The past season has simultaneously been one of momentous change, as well as one of exasperation at the lack of, and resistance to change. I suppose I could call that balance. Reading back over my last entry, I’d just returned from Europe; I’d published something on the first leg (which was all of four days) of the trip, and have completely dropped the ball on following up with the subsequent fortnight, during which I was lucky enough to sail on my first cruise ship, meet some wonderful people, see the beautiful Greek islands and learn of their history and unique personalities, and travel around the Emerald Isle. Our honeymoon may have been spent with dozens of strangers, but it was filled with sun, sea storms and near shipwrecks, friendship, awe, and adventure.
Returning to Winnipeg, I was excited: I’d been without a job since August, but had a year-long term position lined up to begin right away. It was to be in marketing at a highly reputable educational institution, where the positive shaping of lives was the goal, intelligence was encouraged, and everyone fit in. After a few months, however, the honeymoon began to wear off, and I found myself feeling slightly defeated. I’ve found a bit of a recurring pattern throughout my employment history: I’ll show up at a new place, learn as much as I can about it, and try to integrate myself into its social/community events network, as well as bringing forth creative ideas I truly believe will help improve relations, communications, and morale. Naturally, when I heard there was an upcoming anniversary celebration, I was excited to get involved: I offered ideas, graphic/photography projects, web design ideas and videos that would showcase years of history, merchandise we could develop and offer to commemorate the occasion… Crickets. The same happened when I recently offered suggestions toward another large project. In meetings, I felt like I was wearing an invisibility cloak. I was actually met with and told that in this culture, you don’t just show up and “rock the boat.” You sit quietly and go through things as they are for at least a year, “earn your stripes,” and then think about offering new ways of doing things.
What? Someone actively took the time to sit me down and tell me to stop offering ways to make things better? That innovation was an unwelcome ruffling of feathers? I’m only there for a year; I want to make as much of a positive impact as I can. In previous jobs, I’ve initiated national magazines and newsletters that got different offices talking to and inspiring each other; I hired SFX makeup artists to do unique commercial projects; I used my network to create advertising campaigns that went on billboards across Canada; I interviewed staff members in countless different ways to create “culture books” where everyone could learn about each other on more than a surface level; I developed workshops; I organized team-building activities that people loved; I developed psychometric personality and communication style analysis booklets and presentations to help people learn about each other and work most effectively. I’ve always been met with a bit of resistance, possibly because in the past, I’ve worked in support roles where thinking outside of the box hasn’t been on the agenda; but I’ve always proven myself in the end. (Sadly, one management/director role ended after I fell off a building; the other with the company going bankrupt!) Now, I’m being actively shushed, not to mention talked of and regularly thrown under the bus. It’s so hard to be part of an institution whose mission, vision and values include striving to excel, serving with humility, and leading with integrity, when half that list is actively discouraged with newcomers.
But the bright side of all of this is that it’s a challenge – the most basic of challenges, for anyone who cares about changing things for the better, inclusivity, innovation, and progressiveness. When we have clear values and goals in this world, it is also clear when you have an opportunity to try to change things for the better. It will be like an alarm ringing in your head, a head whose inside may be wallpapered with the scribblings of dreams and frustrations, wishes and analyses, observations and ideas; it will go off loud and clear when something arises that actively tries to prevent you from doing the right thing. The thought of losing my job because I didn’t stick to antiquated traditions of keeping quiet until I’ve done my time is ridiculous to me, and though the exclusion and the discouragement is disheartening, it always comes down to a choice of how to meet it: with blind acceptance, or with resistance and determination. Perhaps this is not the place for me, but I won’t leave at the end of my term not having tried my best to make things better for everyone affiliated. I have skills, creativity, experience, and a heart, and if the time isn’t right to welcome those things yet, perhaps at least I can leave an example of always wanting to make things as awesome as they could be, and perhaps others who remain might be encouraged to speak up in the future. Change isn’t easy at the best of times, but sometimes we have to put our egos aside and welcome new possibilities if they’re coming from a genuinely good place.
That’s something we could all pay attention to within ourselves, and our interpersonal relationships, too. A lesson I’m still learning is that just because I believe my way of doing things is the best way, doesn’t mean that’s the case for someone whose values, personality, and inner wirings aren’t the same as mine. Sometimes, you have to learn how to communicate in the language that’ll resonate with your audience. Keep speaking in a foreign tongue, even if it makes complete sense to you, and you could lose everything you’re fighting for. Life can be such a delicate balance, and one can tire of investing a full heart into a series of soulmates (I don’t necessarily believe a soulmate is someone you need to end up with romantically) only to lose them, but I believe it’s true that you have to keep breaking your heart until it opens, and once it’s open, it can never be closed. Nothing will ever hold back its light again, and every bruise, every scar is both fuel and tribute to its determination. I may not be able to change the world, but, as a costumed pink dinosaur named Smoochy once said, I can make a dent.
Another change, and I suppose a pretty major one lately, has been my journey in pregnancy (currently almost four months) and its effect on the rest of my life, my projects, my relationships, and everyone around me. I felt the need to write something today because though our announcement was met primarily with support and happiness, there have been a few – not necessarily adverse reactions, but ones of surprise and confusion. I have to remind myself that people will always have opinions, and the best you can do is to meet them with grace, but sometimes when you’re in a difficult place, you – just have, I guess, to write an open letter on the Internet.
Yes, to answer any lingering questions – it was planned. This may come as a surprise, because for years I’d believed myself infertile – something which was confirmed medically in 2016 as a result of polycystic ovary syndrome. It’s an endocrine disorder; symptoms including irregular menstrual cycles, periods that can either be few and far between or, as was the case first Europe trip, be heavy and last for several weeks; excess body hair; obesity (think I avoided that one); acne or abnormal skin conditions, and ovarian cysts, which can get in the way of eggs being released and actually prevent ovulation from occurring. It’s never been that much of a bother – the symptoms I had, I could deal with, and I accepted sometime in my late twenties that perhaps I was never going to be able to have a family. So – again, with the spirit of everything coming with a choice of reaction – I dove headfirst into being the best non-mother I could be. I could care for my friends and loved ones. I could create things. I could learn new skills, start a business, record an album, and push myself to follow dreams I’d always been too scared of before. I could start a novel and put some of these dreams and imaginings down on paper; I could travel. I could live a life that was meaningful in other ways. I never spoke of my disappointment that I’d never be able to have children, I think, primarily, because part of my way of dealing with it was to fill my life with distraction and convince myself I wasn’t missing out on anything. I guess people around me picked up on that.
“Was it an accident?” I’ve been asked. “I’m surprised you were trying for kids,” others vocalised. “From what I know of you, it came as very unexpected news.” “Why do you want children?”
Firstly, are someone’s personal reasons for doing anything in life anyone else’s business? Probably not, but I live to know as well as to be known, so that those who remain in my life have the fullest, realest picture of me as they possibly can, and any subsequent relations can be as authentic as possible.
My husband and I decided to try the medical route just before Christmas 2016, both of us being examined to see what the problem was, and if there was anything that could be done about it. Turns out it was me, and there actually was something we could try that wasn’t going to be a $10,000 gamble: Serophene. Hormones, taken at very specific times, that induce ovulation. We decided to try in the new year, and by mid-January, I was looking at a stick with a pink line on it. The next day, I looked at another, as I did for the next few days, after which we had our positive pee tests confirmed by blood by a doctor.
For years, I’ve been on medication for panic and anxiety. I tried going off them a couple of years ago and lasted about six months before going into a full on meltdown, swallowing my pride, and realising that drugs for mental health should have no more stigma or judgment attached to them than drugs for cancer, or some sort of physical affliction. Just because you can’t see what’s happening inside your brain doesn’t mean something can’t be physically (in terms of chemical balance) wrong there, too. I went back onto Citalopram for anxiety, and Clonazepam for panic and insomnia. Naturally, I had to stop any potentially harmful drugs while pregnant, so I came off cold turkey. A) This is not the way to ease into things. B) This will result in severe withdrawal. C) You will likely be so delusional as a result that it won’t even occur to you that your drastic change in thoughts and behaviour could possibly be related, and you will chalk it up to hormones and become terrified of the subsequent nine months.
I was allowed to stay on the Citalopram, but had to come off the Clonazepam completely. I could probably have weaned off, but I’d stopped as soon as I saw that first pink line, and it was at least another week before I actually spoke to a medical professional after that. Hormones + withdrawal + lack of the medication designed to help you function and think properly = an absolute nightmare. I became so afraid of my own thoughts (crying and worrying obsessively every night; mentally reacting to any compliment or positive act from anyone else by immediately convincing myself everyone was lying, and was doing/saying things out of obligation, didn’t actually want me around, and was 100% going to abandon me because of how awful I was) that I ended up in the mental health crisis centre immediately following a breakdown at my first ultrasound appointment (one for the scrapbook!). There, I met with someone who helped me immensely – and turned on the lightbulb that made me realise my extreme delusions were directly a result of me coming off Citalopram for a solid week (ran out, poor planning; doctor away and unable to refill immediately), which I’d completely forgotten about. I went straight back on it, and within a couple of days, started feeling immensely better. I also started approaching the second trimester, when, supposedly, your energy starts coming back, your symptoms start to become less intense, and things generally start looking up. Which is exactly what’s happened! (I’m dealing a bit more with the waves of loneliness that come with the temporary state of pregnancy right now: exclusion from nights out on the town, having to cancel social plans due to exhaustion, which, for someone who thrives by always doing, is extremely frustrating; plans that don’t get made with me any more because, for the time being, I’m tired and not being able to drink makes others uncomfortable… I have to remind myself, if I can’t remind others, that this is a temporary state.)
So, back to the actual reasons. Yes, I may have convinced myself, and others, that mine would be a different path in life, but I don’t think being a parent and following your dreams have to be mutually exclusive. I know many people who’ll be more than happy to tell you your life is over the moment you have kids, but I also know many others who continue their lives, jobs, dinner parties, gigs, and travel the world with an extra little one in tow. I remember waking up at 6:00 in the morning when I was young and coming downstairs to a house full of my parents’ friends still over from the night before, board games scattered across the living room table. I went to a concert recently; a husband and wife duo who told of how they packed up and travelled across the continent with their little ones in a trailer for months, touring their CD. When you decide to bring a person into the world, you also get to decide whether to integrate them into the life you live and love, or give that life up in favour of parenting books and baby talk.
I like to continually be working on goals, and I like to do things with passion and meaning. Just because I’m having a baby doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep writing and recording songs (I’ll still have vocal cords, and a mind, feelings, and imagination). I’m still going to work on my book. I’ll take a break from photography while I’m physically incapable of shooting for a few months, but I already have a handful of weddings I’m excited to shoot next summer, and excited to shoot, learn, and grow over this coming season. I’ve got a list of tattoos I’m excited to get once I can be inked again, and my child will see the world and fall in love with it just as I did when I was young. Who knows – this new life could provide endless, untainted inspiration for brand new stories and songs, or maybe I’ll create something I never would have before. Having a kid doesn’t mean you have to choose between being “mother to baby” and “person who exists in the world and has interests and talents and goals.” It can be both, and I think it can be awesome when you introduce that kid to the latter and show them how awesome life can be.
Why, to answer the questions, do I want to have a child? Because on a planet where our daily headlines are plagued with so many stories of hate, panic, and injustice, I want to build and shape something that will be filled with kindness, awe, a thirst for knowledge and a passion for the universe. Someone that will fall in love with music and art and beautiful language, and strive to share the joy they bring. Someone who knows how to be a good friend, who sincerely appreciates acts of kindness and wants to thrust fistfuls of it upon the world around them. Someone who’s fascinated by science and technological discoveries; whose desire to learn is never quite quenched. Someone who’s moved by stories of suffering and actively wants to do something about it.
Why do I want to have a child? Because, as with most things I try to do in life, I want to create something in the world that will, hopefully, make it a bit better than it was before.
I think he absolutely has a point. It kind of goes back to 
Thanks to my friend Vivienne who let me shoot her in her pretty dress over the train tracks.
I’ve been worried lately I’ve been growing less sentimental, but that’s not it. I’m still the most emotional and sensitive person you probably know, and I’d still do absolutely anything for those I love. I tell them how much they mean regularly and I make a point of trying to put good out into the world whenever I can. I think maybe I’ve just learned to recognize things and see them clearly, and not through rose-coloured glasses. I’ve also learned that I’m more than okay on my own, because I’m incredibly lucky to have the best friends in the world. And I think that’s given me a bit of strength. Anyway, back to the MBTI. I held onto being an INFJ so hard because my whole life, it was me. 100%. But I retook the test. I expected maybe my introversion would have gone down a bit more, but I didn’t expect it to flip onto the side of extraversion. A tiny percent (basically a cat’s whisker over the border between the two), but also? My J changed to a P. Apparently I’ve become more okay with spontaneity rather than careful planning. Things have become more flexible. My entire personality has apparently shifted from the sensitive INFJ to the outgoing ENFP. Reading over 
Finally, this year reinforced something I’ve tried to practice for a long time: that happiness is a choice. People may make all sorts of new year’s resolutions in a few weeks, or tell themselves that 2015 will be better… but these are just words, said every year around this time. Words are nothing without action and conscious commitment. 2014, 2015, 2016… life’s going to happen. It’s going to keep happening. The only thing that determines your mental well-being is your own choice as to how you react to it.
Music is something I’ve been passionate about for probably close to the same amount of time as I’ve been on the planet. As a kid, I remember anxiously sitting by the radio, waiting for a song to come on to record onto a mix tape. I’ll still spend a few hundred dollars I don’t have travelling to other cities to see a favourite band. I curated mix CDs for friends for years (damn modern technology; how do you do that now?) and grew up listening to my dad’s punk and new wave, and to this day we basically have the same taste. We went to a 
Does anyone else have this problem? Too many ideas for too many things, not enough hours in the day, being torn between craving company and needing alone time, and the complete inability to shut off all the thoughts and simply focus on one thing? I wish I didn’t have to sleep. I feel that maybe then, I’d have sufficient time to devote to everything I want to instead of squishing it all in and feeling spread thin. I want to do everything. But I also want to be able to focus on one thing at a time without my thoughts wandering off with my feelings. The concept of meditating, or even just lasting more than five minutes in a bath, is one I’ve never been able to fathom. (There’s always so much to be doing!) How do you do it?
It was really hard for me to narrow it down to just one Frank Turner song, because he’s one of those modern day songwriters that just gets it. Just gets exactly how it is, exactly what’s wrong with the world, exactly what’s worth singing about, exactly what’s important in life, and there’s no overproduction or forced melodies – it’s a simple English bloke singing songs about what really matters, and he has a way of doing it that just makes me want to ingest every lyric and with them wallpaper the insides of my head. A couple of favourite lines from other Frank songs include “it doesn’t matter where you come from, it matters where you go; no-one gets remembered for the things they didn’t do”, along with “I face the horizon, the horizon is my home”, and “It won’t last, so be bold, choose your path, show soul, live fast and die old,” but I find this track a great reminder for when things may get difficult in life, or you’re feeling low or questioning choices you’ve made… this song always helps me really re-focus on the good things to be thankful for that exist every minute of every day.
I knew I’d have to pick a Kate song, and though this isn’t my favourite of all, it is the one that without fail always leaves me absolutely sobbing. As you listen to her remarkable voice sing a chorus that absolutely penetrates your heart, you can’t help but feel a sense of urgency in life, to not let it go to waste… to tell those you love how much they mean to you, to live these moments we’re given and build a life you can look back on without regret… to always express. Always, always express.
Again, it was far more difficult than it should be to narrow it down to just ONE Mumford song… this is my all-time favourite band. I remember when I first got Sigh No More… it was the perfect balance of heart-wrenching, goosebump-inducing, earnest longing with a heavy dose of bluegrass and roots, dominated by thumping kick drums and a killer banjo (yes, really) that had me cranking my speakers and jumping around the living room. It was an extraordinary debut; a stunning combination of the expertly crafted upbeats and raw, emotionally ripping passion, each song fully able to stand alone as a fabulously crafted masterpiece… I went to see them before the first album was released in North America at an intimate little venue in Toronto back in what must have been 2009? It was one of the most magical experiences of my life. I remember writing at the time: There was an excited, energetic buzz filling the room; they commanded the crowd dressed in vintage waistcoats, rotating instruments, and had the crowd jumping up and down pumping fists while on the edge of their seats two tracks later in awe at the raw passion, soul and mastery of lyricism in front of them. It was nothing short of stunning, and I hope they get the worldwide recognition they deserve. I’m SO glad they exploded.
5. The toughest one! There are at least another twenty songs I could probably list; but I’m trying really hard to focus on ones that have had impact rather than ones I’d just love to broadcast to the world because they’re damn good songs. The honour of the last spot I think has to go to Laura Marling, because her words, especially from such a young girl, are so incredibly wise and beautifully poetic. Hope in the Air was a close second, and is a brilliantly written tale that’s a story in itself (and contains one of my favourite lyrics and haunting melodies ever):
I’d originally seen 
I don’t often watch movies, but last week we saw two that ended up being a couple of the best I’d seen in a very long time. I knew I was going to like
We also watched 
Prose and Constellations 