We Interrupt This Blog - The Guilty Pleasure Love Songs Disc

There are songs I am ashamed to admit that I like and listen to regularly. In fact if any of you were to come up to me tomorrow and ask me about this post I will deny ever writing it or ever claiming to enjoy these songs. I can't help it, though. Just as some literature lovers have a secret yearning for the occasional Harlequin romance novel I occasionally have a little love-fest with a song that is just plain embarrassing. So, this weekend I'll share some of those secret guilty pleasure songs with you, dear friends. And let's just keep this between us, shall we?

First up, a song from the 90's. I know it's cheesy. I have no idea why I like it, I just do. Even the name of the band is ridiculous, so it's a doubly embarrassing guilty pleasure.

Goo Goo Dolls " "Iris"

Next we have a song from the late 1980's. I don't even like Chris Isaak a little bit so I cannot explain my weakness for this song at all. I'm just as baffled as you are, frankly.

Chris Isaak - "Wicked Game"

Well, dammit, I happen to like this next one and the band, too. I suppose it appeals to my sensibilities from my younger days when I was "goth" (way back before the term goth even existed and it was just a branch of the whole new wave thing). I think Amy Lee is great, and honestly I'm going to refuse to apologize for liking this. I suppose it's just mildly embarrassing that it's me and oodles of black-clad teenagers who have a yen for this song.

Evanescence - "Bring Me To Life"

Right, this one is bloody embarrassing, and I freely admit it. Cheesy as hell, too, and way too top-40 for me. At least it would usually be but something about it catches me every time I hear it. How annoying. Clearly I need better control.

Snow Patrol - "Chasing Cars"

And finally an oldie but definitely a goodie. I always respected Cyndi Lauper. I thought she was quirky and talented and funny and didn't take herself too seriously. This song has been covered by many people (most hideously by Celine Dion who should really keep those scrawny claws off other people's tunes) but Cyndi was the best. I'm not really embarrassed by this one - I still think it's kind of lovely, even after a couple of decades...

Cyndi Lauper - "I Drove All Night"

So, there you have it, dear friends. Those rank as some of my favourite guilty pleasure love songs. There are others, of course, but one does need to keep some things private. And remember - this is just between us friends. And don't bother bringing these songs up if you happen to see me - because I will deny everything! 

St. Patrick's Well

Ireland is rife with sites related to Saint Patrick. I suppose that's only natural as he is the patron saint of Ireland, and has become associated with that country in a very powerful way. History tells us that he came to Ireland as a captured slave during a time when Ireland was inhabited by druids and pagans, and that during his slavery he embraced the Christian faith. After his escape from capture he became an ordained priest and then returned to Ireland to convert the very nation that had enslaved him.

There are hundreds of stories about Patrick, of course. No doubt some are true and some are simply incredible legend. My favourite is that he used the shamrock to represent the trinity, thus elevating that lowly plant into the symbol we now almost universally recognize as representing Ireland.

When you visit Ireland there are many sites related to Saint Patrick to choose from. There are the churches he established, and the site of his death. I would say, though, that one that shouldn't be missed is Saint Patrick's Well near Clonmel. There is some controversy about this site, with some stating that it's unlikely Saint Patrick ever even visited it - but that is beside the point as it is, perhaps, the most beautiful holy well in Ireland. I would argue it might just be one of the most beautiful places in Ireland period.

When we arrived at Saint Patrick's Well it was a cool and grey December day. It hadn't really been a planned stop but our driver Kevin thought it would be a nice sight for us to see, as well as a bit of a gift for my husband who is indeed named Patrick. When we drove up to the well Kevin directed us down the rough stone stairs, and as we descended it was truly like drifting down into the mists of time.

Even in December Ireland is green, although the shade is a bit subdued, especially after the uncharacteristically cold winter they had in late 2010. As you descend the stairs towards the well an almost eerie feeling comes over you, especially if the site is deserted as it was that day. It feels a bit like there is a history here that you can almost touch, as if you can see the faint shadows of all those pilgrims who have worshipped here.

The water is crystal clear, and looks smooth as glass. Occasionally bubbles rise up from the water, perhaps from a spring below, and ripple the surface of the pond. The ruins of the old church are astonishingly beautiful, and surrounded by the lush green trees an almost surreal vision. In the centre of the small pond stands a gorgeous old cross, covered in moss and looking as ancient as Patrick himself. As you scan around to truly appreciate the view you realize it's the sort of place you'd love to see at night, but then you also think about how eerie it must be in the cool dark Irish twilight.

The peacefulness of this spot cannot be overstated. When I stood there it was almost like an unnatural state of calm came over me, and perhaps it is the sheer beauty of this well. Perhaps it is also simply being in a place with a depth of history that is completely unlike anything we have in North America. This site may now be dedicated to Saint Patrick but at one time it was apparently a favoured spot of pagans and druids. This means that humans have celebrated, worshipped, and visited this area from a time before Jesus was born, and far, far before the discovery of North America. I find myself humbled when finding myself at these sites for this very reason - our own history seems so brief compared to this. I often seem to be speechless at these places and close to tears simply because there is a richness and depth here that seems just beyond my grasp, and yet is so real I can almost taste it.

We didn't stay long at the well. It was rather brisk outside that day, and to be honest while the site is amazingly beautiful there is also something vaguely overwhelming about it. It feels a bit like if you stay too long that perhaps you'll never want to leave, almost like the land of the lotus eaters. You feel as if the mists might enshroud you and you will never find your way out of the history of this place, as if you could be captured here for eternity. As we ascended the stone stairs we did so in silence, which is rather uncharacteristic for a wisecracking man, a talkative woman, and a boisterous eleven-year old. There is just something about the place, though, that leaves you a bit stunned. You find yourself talking in hushed voices as if you will disturb someone, even though the well is entirely deserted save for yourselves. Perhaps you are trying not to disturb those ghosts of the past who, it seems fairly clear, are still in residence at this amazing place. Go to Ireland, dear friends, as I believe everyone should visit this country at least once. And then go to Saint Patrick's Well. There is something very, very special here, and you will sense it the minute you see it, too.

On Becoming A Mother

Sometimes when I am watching TV I see interviews with women who say that when they were growing up all they wanted to be was a mother. I'm always a bit taken aback by this, as when I was growing up it was, quite frankly, the last thing I wanted to be. It's not that I didn't love my own mother, as I did, and I was quite grateful she had chosen to be a mother so I could exist. It was just that I didn't think I was mothering material.

When I met the man who eventually became my husband it was pretty clear that he wasn't interested in fatherhood, either, and both of us had some serious growing up to do besides. We spent our twenties doing exactly that, living in downtown Toronto and leading the kind of lifestyle that only a childless couple can. There were nightclubs and parties, days on end when we never slept, spur of the moment travel - it was all really quite glorious.

It wasn't until my early thirties that I felt something inside me had changed. The thought of motherhood no longer terrified me. In fact it rather intrigued me. I still wasn't overly fond of babies or small children, but I had a deep suspicion that this might change were it my own child. I noticed too that my husband had begun to feel the same way, and thus, at 33, I found myself expecting a child.

I very clearly remember taking the home pregnancy test. I remember seeing the positive result and feeling a bit overwhelmed, wondering what I had gotten myself into this time and whether or not I could possibly really be someone's mother. I was excited - and afraid.

When I was pregnant we met an elderly lady in our local grocery store. She asked if this was our first child, and we said yes. When she learned this she told us that we were in for something we would never expect, that we would experience a kind of love we had never felt before, and that this would prove to be the best thing we'd ever done in our lives. She was a lovely lady, and quite honestly, dear friends, a genius in my opinion.

My pregnancy was not uneventful. There was a possibility of miscarriage in the early days, and I was distraught. Later on there were extra ultrasounds and a fetal assessment clinic visit due to some abnormalities that were noted (which all turned out to be false alarms). It was all very stressful and what became obvious was that my feelings for this little creature inside me were growing as rapidly as my girth. Every fear seemed magnified if it threatened my little one, and I would do anything to protect her. That is when I realized that this love was beginning far before the actual birth.

When my daughter was born it was like everything in my life fell into place. All the things I'd done before, and all the things I thought important, seemed secondary to the existence of this little person who relied on me. My world changed in an instant. I recall coming home from the hospital and rocking her in my arms, and the first song that came on the radio was Disney's "Circle of Life". I wept, and you can blame hormones if you like, but I've noted that ever since her birth I cry much more easily and for strange reasons. It's as if her arrival in my life put me in touch with some deep currents in my heart, currents that had been still for a very long time.

Every year when Mother's Day rolls around I must admit that I do not really expect any gifts or accolades. You see, dear friends, I received the best gift almost twelve years ago when I became a mother. I not only received a daughter who is ferociously intelligent and stunningly beautiful but I also received a new view and understanding of myself. There is no gift that can match that revelation. Being a mother is an honour, dear friends, and one that I am so very glad I have been able to experience.

This morning my precious daughter presented me with her gift to me - a beautiful bracelet she knew I would love as she knows my love of the unusual, and, most importantly, a collection of origami pieces she folded herself and that I knew took her hours to complete. I cried again this morning when she gave these things to me, because this little girl opened my heart as no other human being has ever done.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

We Interrupt This Blog : The Obscure 80's Disc

There was a lot of great music recorded in the 80's. Of course there was a lot of junk, too. It was a decade of some of the best and worst music the world has likely ever seen, and it was also the decade when I was probably the most passionate about music. I think that's pretty typical of those teen and early adult years, and that's what I was then (and yes, I realize you are currently doing the math, so I'll save you the trouble - I'm old, okay?!?).

What always puzzles me is which bands hit it big and which ones didn't. There were some amazing bands that stayed unknown and are remembered only by the select few who followed them. There are times when I suddenly think of a band and realize how much I loved them back then, and of course I have to go searching YouTube and iTunes to see if I can find them. I am often pleased to discover that there are others in this great big world who also remember these bands, and think enough of them to put them out there on the web. I thought I'd share some of my fave obscure 80's bands with you, dear friends.

First up is a band from Montreal. They were amazing then, and I think still amazing now. The style is a bit dated, but the lyrics and the music are still as incredible as they were 20-some years ago. I'm actually going to show you two of their videos, because I think they are just that great.

Rational Youth - "City of Night"

Rational Youth - "In Your Eyes"

Slightly different musical genre, but I loved these guys back then. Very dark, very industrial, and pretty weird. Saw them live, and let's just say they were a touchy bunch (as in, we won't finish playing if you piss us off - and we did, and they didn't). From Vancouver.

Skinny Puppy - "Candle"

There are people who claim this next band are the ones who inspired Skinny Puppy (and those who say SP just stole their ideas, but I'm not getting into that argument - again!). Weirder than the Puppies and even more intriguing. From the Prairies - Edmonton, in fact. Who knew that city could produce such oddities?

Psyche - "The Brain Collapses"

Okay, I admit it. This next band probably isn't technically as obscure as the ones above but still never really achieved a lot of fame. Probably because they were dark as hell and scared off a lot of people. I loved 'em then and still listen to them now when I'm feeling moody. They did moody awfully well...

Sisters of Mercy - "First and Last and Always"

Finally one of my very favourite bands from that decade. I was stunned to find this video on YouTube as very few people will remember this group. Even more stunning is that the video was posted by someone in Spain. Why is that so amazing? Because this band only ever released one 45 in very limited numbers in Canada, and this means that 45 somehow made it's way across the ocean.

Sparrows on the Hood - "Homewhen"

In case you haven't guessed I have a personal connection to that last band. My husband was the bass player, and that band is really how we met. That band, and their music, was an integral part of my life for many years as I accompanied them as they played nightclubs across the country. The members of that band and I lived together in Toronto for a year, and what a ride that was! I will never forget any of their songs because, dear friends, they were the soundtrack of my life for many, many years.

So, there you go. That's what I've been up to on YouTube these past two days. There is nothing quite like ferreting out these hidden gems from obscure bands. I notice that several of the bands are Canadian, which pleases me and goes to prove we can produce obscure bands just as well as the rest of the world. Obscurity doesn't mean they weren't great - it just means not everyone recognized how great they were. I like to remember that on those days when I too am feeling obscure.

To Everything There Is A Season

This morning my daughter wanted to talk about Osama bin Laden. I'm still always a little surprised at these discussions as not long ago she would have said "Osama who?". She has grown up so much, though, and now often comes to me to discuss topics that once would have never even appeared on her radar.

She had been listening to CBC radio in her room, I think, and they'd been talking about the death of bin Laden. She said that people had so many theories about him and about his death. She said that she felt it wasn't fair, and when I asked her to elaborate she said she couldn't put it into words. I asked her if she would like me to tell her what I thought, and she said yes, so I did.

I told her that I don't see the death of anyone as reason to celebrate. I said that while I am glad bin Laden can no longer plan terrorist attacks that he was just one man, and that there were nineteen other men who climbed into planes on 9/11 to carry out the tragic attacks that occurred that day. I told her that celebrating death shows a very dark side of our human nature, and that it doesn't reflect on us well, no matter how terrible the person was in life. I told her that many people see the world in black and white - all good, or all evil, with no shades of grey. I told her she should look up the Oklahoma City bombings to see that terrorists don't always come from other countries. I told her that 9/11 was a horrific day I will never forget, but that the death of bin Laden doesn't make it any less horrific or even make it any better. I told her about American prisons where people will stand outside and celebrate the execution of a death row inmate, and how I felt that was just very sad and very, very dark. Finally I told her that celebrating death means that in some ways the terrorists have won - they have made us connect with our own dark side and dark desires for revenge, and thus have shown us that we too have that darkness within us.

I spoke about martyrs and vengeance. I spoke about home-grown terrorism. I spoke about a dark day in the history of North America that is burned into the mind of everyone who saw a plane fly into a towering building. I spoke about how the world is more complicated and has more shades of grey than seems possible.

When I finished she said that what I had expressed is what she meant about it all seeming unfair. She didn't understand her classmates rejoicing in bin Laden's death, and I could see it troubled her. I told her that young adults often still see the world as black and white, and that as they grew older they may see the shades of grey - or they may not.

She went off to school and I went off about my day feeling slightly worn out as these discussions at 6:30 in the morning can be a little taxing. I am always happy to have them with her, though, as I see her growing as a person - questioning, thinking, wondering. I see her understanding of the world expand and I realize that it won't be long before she will be teaching me new ways to see the world, too. She may be currently struggling with how to express what she thinks but I know that when she finds those words the lessons she will teach will be powerful ones. I cannot wait.

For some reason the discussion this morning brought to mind this song...

"Turn Turn Turn" - The Byrds

My Post of Awesome

When I first heard about "The Book of Awesome" I was intrigued. It all began as a blog by a man named Neil Pasricha. The purpose of his blog was to list awesome things, from large to small. They could be things or events that were awesomely life-changing, or tiny little things that made you stop and wonder at all the unnoticed awesome in the world. Eventually this blog became a book, and now a second book as well.

 I found his premise inspirational, as we humans have this tendency to focus on all the decidedly non-awesome things in our world - death, tragedy, and malice. To focus for a just a moment every day on one awesome thing serves as a reminder that there is good and hope in the world.

So today I decided to list some of my personal "awesomes". Perhaps it's due to my political hangover from yesterday's election that I feel the need for some awesome. Perhaps it's because I've felt a bit unsettled and worried about a personal health matter today. Perhaps it's because it's Tuesday. I have no idea, really. But here we go - five of my personal awesomes. Maybe they will remind you of some of your own...

1. Ireland. Do I really need to say anything more than that one word? I will say this - that country makes my heart sing and soothes my soul. Just thinking about it makes me both long for it and relish the memory of it. Awesome.

2. A solitary perfect snowflake. I've always loved snowflakes (but not necessarily when they accumulate into snowbanks). It's the moment when that one perfect snowflake lands on the sleeve of my black jacket and I catch a glimpse of it's crystalline perfection that is truly amazing. Awesome.

3. My local coffee shop. The barista sees me parking and begins making my latte before I've even locked the door of the car. That, my friends, is awesome.

4. Blogging. What I love about blogging is that I can write whatever I want, whenever I want, and I don't even care if anyone reads it. Totally awesome.

5. Hendrick's Gin. I was introduced to this gin by a new friend in Ireland and it's become a staple. I don't drink a gin and tonic every day, but when I do it's always, ALWAYS with cucumber-infused Hendrick's. It feels decadent and it reminds me of Ireland at the same time (even if it's made in Scotland!). Awesome!

So, there you go, dear friends. Those are five awesome things in my life. Some you've probably guessed about me from reading this blog, and some might be news. Dear friends, what is your awesome today? I'd love to hear about it if you'd like to share. And even if you choose not to share it do take a moment today to find one - because every day is better with a little awesome in it.

Raising a Rhino

It's fascinating when your kids are old enough to get interested in politics. The recent federal election has captured my daughter's attention, and it's been quite an interesting episode.

I suspect it was the television ads that first caught her eye. My husband and I are decidedly not fans of the negative attack ad style of campaign and we have commented several times on our disgust with this tactic. She picked up on this very quickly, and rapidly determined that political parties who engage in attack ads are not her style.

A few days ago she began doing political belief surveys online. We had to help a bit with the questions as these surveys are aimed at adults, but she was intrigued and did at least two of them to try to determine her own political stance. As suspected she leans to the political left, much like her mother.

Over the last couple of days she began asking a lot of questions about Jack Layton. Did I like him? Did I think he was sincere? What did I think of the NDP, anyhow? I answered as honestly as a politically jaded adult can - that out of all the leaders I liked Layton the most as he seems the most genuine, but that the NDP are unlikely to ever form the Canadian government. I told her, though, that people vote for who they do for different reasons. Sometimes they vote for the local candidate. Sometimes they vote for the party they like. Sometimes they vote for the leader they wish to see in power. And sometimes they vote for anyone but a candidate they cannot stand.

Last week they held a mock election in her school. The kids in the higher grades were asked to vote for our local candidates. She came home the night before in a quandary - which of the four to pick? PC? Liberal? NDP? Green?!? That's when I told her there was another option. I asked if her teacher had told her that she could spoil her ballot. She looked at me with suspicion. I told her that you can, in fact, place an enormous black X across your entire ballot if you do not think any candidate is suitable. You can write in another name. Or, you could write in "Rhino". Rhino? She was baffled, and that's when I told her about the Rhino Party.

For those with long memories the Rhinos were a joke party, but not really a joke. They were a collective of eclectic individuals who ran in various elections and always with an entertaining platform. When the founder of the party was asked in 1963 what his candidates would do if elected he said "The same as yours - nothing". I told her about the time the Rhinos ran a dog in one riding (as I recall he signed his candidacy papers with a paw print). She immediately began reading about the Rhinos. She joined the Rhino Facebook page, and declared herself a Rhino. It appealed to her sense of whimsy and sense of humour - and frankly even at age 11 she is a cynic and the Rhinos appealed to that, too.

 The morning of the school mock election she continued to experience confusion - should she vote NDP or should she write in Rhino? I told her that voting is all about going with what feels right and with what your heart and head say is the right choice for you, and that there is no wrong or right answer - just what's right for you, and that that is the beauty of democracy.

She came home after school grinning from ear to ear. How did she vote? Well, I know your vote is normally a private matter, but she chose to share it with me and now I share it with you, dear friends. That bold little mind and brave little heart wrote "Rhino" on her ballot and stuffed it into the box. She knows it won't be counted, and that she may be asked to explain (especially since I suspect some of the younger teachers may not even be familiar with the Rhinos). She was a proud participant of democracy, however, and voted in the way her conscience told her to. She also asked exactly how old you need to be to run in an election, and if I thought she would make a good Rhino candidate. Dear friends, it appears I am raising not a PC nor a Liberal nor an NDP. I am raising a Rhino. I couldn't be any prouder.