Keep the Toronto Disability Pride March Marching

If you can spare a few bucks, it would be awesome if you could donate to this cause raising funds for the Toronto Disability Pride March.

If you’d like to come out and march, I’ll post the details in a longer post.



BTW I’m on Facebook!


Hello Again

Hello internet. I’m back again. I’ve gotta say, I’m in a much better place now. So, let’s talk.

Let’s talk about health. Mental health. Reading back on what I’ve written here, I realize just how far I’ve come. It hasn’t been easy. It’s still a struggle. But, it’s a struggle I’m winning.

I don’t believe it will ever be easy. Not really. Some days are better than others, but it’s still hard. I’ve been doing this thing lately where I take my own advice. I’ve been active in taking care of my mental health, practicing gratitude and doing things I enjoy. It’s working.

I feel better than I have in years!



So, I’m sitting in my parents’ backyard and looking up at the sky and thinking how nice it is to see so many stars again. It’s never dark enough in the city to see how small you are. It’s never dark enough to really rest.

I saw a shooting star tonight. I couldn’t think of a wish to make. It happened too fast and I thought too long and missed my chance when my mind derailed into thinking of ways to cheat the bullshit wish system with things like fallen eyelashes and birthday candles. Can I make a wish everyday? Wish for a thousand more wishes? Like that hunk of rock in the sky, they’re going nowhere anyway.

So here I am in this tiny little town looking up at the big sparkly sky and, wouldn’t you know it, I saw a second shooting star. So I wished for peace.

Not for the world, just for me.

Just for tonight.



Maybe next time, I’ll get this right.


Living on Borrowed Words

We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.  – Charles Motherfucking Bukowski

Other people’s words. I so often rely on them to express what gets lost between my brain and my tongue (or my hands, as the case may be).