lafeevert

Great weekend thus far! Friday I went to see the Vagina Monologues with T.  It was put on by the Women's Center at Laurier - the school I'd like to go to, I've decided.  Walking through the halls toward the club where the show was playing put me at ease.  It felt right, being there.  Put the 'back-to-school' bee back into my bonnet.  The back-to-school plans were put on hold after a series of financial disasters, but we are getting back on track even more rapidly than we thought we would (quitting smoking will do wonders for your finances), so it's time to start making phone calls and applying for loans. The show itself was really well don

Too much to tell. At 15, I went my own way.  At 15, my eldest son is going his way.  My way was out of a sense of desperation.  His is out of a need for the freedom required to indulge in his various addictions.  His story is less my story and more my father's story.  Strange how history repeats itself. He'll get through.  We all get through.  I have to let him go, because holding on hurts the other inhabitants of this house, this life.  He is not willing to work through it, and so I have to bar the door.  No, you may not.  Go get help.  We've run out of options for you.  Go with love, but please, go. Fifteen seems young until you consider

I'm thinking about xenophobes today. And xenophobia itself.  Talking to my Dad on the phone this afternoon, laughing over the pinks in my life.  Pinks = The Normal People.  Capital T, Capital N, Capital P.  Muggles, ya dig? Muggles. I don't associate with a lot of muggles.  My friends all have pierced whatevers and alternative lifestyles.  They are Zen Buddhists, United Unitarians, Pagan, Feminist, artistic.  They are creative and chaotic and all of them, almost without exception, are broken in one way or another. I love broken people.  Addicts, pain junkies, dreamers, idealists, the radical left, the oppressed and voiceless, the poor, the