Have you seen this goat?
Friday, December 23, 2005 , 6:55 AM
I bought my parents a goat for Xmas, but I lost it. Okay, they were supposed to get a gift card which I now can’t find, and a family in Africa gets our goat, so to speak, along with all kinds of milk and agricultural training through raising it.
I just hope it writes us letters about life in its new home. I’ll have to ask Oxfam if that’s part of the sponsorship deal. I hope it goes to a good school and doesn’t get eaten.
God, it feels good to have made my presents this year, and to have stepped completely outside the CashMas machine. (As Patrick calls the holiday. He writes it “$mas” — even better.) It did take advance planning and some work, but the people I gave things to were all worth it, I figured, worth my thinking about beforehand and being creative for. (Next year? Totally buggered. I’ll have to find some new thing to do. I’d be even happier if we all skipped it. All I want is to be with these people I love.)
My friend Kirsten told me that she got the boo– Er, the present I sent her. Given what I’ve been up to lately, she knows full well what’s inside the wrapping. But she doesn’t know exactly what kind of [thing] it is. And it’s her only present! All her relatives and in-laws accepted her request to give her gift-money to a charity.
Likewise, I’m floating in “stuff”. I don’t need anything this year. It’s all bonus, and for everything that comes in, I’m going to want to give something away.
In other holiday news (for this was my first official day of holidays, though I finished some work today), the facial hair project is not going well.
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Canada catch-up
Wednesday, December 21, 2005 , 3:25 AM
Okay, here’s the story. Briefly. Well, I’ll try to be brief, but this one’s going to require a lot of stamina from both of us.
I’ll start from 5 December, when I flew to Canada.
Monday
Sunday Patrick offered to come over and help me pack. “By which,” he said, “I mean ‘Get in the way’.” In fact, though, he helped me immensely by wrapping my presents. Several recipients have commented already on the gordian knot quality of his wrapping. The secret is in the double-sided tape. What won’t be a secret to anyone is that I didn’t do it myself.
So I bagged my baggage, and Monday morning I lugged my luggage to Haymarket Station. Despite my recent bitching about Air Canada, the rest of the day was pretty much seamless, with the exception of picking up my suitcase at the end of the trip, which was slightly delayed. This provided an opportunity for me to practice notogling one of the other passengers: I’d made a decision for this trip: “It’s staying in my pants.” No dalliances, trysts, or sudden fallings in love to mess up my life.
Lisa picked me up at the airport in her new truckasaurus, and took me home, where Alvaro — whom you might remember from my Spain pictures — was waiting, and made us patatas bravas, one of my favourite Spanish dishes.
Tuesday
I went to work, said hello to everyone, was made to feel very special. I was supposed to be in the workshop, but I’d also said I’d finish an article that week. Normally, I say ‘yes’ to everyone’s requests and come off like a hero — except what people forget is that’s all I do, it’s what I’m there for, writing these things. This time, though, I had something else I was supposed to be doing, namely sitting in the workshops. So I begged off that day’s, since I was scheduled to be with the same coach the next day, and worked on the piece. I didn’t get it finished, though, because, contrary to popular belief, offices are a terrible place to try to get anything done.
After work, I met my friend Robert for supper, and we had a great conversation, as always. I was feeling jet-lagged, or like I’d caught another form of the flu Patrick and I picked up when we went to London (an airplane bug?), but it was good to see Robert. I also needed to decompress: Why is it that co-workers feel it’s perfectly okay to ask about my personal life, even ones I don’t know that well? I was feeling all chipper on the way to Toronto, but the frequency with which this conversation came up put me in an oscillating funk (one that comes and goes as I think myself into and back out of it).
After supper, I went home and worked until 11:30, finishing the piece I was responsible for. The later it got, the more jet-lagged or jet-bugged I felt.
Wednesday
I went to work and sat in Russell‘s workshop. Once again, I was reminded of the value of these trips: The audience I’m writing for sits in that room, and talks out loud about their biggest issues. Getting this insight is enormously beneficial to my writing work for the company. Also, I can’t help getting ideas for my own life.
After work, I went home and met up with Lisa, then travelled with her to her seminar series. About ten years ago, I took Lisa to an introduction about The Landmark Forum, a workshop I took that changed my life. (It sounds like a big claim, but I can trace everything I’m doing now to the work I did then.) Now, all this while later, Lisa decided to take the course. The seminar’s a wee freebie they throw in to help put the ideas into practice. I figured it would be good to go back to the mothership for a refresher. The shifts from that course are permanent, like learning to ride a bike, but my humanity hasn’t cleared up yet, so there’s always new junk to sort out (or reoccurring old junk, more like).
The first person to share what had happened for him that week talked about his best friend — his best friend who’d been captured while on a peace mission in Iraq. The friend was probably going to be killed the next day. (I’ve just searched, and it seems the captives’ fate is still undetermined.) Suddenly my “So have you got anyone special?” rash vanished.
As others got up to share about their progress and setbacks, though, I was reminded that everyone’s problems are life-sized: No matter what challenge is in front of us, it’s going to take up all of our attention.
I sat there for a while, feeling like the perfect transformed being, then decided to give it up and do the work myself, too. I had a wee breakthrough as it occurred to me — though it sounds obvious when spelt out like this — that the past situations that were smarting me were just that,past, and I was free to enjoy myself. It mostly worked, and was useful for the rest of the trip, though people continued to ask me That Damned Personal Question.
I darted from the seminar over to a bar a block away, where my buddy Cosgrove happened to be doing his first stand-up comedy set that night. Yeah, this is how the whole trip has worked out so far: I made no hard plans, but just let everything fall together, and these were the sorts of convenient opportunities that showed up.
Cosgrove was good. I hate watching comedians who make me worry for them. Coz was strong — too strong, even: Most comedy is a conversation, but his piece was so seamless a monologue that it went through the crowd like a train, and they didn’t seem to know how to keep up and catch a ride. So as a stand-up comedian, I’d say he’s a great scriptwriter. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hearing that.
Thursday
Another Coach workshop. This time, the coach wasGary. I think he was the first associate I saw present a Strategic Coach workshop, but he’s really ramped up his skills since then. The workshop day was very congenial, and Gary was on. Talk about stand-up; he had the group laughing for much of the day. Nice to see that even these coaches of ours, who are very successful entrepreneurs, are still working and progressing, trying to get better at what they do all the time. It’s especially winning when they authentically reveal the ups and downs of their own businesses as a model for applying Strategic Coach concepts.
After work, I went out with my beloved co-worker and even-before-that-friend Margaux. She took me to 401 Richmond, a former tin factory that’s been saved from demolition and converted into a building full of working art studios. They had a holiday sale on, so Moo and I looked around. There was a lot of great, inspiring work going on. We bought some hand-printed paper for next to nothing (which in pounds stirling is currently half of nothing), then joined a party in progress for an organisation that, it turns out, Margaux volunteers with, teaching math skills to children. Margaux does a bit of everything, because she’s filled with endless curiosity and brains. Literally; all her internal organs must also serve as bits of extra brain. That’s the only way she could be like that. It makes her very compelling to be around and to talk with.
From there, we went to the Christmas party at her condo building. Here’s a link to it when it was an empty Sears warehouse and the late Ninjalicious did some “urban infiltration” on it. Much more interesting than what I can find on the web about it now, because it’s been transformed into yuppie lofts. Half the people at the party had exactly my look. That made me feel icky.
Speaking of which, I was sat at an abandoned new iMac at work one day and found a little photo-booth feature. Here’s what it thought I looked like:
Friday
Another workshop. This time with Patti. She’s fun, and very dynamic. I get lots of useful stuff when I sit in her workshops — different things, as I do with each of the coaches. She’s also — shh — a Landmartian (sorry, my word for those of us who’ve done Landmark workshops), so we share that language.
After work, I moseyed over to The Paper Place and picked up some bookbinding things I can’t get in Edinburgh. Then I rushed across town to meet Cath, my treasured editor. We were supposed to go to Lotus Garden, one of my favourite Toronto restaurants, but, alas, Cath informed me with a call on my mobile that it was closed. Goodbye, hot and sour soup, I’ll miss you. At least I got to hang with this great woman.
Saturday
I went for brunch with Lisa and Alvaro. They’re getting married. It’s largely so he can stay in Canada, but they also happen to love each other. Handy. We went to order Alvaro’s ring after brunch, then went back to the house, where the two asked me to give them a lesson in bookbinding. We got halfway through, each making the innards of a book, then Lis had to leave for a catering shift — likely for horrible wealthy people who would treat her as a semi-invisible and disposable form of life. (The fate of a singer/actress.)
I met Cosgrove and Eric for supper with their friendsJane and Jason. Jane is an insanely cool urban chick, yet she’s nice-cool. She’s also responsible, I’m told, for the Telus wireless network’s ads with all the cute wee animals in them. Jason used to be a manager or sound guy or something for the band Insane Clown Posse. He’s a big, hunky, sweet guy. And they live in a condo way in the sky with a wall of windows looking out over the city. While we ate our supper, fireworks went off over Toronto’s city hall. For us, it seemed. Nice life they have there.
From there, we went to Gord’s house party. Gord visited me not long ago in Edinburgh. Very nice guy, an entrepreneur with his hand in half a dozen different projects, from a brewery to a travel business to a company that’s turning car engines into single-propellor airplane motors. More urbanness, then a taxi home.
Sunday
Brunch at home with Lisa and Alvaro, then we made covers for our books.
That evening, I met my ex, Jordan, and his new fella Seth for supper. I love Jord to bits — appropriately: it ended well, and we still care a lot for each other — and this Seth fella is cool. I liked him, and they seem to have a good thing going, which made me happy.
During supper, a watress at this restaurant came up and stood in front of me. I wasn’t sure why she did, then it dawned on me: She was a he, the third actor Cosgrove and I worked with on our play, then fired along with the director. I’m not sure if he was sporting tiny breasts or what was going on. He’s aged even less than I have. I have to have a talk with my alchemist.
Sunday night, I slept the sleep of the gods. I needed it, and got it.
Monday
I sat in on Dan‘s workshop. Dan is a mentor, a friend, and the owner of The Strategic Coach, along with his wife Babs. His workshops are a real treat, since they’re where much of the company’s material is generated.
In the evening, I went with Mark and Eric to Robert’s restaurant, where we ate a lovely meal on a cold, snowy night in front of a fireplace, and had a conversation about the workings of the universe, and Eric ate an elk. Well, part of one. I’d never thought of them as something edible before.
Tuesday
(It’s late; can you feel me speeding up?)
Another workshop with Dan. More ideas for work and for my own life. Afterward, I found myself with an evening off, which I enjoyed. I read one of Art Spiegelman’s brilliant Maus books.
Wednesday
I drew all day at work. I’d been asked to do some illustrations to go with the presentation of Dan and Babs’ gifts at the company lunch, and I wound up drawing a little story about them as Lord of the Rings characters, since one of the gifts was tickets to the musical based on the books. (Meanwhile, I’d been hearing backstage stories from Lisa’s downstairs lodger, who’s in the show. Sounds like it’ll either be a terrible train-wreck, or the most spectacular theatre presentation ever.)
That night, I went with Cath and her very cool friend Fidel to RED. I can’t do justice to RED without using a lot of words, and even then, it’s something you really have to experience in person. Basically, it’s a cabaret featuring work by various independent Toronto artists. It’s funny, it’s surprising, it’s a real breath of fresh air as entertainment, and for me it’s always very inspiring.
Thursday
I walked across town in the crispy winter morning to Cath’s, where we worked until lunchtime. Then we ate and went into the office. I drew some more and tried to work, but work in an office, as previously mentioned, is hard to do.
In the evening, I went out with Ross. He was one of the original Strategic Coach team members, and is leaving now to work independently. It’s probably a good move for him, but the idea of cutting thta tether and becoming a free-floating “consultant” scares the pants off me.
Ross was the person at The Coach who interviewed me (though things were mostly decided during my playing videogames after work with the multimedia team; apparently I died well). A feature of the interview was “The R-Factor Question(TM)”, a Strategic Coach relationship-building tool that basically asks where you want to be in three years, as a background for relatedness and to see if a partnership would be a good fit. I risked all and told the truth: I wanted to be a writer. In the meantime, I said, I wanted to do multimedia with a talented, cooperative team, and to see a working end product I could be proud of. The team gave me that in spades, but the best thing about the question was when I noticed that things had actually turned out just as I said I wanted them to.
Friday
A big, good day.
I went to work and finished writing February’s Strategic eNews. Ting! (If this were a movie, that would be a typewriter carriage bell sounding and the carriage being returned with a happy slam as the last line was completed.)
The afternoon was taken up with the Strategic Coach’s Toronto team lunch. I’d been asked to present the story I’d written and illustrated for Dan and Babs, which was fun to do (lots of laughs; Hamishes are validated by laughter). It also kinda nailed my ongoing presence there at the company. We also received generous gifts — a custom bottle of wine and a gift certificate for a swank restaurant. I drank my wine that night with Alvaro, and our HR person was nice enough to exchange my coupon for cash, since I was about to leave town. Of course, the money was gone before I got to Charlottetown.
Here’s a picture my good friend and co-worker Julia took of us at the lunch:
After the lunch, in keeping with the synchronicity of my spontaneous planning this trip, I had the opportunity to go to the recording studio with Dan, Cath, and two other team members (Paul and Myrna, both of whom are amazing at what they do, and good people, too). I got to see and hear Dan recording the audio track of a piece I’d written the week before. When he came out of the glassed-in booth, he said it had been easy to read, and felt exactly in keeping with the tone of the series it was written for. He said to Cath “We should keep him.” I was happy.
I found myself with another free evening — hazzah — so I went to a movie. (For more on that — like you need more at this point — see my comments on Cosgrove’s blog.)
Saturday
In the morning, I had brunch with Lisa’s gang, cater-waiter-musician-actor people. A foolishly talented bunch.
I spent the afternoon picking up more things I couldn’t get in Edinburgh, at least not at that price. Then I went to Cath’s in the evening to help her set up for a surprise birthday party for her brother. Dave and I used to work on the multimedia team together, and now he’s married to this powerful creative soul of a wife, Lisa, who’s brought out a whole other side of him that’s incredible to watch. He’s on sabbatical, or something, and he’s focusing on photography — just one of the many things he could be doing. He’s already travelled to the Czech Republic with her to do a puppet show. As you do, right?
Cath spent the evening in the kitchen. She’s a wonderful cook, though me being me, I can’t imagine that being fun. Instead, I wound up talking with friends and strangers in her living room, trying to make them laugh, and largely succeeding because I’m funnier in Canada. Not quite sure why that is, but I kinda get off on it.
Sunday
I ate breakfast with Lisa and Alvaro, then our friends Gary and Cyndi came by to say hello. They’re pregnant. Everybody’s pregnant, or getting married, or divorced and in love with someone new.
In the afternoon I went with Cosgrove and Eric to a house party. Kevin and PJ are ex-priest friends of theirs. Yeah, it sounds very conflicted, but they’re happy, great guys, and it all makes sense to them. They have a tastefully gay, expensive, and well-decorated classic old Toronto house, and it was full of people (including Cosgrove’s earnest, warm Irish father and his funny little devil-imp of an Irish mother), food, and cater-waiters (none I knew) brandishing wine. Everyone gathered around the piano to sing Christmas carols, and I just went limp and gave into the spirit.
And just because it’s been that kind of trip, Lisa happened to be playing a fundraising gig at Woody’s, our old gay watering hole downtown. So Coz, Eric, Bert and I went down there in the evening. I drank many pints and endured the horrible, lip-synching, decorated trees of drag queens until my friend and her accomplices did their real, live, actually talented little thing. The evening felt like a curtain call, where all the characters come back at the end.
To cap it off, I finished off the night with a slice of the best-worst pizza in Toronto.
Monday
A knock on my door and an apologetic word from Lisa let me know that my alarm had malfunctioned. I rushed to get ready, surprisingly un-hung-over or tired. Lisa’s friend Katrina, who’d accompanied her the night before on stage, drove us to the airport. Because, like I’ve said, it was that kind of trip, Lisa and Alvaro’s flight was scheduled for the same time as mine. Glory be!
My parents met me at the Charlottetown airport, a happy sight. I’m so grateful for them, and for the relationship we have, such that coming home for Christmas is a treat, not something to endure.
Last night, Mom and I went to Trinity Church (where she sings in the choir) to see the local television news presenter, his wife, and the weatherman put on a concert to raise money for the local food bank. They were all talented, and the two men obviously relished the opportunity to let loose the banter they have to rein in each night on the evening news. Even better, they raised $4,200. In a small province like this, that will make a huge difference. How great that three people can just whip something together and have that impact.
Tuesday
…Which brings us, at last, to today. I worked from home, in-between chats with Dad, then this evening went to see the Narnia movie with Mom. The film was a bit clumsy, the story a bit dated, but it had some moments. It’s impossible not to compare it with Lewis’s friend’s work and Peter Jackson’s filmic translation of it, and it comes up well short. What’s great, though, is that, between this and seeing the latest Harry Potter film, my mum has acquired a taste, or at least a curiosity or tolerance, for magical stories. “Maybe I’m ready to read your work,” she said. Maybe! If she can get through all that over-earnest, liony-witchy fantasy stuff, a bit of Idea in Stoneshould be easy to digest. I find it exciting that my mum should be exploring new, imaginative ideas at 70 (though don’t tell her she’s 70, ’cause she really isn’t at all).
Okay, one more picture: I’m conducting an experiment. Now I’m out of the woods with the Toronto Celibacy Project, I needed something else to do. So I’m going all shaggy, or at least trying to. I’d like to try looking as old as I actually am, or to see if I can pull off “rugged” or something, just for a bit:
So, in closing, how’s it going? Well, some things shifted for me when I was in Toronto. Some ice broke up, and things are flowing nicely toward the new year. At work, we’ve got a new book coming out which looks like it’ll be a big deal. It’s called The Laws of Lifetime Growth. (This is our first time working with an outside publisher, and they’ve already sold the translation rights in five countries, so we’re all pretty excited about it.)
Anyway, the first of these laws is “Always make your future bigger than your past.” This one had been making me uncomfortable for a while, because when it came time to plan about the future, my knees went all wobbly. All I could think about was the stuff I didn’t want to see again: no luck with getting published, and bad relationship experiences. But during this trip, something really dropped into place for me. It’s something else that Dan always talks about, namely that a person needs to take ownership of his or her future. I really got it this time. As always, it’s nothing new, but another facet or reflection of the truth. Instead of avoiding making plans ’cause I’m worried about some select bad bits of the past happening again, I can just place out ahead things that will satisfy me. Yeah, there are lots of things I have no control over, especially when it comes to others’ reactions. But I have total control over my performance. So focus on that.
Geez, that’s almost verbatim what I was wrote in a Coach newsletter this afternoon. It’s all tied together.
So the two shifts from Toronto, boiled down to their essence, are: “Past stuff isn’t here, so let go of it and get on with being happy now” and “You want to be happy in the future? Just plan on doing things you’ll like.”
Lord, that sounds so basic. But as they say, just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it’s easy.
I also got a truckload of ideas about my next book — as disruptive as helpful, but in a good way — along with some exciting notions about what I want to get up to this year.
Bedtime. If you got this far, give yourself a cookie and pretend it’s from me.
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Hinterland what’s what
Monday, December 12, 2005 , 2:04 AM
I’ve sporadic connection to the ‘net here in Toronto, and no outgoing mail service, so please forgive my going quiet while I’m here.
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Tuesday, December 06, 2005 , 3:53 AM
Here’s a point I’ve not heard made before, put forward by Brian Dean, the creator of a ‘zine called Anxiety Culture:
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I’ve heard the stories about JK Rowling writing Harry Potter inside cafes because she couldn’t afford to heat her home, but I’ve not seen any comment in the media about how Harry Potter wouldn’t have been written if Ms Rowling had been employed in a job.
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I’m sitting in Heathrow airport, not using the T-Mobile wireless offered by a sign at this desk. That’s why this message will be posted at some unspecified time in the future.
I am, however, taking advantage of the free power-point in the floor. There are far too few of these in airports, and we technowieners hungrily compete for seats like this one.
The power-point consists of a trimmed piece of carpet lifted out of the floor and haphazardly set to one side, exposing an aluminium-lined depression with an industrial-looking pair of sockets. It looks exactly like something I shouldn’t be plugging into.
I should go check and see if they’ve assigned my flight a gate yet.
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Catching fire.
Friday, December 02, 2005 , 3:13 PM
I’m sitting in a cafe, working with my yellow sunglasses on. Totally Bono-fied. Patrick assures me I look “deeply cool”. I feel like a prat. The new specs are supposed to be — well, they were supposed to be ready yesterday. Now I’m told Saturday.
My London friend Owen told me about this week’s episode of Lost, in which a character jerry-rigs a soldering iron to repair his plastic glasses. I figured I’d try that using a match. The specs still had superglue all over the bridge, so they immediately caught fire and bubbled. So much for that.
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p>And I’m going out tonight in Glasgow with Patrick. Happily, I won’t be trying to impress anyone, as the event is “Burly”, usually a collection of Piltdown Man specimens glistening with sweat and doing dances for each other in an underground vault. The occasional one has a taste for chicken, which is why Patrick likes us to go there (he’s chicken-licious). They’re not much into the speccy types there. It would be demoralising, except I don’t fancy them back.
I’m not sure where my tribe congregates.
~
It’s short days now until I fly to Canada. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone there. I’ve yet to pack, which I don’t look forward to. I hate my clothes, and I’ve got to think about dressing for work, too.
That’s one of those bits of life I’d delegate in a second upon reaching any measure of wealth: I want someone else to dress me. Not in the morning, I mean, but to choose suitable, flattering things for me to wear. I don’t trust myself to do it. And it’s not a priority.
Yet another reason I’m not gay: I like cheap polyester boxers that don’t have anyone else’s name on the waistband.
On the other hand, I’m thrilled about the tiny push-drill I’ve found for putting holes in paper. I’ve been using an egg-beater-style drill, which does the job quickly enough, but too well: I keep drilling into my desk. I tried putting a metal ruler underneath the pages, but now I’ve snapped two drill bits. I think this drill (which looks more like a big watch screwdriver with a spring) will be the answer.
Thinking back over all the work I’ve done these past few months, then looking forward to the new year, I’m excited about what’s ahead.
I was brave yesterday. I knew I was meeting with a woman from a local gay magazine about the possibility of writing some fiction for them, and I also knew I could get away with not presenting anything to her. Surely it would be better to get some sort of creative brief from her first. But in my heart I knew that wasn’t true: I was fully able to write something. I just needed the inner conviction and self-confidence to do it. I like my work and would never apologise for it; but when it comes to submitting it to other people for publication I’m not so sure.
But I did it. I sat on my bed, outlined the story I had in my head, and wrote it. I presented it to her last night, and she liked it. In fact, she said it could be longer. Longer? As a copywriter, that’s a word I don’t hear very often! So score one for trusting in my imagination and my words.
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I’m sitting in the Charlottetown Public Library. There’s something very square, Seventies, and governmental about the buildings that form this block, which also includes the Confederation Centre of the Arts. Doesn’t that name say it all?
