These are blogs I've written for different websites or for
my own personal use. Its tone is mostly light but expresses
how I feel quite nicely. Enjoy reading and feel free to comment!
|Posted on June 9, 2011 at 10:12 AM||comments (0)|
I've started a new blog, one I'll try updating more often.
Feel free to follow me! http://writerforever08.blogspot.com/
|Posted on May 2, 2011 at 9:49 AM||comments (0)|
Well, so far.
In January, my fiancé and I decided I was going to quit the pill. My doctor suggested we wait three months before trying to conceive, so that my hormones and system can balance out. I started taking vitamins also.
We decided in mid-March to start trying. Sam's a trucker, always on the road, only home on weekends. We wanted to try every opportunity we had, because what were the odds that we'd get pregnant within the first month of trying?
Odds were good I guess, the baby caught and stayed <3
I'm two months in so far and I must say I'm relieved that everything is going so well. My doc said that the way my body reacted to getting off the pill was a good indication about how the first three months of pregnancy were going to be like. Sam freaked out because me off the pill: not pretty.
Yet . . . here I am. No nausea, barely any mood swings. I'm actually happy, content, most of the time. And why wouldn't I be? I carry life!
Then we started procedures for buying a house. Went to the bank, spoke to a realtor. For one week now, I've been house shopping, visiting houses. Oh, how naive I was before this process started. I thought it was going to be easy to find a house. Why not? I saw the pictures of the internet, saw the descriptions. I figured I could close my eyes and go eeny-meeny-miny-mo and presto! We're buying THAT one.
Oh, the shame of it all. The houses are never what the pictures make them out to be. It's disheartning to see the actual houses, sometimes in shambles. I was getting discouraged.
Then, yesterday, I found THE one. Sam wasn't there with me so we'll have to go back for a second visit on Saturday. I can't wait to show him! Unfortunately, the thought of it kept me up half the night because I was trying to figure out how to arrange my furniture. *sigh*
Wish me luck!
|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:57 AM||comments (0)|
When I was young, I used to picture myself walking in the streets during a light snow.
I would be wearing a black beret-style hat, with a black and white plaid coat. I would have long dark hair, cascading down my back. Streetlamps would guide me on my journey as I watched the big snowflakes slowly falling from the sky.
In reality? I don't own a plaid coat, hats look horrible on me and I recently chopped my long dark hair until it was shorter than my fiancé's (he's still mourning that, by the way).
But, that's ok. It's a childhood fantasy. And whenever there's a light snow, I go out and walk. I breathe in the cool air. I catch snowflakes and watch them melt in my hand.
I also love to curl up near a real fire, with a hot mug of something, and simply stare at the fire until it feels my eyeballs have burned. Not a romantic image, but you get what I mean. Then, recently, my parents got rid of their wood-burning stove, and I am mourning it. They have a propane stone now. And it doesn't have the same charm as the other one. Much easier to take care of, but....
These past few years, I had lost my excitement and love for Christmas. Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful time to see family, but . . Where was the excitement? I am way past the age to believe in Santa (although I secretely do) and presents didn't have the same 'ooomph' as before.
But last Christmas and this one, the excitement seems to have come galloping back. I truly realise what a blessing it is to have family and friends to spend Christmas with. People I love and who love me for myself.
Sharing memories and food. Taking pictures and reminiscing. Smiling at the thought some people put into choosing their gifts. Grinning (or tearing up) when I realise how good it feels to give someone a gift they really wanted.
Ah, Christmas is such a magical time of year.
|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:56 AM||comments (0)|
Like any kid, my teenage years were a harsh period. I was not at a happy place at the time; I was miserable, actually. Things weren't going too well at home and my best friend, Julie, became the center of my universe. Her and my golden retriever, that is. But the need for Julie was pretty mutual. Things were rather rough at her own home and she needed attention, desperately. We each became the other's life saver.
Gradually, and rather painfully, we grew up. I was forced to move but she stayed on. On friendship remained strong but over the years, it waned. We no longer had the same priorities, no longer needed to use the other as a crutch. We began our life's pursuits without clinging to the other.
Now, we no longer talk. We have nothing to say to one another. It isn't a pleasant feeling to lose the best friend I've ever had but our circumstances are what they are. We grew too much apart. She has a family now, two kids to raise and a house to maintain. I don't. I will, someday soon, but not now.
Today, I went to have a chat with her mother, Lyne. She's like a second mother to me and she's always called me her second daughter. There's a special place in her heart with my name on it. It was bittersweet to be with Lyne, speaking of mundane things. It was nice, though, pleasant. We were able to speak as adults, not only as mother and child.
It brought around the inevitable nostalgia. Thinking of her, being with her, brought around thoughts of Julie, of our life together, of our lost friendship.
But, that's life, isn't it? They say that you meet people for a reason and maybe Julie and I came together when we needed each other the most, when we simply couldn't take another step in life without the other.
Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, we are meant to be together again, friends to the end.
Then again, maybe not.
|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:55 AM||comments (0)|
I work nightshift. When I am done at work, I take out my pc chair and my little IKEA table and I open my laptop. I heat my supper and I write and eat. Then write, serve customers and write some more.
One of my regulars came in the other day and he's like, 'You watching movies?'
"Nope, my book.' Proud I was of saying it.
"You write?" Scorn.
"Oh yeah? What do you have published?" Sneer.
Basically, he belittled me. I would like to say that I spit in his face then hauled him out of the store. But I didn't. Why not? Well, I physically can't for one. But seriously, what's the point? Years ago, I wouldn't have been so proud. I used to sort of tuck my head between my shoulders and self consciously say, "Well, maybe one day I plan to write.' Then change the subject really fast. I don't know why. I just did.
So I patiently told dweeb face that I was in the process of getting published. He laughed and said what if you never get published? I shrugged. "I'm still proud of what I've done. Being proud makes me happy and writing makes me happy. Period.
So, I'm a writer. Period. :0)
|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:54 AM||comments (0)|
This was also written a few years ago but it still expresses my thoughts.
I'm working on a three book fantasy series. My sister actually came up with the idea a year ago. She sent me an email with the first sentence starting with 'Your mission, should you choose to accept it . . .'
She outlined -briefly- her ideas to me. I printed the letter and studied it for a few days. I realised that there was a lot I could work with it but a lot of it I couldn't. I asked her what her plan was for this book. She told me 'You're the boss, I'm the helper. We'll work it together but ultimately, it's your story.' Well, okay then.
All we did was speak of it. I was afraid of starting it and ruining her ideas. But finally, I started. The first two versions, she didn't like too much. The third, she adored. I worked it through and many of our original ideas changed. Then we reread it so many times I thought my eyes would bleed. Seriously, editing sucks lol.
I immediately began part two of the series. Meanwhile, I slowly started looking for a Publisher. I think that's the hardest part. I found one who seemed perfect for my book. I sent a query and a synopsis. They sent back a reply; they wanted the first five chapters. Woohoo! But...They wrote back and said that although they enjoyed my style of writing, my book wasn't Dark and Dangerous enough for them. They ended the email saying that they hoped to do business with me if I ever wrote something that fit in their genre. Now that was an encouraging rejection.
Then, recently, I got my second rejection. Not as pretty as the first. They said that 'frankly they found my plot uninteresting and were only looking for High Quality writing.' Okay then.
Now, I have two drastically different opinions of the same five chapters. Were they both telling the truth? Was the first trying to sugar coat the refusal? Because if that was the case, it sucks! I mean, my much PREFER the 'niceties' of the 1st but only if they are telling the truth? Were they? I don't know.
I'm presently waiting for the reply to a 3rd publisher before sending more out. I've read many times that rejections can be harsh. Yup, I got that. I also read that if you believe -truly believe- in your story, someone will pick up on it. Also, if you get told 10 times that your plot sucks, don't keep charging, pull back and do something about it. Maybe your story really does need tweeking. So, here I am with my thoughts. Wondering if the next Publisher will be the 'One' and what they will say if they reject my story also.
You shouldn't take rejection personally, I also read. But how can you not? You pour your heart and soul in those books. You give up a part of yourself. How can you not take it personally?
So, here's to hoping the next Publisher will be the right one. Because if I have to reread my whole 1st book again, my eyes my start bleeding and I'll end up needing a transfusion.
I just don't have time for that
|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:53 AM||comments (0)|
When I was younger, I used to . . . embellish events. Let's not call it lying. Lying seems wrong, hurtful, deceiftul, yes? But being hurtful was the last thing I wanted. I only wanted to be different, interesting. I'd make a simple bike fall seem like an adventure worthy of Indiana Jones. I added enough detail for it to be juicy, but no more than that; I did not want my stories to be tacky or obviously false. With time, my imagination developped. I read a lot. But I made up my own stories, I never took my ideas from someone else's books.
In high school, girls grow up, have crushes. I suddenly became famous for my 'dreams'. I'd tell my friends that I dreamt of them the night before and of their crushes. I don't know if they actually believed me but they adored the stories I came up with. I had my own little fan club.
One day, I was baby-sitting my neighbour's kids. When Anne came home she stopped me in the doorway and said: "You're so curious and imaginative. I'd see you as a writer. Wouldn't it make sense to put all that imagination to good use?" And suddenly, I had a goal in life. The years of passionate reading, of endless curiosity about everything, my love of writing in classes, everything now made sense. My destiny had been revealed to me. Probably, at some point, I would have put two and two together. But at the time I was enjoying too much the immediate gratification of recounting my dreams.
Now here I am, ten years later. I've written one book, as of yet unpublished but I'm doing up the finishing touches then sending it to a publisher. I'm practically finished the second book of my three part series. Take that, Indiana Jones
|Posted on September 20, 2009 at 6:25 AM||comments (0)|
This summer, we went to Niagara Falls. Although I had lived in Ontario for six years, I had never visited the beautiful sight. I was inspired to write about my experience of our vacation. Basically, it's random thoughts, but feel free to read them. (After all, that's why I'm posting them! :D)
We left home at 9h20 on Wednesday morning, on June 24th. After a few pee/coffee stops -including a stop at an Esso in beautiful Burlington- we around in Oshawa around 3h30. My father in law had offered to let us stay with him in his room at the Quality Suites because he was on a business trip at the time. It was nice although too cold. We were warm, there was no pool. We went out to a Mandarin restaurant. Sushi was delicious (we tried some fruit/dessert ones, yum!!) The men drank. I was -once again- the designated driver. Following the meal, we made a stop at a HUGE WalMart. They made me stay in the car *cry*.
Thursday morning, we left and ran into traffic in Toronto. The view was fascinating. The sky scrapers were amazing and incredibly tall. Beautiful. What was even more stunning was all the greenery. Not something we easily find in Montreal.
Finally we arrive at King Waldor's camping site. We sign up, pay two nights upfront. We started setting up our camping gear but we were too warm and we decided to go for a swim. We were alone and it was very refreshing. There was some sort of moss/pollen on the picnic tables. My mind flashed to a scene I could create in a book. We returned to our tent. We needed to blow the mattress we had brought with us. We thought there would be electricity on every lot but we were wrong. The electricy posts stood in the bushes behind out lot and also furnished several different sites. So we backed the car to plug the mattress into the converted we had -wisely- brought along. It wasn't strong enough . . .
We emptied the car and filled the tent, Not too long after, my fiancé, Sam, noticed the wind had picked up. Five minutes later, the thunderstorm started and we tried to hold up the tent but the water was coming in. We had to abandon ship. We grabbed everything and threw it in the car. What a downpour!
With our GPS we found a nearby motel and headed for it (the camp site was non-refundable!) Ran in, Sam in pants, me in my bikini. The soft-spoken blue-eyed woman charged us for a night. Room 4. We entered the room, brought in our stuff. Took a VERY long shower. Had a cup of hot coffee. Then we headed for a nearby pub and ate. Service was great. Meal was delicious.
Then we headed into town. Paid 18$ (!!!!) worth of parking. Went to pay tribute to the falls. They are a beautiful force of Nature. I had seen Falls in the past and I'd figured I'd be blasé about these ones. How wrong was I. They are quite impressive and entirely natural. Man had nothing to do with the creation of the Niagara Falls.
We did a few activities. First, the Guiness World Records Museum. Very interesting, we both enjoyed it. Then we went to Nightmares Fear Factory. I had made fun of my fiancé prior to going in; he's not very keen on Horror stuff. Turns out I was the one clutching him for dear life! It was completely black with red dots guiding us through the seemingly endless maze. Had I known, I wouldn't have went. But unknowingly, we went it. There was screams and people grabbing at us, poking us, rickety -freakin!- bridges and staircases. We finally think it is over and we laugh *shakily* until Sam turned a corner and discovered it was pitch black. *oh shit* We ended up in a cul-de-sac. I was terrified. We turned in circles, hugging the walls, desperately trying to find an outlet, considering using our pocket flashlight when somebody appeared overhead and shift the room with a hidden panel: We had our way out. The men after us were screaming to get out. I'm trying! I yelled back, hoarsely, panic seeping into my voice. I could have injured them. Seriously. I ran out of there. Sam was laughing (he laughed almost the whole way through!), especially when we saw the picture they had taken of us. *no comments*
We headed back for the car. Got caught in *another* downpour while waiting for ice cream. We ran for it. We had nothing but our fanny pack to protect our camera, money, wallets and keys. I had to stop and take my pumps. Stupid unpractical asthma.
That night, Sam snored. I tossed and turned. Money was worrying me and I was warm and sticky and I wondered how our tent was faring. It was still on the campsite.
Friday morning we got up late. Had coffee, watched the weather channel. Beautiful all day, they said. Ten minutes later, there was a thunderstorm. We debated about going home. About staying there. We had already lost money at the campsite. What if the motel doesn't refund the days we paid? *Note to self, from now on, pay one night at a time!*
We went out and offered our Marineland airmiles ticket to our motel neighbour. She had two small children and had another baby on the way. She was tremendously grateful. Said she didn't work and didn't have much money and the ticket would help. We were glad to help her.
We had breakfast in a cute little restaurant * I couldn't remember how to say sunny-side up in english!* then went back to the falls. Went to Niagara's Fury. An interesting 4D experience to explain the origin of the Falls. Then we headed out to Journey Behind the Falls. The waiting line was long. They gave us raincoats then directed us into an elevator that brings you 175 feet lower, to the tunnels leading to portals where you get to really hear the roar or the majestic waterfalls.
I was doing fine until Sam raised and arm, touched the ceiling over us and exclaimed: 'It'S wet! Condensation, hmm... Do you realise how many tons of rock are overhead?' * I was desperately trying NOT to, but thanks!* We headed out to a platform and took great pics then went back to Cliffton Hill and boarded the skywheel (Did I mention I'm afraid of heights?) I had a temporary panic attack. Sam immediately seized up the situation: here, take some pictures! Great idea, it took my mind off things. Three tours later, (felt like 100!) we got off, had a cone. (We're alive! I celebrated!) Then off to Ripley's believe it or not where we learned some pretty interesting things. After a brief visit to the Moving Theater, we headed to our campsite, took down our tent, and went back to our motel room. We left the next morning.
We were glad to be back home. The weather in Ontario did NOT agree with us. And of course, we got back to Quebec and the sun was shining, welcoming us back, or mocking us?
|Posted on May 5, 2009 at 10:31 AM||comments (0)|
I met up with a psychic a few yearsago? Whoa. Well that was definitely a new experience. Have any of you ever tried ? It's cool, it's weird, it's enlightening.
She started out by telling me what my physical weaknesses are. My lower back between my kidneys, my neck and right shoulder area, my knees and finally my hips. She talked to me about my family, about how close my younger sibling and I are. She told me that my boyfriend is a keeper and that we will live the rest of our lives together and have two kids. She said my writing career would kick off and I'd be world renown. Most of these things she told me, I already knew, of course. But how did she find out ?
All this from asking me my name. She started writing down numbers, circling some of them several times, and then taping them with her index finger to put emphasis on their importance.
How can she have known all of this ? Can she see our most important thoughts and tells you what you want to hear ? Well, that doesn't work. I don't want two kids, I want four. So, a third eye, maybe ? She can see my hopes, my dreams, my soul and determine by some complicated process what will happen in a not so distant future ?
Is she gifted with a 6th sense that nobody but her can understand ? Does she see precise moments of my future or blurry images only ? Is what she told me an exact science or only possibilities ? I'll give you an example : if in her minds eye, my future self always goes right when I get to a fork in the road, then she will make my predictions as she sees it. But what if I take the left fork ? Did she see that coming because she's psychic ? Or does it change the future she's foreseen for me ?
Is it because our very existence is determined from the moment we are conceived and she sees what the fates have decided for me ? Or is life a series of events that make our future unpredictable and she tells me the most obvious course ?
Does anyone know ? Can anyone enlighten me further ?
|Posted on May 5, 2009 at 10:28 AM||comments (0)|
This was written a couple years ago and I'm keeping it on because it amuses me.
This was my first blog ever and I'm pretty proud of it. It talks about two of my favorite males in the whole world : my cats.
Ladies and gentlemen I have an announcement to make, I am a blog virgin. Pretty amazing in this day and age, you say? Well I agree and that is why I’m taking up this new challenge. Let’s see how I do!
Since I’m the one typing, I get to choose the topic. Let’s go for cats, shall we?
These tiny felines are really amazing. They can be affectionate and independent. They’re also beautiful and dignified, regal and graceful, crazy and calm…and completely stupid. Contrary to dogs, you never know how a cat will react. You try to pat them, will they lean in to the outstretched – somewhat hesitant – hand, or take a bite? A dog will wag its tail to demonstrate joy and happiness. A cat’s tail will twitch to…well, nobody actually knows for sure. Maybe there tails are battery operated and twitch on their own. What? Don’t believe me? Then you try to find a suitable explanation, because I certainly can’t and I’ve tried.
I would know, I have two.
Has anyone ever sat for hours and simply watched these miniature lions? They can be quite entertaining.
They hiss at their shadows or at impenetrable glass doors.
They go mad for a ball of yarn and don’t see the harm in sharing the once-rolled-up ball with the entire household.
They sleep in your neck as babies, then claw there way out of the nook (and then they wonder why I got them declawed).
Like us, they have distinctive personalities. My own little predator Lucky actually brings back the ball when I throw it. He relocates it to an area of his own choosing and expects me to go to him but hey! It’s a work in progress…
As for Bob, my boyfriend’s cat, he’s probably the most affectionate animal on this planet. This one gives ‘kisses’. You tap your cheek with your index and ask for a kiss. He rubs his dry nose and flattens his cheek against yours. Adorable at 3 in the afternoon, less at 3 in the morning…
And so ends my first blog, hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
See ya soon!