to boldly go where I should - any ideas on the art of brashness?

I love the protagonist's obsession with the classic tale Treasure Island in Sara Levine's novel of the same name (only followed by lots of exclamation points). Sara's main character seeks to emulate the life of adventure found in the classic novel by concentrating on the qualities she feels she lacks:   BOLDNESS, RESOLUTION, INDEPENDENCE AND HORN-BLOWING.

Living in Calgary I have the horn-blowing down pat as I jockey for position with other aggressive drivers in the 24-7 rush hour. But, I think she meant horn-blowing of a different nature. I like to think I'm learning how to toot my own horn, but I think I need to embrace brashness like Sara Levine's protagonist without getting fired. How can I flex my self-awareness and self-actualization muscles without offending those around me who like my diplomatic ways? Maybe I need to say what I mean and mean what I say and let the consequences rain down. So, if I don't say anything to you it's because I don't have anything nice to say. Don't go away mad, just go away.

BOLDNESS. Hmmmm, let's see....Last year I bought red lipstick, got boudoir pics done and took up boxing, plus started a writing group. Check.

RESOLUTION. At the start of every new year I resolve to spend less and save more, to eat less and exercise more. I seem to stay the same in these areas, but at least I'm not sliding into the abyss of greed and sloth! I always resolve to write more and to get published. Last year I managed to work on more projects than ever and send more out plus got another story published.

INDEPENDENCE. Really, at this stage in life I doubt my father would take me back. So, yay, mission accomplished.

So I seem to be doing ok by Sara Levine's standards, but I aspire to the brashness of her anti-heroine. I need to be selfish and oblivious to the feelings and needs of others. I need to do more horn blowing and less listening. Perhaps I  need to buy a white peasant blouse and a flowing velvet skirt plus a large black hat with a colourful plume and randomly shout 'shiver me timbers'.

I need more adventure in my life, more anarchy. Although living with 5 boys, an entrepreneurial husband and a dog, I often feel that I am surrounded by pirates, just not plank walking, gun firing ones. The only plank I have in my life is the ab exercise I employ to outwit the hands of time that pull on my middle-aged midsection.

Maybe I can engage in small acts of adventure to spruce up my otherwise stable middle class, working Mom existence. Maybe instead of sorting the laundry into darks and whites I will mix the two and give all the boys pink socks. Maybe I'll elbow the brasher little old ladies (who time has allowed to say 'I don't give a crap anymore') out of the way to squeeze the canteloupes first and with more gusto than they can muster. Maybe, just maybe I'll be the heroine in my own life and provide comic relief to those around me.

In the end, I think it boils down to living with exclamation marks; to boldy resolve to be an independent horn-blowing heroine in an adventure of my making. I hope it's one worth starring in and one that others will enjoy watching.

The day the internet went dark...

This one's from the Advocacy Committee I belong to through the Writers Guild of Alberta. I'm all for free speech AND for protecting my work. Seems the States is having the same struggle with copyright that Canada is.

http://advocacywga.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/can-we-have-copyright-in-the-internet-age/

The importance of others and of being selfish.....

That sounds mutually exclusive, but it's not. Think about it....as a mother, popular wisdom tells me that in order to be a good one I need to first take care of myself.

 

Case in point, over the holidays, the kids were off school for 19 days. That's a lot of quality time together with too much sugar and not enough to do. My kids headed to their Dad's for a weekend and my husband and his boys had a pizza, chicken wing, boy-movie Friday night that left our house looking like a garbage heap. I found myself in need of an escape on the Saturday as I couldn't imagine a repeat of me climbing into bed with earplugs and a pillow over my head only to awake the next day to a kitchen that looked like a Febreeze commercial.

 

At first I felt guilty for abandoning my husband, but I thought that was a much better solution than slamming around the house like a bear with a sore paw or hiding out at my all-female gym for the next 24 hours. So, I packed up the dog (love him as he doesn't watch tv, eat pizza or speak), headed for the Wendy's drivethrough for an apple pecan salad and a Diet Coke and then hit the open road. Think Thelma and Louise only my dog is hairier and I'm not a redhead. Alas, there was no Brad Pitt hitchikers either!

 

I drove to our cabin at Gleniffer Lake, 90 minutes north of Calgary. In summer, the resort is packed with families sitting on the deck of the Landing Restaurant, boating on the lake and swimming in the pool. But in winter, with the snow blanketing the golf course and the water in our phase shut off, there are only a handful of the 700 or so lots occupied.

 

I pulled in at 5 pm, just as the sun dipped towards the lake. I turned our outdoor Xmas lights on and let the dog roam free where he marked my neighbours' lawns and the green space as his territory. The Canada Geese have migrated south and the golfers too. There was one other lot in my phase with their Xmas lights on too, but no car in the driveway. I was finally alone!

 

I spent some time writing and some time snuggled on the couch with my dog's head in my lap as I watched reruns of the Big Bang Theory. I went to bed late and in the complete silence of a few acres of farmland on the dammed Red Deer River, I felt truly peaceful. I had left the city and a house full of dishes behind and I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Of course it did occur to me that the poor saps in horror movies are usually alone in a secluded place when their brains are eaten by zombies, but I was too tired to care.

 

I awoke the next morning enveloped in the absence of sound- no traffic, no kids, no boats zipping about. As I made my breakfast, the whine of a plane wafted across the frozen water.

 

The dog and I headed out for a walk to the dog park at the edge of a ranch. In summer he runs straight for the lake and plunges in looking for sticks. But in winter, the sticks are hidden by snow and the lake is a little harder to wade into with abandon, so he charged at the horses leaning on the fence and I watched as they jumped from side to side not sure if they should be afraid or amused.

 

At noon, I packed up the cabin and headed back to town. It was time to get back to my husband and our family, our messy house and intensive schedule. I'd missed my husband, who is my usual roadtrip buddy, but I know he appreciates it when I take care of myself so that I can then take care of others. The dog doesn't care, he just wants to go back to the lake.