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The Beauty Is In The Process, #JusJoJan

I love the violin, love everything about it, including the instrument itself. It is curvy, smooth, and so dear to me now.

cIVejUt.png

As I returned from a break from my weekly lessons, this first full week of the new year, I reflected on all I’ve learned and how far I’ve come.

Still, I won’t ever entirely
master
the instrument I love so much, but that’s to be expected.

My bow stays straight now, which is an achievement. My teacher sees my progression of skill, even if I have trouble seeing the same.

I am fascinated by everything to do with this beautiful instrument. When I started, that’s all I knew. I knew I loved the sound and I had no idea, at that time, all that a violin is made up of. I got a rather pleasant sound out of it, even on my own, before the lessons first started. This leading me to believe it might not be as hard as I’d always heard.

Was it harder than learning the piano? Would it be more difficult to learn to play than the clarinet, which I played briefly, in high school?

I knew I loved it and wanted to learn to play, more than I’d ever wanted to learn to play guitar. You played it with a bow, but I’d never really seen one, let alone held one in my hand.

I was turning thirty-two, (it’ll be three years now) next month. I rented a violin for my birthday. I liked it so much, with no guarantee of how the practicing would go, where it might take me or not. Yet, after only a few months, when I went back to renew the rental, I walked out as owner instead.

I didn’t grow up loving classical music and still don’t love that style. I do have a lot more appreciation for it now though, whenever I listen to some. I do see, after knowing my own violin teacher for all this time, all that it takes (the commitment and the skill) to become a strong player. I mean strong, physically, which is something I couldn’t have known until I myself felt all the muscle groups it takes to play.

I want to set myself a 2019 resolution, if I can bring myself to use that word, for what I want from the violin this year.

I’ve have a lousy practice schedule. I don’t play for very many people. I don’t realize, well enough, how far I’ve actually come.

I do know, something inside me, it keeps me going with it, when setting it aside and just not picking it up often feels like the easier option. Of course, it would be easier, but why would I want to take the easy rout anyway?

I think often on what it takes, the mastering of something, anything but especially a tricky instrument such as the violin.

Some people would be super impatient by now, with the level of progress I’ve arrived at, but I choose to not look at my situation in quite that way.

We spend our lives, working to master one thing, before we think we can move right on to something else. I’d settle for having confidence to be able to play a violin part, a solo, on a song my brother wrote. That would be nice.

I’d like to master the craft of writing and the art of it too. Same goes for the instrument that I love. Fingers crossed, but I think I’ll ask other people to do that, as I need my fingers, uncrossed, to be able to play.

Next week’s practice theme: harmonics.

This has been day six of
Just Jot It January
and the word giver for today was
Sadje
to round out the first weekend of the month.

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Catching Up On “Just Jot It January” 2019 #JustJoJan #SoCS

I don’t make
resolutions.
and still, I do
like to reflect through podcasting,
by a roaring fire.

I do like the idea of choosing a word for the year. My 2018 word was “stoker” and I looked at it as I was not going to stay quiet anymore. I was going to stir things up a bit, if I could.

As part of the
Canadian Federation of the Blind,
I would make some noise about the inequalities I see all around me.

I learned about how such organizations work. I learned how much work there still is to be done.

I wanted to make my local movie theatre and all movie theatres more accessible and tried, through survey, to ask other blind Canadians their thoughts.

I wanted to make my library, not to mention all public libraries, more equal in the literature on hand.

I felt like I failed, for the most part on both these things, but stay tuned to 2019 and see what happens. That’s precisely what I intend to do.

Okay, so with a new year starting and some Internet difficulties, I am late to the
Just Jot It January #JusJoJan
party, but I am here now, quite possibly breaking some rules to start the month off right.

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I’ve taken part in this January blogging ritual for the last two years I believe.

No, wait, three. Three, really?

Three years with this January blogging activity and now, here we are at four.

Five years with this blog, which I started on my thirtieth birthday, to face my fear of rejection and get my writing out there.

I don’t know how much of a theme it is, beyond the writing that I love, but I chose to call it Her Headache because I write about life and life has brought me headaches of all kinds, painful in the head and in the heart too. It has transformed my life, along with everything new and wonderful happening since entering my thirties.

It’s been great, leading to many wonderful opportunities, but as I start a new year, I struggle to find my footing. As I head toward my five year anniversary
with this blog,
next month, I am unsure where I am going with this space and hope to figure it all out. Jotting down some ideas throughout the month may just help.

From now on, rest of the month, I’ll write something, every day, except on Wednesday, where I take a break.

I am finding this life, this life of mine to be rather
enigmatic,
but that’s the journey, and the journey continues as I jot. So onward I go.

However, I could never forget my usual Saturday blogging ritual.

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This week’s
Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS
(the first to combine this month with Just Jot It January, on Saturday) gives a lot of prefixes to choose from.

I suppose I’ll only go with one, as the day grows late.

I suppose I made it through all the years before now and I’ll do the same this year.

I suppose I am being selfish, worrying that somehow #45 will mess up my travel plans with this silly corner he’s painted himself into, when so many American workers are the ones working and not being paid.

I suppose I should stop worrying so much about all the things that might not happen, most likely won’t ever happen.

I suppose 35 isn’t really so different from being the 34 that I am now.

I suppose this year has a lot in store, even though that little voice in my head likes to try and convince the rest of me that there’s nothing left yet to experience.

I suppose I will just have to wait to find out.

Also, thanks,
VirgoBeauty,
for the first guest contribution to this month of jotting.

Blogging. Jotting. Blogging. Jotting. They won’t all be as long as this one.

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KETCHUP ON PANCAKES: Episode 15 – Farewell 2018…By The Fireside #Family #Holidays #TBT #Podcast

Welcome, everyone, to 2019 – where on Ketchup On Pancakes, we don’t make New Year’s resolutions, but we do like to look back and look ahead.

On this final episode of last year
Episode 15: Farewell 2018…By The Fireside,
we reflect on the 365 days of 2018 and guess what we’ll have to reflect on when end of 2019 comes around.

I am in a bit of a solemn mood for the first part, but years are big things, and they weigh on me as one ends and the next one begins.

Join us, by our cozy fireside, as we discuss family celebrations and goals and achievements we’re proud to say happened in 2018 and don’t forget to find us
on our page
on Facebook.

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TToT: Full, Cold Moon On The Shortest Day of the Year (Final TToT of 2018) #10Thankful

“Chasing the last light of day. The beach is a grey, curve along the bottom of the photo. The, horizon a razor-
thin, ruler-straight line through the middle, dividing sky from sea. A sea-gull, a flying parenthesis, balances between the two worlds.”

For this final
Ten Things of Thankful
of 2018 I am thankful for Clark’s description of the ocean.

I am thankful for the places I visited this year, whether it was British Columbia or Orlando, Florida. And don’t forget Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island in the late summer/last of summer/fall.

I am thankful for another concert that made me happy and that I could introduce a friend to the live musical show experience for the first time.

I’m thankful for a good night for driving to said concert and for the warm Starbucks, while we waited for the show to start, including the delicious creme brulee latte with whipped cream and hardened, sugared pieces on top.

I am thankful for my lights and my soft needled tree and for audio description for figure skating, now that I see less light and hardly see what’s on my television screen anymore.

I’m thankful for the new people to come into my life this year and for the chance to meet (in person) a few friends from the Internet.

I don’t know where this TToT will go in 2019 and so I am thankful for all that my 2018 has been.

Hoping for some snow for Christmas.

“But last night the snow came . . . . enough to transfiigure and beautify, but not enough to spoil the walking; and it did not drift, but just fell softly and lightly, doing its wonder-work in the mirk of a December night. This morning, when I awakened and saw the world in the sunlight, I had a vision of woodland solitudes of snow, arcades picked out in pearl and silver, long floors of untrodden marble, whence spring the cathedral columns of the pines.”

L.M. Montgomery The Woods In Winter, 1911
(The LM Montgomery Reader, v. 1 – ed. by Benjamin Lefebvre

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Boy, Oh Boy, #RIP #SongLyricSunday

December gloom.

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I haven’t been participating in
Song Lyric Sunday
for several weeks now, but December brings with it a whole lot of emotion: both joyousness and gloominess.

I’ve been thinking about those who were once boys, who eventually turned into men, and of whom we’ve lost in the month of December.

This song reminds me of family who were lost, seven years ago, as we approach the anniversary of his passing:

This is a month of joyousness at Christmas, but of sorrow in life lost to suicide too. The two contrasting emotions are stark when I experience them now, every year since.

***

If I die young
bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Uh oh uh oh

Lord make me a rainbow,
I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when She stands under my colours,
oh and Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be,
no Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well, I’ve had just enough time

If I die young
bury me in satin.
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white
when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There’s a boy here in town says he’ll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts,
oh no I’ll sell them for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

If I die young
bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Uh oh (uh oh)

The ballad of a dove Go with peace and love Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket Save ’em for a time when your really gonna need ’em oh

The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boys, and I’ll wear my pearls

Songwriters: Kimberly Perry
If I Die Young lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

***

Here we go again, I thought, as I was given the news and had to tell my loved ones the horrible details.

This wasn’t my family’s first time dealing with suicide of a loved one. Different side of the family, but same shock and grief.

As I recently listened to cassette tapes with my brother of our childhood, I listened to old Christmas parties and of all the kids playing, the boys playing rougher, as sometimes they are known to do. I never did hear him, as he was always a quiet boy, but I heard other cousins calling his name. Stevie, he was often called.

December is my month of pure happiness, as I remember the innocence I felt, as a young girl this time of year.

Now, that happiness is tinged with a gloominess that slices this month in half for me, as far as the festive mood I try to find.

John Lennon was also a boy once, in the biggest boy band of the day, in the 1960’s, and he is being mourned all over again, as every December rolls around.

This is my favourite John Lennon song to end this post:

A song of a sincere apology given after jealousy.

RIP John and Steven.

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TToT: Foresight, Hindsight, Insight, #Problem #Solution #10Thankful

Happy Birthday Dad!

Happy birthday to L.M. Montgomery, who was born 144 years ago today!

“‘Old Prince Edward Island’ is a good place in which to be born – a good place in which to spend a childhood. I can think of none better. We Prince Edward Islanders are a loyal race. In our secret soul we believe that there is no place like the little Province that gave us birth.”

– L.M. Montgomery, The Alpine Path: the Story of My Career

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Caption: Kids, with Grandpa, about to blow out birthday candles.

I’m writing this on the final day of November, even though this post is dated days earlier. I missed last week’s
Ten Things of Thankful
and I’m too lazy to try to figure out how to reset dates in WP and I don’t want to bother starting a new entry for this. It works as is.

I’m thankful for my father on his 63rd birthday.

I’m thankful for my favourite writer on what would have been hers too.

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Caption: The bedroom she was born in.

I got to visit that house when I was in Prince Edward Island in September.

I love that my favourite writer and my favourite father share this day.

I’m thankful for last weekend, a trial run of the 2018 KFC (Kijewski family Christmas) as we like to call it.

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Caption: Grandpa and Mya watching gingerbread houses being decorated.

I’m thankful for a night out at the movies with siblings.

I’m thankful for brownies.

I’m thankful for a second
Fantastic Beasts film,
where more of the world leading to Harry Potter was revealed.

I’m thankful for another episode of
Outlook,
where we interview (or he us) a lifelong friend and brother.

I’m thankful for an unforgettable night of stories performed from the heart.

tuq3GMA.jpg

I am standing up, in front of an audience, to tell my story, a dying art.

I’m thankful four of my family members could be there to see me do that.

I’m thankful for a doctor who goes above and beyond.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GHXEGz3PJg

This song was playing as I left the
TAP Centre for Creativity
and I thought it fit because we all have a hunger to be heard.

Finally, RIP Bush Senior.

http://mentalfloss.com/article/21750/4-simpsons-controversies-didnt-end-lawsuits

The Simpsons has made fun of all recent Presidents (from Nixon on) and has taken a few shots at some of the famous and forgotten ones who came before, but they have a special relationship with Bush Sr. Surprisingly, this began with Barbara, who in a 1990 interview with People , said The Simpsons was “the dumbest thing [she] had ever seen.” The writers at the show had Marge send off a letter defending her family (and implying that certainly Washington had some dumber people/things to see). Mrs. Bush wrote a prompt, polite response.
The next year, 1991, the Bushes were featured in “Mr. Lisa Goes to Washington.” Barbara gave a private tour of her bathroom and George moved decisively to remove a corrupt congressman when he learned through the pipeline that “a little girl [was] losing faith in democracy.”

The real controversy began January 27th, 1992, when Bush declared to a meeting of the National Religious Broadcasters: “We are going to keep on trying to strengthen the American family, to make American families a lot more like the Waltons and a lot less like the Simpsons.” The Simpsons quickly wrote and animated a new sequence for “Stark Raving Dad,” which would be rerun three days later. Bart and his family watch the clip of Bush’s speech and Bart replies, “Hey, we’re just like the Waltons. We’re praying for an end of the depression, too.”

It was not until four years later that The Simpsons got the final word—in “Two Bad Neighbors,” George and Barbara move in across the street to the Simpsons. While George immediately takes a liking to Ned Flanders, he dislikes Bart, whom he sees as disrespectful.

Bush: You know, in my day, little boys didn’t call their elders by their first names. block quote level 1block quote level 1

Bart: Yeah, well, welcome to the 20th century, George. block quote level 1block quote level 1

The episode casts Bart as Dennis the Menace and George as cranky Mr. Wilson until Bart accidentally destroys Bush’s hand-typed memoirs, in which he claims, “And since I’d achieved all my goals as President in one term, there was no need for a second.”

Bush spanks Bart and won’t apologize for interfering with Homer’s parenting. This leads to an escalation of tension and pranks until the inevitable fistfight in the sewer. The Bushes move away after Barbara forces Bush to apologize in front of Mikhail Gorbachev (after which Homer demands an apology “for the tax hike”). Homer gets along much better with his next neighbor, Gerald Ford.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Bad_Neighbors

It’s satire and could be seen as mocking. I don’t approve of politicians talking about family values though, in order to win an election, as to be political you can’t possibly totally practice all that you preach. Still, I see being made into an episode as an honour and I show it as a goodbye to a man who lived a good long life:

I had to explore this, from a strictly cultural (Simpsons) point of view, because people are complicated. This show hasn’t been for everyone, a certain generation a lot less likely, but it is sad to have no sense of humour.

A man who was in charge to be forever known as the American’s With Disabilities Act president will be remembered for it. He was someone’s husband, father, and grandfather. He made decisions that not everyone would have agreed on, but he was more of a respected politician than what the US has as POTUS at the moment, by a long long shot.

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KETCHUP ON PANCAKES: Episode 13 – Pell-mell Claptrap (feat. Erik Burggraaf) #Podcast #Friendship #Disability #Advocacy #Accessibility

He knows all the best words, like those in the title, from his love of reading. He likes to drop them into everyday conversations, catching us (always) off guard. He’s one-of-a-kind and he has a lot to say over beers with friends.

Right around our two-year anniversary of the start of this whole thing, after one chaotic summer, we got to interview a good friend of twenty years and an ally in the work to challenge stereotypes about those of us living with disabilities.

In
Part I,
we discuss friendship, how we met, and the fun we’ve had throughout the years. It’s the more lighthearted part of #13. (Guide dogs, mice, and Toronto adventures.)

So much to say, we had to break the interview up into two parts.

In
Part II,
we hear from Erik in his role as (Executive/Chairman of the Ontario chapter of the Canadian Federation of the Blind).

He has high hopes and big dreams/plans for the CFB, both hear in Ontario and nationally. At the heart of it all though, he is fighting for a better tomorrow, starting now, for all of us who believe society holds the low expectations for its blind citizens that must not continue.

He’s our twenty-year pal and his passion for the things he cares about is contagious. Here’s to the next twenty years.

Also, check us out on
our Facebook page
for more.

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All Of My Life, #SongLyricSunday

“There’s too much I need to remember. And there’s too much I need to say.”

—Phil Collins

jFE21Tw.jpg

That’s how I feel, on this final day of September, 2018 and so off I go, into October.

This song makes me feel sad. It makes me long for something. It makes me wish for something, though I don’t know what:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6hqjzPQA4M

As the final months of the year approach, October first and then November, before December rounds things off, I think of my parents because they both have birthdays in the next two months.

This song, especially, makes me think about my father. He is responsible for my love of Phil Collins in the first place and I’m grateful for that, for him.

***

All of my life,
I’ve been searching
For the words to say how I feel.
I’d spend my time thinking too much
And leave too little to say what I mean
But I’ve tried to understand the best I can
All of my life.

All of my life,
I’ve been saying sorry
For the things I know I should have done
All the things I could have said come back to me
Sometimes I wish that it had just begun
Seems I’m always that little too late
All of my life

Set ’em up,
I’ll take a drink with you
Pull up a chair,
I think I’ll stay
Set ’em up, cos I’m going nowhere
There’s too much I need to remember, and there’s too much I need to say

All of my life,
I’ve been looking
But it’s hard to find the way
Just reaching past the goal in front of me
While what’s important just slips away
And it doesn’t come back but I’ll be looking
All of my life

Set ’em up…
I’ll take a drink with you
Pull up a chair,
I think I’ll stay
Set ’em up, cos I’m going nowhere
There’s too much I need to remember, and there’s too much I need to say, ah yeah

(Guitar solo)

All of my life, there have been regrets
That I didn’t do all I could
Making records upstairs, while he watched TV
I didn’t spend the time I should
It’s a memory I will live with
All of my life.

(sax solo)

LYRICS

***

I’ve been away on vacation for a few weeks, but now I’m back and on this
Song Lyric Sunday,
I immediately thought of this song when I heard the prompt word.

I’m searching for something, for someone, some place, still looking, and I wonder if I won’t be doing that all of my life long.

But, also, don’t you just love the saxophone in this one?

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Walking the Ocean Floor and Not Quite Believing It, #BucketList #PhotoShareFriday #FTSF

Where to start? How to begin? Hmm. Expect more stories from my travels, in the weeks ahead.

I’ve been absent from this blogging stuff for a while, but I’ve had travel as my reason for said absence.

UKm9EVY.jpg

I was out east, here in Canada, throughout the Maritimes when I was two. Of course, no memories of the trip. So, I simply had to return.

This is me (thirty-two years later) and I’m waiting on old photos of my first trip to these parts, which my mom probably has tucked away somewhere.

This is me, using my white cane as a detection tool, to explore and reach out, further than my arm ever could. I feel the rocky ground underfoot and I can’t quite believe the tides of this bay bring in and then take out such a volume of sea water. Where I stand, rock having been cut into by the tides that have always and will continue to come and go.

No matter what crap goes on in the world, human caused crap, nature kicks ass and I’m reminded of that. I ponder, as I walk, about those who could visit such a spot of wonder and not be awed by its power. Sad.

I feel the structure of rock and the indents made and the seaweed clinging to it. I will be gone, long before the mighty tide returns here, but somehow I wish I could stay. It shapes these rocks, just like life has shaped me, from a two-year-old to the woman I am today.

This photo is at
Hopewell Rocks
and I’m loving walking along the ocean floor – Atlantic Ocean and my unforgettable visit to the
Bay of Fundy,
in stunning Atlantic Canada.

This is my contribution for
Photo Share Friday
with
Finish the Sentence Friday
and the gang.

And I wish all things travel to those (like myself) who seek it out.

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Solidify, #SoCS

Round and round the seasons go.

zOj7qMX.png

Okay, well there’s four seasons, which technically makes it feel more like a square than a circle, but I’ve always felt, myself, like a square peg that’s trying, always, to fit into a circular hole.

I like circular things: cookies, pizzas, etc.

Years come and go and my life, sometimes I feel like I’m going in circles, round and round.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

Okay, so this is my first time back doing this Saturday blogging prompt in a while and I might be a little rusty at writing down my thoughts, stream of consciousness style, with a word to write from.

I just have to use the word, but I started with it as itself, as even a part of another word.

Ground. Around. Surrounded.

I enter September, gladly and enthusiastically, waiting for something to happen.

Years ago, this month filled me with dread. I never looked forward to school picking back up after a carefree summer vacation, like some kids you’d ask. Some were, at least, looking forward to seeing their friends and all that, but I was feeling the unsteadiness of the new and different that a new year of school brings.

Just as I’d found my footing, solid ground underneath, I’d be thrown for a loop and have to start over again.

That’s life, the starting over, as I’ve done dozens of times since I last set foot in a classroom. There is, I admit, that familiar sense of terror and now I feel such relief, that this month can remain my favourite transition into my most favourite month, rather than new everything, new grade, new teacher, new set of challenges with learning and keeping up and passing tests.

Socially, I could never quite find my footing, falling to my knees, to the ground for support, wishing I were smarter, friendlier, cooler like all the other kids were. Nothing to hold onto when I’d grab.

Constant interruptions meant I couldn’t count on much, trust in anything really. Since that first grade (kindergarten) where the September calendar was red and green, construction paper apple cutouts, right until I just couldn’t stay there any longer.

Now, I see school again, in my mind and I am there to learn, to make my life better. Along with that, back comes all that stress and I run from that possibility, trying to find meaning and purpose without any further education.

It goes round and round and round inside my head. I can do more, be more, learn more. I could.

For now, I look forward to the month where I eat nothing but apples. I remember those construction paper apples and I hold the real thing in my hand.

Paula reds they’re called. Semi sweet perfection.

When, again, this month of starting over comes round, I meet it with all the hype it promises me.

My niece and nephews are starting school (third grade/first/senior K) and I know they feel nerves too, at the challenges (educationally and socially) that I felt before them. I am so proud. They have so much room to learn and to grow and I nervously await this first day of school, for each of them, though I know they will be awesome.

It’s the daily lunches and the packing the backpacks. For their parents, along with so many others, it is a bunch of feelings, watching them go off again, slowly or fast, becoming their own well rounded human beings.

Critical thinking skills. Socialization. Mathematics. Spelling. Reading. Science. History.

Problem solving. Teamwork. Independent learning skill.

I forget what it is that kids are learning now. I hope it will take them where they’ll eventually want to end up.

I have lots of regrets, and yet I haven’t given up on myself. I am a student of the kind of life long learning my active mind craves, though my body struggles to keep up.

I don’t miss the moment to moment stressors of an educational environment. I don’t miss waking up early to catch that bus. I may feel like I’ve missed it since then, some school years sticking out prominently in my memory, but overall feeling like I didn’t quite fit.

I had an education that I’m grateful for though. I was where I needed to be. I learned valuable things that have stuck with me.

Now I continue to struggle to find my place, where my square-shaped peg fits into the circular. Like we see when a small child tries, learning newly, how to fit a plastic shape into its appropriate slot. We have the urge to rush it, them, when really they need to learn it – and they will.

I must give myself that same room to figure things out. I must learn to be more patient. I don’t like to be rushed, by myself or by anyone else. Also, I am the most impatient of all.

I like to think of the ground, in autumn, starting to harden, to eventually freeze. Most people wish summer would not end. Me, I welcome the change eagerly. I look so forward to this September, like I haven’t in several years. Things are happening, and maybe I am on my way to being, not circular or square, but more well rounded and round and round and round we go again.

I don’t end up saying anything really profound in these, but that’s not the point of them and, as a writer, I have missed that.

As I try to focus on the few writing assignments I currently have, I do desire this stream of consciousness freedom. Though at the back of my mind I try to come to some sort of conclusion to things.

That girl, sitting at that school desk, she didn’t know she’d ever refer to herself as a freelance writer, a writer of any sort. Success, the kind we’re taught about as pupils, may be hard to achieve once we’re on our own. I know it continues to be for me.

So, yes, I don’t know if I have a point, what that might be and don’t know if I’d recognize it if I came to it.

I imagine I could go on doing this, rambling word after rambling word, without the fear of being graded or marked down somehow.

I could.

For the work I’m now doing with the Canadian Federation of the Blind, I do wish I’d been taught more about what’s going on and how the world works. History is important, don’t get me wrong, but how now do I approach my local politicians? How do I stand for myself? How do I speak on my own behalf?

The hamster wheel goes round and round inside my brain. All I’ve ever been taught doesn’t seem nearly enough to make a dent in the problems I see going on around me.

In my head, I run an endless track of ideas and possibilities and what if’s.

Again, it’s September, and I try to fit myself (the square that I am) into that circular hole, be more round. Feel the ground underfoot.

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