it has been a while...

i have been busy. i would like to say i have been productive, but that is simply not the case. i have decided to come up with a new idea for a novel. hence, i have been spending a great deal of time alone. thinking. thinking. and more thinking.
perhaps not enough dating....
the musician has been busy. he has his own career to attend to. which in all fairness i completely respect. he wouldn't be much of a musician if he stopped making music.
i will try another poem just for you. this one is inspired by what is in front of me right now. ....


alone, it sits
afraid by what is to come with the dawn
the career it has chosen is failing
communication is ceasing
it feels the sorrow of the soul
who possesses it.
so many possibilities
limitless opportunities
to unite, to destroy, to complete.

i call it 'ode to my blackberry whose messenger does not want to work properly'

i need to get out more. clearly...

About to be shoved in a corner and forgotten about....

my creator is leaving me. she has decided it is time to move on. apparently my story is finished. as if she would actually know that. so i have decided to say f her and use this blog space that no one actually reads as a means to practice my art. so anything that may or may not be read from this point on should be seen as fiction. my fiction. nothing more. nothing less. i need a mentor and no one is coming to my rescue. so i will rescue myself....
i started to read a book of short stories. i found it incredibly remarkable. the stories lacked a great deal of exposition. i suppose that is what makes a story a story not a novel. i wonder if i am capable of writing this way. the biggest problem when i write is that i feel the need to explain too much to the audience. there. see? i'm already theraputing myself. "you need to let the audience figure some things out for themselves. do you enjoy watching a play where all the answers are given to you? no. no you don't" lesson one is over and it didn't cost me a thing. what a concept. i will now write a super short story, perhaps a poem if given correct spacing - with no exposition....its called 'the nearly empty glass of water'


Innocent, it stands on the small table not realizing its purpose. Cold, alone, deserted. Placed there by a familier voice, but forgotten. The company it keeps is perhaps a little less than desirable - a red phone, a blue lighter, a book on graphics. The bed it keeps is a simple face, mutated by the artist who chose the pattern. It sits for hours while the world passes by without a single thought to its existance. Today it is still, tomorrow it will be water for the plant.

oh really....

i think you have forgotten about me and i am not too pleased with that. tonight you gave me some attention and tomorow you promise me a great time and amazing company. i would really like to see you deliver. don't make me jump out of the page and slap you. show me brilliance...

i am feeling a little drunk with power....

have you ever written a story? if you have then you will know a sliver of how i am feeling right now. my novel is far too empowering for my own good i am starting to think. some of what i am writing has quickly become enveloped in my reality. it is a little creepy to say the least. 

i would like to explain the last chunk to you, but i don't know if i can so i will move on.

the musician is gone once more. a little more sad than the last time. i think that he is growing on me in a very flattering way.

sadie has been brightening my afternoons with a fun project. basically we drink a bottle of wine and be creative. there has been paintings, and poetry, and even a few clay models which do not look anything like well, anything. 

she introduced me to her cousin sasha. that girl is just as much fun as sadie. she came over last week during one of our creative afternoons and brought a lot to the table. i hope to see more of her soon.

i have started noticing something a little odd around my house. and i think i have bryce to thank for it. he has started leaving little chocolate kisses randomly everywhere. i have to admit it is very sweet. i am not sure if he is aware that the musician is in the picture. maybe he doesn't care. either way, i am getting my fill of sweets.

the rooms on the second level are finished. hurray! work has now begun in the kitchen. i just can't imagine a better person than bryce to be working on my house. he puts so much love and attention into every detail. my mother would be very happy....

a little romance in the spring time....

i am officially in love. with love. 

my musician has once more come and gone. which is perhaps why i have been slacking with my writing. mr. fritters is going to be angry with me. i can already feel his disappointment piercing me through the air from miles and miles away. but i don't care. not at this moment anyways.

i am sitting in my living room watching the cars drive by. but when i turn the other way what do i see you ask? why it is an entire living room full of white roses. on the desk, on the table, on the chairs, on the bookshelves, on the floor. last night there were candles too. it was by far the most romantic night of my entire life. i have to hand it to the musician, he sure knows how to impress a girl.

there was a song written for me, followed by my favorite dinner, and then the flowers and candles and, well, everything else that goes along with it. 

it was so good, i can't help but be myself and wonder why. one would think that knowing he did this for me just because he has fallen for me would be enough. but unfortunately thanks to dear scott, i can no longer just accept a night like this one without wondering if he is compansating for something that would hurt me. i hate that. it is killing me today that i am thinking that way. damn scott. he still gets to me and i think that is the saddest part of the whole situation. 

i hope it wont always be this way...

the spring has left me depressed....

or perhaps it is not the whether, but this incredibly frequent self-pity mode i have been in for what feels like a month. i think the better way to think about the spring is that perhaps it will end my bad mood. maybe not.

i miss london. i miss the noise, the smell, the craziness of it all. i am just too bored in this town. i need some excitement. my musician has forgotten about me lately it seems, which is fine. i would hate to put all of my hopes of a fantastical relationship with a very nomadic person. again. (everyone would agree that it didn't work out for me very well the last time)

so i am starting a new hobby. this hobby is going to be called my 'penny shackable finds out if she is shackable in canada' outlook. (i just LOVE my last name!) the plan is to go for a walk every day (time not specified) and on my walk I must speak to at least one new person (preferably a gentleman) pretty basic, but i think that it holds a world of opportunity for me. at least it will offer a change from the past few dull weeks. i really can't handle listening to Bryce talk about finishes on wood any longer. He is driving me mad!

A little different perspective....

a child cries because the mother can not feed it. the mother steals food so the child can eat. the mother goes to jail for stealing food. now the child has no mother. and no food. the child dies. the mother learns her child is dead.  she cannot eat because of sorrow. she dies. 

a sad story with no point. or is there? there really must not be or this would never happen again. i am feeling particularly sad tonight. my house is slowly becoming something to be admired once more, so it can't be that. my musician has left town again, but i know i will see him again, so it isn't that. the worst part about writing is when you can't think of what the next sentence will be. i am currently having a great deal of difficulty with my novel. nothing is happening. anastasia is so empty right now that i cannot even begin to bring her out of her misery. and like a spouse whose mood rubs off on you, hers is on me. and the stupidest part is that i created all of it. i made her empty and i don't know how to fill her.

she is in love with a man who is completely incapable of returning the degree of love which she gives him. fair enough. so leave him anastasia. but she can't. not yet anyways. she is the kind of woman who gives it everything she has, then more before giving up on anyone or anything. i admire her for that. i am her contrast in that way. i give up as soon as it gets hard. at this moment i don't know which is better. i would love to take her away. buy her a plane ticket to paris so she can fall in love with a tall, dark and handsome stranger. at least for a weekend. but no. she will stay. and she will be sad. and i will be sad with her. 

maybe painting my wall purple will change my mood. and hers....

an indication of spring...

with the flowers blooming i wait for you

below the tree where we first met

it fills me with sorrow to know in my heart

that you will never come.

the year has passed with tears of terror

and now the calm is near

but without you here by my side

my limbs will bear no fruits.

my roots begin to grow so firm

now not even the wind can move

me from the spot where i wait

with sunshine as my heart.

a poem written for me from my musician. 

hands up if you are being stalked....

well i am glad to be home once more. my absence has been due to the craziness that has been the past week. i really am tired of thinking about the whole thing, but a brief re-cap for your benefit is in order....

scott found me. scott followed me. i left town. i came back. scott was still here. tried to get in one night. police were called. he was arrested. restraining order. deported. the end.

i am incredible shook up from the entire thing, but knowing he is now out of the country has begun to calm my anxiously frayed nerves. i think the best way to get over the whole thing is to A) throw all my energy back to my novel.

B)install a security system. tomorrow.

C) call my father.

it really is only c that is leaving me a little nervous. he was against scott from the start and now has the sort of i-told-you-so attitude that created a bigger gap between us than i could have imagined. perhaps it is time i let him have his confirmation that he was right. i really think it would only do everyone good for him to be able to tell me that he was right and for me to actually agree wholeheartedly for once. it will make him feel better i am sure. and it will make me let go of any subconscious negative i still have towards him. he is my father afterall. and he does deserve all of my respect. and it is time i told him that. right now...

A week with the band.....

i have survived. for a little while there i wasn't sure if it was going to be possible. but i think this may be one of those cases where i am better off because of it. spending a week with 5 boys on a bus is never, ever going to top my list of fun things that i have done.

in the interest of avoiding scott's atttempts to see me, i ran away with my musician. i thought this was a great idea, and honestly, for the first few days it was. he was great. he was sweet, and attentive and everything i hoped he would be. it was more perhaps the lifestyle which did not agree with me. oh, and the smell. have you ever spent days on end with men who act like teenage boys in the way of hygene? in that they would prefer not to shower. gross. so i left them in montana and flew home. back to my quiet life. back to my novel. back to a porch full of flowers and packages with letters inside. 

on seeing what was there, i immediately had sadie come over and throw everything out for me. i didn't even want to touch it. it disgusted me. i hope that he has gotten it all out of his system because i do not want to even think about what i may have to deal with here. i mean, come on. get a grip.

i have decided to phone the police if he continues to harass me. a little much i would agree, but i really do not have time for this. my novel is not going to write itself....

the giver of gifts has been revealed....

it was scott. the flowers i so beautifully and proudly put in my window. the note that was so mysterious. it was all scott. the man who broke my heart by betraying me. the man who allowed himself and his new mistress to be caught in my bed. the man i moved across an ocean to avoid. he found me. and he got to me. i thought it had been someone else.

he showed up at my door today. since i knew he had flown such a far way to see me, i held the door open only for a moment before slapping him and slamming the door in his face. he rang it for quite some time before leaving. there was a note though. it said the gifts had been from him and he was sorry and he missed me and he loved me and blah blah blah. i didn't even finish reading it. it was torn to pieces by the third sentence. 

i absolutely was not expecting that. i think it has thrown me for more of a loop than i ever thought was possible. i refused to cry. so instead i drank. probably not the best choice. but it did the trick. i drank and i put on my favorite mix on my ipod and i danced. naked in my living room. and sang. until my throat hurt. it made me feel alive again. it made me love the choices i made. i hadn't even given him the chance to say a single word to me. i won.

i know he will come back. it isn't like him to give up. not his style. the musician has asked me to come with him on tour for a while. i think i might take him up on that. maybe for a week. it will be the perfect escape. might even be a little bit fun. but honestly, i don't think anything could beat dancing naked in the moonlight in my living room....

without a doubt, i have been slacking....

i have taken it upon myself to put myself together again. i have been out of it for a while, listlessly doing absolutely nothing with my time but lazing around and on occasion having tea with sadie. this week marks the anniversary of my mother's death. 

as always, i find this time of year to be somewhat devastating to my lifestyle. i cannot focus on much, always day dreaming and creating my version of what my life would be like if she was still alive. it makes me incredibly sad, but i find this sadness to be comforting as i normally do not allow myself the ability to think about her too much in detail. i think that because i am so far away from home this time, it has hit me worse. 

but now my weak of remembrance is over and it is time to jump on board the reality train once more. i am sure the way that i deal with my grief, only one week a year, if what a professional might refer to as 'overwhelmingly unhealthy'. but it works for me. and i really like the saying 'if it isn't broken, don't fix it'. one day someone is going to have to do a great deal of fixing. but until then.....

my musician is returning to town again next week. i am quite looking forward to this. i am slowly growing more and more attached to him. physically, he is not exactly my type. a little rough around the edges for my taste. but emotionally, he is a sweetheart. already i can tell that his mother spent a lot of time with him. i think even though i am scared to death of someone invading my space, this can work for a while. he is out of town most of the time, so when i do see him, it is like a little treat. and let me be the first to tell you, i REALLY like my treats.....

A desire for more....

It is about that time again. Time to sit down and re-evaluate my life. I have the overwhelming urge to do this about once a month, just to make sure that I stay on track. So I did. Perhaps choosing to include a bottle of wine in the event was perhaps not the greatest idea ever, but there is no point in regrets. This is how it all went down...

I decided to spend yesterday afternoon looking at what I really had done in the last month with my life. I have always been a firm believer that if you aren't progressing as a person, then you are simply taking up space that could be better utilized by someone else. Rather harsh, but I am entitled to my own thoughts. So I made a list:

I have completed a presentable first two chapters of my novel

I have made my home a little more livable

I have brought joy to someone's life (I made Sadie a pie)

I have brought joy to my life (I saw the musician again)

That was about it. I decided that it was adequate, not outrageously impressive, but I would take it. Then I proceeded to finish the bottle of wine and dance around my house. (That brought joy to my life as well)

Without these monthly checks, I feel as though I slip. I let myself slip for a very long time and that ended in a complete disaster of a situation that I ended up having very little control over. I regained my control by leaving London and moving here. It turns out that that really was one of the best choices I could have made. Now about this musician, I hope a great deal that I begin to see more and more of him. He doesn't live here, but knows people here so if frequently in town when not on tour. I'm going to be a girl for a moment....please excuse me without judgement. I absolutely adore him. He is cute and sweet and knows just what to say to make me blush. Ahh! All right, I'm done. Damn the phone....

A gesture of love...

Valentines day is generally a pretty happy time for me. In the past Scott was always there to make sure I knew that I was loved. This year he is loving someone else and I am alone. Not a very happy time anymore.

Bryce brought me flowers. It was really sweet. They were quite nice. Roses. Not really my style, but appreciated all the same. They replaced the dying ones in the window. Still never did figure out who those were from. 

I am seeing my musician lover tonight. The date isn't particularly important. We didn't plan to make valentines day important, it just turned out this was the only night he was available. Secretly I am very excited. I greatly enjoyed his company the last time I saw him. We are going for dinner at a tiny little place downtown. I have never been there, but I have heard it was great. I hope that I find this man to be intriguing. I am over men who have nothing to talk about but themselves. Usually because when they talk about themselves, what they have to say is dull. 

Sadie is going out tonight as well. She won't tell me with whom. I am starting to notice that she is a little mysterious. She is generally quite vague with details and leaves a great deal to the imagination. I am going to find out who she is going out with tonight. One way or another...

A note from a novel....

Anastasia looked at her teary face in the mirror. He had done it again. He had stayed out all night and returned with no explanation, no acknowledgment that he had even disturbed her the least. Well, she had told him. Again. Just like last time. And just like she was sure to do the next time too. She wasn't sure why she put up with it, but she did. 

It was morning now, and she was getting ready for work. He didn't work, so she had to work two jobs to support the two of them. It wasn't as though he couldn't work. He was very well educated in fact, far more so than she. He simply felt that he shouldn't have to work. That was it. It angered her to know that he was daily draining her of the money that one day she would so desperately need.

She went to the bathroom to finish her makeup. Adam was there. He was putting on eye shadow. But he as drunk, so he was simply smearing blue across his eyes and cheeks. She just stared at him.

"I wanted to see things from your perspective." 

She found it impossible to be mad anymore. Adam looked so pathetic, so sad, trying to hard to be like her at this moment. Her laughter rang out in the room and he knew he had her hooked for at least one more go-around.

Not without my sister....

Today I took a walk to clear my head of the madness that is currently Adam and Anastasia's life. I wandered and wandered until I came upon a park. There were two little girls playing on the swings with their mom watching close by. I have not spent a great deal of time with children so I decided to sit in the park for a while and observe. You may expect that I have a cute tale to tell, or an observation that I had never experienced before, but no. Nothing. They played. It was cute, until one started pushing the other, and then there was the screaming and the scolding from the clearly agitated mother. I left the park feeling a little sad that I did not have a sister myself to torment as a child. 

I have not received anything in the mail or by courier today. I find this somewhat disappointing. My flowers are still looking very happy in the window and Sadie commented on their rarity. Apparently she used to work in a flower store. Is there nothing that woman hasn't done?

Construction has begun on my kitchen. It appears as though it is going to be takeout for the next month. I spoke to my father yesterday and he suggested a trip home for a while until my kitchen is complete. I thanked him for the offer, but declined. My writing is actually going quite well now. Adam has introduced drugs into the relationship and Anastasia is just beginning to feel her way around whether or not she wants to do them herself. As a character, I am finding her to be the most intriguing woman I have ever written about....

An opinion about flowers....

Today I received flowers. I put them in the window. Just like in the song. I actually sang the song as I put them in a vase and put them in front of my largest window. I sat and looked at them for quite a while. Not because I had too much time on my hands, or too much wine to drink in the afternoon, but because I felt they deserved the attention. For some reason I have become stuck on the idea that everyday objects really must start being more appreciated then they have been. If I had to take a guess at this newfound outlook I would say it is incredibly self-reflexive; I felt like Scott didn't look at all the value that I had within me. Whatever. So I spent some time looking at the flowers. They were quite pretty. I wish that my talents lay in being able to capture the image of the way the petals dipped ever so slightly and intertwined with each other. I took a picture. Apparently it lasts longer.

The mystery of my note received yesterday is ever more disconcerting now that I have also received these mystery flowers. Again, the note was not signed. It simply said 'For Penny'. Who knows, maybe it is Mr. B R Fritters sending me flowers to make my imagination soar and come up with some new ideas for my novel. They sure are pretty though. And it made me feel really happy that someone out there spent time picking out these amazing flowers for me to enjoy. This is exactly what I am needing now as I was starting to feel remarkable alone in the past few days....

A letter of romantic proportions...

Today I received a letter in the mail. Now this caught me a bit off-guard because I do not get very much mail, and it was a letter. I do not think that I have ever received a personal letter in the mail. Email sure. So you can imagine my interest in the letter. I had it ripped open before I could even close my door.

Inside I found a simple note. It was not signed by anyone and was very brief. "Your beauty moves through the trees and found me alone." Odd. Very odd. But sweet. I have no idea who it could be from. My first assumption is the musician that I met a few weeks ago, but that seems like a stretch as I have not heard from him since. My next thought is to my ex. I am not sure what to do with the letter. If it is from anyone other than my ex, I would like to keep it. If it is from him, I would like to burn it. It currently resides on my fridge. It makes me smile to think that I have an admirer. 

Mr. Boyd R Fritters has informed me that he is due for another visit soon to 'check up' on me. I plan to impress him this time with my novel. I honestly feel that it is moving in a very exciting direction. I am sure he will inform me otherwise. I wonder if I should take a trip out of town that weekend....

Have you ever....

Eaten a grapefruit with syrup? Or turned all of your pictures upside down? Perhaps even eaten nothing but bread for an entire day? Me neither, but these might be interesting things to try. You know, to change things up a bit.

I met with Sadie today for lunch. I had not seen her in a while and was beginning to miss our time together. We ate at a very cute little bistro downtown. It was later in the day so we managed to miss the lunch rush, which was very refreshing.

She had once purposed the idea of me donating my fully restored house to a foundation to use as an office, or a home for the less fortunate. At first I thought this idea was lacking in any forethought. Seriously, who would be willing to spend time and energy to make something new just to give it away. At the time, it was beyond me. But I think that the more time I spend with Sadie, the more her caring ways are beginning to rub off on me. I am actually considering giving my house away when it is completed. I don't know to whom or for what purpose, but it is in the back of my thoughts.

Sadie is the kind of person that I could spend hours talking to and still have a great deal to say. She is very opinionated and freely speaks her mind. It can be somewhat abrupt at times, but refreshing to say the least. I never feel as though I am hearing one thing but being presented with another. This is what I find most challenging in people these days. No one is capable of saying what they actually mean. It is as if they are afraid to hear the truth spoken aloud. I wish more people where like Sadie. The world would be a very different place...

My mother was here....

Last night at exactly midnight I awoke to find a shawdow above my bed. At first I assumed I was sleeping, and there is a good chance I might have been, but I felt more awake than I had in a very long time. The figure just stood there. Staring. Breathing. As I began to awaken more, I had the immediate sense that it was my mother. Now you must understand that I haven't seen my mother in years. So for her to appear to me now, like this, was a very delightful event for myself. The figure sat on the side of my bed and did nothing. Said nothing. Just sat. Becoming far more aware of my surroundings now, I sat up. She was gone. 

It was a dream you say, and if someone had told me this I am sure I would replay in like. But something changed for me last night. I felt as though a new calm has come over me. I am not sure why, but I am more relaxed than I have been in years. I feel settled, as if everything that was meant to be is happening right at this moment. 

I fell back asleep and had two of the most terrifying, horrific dreams I have ever had in my life. 

Feeling my mother in my room made me miss her. I would like to recall one of my most favorable memories of her to you.

When I was younger we lived in a home that had a very large yard in the back. My mother loved to suntan and was constantly stretched on a lounger by our pool. I was about eight at the time and I had become a fan of imitating everything my mother did, so I too spent a great deal of time by our pool. My mother was so beautiful; she had long brown hair that glistened in the sun under her wide-brimmed white sun hat, her skin was always soft and smelled of coconut. Almost everyday that summer we sat side by side on our loungers just baking in the sun. She would bring iced tea and sandwiches out at noon, and a large bowl of salted rippled chips at about 2 o'clock. It was just me and her all summer. She would read me her book and I would lay beside her and stare up at the clouds, imagining the world how it was in her novel. It was beautiful.

I miss her. 

i had a dream....

I awoke to find that I was no longer in my bed. I found myself instead lying in a field under the stars. Startled, but feeling an awkward safeness, I slowly lifted my head to absorb the surroundings. It was clearly a mountainous regions as I was surrounded by giants rocks of black and silver. I realized I was alone, but there was movement all around me. I attempted to move my body and found that it was bound. Immediately I started to panic. I attempted to move to one side and found that I couldn't. Startled by my fear I began to yell. I yelled and yelled, until my voice was hoarse. Then I cried. I felt entirely helpless. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was in the sky. I was falling, slowly, then faster. As I hit the ground I knew what I would be fine. 

I have decided to once again retreat into my loneliness. Nothing is pleasing me lately. The colors of the walls are horrid, my writing is a disaster, and I received an email today from Boyd R Fritters that said he would be here in a few days. I have always felt that I was destined to do many great things. But all I find myself doing is sitting around this house, feeling as if the world is passing me by. I am sure this feeling will pass soon, but perhaps I should seize this opportunity to try something new. Explore a new continent. Drive really fast. Jump out of a plane. 

I think I will have to muddle this all over with a bottle of wine tonight. I can only imagine that that will bring what I should really do to the surface...

Coconut tea in the morning...

Last night I had one of the most interesting evenings that I have had in a very long time. I met with the film man again. But unfortunately that was very short lived. We had dinner, and during dinner he received a phone call which told him that he had somewhere else to be. I was home within an hour of leaving it. Not wanting to have the evening be a total loss, I walked to a small cafe that is a few blocks from my house.

 There was a man playing on a guitar. The audience was small, but it felt close and intimate in a way which I haven't felt in a long time; everyone was having such a good time, I couldn't resist. So with a glass of white wine, I sat alone at a table on the side and simply enjoyed. A few more glasses later and I was still enjoying myself when the music ended. It was a little disappointing. The musician who had been playing walked over to my table and offered to buy me another drink. Never one to say no to an attractive man, I accepted and he joined me. The next few hours went by as if in a dream; we laughed, we talked, we drank. A lot. He is one of the most interesting people I have met in a long time. He had had so many life experiences that I found irresistible to devour. I didn't want our encounter to end. So it didn't. Until the next morning.

As I sipped coconut tea and smiled at him over cantaloup, I was absolutely delighted. Not one to normally bring strange men back to my home, I felt that last night was separate from all other encounters I have ever had. It was sweet, yet lustful. There had been none of the intense awkwardness that I had been expecting. I felt intensely connected to the music man. He  sang to me as I fell asleep and ran his fingers along my back ever so slowly. I have never had a lover who was so caring without ever really knowing me. I think it would be best if I saw him again. It really was a night to remember.... 

Not without a fight....

I am feeling surprisingly better today. In health, in heart and overall optimism. Without fail, Bryce arrived at my house, without Daryl today, and the demolition continues. I have now taken it upon myself to sleep during the day and write at night. This is quickly becoming a far greater idea than I once thought. The silence of the night can be quite chilling, but I think the spookiness of my home helps to calm my wandering mind. It forces me to focus on the story of Adam and Anastasia with an intensity they slightly scares me. 

Their relationship is growing. And I am about to introduce his addiction to her. I don't think she is going to take it without a fight. But on the other hand, she does have the tendancies to simply take what he says and does without a second thought. Cocaine addiction is going to be his vice. From all of the research I have done, I felt it suited his personality the best. In the novel so far, he has not showed any symptoms of the drug around her, but tonight is the night. He will introduce it in a very appealing way to her. Her reaction really is the key as to how the rest of the novel will unfold. Will she join in with him? Or will she ignore the issue? Or will she kick him out? Well I can say not the latter because then the story would end far too soon. These questions will have to take a little more thought.

As for my own love life, I wish it was as simple. I have found myself feeling incredibly lonely for the past few days. I'm sure it was due to my being sick and having no one to take care of me. Well almost no one. Sadie dropped by yesterday with homemade soup. It was fantastic. But men, oh men. I don't think it is so much that I am feeling like I need a man in my life, more like I want a man in my life. The film man offers possibilities. I did in fact call him today. We are going out again this weekend. I thought I may as well give it one last go. 

I wonder what Bryce does on the weekend. I think I will ask him tomorrow....

A little cold won't stop me...

But having the flu sure will. I woke up this morning feeling like I had been pelted with copper dog biscuits for the past ten hours. Everything hurts. I blame it on the house. 

I had the luxury of laying in bed for the majority of the day. This afternoon, however, my peace was interupted briefly by a meeting with the film man. I had failed to get his number so I was unable to cancel. I barely pulled myself together enough to make it out the door. 

But make it I did, and I am not sure how I feel about the effort. He seemed pretty bored with the simple coffee house setting. He was constantly looking around and it made me feel quite ignored. He suggested going elsewhere, but I simply did not have the energy. Interestingly enough, once I made it apparent how ill I was, he didn't offer to postpone at another time. It kinda went down hill from there. My inability to speak was counteracted by his desire to talk enough for both of us. Clearly he has an issue with the state of our economics. For almost half an hour he went on and on about politics this and socialist that. Now under normal circumstances I would have joined in with enthusiasm at topics such as these. But a fever and chills are hardly what I would like to call a fun time. I have no idea how the whole thing played out on his part, but he did ask me for dinner on the weekend. I said I would call. It has yet to be decided as to whether that was a lie. I think it would be best to sleep for a few days and see how I am feeling about the whole thing. It needs a fresh perspective. 

I have discovered something very odd about Bryce. Today I quietly came down the stairs without him noticing. He was singing. It was a sweet song, a love song perhaps.  I went back up the stairs before he noticed me. That certainly is a new and intriguing side of him I have never seen before... 

A thought I would try a poem...

The room I sit in is alive

It breathes so slow and silent

If you smile, it stops.

Well I am certainly not the poet I thought I could be. I have decided that Anastasia is to be a writer of poems. I am trying to be abstract with her poetry, but I feel as though I have already failed before I have started. Poetry has become an area of writing that I have ignored for a very long time. My mother used to make up poems about me. So did Scott.

My house feels damp today. It is a very strange feeling. It is probably due to the cold outside. I feel as though my house, if it were a living thing, is sick. Something is not balanced the way it should be. I am going to make it my mission of the evening to find what is not right and fix it.....

a blissful weekend...

I find it very rare lately that I can look back on a weekend in its entirety and feel satisfied with what was accomplished. But this week, that very feeling was made possible. I shall start with Friday....

I had a date. Now I was very apprehensive about the whole thing because the last two weekends have had dreadful dates. But I decided to go with an open mind. And in the end I was very glad I did. The man was a maker of films. He was interesting, though a bit shy. He actually seemed to have things of importance to say. It was a breath of fresh air from the last two. But he did have this weird quirky habit that I thought was unusual. Perhaps it was a nervous thing, but every time I began talking, he would start rubbing his ear. Bizarre. But cute, so I will be seeing him again. Wednesday. For coffee.

Saturday was just nice. I spent the day doing only things that made me happy. Tea and breakfast alone, sitting by a window. A very long wander through the museum. Lunch was light and shared with Sadie. The rest of the day was spent curled in a blanket reading Shakespeare. I fell asleep in a most comfortable position and had a very comforting dream about my mother. 

Today is dedicated to the falling in love stage of Adam and Anastasia's relationship. I think it will be passionate and romantic. But only for a blink of an eye. He is clearly incapable of anything more.....

Time to get out....

I have decided. It is official. I am going to give this dating random strangers thing one more go. I have agreed to meet a man tomorrow night for dinner. After the last two disasters I am not really expecting much. He says he works in film, or writes, or a combination of the two. Could be interesting.  I was almost over the need for interaction with people I had never met before, but something is saying "Go Penny Go". I think perhaps it is the need to get out of my ever demolishing home. Or perhaps I need a break from the drama of Adam and Anastasia; they really can be a tiring couple. 

Tonight I sat down and stared a wall for an hour. It was a very interesting experience. I got comfortable, and just stared. The wall did not have very much going for it; the wallpaper is mostly gone and you can see the insides of it. I felt almost sorry for it, it was exposed for all to see. I don't think that people appreciate the inanimate objects around us as much as we should. They are constantly there, and we take it for granted. Tonight I appreciated the wall as I envisioned all that it could be one day. 

I really need to get out of the house....

I awoke very early....

This morning I awoke at a very early time and simply could not sleep. So naturally I wandered to the kitchen. I found myself staring at a peeling purple wall, eating a starfruit and feeling very unsettled. Nervous even. And I am not entirely sure why. I spent some time doing some self-analysis and came up with this....Purple reminds me of my childhood because I grew up in a room that was purple and my father loved starfruit. Perhaps all of the reminders of home have me on edge. There has been a lot of things about London that I have been avoiding like the plague. Namely anything that reminds me of Scott....

If you know me well, you might say that I fled London. With enthusiasm. Scott was a disaster and to be frank, I don't think I am quite ready to start facing that just yet. It is just too hard. I find it much more simple to hide behind my words and let Adam and Anastasia duke it out on paper. And I have decided that they will. After hours and hours of watching a serious on dealing with addictions, Adam would in fact be physical with Anastasia. That fact has disturbed me greatly, but if it is to be believable then it must be.

My house is a mess, my emotional state is a disaster, my novel is moving slowly, but I think I am beginning to make headway with Bryce....

Something for thought....

I have been spending a long time in thought tonight. Deep in thought. I have been thinking about Anastasia and Adam and just how far I am willing to take thier relationship. To hit or not to hit, I suppose that is the direct question at hand. I wonder if I am taking it too far for myself if he physically abuses her. I can picture in my mind her hitting him; it only makes sense that she would eventually reach the breaking point and lash out in extreme anger. But should I have him hit her. If he did, there certainly would be a great deal of justification on her part for staying with him after that. I am just not sure if I am ready to make her face such an obstacle. I really like Anastasia, I feel as though she is a part of me. Time will tell I suppose...

I try to stay out of my home as much as I possibly can at the moment. The demolition has begun and unfortunately it is in the room where I prefer to work. So it is with a heavy heart that I sit through another day with earplugs. This house has a hold over me and although I leave as much as possible, that only adds up to about an hour every day. Bryce has slowly started talking to me, but I noticed that only when his brother Daryl is not around. Daryl is your typical Alpha-male who just seeps sexuality/border-line creepiness. Bryce always seems to be in the shadow. I think I am going to have to find a way for him to come into the light. My light...

A very quick note....

I have begun to develop a crush on Bryce.

Anastasia and Adam have finally met. 

My bananas are turning brown.

Last night I dreamt of my mother.

Sadie made me a vegan cake today. It was fantastic.

I am feeling very ADD. I have been trying to complete full sentences in my novel, but everything is just coming up point form, such as above. I know this may work for some writers, but not for me. I have decided that the lack of focus is completely and utterly to blame on the reconstruction currently going on in my living room. I feel as though it should be for a bigger purpose. I expressed this to Sadie, as she is very involved in everything, and she suggested giving the house away when it was completed. Many organizations (such as a woman's shelter) would give this home the attention and love it deserves. Something to consider. 

But in the meantime, I wish the noise would stop....

The restoration period....

My vision for my new home has begun. The very talented mr-fix-it Bryce, has seen what I have seen in my house and the work has started. Well, not technically, but he has assured me that Monday will be a very productive day. Unfortunately in order for my house to start living up to its potential, a great deal of what is already there must come down. I assume this is only going to create a bigger mess, and a great deal of noise. For a very long time. 

Last night Bryce and his brother Daryl came over to asses the damages. They suggested having the house torn down and re-built. I nearly fell off my chair. The house might be in bad shape, but it has so much character, I simply could not even think of tearing it down. Yes, everything will need to be replace, and yes, I know this will cost a lot of money and take a lot of time. Luckily, these are both things that I have a great deal of. The only downfall that I can see is the conflict of me trying to work on my novel and having the repairs going at the same time. I considered leaving town again, but I simply do not think that my soul could handle it. There is something about this house that is beginning to form my novel for me. I can sit in this spot and just imagine what my characters would do if they lived here; how they would act, where they would sit, the tremendous fights that would happen. I think someone once was thrown down the stairs....

My story continues to develop at a steady pace which delights and frightens me. I find it almost scary; some of the details of Adam and Anastasia's relationship, in particular the arguments, can be incredibly overwhelming at points. There was a great love between them, which grew to become an even greater hatred. But as the love changed to hatred they found that they needed each other more than ever. The thought of leaving was far too great an obstacle for them to even consider. 

I have been doing a great deal of research on addiction, as I have been fortunate never to of had this social suicide as part of my own life. I cannot decide fully what type of addiction Adam is going to have. Sexual, alcohol, cocaine, speed, ecstasy. Perhaps a combination of two or three of these. At the same time, I wonder if the Anastasia I have created is actually they type of woman who would follow in his footsteps and take on an addiction of her own as a means of understanding exactly how Adam is feeling. Or if she simply joins in because he seems like he is having a good time. This has given me a great deal more to think about. No, I cannot leave this house. Every moment I spend in here allows me a vision into their lives.

Bryce is quite an interesting man. Youngish, rugged looking, and very shy. If it wasn't for Daryl being here yesterday, I don't think we would have got half as much accomplished in the planning.  My own social life has been lacking for a while. Maybe I should, no, never mind. That thought can be saved for another day....

Latino Lover indeed....

Last night I decided to give the dating a complete stranger thing a go, again. This time, I met a man who was a self described 'latino lover' for a few drinks. The quite inappropriate pictures he had previously emailed me had left little to the imagination. I am not quite sure what he was expecting out of the meeting, but I certainly wanted none of it. I had decided to meet with him merely out of curiosity on what kind of person sends a complete stranger pictures of themselves in the nude. And I was greeted with exactly what I had expected...

From the first moment, this man was completely over-the-top. It was as if he was almost oozing the impression of sexiness. But it became very obvious, very quickly, that this was in fact a cover-up for the inability to hold a conversation of any interest. He continually attempted to move the conversation to a sexual theme. Where was the craziest place you have had sex? Have you ever had an orgy? Have you ever been with a woman? Good God!! Is this seriously what passes for first date conversation for some people? I absolutely could not believe what was coming out of his mouth! 

Instead of ducking out while he was in the washroom, I simply laid it out for him. (It was actually quite a speech) I told him I wasn't interested in what he was selling, that I felt like he was the most arrogant man I had ever met, and that I hope he gets help with what was, in my opinion, was an addiction to sex. Then I turned and left without a look behind me.

Tonight I am opting for a quiet night in. It is simply more pleasant this way. Oh wait, there's the phone....

Home at long last...

I have returned to my humble, delapitated home to find it warm. Bryce replaced my furnace and I have never been so happy. It had been a very cold last week indeed.

I was glad that I had the chance to get away for a while. But even as I write that I wonder what exactly it was that I had planned on getting away from in the first place. It is not as though I had a great deal of stress on me, oh right. I had no heat. I had intended to go without communication because I thought that could be done, but I found that nearly impossible. I can see why it is so easy for people to have cabin fever. I simply do not know how I would have survived with my sanity intact for any longer. The bottles of white wine certainly helped...

And now I am home. I had a most pleasant encounter with my neighbor Sadie today. She stopped over to see how my new furnace was doing and I invited her in for a while. Every time I see her, I enjoy her company more and more. She is quite unlike any other person I have ever met. Her sense of style is nothing short of original and fun, and she always has the cutest stories about the patients that she tends to (she works in an elderly care facility). I really hope to see more of her in the future.

I decided tonight to set down to the task at hand...my novel. I have been putting a great deal of thought into how to approach my main character Anastasia. I feel like I always want to put a little bit of myself into my characters, and I feel the same way about her, but more so. The more I think about her and plan out her adventures, the more I like her. It really is such a shame that she is going to be put through such a difficult life for most of my novel, but I feel like it will do her some good. I have begun to start forming her love interest in my head. Adam. Medium height, dark and very handsome. Charming, but strange. Definitely an odd man. He is after all, going to be her downfall. 

I find writing to be the most pleasurable thing I can possibly do. I am very grateful that my father was able to distill the joy of writing in me as a child. I remember sitting on his lap and having him read to me in front of the fire. Most times we would only read the first few pages of a book, then spend hours making up the rest of the story. I miss him a lot, I should really call home soon.....

A moment of complete clarity...

As I sit alone and look out the window, I feel an immense feeling of desperate loneliness. Except for a few moment when I met the mountain man, I have been completely alone with my thoughts for almost four days now. It is really starting to get to me; I have decided to go back home.

All was certainly not lost during my seclusion. I managed to drink a great deal of wine, learn how to build a fire (mine had candles in it) and I have stumbled upon a far more significant plot for my novel than I had ever anticipated. 

The love story I am trying so desperately to make meaningful, finally has meaning. It will be in fact a story of survival. Survival though, only through some very, what I feel to be highly physiological studies of human nature. More specifically, addiction. My main character will of course be a strong woman of good morals, but then she will fall in love with a man who changes her and turns her world completely upside down for several years. Typical, some might think, but her story will be full of so many twists and turns that it will simply be impossible for anyone to put it down. 

I am entirely satisfied with my new revelation. It makes me wish that much more that I had someone to share it with.....

A very random encounter...

I again find myself turning to technology which I promised to swear off for at least a few days. I am craving the need to share with no one one of the most random things which has happened to cross my path in quite some time. Yesterday I opened my door....

And in front of me I found a man. Now, I made a point of coming to this cabin to avoid human contact at all costs, so I was not very happy to see him there. I became slightly more happy though, when I saw what he had brought with him, which was enough firewood to last me a month. I invited him and and offered some of what was left of the bottle of white wine I had nearly finished. He declined but promised to return on perhaps another evening. And that was it. Then he was gone. 

I had not been aware of my loneliness until the moment the door closed. I had been content, and had even succeeding in completing what I had felt was a great deal of work. Perhaps it was the bottle, or two, of wine that I had consumed, but now all of my attention quickly fell to the mountain man and he promise to return. I was supposed to only stay in my winter retreat for a few days, but I am now thinking that I am going to have to stay a bit longer....

I tried to disappear.....

Perhaps it was very simple minded of me to think that I could leave civilization and stay far away for an extended period of time. Perhaps it was simply hope. Whatever it was, it was not possible. I tried for several days to stay away from everything electronic. It didn't go as planned, clearly.

I wanted to get away from distractions, so I booked a weekend away. I wanted to be far, far away. And this I have accomplished. The plan was to have no phone, no computer, no anything for at least three days. I couldn't even do that. I am a weak, weak lady....

I would however like to take this time of weakness to express my newfound love of grapes. They are simple, they are lovely, and I have heard that when eaten frozen, they are delicious. Now I have personally never eaten a grape, but I have held them and desired them and smelled them. That's right, I like to smell grapes. I find it is an activity which may keep me amused for some time. Just imagine, a woman, a full grown woman, sitting around, smelling grapes. It's a little sad, a little funny, and a huge amount of confusion. 

The little cabin I am staying in is very cold and very small. It is your basic one room cabin. I fear that if I were to stay here, then I would without a doubt, go mad. With different circumstances, this cabin  could be romantic, idealistic or even pleasant. I simply cannot do it anymore. I think that I must leave. If I don't, I think that.....Oh wait. Knock at the door. Wonder who it could be. No one knows that I am up here......

I tried to disappear

A date with an Opera man...

Last week I did something I had never done before...I solicited myself on a dating website. I decided I really had nothing to loose and when asked by a man who seemed as normal as they come, to go for dinner, I hesitantly accepted. I met him at a restaurant downtown and immediately I felt as though I had been misled. He said he was thirty. His picture showed that he appeared more to be forty. Up close, I would have to say fifty. Immediately disappointed, I decided to make the most of what could only be an awkward and resistantly unpleasant evening. 

Dinner began well enough - the wine was nice and the food quite good. However, even the happiness that my taste-buds were feeling could not recover the evening with the most self-centered man I have ever met. He talking incessantly about himself all evening. I managed to get a word in about writing, but then he took that and went with it again. I do not think I have ever learned more about one person in a single hour. It was unbelievable. Well, I guess not that unbelievable. This was a man who responded to a personal ad. Not that I judge, but it began to unfold in my head as to why the man was still single. 

I decided to completely avoid the what was sure to be terrible goodbye and simply left when he excused himself after dinner. I, of course, did the gracious thing and left enough money with the waiter for half the meal and promptly walked, no, to be honest, ran out the door and into a cab. 

Now you may or may not judge me for the behavior that I acted with, but please don't. You were not there. I simply did not, no, could not, waste one more second of my life with that man. I am sure he is a good friend to someone, and I am sure that many women would have found him charming, but he was really not for me. I felt there was no point in belaboring the obvious. I'm sure when he came back to the table he understood. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was very hurt and confused. Maybe one day he will recount the event to his friends and laugh about it. Perhaps not.

As there is no need for my justification, as I feel I was simply being as frank as I possibly could be, this will simply fall into the category of bad dates that need never be remembered again.....

My agent returns....

As the candles burnt down to the last of the wax last night, I was finally satisfied with the writing I had accomplished. It was far more than I have been able to do since moving to my igloo home. Today however, I had the most unfortunate afternoon visitor which quickly brought me down off my ivory-tower-of-writing.

Boyd R. Fritters.

He showed up on my porch with a scowl that I had so eagerly anticipated not seeing for at least another month. Boyd R. Fritters. Even writing the name makes me edgy. He, of course, is my agent.

As a person, he is quite delightful; charming, funny, and sometimes even downright sweet. As an agent, however, he is pushy, and demanding, and without a doubt the most arrogant man I have ever met. He has been my agent for years. My father knew him from University, and as my writing abilities grew through my adolescence, he was eager to be a part of what he felt, was sure to be a thriving and everlasting career as a novelist. I have always felt inclined to keep him as my agent because, well, he gets the job done. And it means so much to my father.

I published my last book five years ago. It did quite well, even made the best-sellers list. I did the whole book tour thing, hating every minute of it. I think that is one of the reasons I have been so resolute on taking as much time with this novel as I can possibly manage. 

Moving away to this new home I have inherited was one way that I thought I would be able to escape from Boyd. I actually did not leave a forwarding address. My father apparently did.

From the moment he walked in my front door, I could tell that Boyd had not changed one bit from our past meeting. He immediately assessed the situation of my dilapidated living room and went about poking at this and that asking over and over again why on earth I was living in such a state. I ignored most of this as I knew perfectly well that he knew why I was here. That was the pleasant part of his visit.

The remainder of his time in my home found him quizzing me on my novel. What stage was I at? Did I really think that that plot had follow-through potential? Why would I ever think that that character would be an important part of the ending? It went on like this for some time until he was satisfied that his appearance had shaken me enough into dedicating my next billion years to completing this novel. As he left he hugged me, looked at me and said 'You look just like your mother'. And with that he was gone. I think he thinks of himself as a father-figure for me because I am so far from home. Maybe not. Either way, I cross my fingers hoping his next visit will be when the snow has melted and the leaves have once again turned green....

A day hopeful with inspiration...

As I stared at the banana I crushed with a potato masher, the events that have brought me to this very point over the last few months began to seep into my mind. How strange one would think that I would be pulled from a city so delightful and fruitful as London and thrown head first into a sinking cottage in the inner city of what could easily be mistaken as the second North Pole. Not that I am particularly sad at my departure from the town where a great deal of my emotional ghosts linger, but I just never realized how cold I could actually be until today. About three hours ago to be exact, when the furnace stopped working...

Thankfully there is a small fireplace which was my place of refuge while I called Sadie's handy-man-of-all-trades Bryce. I was nothing short of delighted with shivering eccstaticness when he appeared at my door. Unfortunately the happiness was short lived when he told me I needed a new furnace. But not to worry, he had a large amount of heating fans in his truck to tied me over until the morning. What a saint....

So now I find myself embracing the lack of heat and I lit all the candles I had at my disposal. Have you ever written by candle light? It is very remarkable. I don't even feel like I am in modern times. Except of course for the noisy fan blowing at my feet. (I am really trying to block that out) I almost feel as though my husband (if I had one) would blow through the door at any moment with a dead deer over his back from his day of hunting in the forest. And I his lovely little wife would ever so delicately cut it up and make him stew. Hmm. Except I can't cook. And I hate eating wild meat. Dream shattered. Back to reality. But I do love the candle light....

A new year....

Ah New Years Eve. A time of fun, excitement and new beginnings. This year I spent my new years in sin city. I would like to say that it was amazing, tantalizing and full of new wonderment. It was. But in a rather untraditional sort of way. I went to stay with my cousin and avoided the bright lights at all cost. I find Vegas better that way. No hype, no debauchery, just basking in the under-belly of what could be. 

Last week, out of sheer boredom of lack of inspiration for the new novel I have just begun, I placed a personal add. The response throughout the following days proved to be very remarkable. There was some very odd ones ("Please respond so I know this isn't a sham") to the straight forward ("I will be your muse and for this one special occasion, you can be my hoe") to the downright nasty (I saw pictures that I was never expecting to see). I find the whole situation to be very remarkable as I put very little information about myself on the site. It made me think that there really are a lot more men looking for love anywhere than I had expected. 

As I returned from my trip to the home that I am now living in, I was hit by the demanding need for a beautiful surrounding. I had inherited this home in an area which a very good friend of mine affectionately calls 'crack town' and I have fallen in love with it. From the dilapidated porch, to the pain chipping off the leaning turret. Everything about my house screams for me to reach into the depth of my heart and bring it back to life. It was like love at first  sight, but without all of the nauseating consequences of unreturned love. My house loves me back, I can just feel it.

I met my neighbor today. Her same is Sadie and she is a very intriguing character.  I absolutely adored her style (I have termed it new-age-hippie). She gave me a number of a man she knew who spends his time fixing old houses. I think I will call him tomorrow and hope that h absolutely  e will see the picture that I have for my home. He may have to look very hard, but if he the right man, it should be as simple as opening a carton of milk.

I left a plate of grapes next to my computer and I feel the aroma is starting to inspire me, so until next time....