white wedding.  There arent too many pics to share as I was moving at a speed this week that was inhuman and I’m paying for the price of it today!

Pre-hair cut/colour.  I tried Civello on Queen for the first time and was underwhelmed.  The only plus was that I got turned on to the Aveda product line ……  dudes and dudettes, I’m going grassroots for real!

Post hair-apy!

Took in Vicky Christina Barcelona with some friends.  Here we enjoyed a theatre all to ourselves … literally!  I don’t know why … the movie was charming and very telling; more about that in another post.

I wasnt kidding

 ”Slim” close, yet so far …

Rehearsal night photo opp…

and it all gets interesting from here pre-wedding style!

Happy Monday …

Hang Ten!

Its been a madd busy week, but hang in there … i’ll be back with pics

much love,

tina

Erase and Rewind

If I could do anything …

I would rewind to that day, hit the pause button and remain in that moment forever.

utopia

Its 1:30a.m, I laid my head on my pillow, closed my eyes tight in hopes that I’d be whisked away to restful sleep, only to be eyes wide open two minutes later.  I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep because all I can think about is it.  “It” being utopia. 

Comfort in knowing that one day you will “get me”.  That freedom of being completely myself and totally being fine with it because that is what you will love me for.  You will let me sing softly in your ear even though I really suck at singing, but that’s okay with you because there’s more to it, there is genuine sentiment underneath it all; and you won’t ever have to question it … its an unspoken truth.  You will understand that I want to be there with you, holding you, in that moment, because that is all I need now and forever… there is no other place I’d rather be.  I want to live on that secluded island with you and our kids and our dogs.  I want to leave all that shit that distracts us from eachother and from ourselves … the ipod, the iphone, the imac, the itv…the i-fuckin everything … the politics, the scandals, the shitty people … just us and leave the rest behind.  How great would it be to raise our children on our own terms whereby they will be untarnished by the ugliness of this world.  To live so naive and yet so wise.  We will make our own music, our own wine and hunt our own food.  We won’t need to be weighed down by clothes, just eachother in the flesh.  In the open air, before the ocean, we will be free to dance because no one is watching, no one else cares.  We can make love at every corner of the island and each spot will feel new, like its the first time.  Our home will have no walls, just open space so as to allow life to spill through.  Our bed will be at the foot of the ocean, no time clocks, just the sun.  The waves will sing us to sleep. And when we make love the stars will be out, our bodies kissed by the silver of the moon. 

And when I smile your way, you don’t have to look behind you to ensure its you I’m smiling at because there is only us.

Yes Bliss.

This.

This is where I want to be.

With you.

So tonight, in a second attempt, I will close my eyes and when I wake up I’m hoping it is us, there and in love that we will be.

Slave to the heat

Today I want it

In the rain against the car

In the bathroom stall of that fancy restaurant

Against the window of your hotel room

In the park on the bench overlooking the water

In the driver’s seat pulled off on a highway enroute to your parents’ house

In the changeroom

In the shower

On the balcony

In the bookstore

I need it now

All of it

All of you

Wait for it

I need to breathe a little life back into me

Add that extra skip in my step

Its been a long time coming

And this excites me in the way that I need it to …

Full frontal Impact

I’m finally back to blogging after a rather fun-filled and somewhat tiresome weekend.

Friday night we TIFFed it.  The evening began with a trio consisting of family and friends enjoying a wine-laden dinner at Dimmi.  The place was packed.  Line-ups that wrapped around the building filled with bodies secretly praying for a Brad Pitt and George Clooney sighting.  Of course there were the flock of elderly women dressed in teenage girlicious clothing in hopes of luring these celebrity men from their ridiculously hot celebrity women (like come on, honestly, do you really think you stand a chance against Jolie?) and that’s always fun to gawk at.  After dinner we casually strolled the streets of yorkville, latte and cigarette in hand, just hanging out, listening to music and people watching.  The night was nice and lax but when the rain took over we called it a night.

Saturday I threw a yard sale in attempt to get rid of the enormous amount of “stuff” that I have amassed over the years … I’m talking clothing (tonnes of it), shoes, home decor, baby clothes, toys, wireless phones, old computer and laptop .. the list is endless.  Albeit a successful yardsale, it will be the LAST one I ever do.  I just cannot handle people who want to bargain on valuable, mint condition items.  I certainly would rather give them to someone in need of them for free than sell them to someone who wants to pay nothing for them.  This yard sale was never about making money, it was to simply serve as an easier means to ridding myself of a bulk of belongings that I would otherwise have to figure out how to dispose of.  In fact, the money made is going to be donated to charity and any remaining clothing items will go to a local shelter.  So the moral of the story is … I will never do a Yard sale again! Lesson learned … FINI!

The day, however, was capped off nicely with another night of TIFF.  I was sent some film gala tickets from a very kind family member who happens to be in the media industry.  The tickets were for a UK documentary called Blood Trail.  Although I went into the evening with less than high expectations for what I was about to view, I was suprisingly shocked.  The documentary was excellent and disturbing in so many ways.  The producers Richard Parry and Vaughan Smith, british journalists themselves, follow the life and career of amateur freelance photographer Robert King.  The film begins with King as a carefree twenty four year old in 1993 Bosnia with ambitions of snagging a Pulitzer for war photography.  He is followed from Sarajevo through to Chechnya and Iraq.  In his journey, we the audience, learn that you have to be a little “disturbed” to take on such a task.  Shooting from front lines he bares witness to dismembered bodies and cold blood killing in its most honest way.  I say honest in that his pictures don’t sugar-coat war, but rather they depict the realities of casualty; innocent civilians, young soldiers and death in the most gruesome way.  King ultimately goes on to make the cover of major mags including TIME, but he comes out of his journey a different man.  Like most soldiers, he becomes desensitized,

 ”yeah I’m cynical, how many dead bodies have I stepped over… I’m kind of damaged goods.” (King)

Setting apart emotions to achieve the task at hand.  And that he certainly does as he goes on to explain in the film,

“I didn’t want to mourn silently in my fucking room.” The allure of wine, women and war is an intoxicating, if self-destructive mix (King).

At the end of it all, he is a changed man through and through.  Loud sounds that go off startle him and images of war constantly play in his mind and so it is completely understandable when we see that he retreats to the woods to lose himself in the tranquility of nature.  However, it is here that we also learn that the motion of killing follows him because in this tranquility he hunts for deers. 

In the final scene of the documentary we are left to wonder about whether he continues to photograph war, chasing the epic picture and all its ugliness and the answer is yes, because despite the question of why he does it by those who surround him, he simply replies “its just a job.”

I cannot speak anymore about how great I thought the movie was.  I will admit that I was disturbed by the fact that casualties of war were exploited in some way by the pictures, but another part of me can appreciate the desire to bring the real essence of war to the forefront.  Yes our men are brave and fight for the freedoms of our country, but something that often gets missed, is the faces of the innocent people that die in this pursuit.

I seriously suggest you check out the documentary’s site at http://www.blinque.co.uk/bloodtrail/index.html

We were able to meet Richard Parry, Vaughan Smith and Robert King after the premiere and they were cool chaps!

Rounding off the weekend was a Sunday consisting of typical household errands; grocery, laundry, cleaning… yada yada yada

Back to monday … where one day bleeds into the next

Oh here are some pics of the get up I mustered up for TIFF day 2:

 

Purple Heart

Everyday she sits at her usual spot at the same hour

She sips her green tea, paper in tow, and often lets her mind escape her

Today she sat there wondering what it is about her that is so misunderstood

She is soft spoken and kind with not a hurtful bone in her frame

She is shy and sometimes speechless unless it concerns affairs of the heart

He, a tarnished soul, reluctant and seemingly disinterested

Avoids her and discards her very emotions as if she never walked this Earth

She is all the days that he chooses to ignore her

And each passing day is a blow to her esteem fueling an insecurity that has forever laid dormant

Only now he awakes the beast

Leaving her silent in question

If only he was here

He’d walk by her and see her at her usual spot, at her usual time, with paper in tow

But he would notice something that he didn’t know before

She wears a purple heart pinned to her sleeve

Not the courage kind you get dying for your country but the kind that signals that she is at war

At war with her heart and fighting for her honour

But she is courageous

She fights and continues to fight the good fight

Because she is pure

And she believes that one day he will see

That plastic in fact sinks and purities always rise to the top

And that alone is worth the fight