Why do I feel like I know you?

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I wish I were certain.  I can’t quite put my finger on it.  I’ve only just shaken hands with you, shared pleasantries, but there is more to you.    I feel a depth, like looking into a memory, but I just can’t place you.  There is a sudden feeling of kinship and camaraderie and I am immediately at ease.  We fall into a conversation like we have been doing that very thing for years.  I wish I were prepared for this.

We spend time together, we laugh like old friends and we share inside jokes.  Your smile engages me.  I am unable to pull my eyes from yours.  I wish I were able to pinpoint the moment you crept into my heart – the moment that I saw you differently and couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I want to realize that moment and hold onto it for all eternity.  My mind whirls with thoughts of where we could be now had we had these moments so many years ago.

My days are not consumed with thoughts of you, but you insinuate yourself into random moments of my day and I can’t help but smile. There is an easiness about being around you.  Your laugh infects me.  The twinkle in your eyes warms me.  I am myself with you.

I wish I were able to quell this feeling.  I wish I were able to push you to the recesses of my thoughts, but you invade my reality.  You stir my feelings and you haunt my desires.

How easy it would be to fall into your arms and feel safe there.  How easy it would be to get lost in your eyes and float on the sound of your laughter.  How easy it would be to want to never let you go.

How I wish I were able to include you in my forever.

The call is coming from inside the house

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I was 12 years old when I saw the movie “The Changeling”.  True to its title, it altered some metaphysical part of my being.  I was a relatively normal child, as normal as kids could be in the 70′s and 80′s, but I still remember my reaction to that movie and the subsequent “change” that happened in me.  I knew from the moment that story ended that I would never be the same.  I didn’t sleep in my own bed for at least three days, and I vowed I would never play with that same tri-coloured rubber ball again.  To this day, it still haunts me to see the Pepsi emblem. It reminds me of the horror I felt watching those scenes of a bouncing ball take on a life of its own and subject George C. Scott to interminable terror.

If I were a recurring patient at a psychiatrist’s office (which I am not), I undoubtedly would be told that the reason I prefer a shower to a bath was a direct result of Russell Hunter’s tale of a haunted house and the fury that a spirit could unleash on living, breathing human beings.  If I pause for a moment to put myself back into that mind space, I can still hear that young, disabled boy beating on the sides of that claw-footed bathtub as he was drowned by his father.

This is the feeling that a good horror movie is meant to elicit from its viewers.  That lingering terror, although irrational, invades the deepest reaches of our psyche and makes us second guess relatively commonplace parts of our existence.  Human beings, by nature, are fundamentally flawed, and we seek the terror in the shadows.  The horror genre only adds fuel to that fire.

Although Carol Kane starred in “When A Stranger Calls” in 1979, I did not see that movie until years after I had moved on from The Changeling.  Regrettably, for me, I watched that madness on a big screen during my tenable years as a babysitter!!   I took my role as guardian very seriously, but nearly jumped out of my skin each time the phone rang while the children I had sworn to protect were in the next room.

As the years have unfolded, I have been able to detach the parallels of movie horrors from my own perception of reality.  Although my current basement resembles something akin to the “Red Room” in the Amityville Horror, I nonetheless regard the creativity of the horror film genre as it is mean to be portrayed. It is nothing more than scary entertainment.

I do believe in spirits, but I am not going to be consumed by the notion that they hold any ill will towards me, nor are they bent on doing me bodily harm.  There are no ghost writings on my walls, nor do I hear evil voices or things that go bump in the night (except the squirrels in my attic).   The only admission I will make is that I will NEVER have a Ouija board in my house – EVER.   Even though I don’t believe I will come to any harm from spirits lingering in between worlds, I am not going to entertain the chance that I open a portal and tempt  a forbidden soul with the vestigial energy contained in that board.  (Watch the movie Witchboard and you’ll understand my paranoia)

What movies left a lingering impression on you when you were young and vulnerable?

The circle of a relationship, not the chain of command

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The family resort at which I have been employed for many years has just closed again after another successful season.  If I were to describe it, I would tell you to picture Kellerman’s from Dirty Dancing,  and that is where I work (sans Patrick Swayze and the watermelons!)

I began working there in 1986 and after leaving and coming back, and leaving and coming back, I have been there consistently for the last 10 years.  A lot has changed in the economy and much has changed in terms of the expectations of guests, but the relationship between staff and management remains the one constant that you can take to the bank.

Creating a work environment that everyone can thrive in is the key to a successful business.  Not only do we put great pride in creating a summer experience for our guests that they will cherish for years to come, but we put the same effort into making the staff experience a summer that they will never forget.  The chain of command still exists, but we are focused on harnessing the positive energy and feedback we get from creating that circle of a relationship and leaving the hierarchy of those chains of command to less fortunate businesses that just don’t get it.

It’s like living a continual episode of Undercover Boss, but we are never under cover.  We embrace our employees and engage them in dialogue. We value their input from a perspective that we may never be fortunate enough to have and make them feel like they are part of the progression. And in turn, we gain the true respect of those summer employees because they not only feel like a part of the process, but they are able to have their own experience within that ever-moving mechanism.

The true value of any business is its employees, and the more energized and interactive they are, the more true success you will obtain from both sides of the work experience.  I truly appreciate everyone I have had the pleasure to have had work with me, not for me, and look forward to many more years of our staff and guest experiences being unparalleled.

Chasing the dream

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Do you ever take a moment to ask yourself if you are really doing what you want to?  Are you living the dream?

Nine to five, Monday through Friday.  This is the reality for so many us…..toiling, sweating, dealing with people we would not wish on even the worst of our enemies, and for what?  Sure, the steady pay cheque each second Friday is somewhat rewarding and it pays the bills.  But are we missing a very important piece of the bigger puzzle?

So often we tread through life in a direction that we never thought we would be heading.  Circumstances and obligations seem to navigate our course and we lose sight of the things that are most important – our dreams.  Reality has a way of shifting those dreams to the back burner and we are left knowing that what we truly desire simmers on low heat and never gets a chance to reach a full boil.

Please don’t misinterpret my musings and think that I am not appreciative of my job, my co-workers and my current career.  That is not the emotion I wish to convey or the drive behind my words.  But there is a piece of my puzzle that I have yet to obtain, and a dream unrealized is a dream worth fighting for.

I have many passions.  Some stave themselves from parading in the forefront of my reality and some seep into my subconscious to give me subtle reminders that they are awaiting recognition.  Some have been recently awakened and welcome you each time you read my thoughts on this blog site.  But there are still dreams to be realized.

The cafe awaits…..and as my soups come to a boil on the stove and my cakes are in the bakery counter, I will be the one writing in the corner at the small table with the laptop and the glass of red wine.  See you there!

You only live once

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It is not often (or ever) that I have put a load of pure fallacy in a subject line, but there is a first for everything.  Let us first dispel this myth.  The truth really is – you only die once.  You live every day.

Living is done on per diem basis and can only be defined by how much life you put into your life.   We all think that life is about spending countless  hours finding ourselves, but really, life is about creating ourselves.  Each day we wake up and yawn.  We pull ourselves from the cocoon of covers we have created during the night and we stretch.  We take a deep breath to start a fresh day with a fresh outlook.  This is not our one shot to live, this is our chance to wipe the slate clean of the previous day and draw a new plan for a new day.  It is our constant do-over.   The thought of only living once is complete crap.

Life itself is an amazing gift.  To look at it as a one shot deal is, well, sad. We are afforded countless days to live.  We are given a blank canvas to create our own masterpiece and as we tread through our days we add the colors with which we find solace.  We paint the shapes that give us structure.  We create the lines that separate the things we wish to keep at a distance and we pencil in the shades to mask the things we wish to avoid.

The beauty of our life’s canvas is that it can always be recreated.  An intrinsic piece of art can always be remastered and created to portray the life that we want it to convey.  The Mona Lisa, had anyone wanted her to, could have had a completely different smile.  Our opus is ours. No other person has the power to tell you that your life must follow a set trajectory.

Live your life.  Live it every day and live it to the fullest, but live that way because you want to.  Believe that your life is your canvas and change those lines whenever you feel the need.  Erase those colors and start with a new palette and while you are splashing those pigments to create a new spectral portrait, laugh in the face of those who think you only live once.

I leave you with the brilliant words of Henry David Thoreau.

“I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow out of life, to put rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Tame the drive, not the driver

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I need to put the “drive” back in my drive.   Since the tender age of 17 when I first tested the waters of being behind the wheel of a vehicle, I always had a manual transmission – it has defined my driving experience. Although it was a rocky beginning, we made our way through the rough patches and have forged a bond that is unparalleled.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not going to go beyond my comfort zone and hop into the driver’s seat of a Formula 1 race car yet (although I do know someone who has just done that and loved it!!), but I need to feel like I am in control when I am commanding the power of a vehicle, and shifting gears gives me that sense of efficacy that I lack when putting an automatic transmission into drive and mundanely steering through the back roads.  These roads are meant for driving, and to me, and others who have voiced their opinion, driving an automatic transmission is just aiming.  If you want to really know your vehicle, know how it loves to hug curves, drop from fifth gear to third to pass the chump  law abiding citizen in front of you, that manual transmission is the way to your best driving experience.

The decision to shift away from the only driving I’d ever really known was driven by my choice in vehicles.  (please note the puns in that sentence, I worked hard on those).  At the time I was ready to lease my next four-wheeled experience, I was mad for the Honda CR-V.  I loved every thing about it.  But there was one major drawback.  It only came in automatic transmission.  It was decision that weighed heavily on me, and it took every fibre of my being to make the choice to move away from seamlessly shifting those gears by just listening to the advice of my engine to pushing a stick into drive and moving the steering wheel back and forth.  It is a decision I have come to regret.

Although my lease is only at the halfway point, my go-to guy at Honda is busily looking for a buy out for my CR-V so I am able to get back into a car I can actually drive – not just a vehicle that I can steer and get myself from A to B.  I want to be on the highway again and feel that engine cry for me to shift it from fourth to fifth as those tires burn up some asphalt.

Learning how to drive a stick-shift gave me a sense of freedom that I didn’t realize I had until long after I learned how to master the smooth shifting of those gears.  I could drive any motor vehicle built to grace the pavement.  As a teen, I worked for a property maintenance company that relied on an old pick-up truck as they forged their way into a growing business in cottage country.  The truck had a manual transmission – three on the tree – and I was one of the only staff members that had a comfort level with the truck to be able to drive it.  I took great pride in the fact that I could command any vehicle that I was afforded the luxury to drive, and knowing the subtleties of that manual engine gave me a sense of power.

Never again will I make a decision based on looks and my inability to fight for what I truly want.  My ride has to challenge me.  It has to demand that I put forth the same effort as it does so we may both enjoy the ride from first to fifth.

So jump in the driver’s seat and weigh in – automatic or standard?

To Kindle, or not to Kindle. That is the question.

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It’s a quandary that many find themselves faced with.  And it could be a Kindle, a Kobo, a Nook, a Sony Touch, an iPad – regardless of the name, the idea is synonymous with a traitor in the minds of the true book worms.  For some the feel of a book or the smell of ink on aging pages will never be replaced.  The tender grip on the binding, the gentle turning of a page is reminiscent of reading.  But for those that have crossed the line e-readers are the new menu of the literary four-course meal.

I made my decision after much deep thought and consideration for the tattered pages I used to turn.  With my new Kindle in hand, I would embark on my quest for literary comfort in the evening and end that journey in the wee hours of the morning.  In the beginning, I felt like I was committing a mutiny of sorts.  I was jumping the library ship of weathered novels and losing myself in the churning maelstrom of technology.  But after choking on the first few mouthfuls of the sea of electric words, the waters calmed and no longer did I yearn for the safe confines of that library or the feel of leafing through the pages of those books.  I had found my happy medium.

I live in a very small house and as the collection of books grew larger, the breadth and depth of my sanity dwindled before my eyes.  Had I been more adventurous, perhaps those realms of pages could have been turned into some sort of furniture, or art nouveau.  Sufficed to say, the books were beginning to take up more space than the occupants, and since the incumbents pay the mortgage, the books lost the battle.

I must admit, I have a deeper affection for my Kindle than I thought possible.  Being snowed in no longer carries the same panic-stricken feeling since I can download a book in seconds on the Whispernet.  And I can do that invariably from anywhere.  No longer do I have to pack 10 books to take on a trip since I have my own library now at my fingertips.  And never again will I dread a power outage (as long as my Kindle is charged before the damned power goes out) because I have also purchased the clip on reading light, which is a brilliant addition to my reading freedom!

Time to close up the office for the day and go read the newest Dianne Gray novel on my Kindle!!

Kindle, or book?   Let me know what you think…….

Children left unattended will be given an espresso and a puppy (Weekly writing challenge)

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The sign is distinct, yet tactful.  A similar sign adorns the pillars in the dining room of the family resort at which I am employed and is a subtle reminder to parents that they are responsible for their children’s behaviour or the consequences could be dire.  To my knowledge, we have never given away a puppy or offered a child a libation of the purest caffeine, but the impending threat is still felt within those walls.

The idiom “children should be seen and not heard” was a popular string of words when I was rapidly growing through my childhood.  Back in those days, and I may be slightly showing my age, we respected our parents wishes.  We didn’t put our elbows on the table during meals, we didn’t talk with our mouths full and we wouldn’t even entertain the idea of leaving the family dinner table without being excused.  Sadly, (or not, depending on how you look at it) I would have never been a candidate for the espresso or the free puppy.

I write this post with mixed emotions.

Kids learn by doing.  Experience incorporates more of a lesson than words can ever teach.  If they never have the opportunity to encounter culture and fine dining, they may never learn to be cultured or understand how to act in a situation that is far removed from the “norm”.   But parents need to know when the child is ready for that learning curve.  Kids need worldly experience, however those learning moments must be punctuated by behavioural corrections, if necessary. Tackling that battle at too young an age will only frustrate the child, as well as the surrounding crowd.  When they are at an age that they don’t fully comprehend what is expected of them, they are bound to lash out. Therein lies the rub.

Adults that wish to experience exquisite meals enhanced by vintage wines and ambiance don’t aspire to have that savoir-faire tarnished by young diners that have not had the opportunity to learn the etiquette required to frequent such an establishment.  I would not ever deny a child an opportunity to learn from such a dining experience, but perhaps there is a happy medium.

The same can be said for any cultural undertaking.  Although children need exposure to all of life’s mysteries, there needs to be a divide between the right time and the right place.  And maybe more importantly, the right attitude towards that broadening experience.  Yes, children need to learn, but not at the expense of others attempting to allow themselves that rare moment that they are able to steal precious seconds of escape from their day-to-day reality.

Give children the benefit of cultural awareness, but also of situational awareness.  They may not be able to define the lesson they are learning, but it will serve them well into their adult lives.  Take them to a fine dining restaurant.  Take them to the museum.  But take them when it is more appropriate for younger people to frequent those particular venues while they are still in the learning stages of their development.  They will still gain the much required knowledge to take forward into their teen and adult years, but they will still show the respect and allow the freedom for adults to thrive in an atmosphere that is designed for a crowd that is over a certain age.

Let the children learn in rich and vivid detail, but also let them learn the boundaries and obstacles that are held within the confines of the rules of etiquette.   There is a lesson is everything we do – and maybe dining with a toddler at Nobu at 7:00 pm is not the lesson that the pre-schooler needs to learn at that particular moment of their developmental stage.   Respect for children’s knowledge is accepted and encouraged.  Respect for an adult’s sanctuary is priceless.

Don’t rain on my parade

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You get the sensation – the sudden feeling of elation.  The world seems to rotate on an axis to simply line all of your stars in the perfect cosmic placement.  The sky seems to be saturated with a deeper hue of blue, the air seems crisper and more full of promise than you ever remember and you find yourself smiling for no particular reason.  Things are finally going your way.

And then it happens.  One person, and it only ever takes one, says something to make you doubt the happiness that you are feeling and that balloon of contentment bursts.  Random pieces of that blissful moment lay in tatters at your feet and the skies open up to rain on your parade.

It’s a perverse world we live in when we can let others dictate what should make us happy.  The moments that cause us to smile uncontrollably should be locked in a private vault, only to be shared with precious few that will understand the true feelings behind that blissful expression.   True happiness is a rare discovery, and those that are fortunate to have found it should not have that perception marred by the opinions of anyone other than themselves.

Your steadfast belief in what truly makes you happy cannot be argued – by anyone.  It is your head, it is your heart and it is your soul that leads you to true euphoria.  Always carry an umbrella, and don’t let anyone rain on your parade.

You never know your strengths until you have to use them

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Strength is a funny thing.   It can define us – whether that definition encompasses our physical capabilities, our mental prowess, our moral fortitude or our ability to influence others, it shapes our interpretation of ourselves.   But sometimes those strengths lay dormant, content to be lying in wait until we truly need them.  Moments in our lives require us to draw from the deep well of power and we never know how deep that well goes until we are thrown into the face of adversity.

Our reservoirs go deeper than we can imagine.   The individual wells that we pull from on a not-so-frequent basis house caverns of untapped vitality that seem to increase exponentially in potency the longer they lay at rest.  And in those moments we are required to harness that energy, it obliges us with a fury that is all-encompassing and sometimes completely overwhelming.

Human strength is an anomaly.   It has no true definition.  It chooses how to manifest itself and how much of its true power to reveal when it is truly needed.  The vessel that contains that strength may have no concept of the absolute potential to harness that energy and may never have the chance to know its honest intentions until faced with the proverbial dragon.

Our trust in that strength is the key to its existence.  The more we believe that we possess that strength, the more it thrives.  Like any energy, it feeds on the positivity that we use to nourish it and continues to grow with that sustenance.  It may feed and hibernate, but when it is required, that energy will wake, harness its lethargic skills and wreak its vengeance.

Hold true to your strength.   Even though it may be deep below the surface of your reality, it pools in your subconscious, patiently waiting until you need it most.  It is there – everyone has it.  You just need to trust in its power and know that it is just waiting for your signal to unleash its fury.