the mixtape

Ah, the mixtape. The mix cassettes I made over my formative teen years is basically a call and answer foreshadow to the woman I became. From tapes, to CDs, and now playlists and soundtracks, mix lists eagerly cultivated a night of romance. Let you scream rage your protest of being grounded. Told someone you were…

You Didn’t Die

Your pictures are hung on her walls. Memorials, and poems, and paintings, and drawings, and all that I see is you in her home. And in his home. And their home. And that arena. I didn’t know you, and I couldn’t have known you, you were gone before I knew him and them and I…

the subtle way to keep it real.

“I just know that when you’re in the middle of a moment that you’re writing exactly what you feel. And that may not have any regard for what may come in the future?” “In what regard?” I demanded. I was hot, and my cheeks were burning. I was red. Red in the face with embarrassment,…

Gaining Perspective

Next month, I trek 65km with Waterloo Region Crossing’s event: The Crossing Trek. When I say it out loud, it seems unreal. 65km in 24 hours in winter? I’d better train. I’d better drink more smoothies, and run more cardio, and hit the gym harder, and do sprints on our property in minus 18 because,…

finding joy.

I don’t know what it’s like to be diagnosed with depression. But I do know what it’s like to be depressed. Listless. Devoid of joy. Today was a bummer day. You wouldn’t know it, though. Not at least on my radio shows. But I did tailor my programs around looking for the one thing I…

post your joy.

I’m struggling to get out of bed this morning. I struggled yesterday, too. And last night, I came home from work, hauled my carcass into our living room, turned on the fireplace, and went to sleep for three and a half hours. I’m struggling, too. I don’t remember when it became okay to call people…

You were my best friend

And now you aren’t. And what should I do about that? About the memories, and selfies, and the times that we called the other for no reason at all, except maybe to brag, or gag over what he’d said, or to stave off his advances or stall. You were my best friend. And now you…

even the strongest sometimes ‘can’t’

I woke up this morning from a devastating dream. I dream every night. Some dreams are so real, and so vivid, that I wonder if I should pen to paper all that I saw and churn out a series of books, or novels a laΒ Twilight. Typically, I have to give my head a solid shake…

Under pressure

“Are you typing?” he asks from the road. “You won’t have a lot of time to finish if you’re not already. It’s a bit slippery out today, and you’ll need extra time to drive in.” “I’m not, and I don’t want to,” I pout into the phone, yanking the covers up the bed. Who the…

date night woes

Real talk, he said. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m your best friend. I don’t plan to sugar coat it anymore. You don’t look fat. You don’t. You don’t look fat! By now, he’s yelling, and the vein in his face is strengthening, his cheeks are reddening. You don’t look fat, he repeats. You have a…