Just a heads up !

Hey my friends...
So working during Christmas at Starbucks makes me realize a few things...


#1. Don't drive if you don't have too.


#2. Crazy happens


#3. Be prepared to wait. Give yourself more time than you think you need. So you don't panic and have           uncontrollable road rage. Who me??? NOOOOOO.... ;)


#4. Be kind to old ladies and old men.


#5. Take time to talk to someone homeless. They have shown me things about love I would not know otherwise.


#6. Try something new! This year....I made chocolate with some new friends...and it was really fun!!!


#7. Love more. Complain less.


#8. Be thankful.


#9. Realize that this is the hardest time of the year for a large majority of the population. So extend your heart wherever possible. You never know who's day you may brighten with your smile! :D


#10.   DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE. ESPECIALLY AFTER SAMPLING FREE ONES FROM THE LIQUOR STORE. You WILL get pulled over.
This happened to a unsuspecting soul/customer . Just because they are "samples"...does not mean you will not be over the limit!!




LOVE TO EVERYONE THIS SEASON. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HUG FROM ME!! xo

a penny is change too

Canadian currency can be super annoying. There must be a reason why they call it Loonies and Toonies. Let's just add some more weight to our already overflowing change purses. And you poor men! I guess that's what the sock drawer is for. That's where my Dad use to store his spare change :)
The value of change is based on the value we have placed on it. You can buy a lot more with a two dollar coin than a penny..obviously. But pennies do add up...over time. Pennies are change too.
So  taking your pennies and casually stuffing them in your ashtray perhaps saving them for a rainy day might not be a pointless idea. It just may bye you that extra cup of emergency coffee you need on that REALLY bad day when you left your wallet at home.
Change comes in small and larger amounts. But at the end of the day change is change. And over time...it adds up to something that just might brighten one bleak day!!

I love myself today

"I love myself today. Not like yesterday. I'm cool. I'm calm. I'm gonna be o.k. ah ha. "
                                                                                                           Bif Naked 

friends are good.

It's a FAIL for blogging everyday on international bloggers month for me. I think this might be my third. And it will be intensely short and very VERY boring:)
HOWEVER! I will have fun...because tonight my friend Blair is going to make me dinner, feed me Margarita's and take me out to a Neil Young tribute concert! What fun! I am spoiled rotten.
Blair you are a good friend :) thanks .

stand by my side

I haven't written to much lately in the way of songs...but here is a new one I am working on..

What do we do when were black and blue?
Bloodied up bruised, beat-up and used
How can we find a heart that's true?
Stand by my side
Stand by my side


These are the battle cries of life?
From birth to death, from me to you
Here by the shoreline the tide will rise
Stand by my side
Stand by my side


let's watch our weathered hearts unfold
under the sun in from the cold
maybe a heart of ice and stone
could turn to clay
could turn to clay


Delicate as is works of art
The body holds these beating hearts
Come hell or high water and all our pride
Stand by my side
Stand by my side


After the questions and answers too
All arguments and reasons 
What end will come of this love and life?(2x)
Stand by my side
Stand by my side

A Spoken word poem by a good friend

On the rare occasion I have words.
When I was a teen I use to write half of what I thought, crumple it up and throw it away.
I never could quite get out what I felt .
And I burnt a lot of those half journal entries in a moment of purging myself of a really hard time of my life. That felt good. It still does. I am glad I did it.
Expression is a miracle to me.
Like a gift from heaven that I receive from God himself.
So when I have a song, or poem or a note to play that feels organic to the expression of an emotion I feel, I am overcome with elation. I can imagine it would be a similar yet much less tangible feeling as to giving birth. Although I have not experienced that .
Birthing words hurts. And when it happens in truth and honesty I feel joy.

I am thankful for songs and words that other people have. Especially when I can't find my own.
They make me feel connected to the human race. Expression does that.
Recently my friend Matthew Davidson member of the Victoria spoken word Slam team wrote this poem.
I connect with this poem. Or more over this poem connects with me....
And therefore I wanted to share it with you....


CONFESSION.      By. Matthew Christopher. Davidson.

I keep watching you fall apart

watching your freckles turn to shine like tiny pebbles 

washed in small rivers that wind across your face

every time you begin to open

with broken battle-cries your brave words false start

your heart cracks

and honesty always straight-smack dissolves you in the end

when you drizzle into wet confusion, 

waterfall into unexpected confessions

that leave you wondering where the safe places are 

because you can't even keep your own secrets in your head

can't silence these lines around your eyes broadcasting sadness

so who the hell else can you trust to wrap your 

darkness in warm cover under blazing tabloid madness, 

with gossip running brazen and flagrant through 

shock-hungry worlds like cocaine fire in our veins

but the fact is that the truth remains our anchor

keeps us grounded when bottled-up words 

would have just gotten us high on the things we kept inside, 

in those moments we should have just busted open like 

overinflated balloons but instead like kids 

we just let them float away and

so as a man I want to stand here and say

hey, don't ever stop talking

we've been walking through this cold finding heat like 

two old birds heading south and all I know right now is that

your mouth is a fault line in the universe that grace is breaking through

and you 

are the most beautiful mess I've ever known

I don't have answers to all your questions 

but the best wonders in life are made more wondrous 

by knowing you don't have to ask these things alone

and if it takes us getting messy to finally come clean 

then let's fuck that shit up, yo.  

let's roll up our sleeves and plunge our hands in dirt, 

work this ground until it bleeds out life and muddies up our shirts; 

let's swear to tell the truth no matter how much it hurts.

and when it comes to secrets 

I can't promise to keep my mouth shut; 

my tongue trips over itself in spite of myself and 

my mind is a revolving door, but I will promise you this:  

I will bury your darkness in my forgetfulness

because for every sin you've confessed 

I could confess a hundred more.

and when it comes to safety, 

I can promise that I will open my mouth wide and cover you with my words

because you are worth speaking up for.

A day of purple

I am not an activist
I don't know why.
I hate debating.
Its not that I don't believe in things strong enough to debate them.
Its just that I don't want to.
Honestly when I look at topics of debate all I keep seeing is people. Not topics.
And although debates are often in defense of people, or choices I wonder sometimes if the actual people get missed in exchange for the cause. Even if the cause is worthy.
Today I am wearing purple and doing laundry
My wardrobe is black mostly
Not because I am sad, just simply because I like it.
Purple means spirit.
Spirit by definition means many things. Here is one thing it means according to Dictionary.com. They know almost as much as Google:)

an attitude or principle that inspires, animates, or pervades thought, feeling, or action: the spirit of reform.

I don't know what I can inspire today, or if I can pervade any thought or feeling or especially action. I have taken my own action today, along with many others by changing the colour of my shirt to honor some lonely ill-treated gay teens who needed more love displayed  toward them. Enough they could feel it. More than the hate they felt from the outside, or maybe within themselves. We will never know.

I wish I could define in words how I truly feel. But words seem so feeble sometimes in expressing spirit.

Inside, the spirit in me groans.

Not for an activist stance one way or another.

Not for a debate or a cause.

But for love.

Love that is big enough to bring every single human heart to life.

Love that speaks to an invidvidual and tells that individual that they are valuable. accepted. and a neccessary part of the human race. 

The kind of love that leaves us speechless.

The kind of love where in our very cells we realize there is nothing to fear except maybe fear itself.

Fear truly is a thief.

I have had much of it. And everytime I face my fears and they have been met with love?

My fear has decreased and I have felt relief in the fact that I am not alone, and someone might understand me just a little.

Facing fear is hard.

Being vulnerable is hard.

Which is a requirement of love.

Risking mockery as a teenager because you choose to be the loving one instead of the mocking one is hard.

But my heart longs to go deeper and grasp the roots of this organic and most needed entity for life.

Attempting love, can only make us better at it.

I wonder how I can try this today?

And if you don't know it today let others know it for you.

you are valuable.

priceless even...