The Holidays are Coming

Hi Everyone, Happy Thanksgiving, Canada. I hope you had a great weekend and holiday. I decided that no matter how late it is on any given Monday, I would always send at least a message. Being accountable to myself has become so important. I realized that time can send me flying and then I wake up and find it is six months or a year later. I cannot let that happen anymore. These days are vital to me, as is documenting them. Life matters so much. I do not dare miss out. I am so thankful for this gift and…

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How Do You Change When You Are Writing?

How do I change when I am writing? With great difficulty. It depends on three vital points. Where am I writing? While on the Skytrain with hundreds of bodies—a few religiously unwashed–pressing against me, cutting off my air. Do I sit between a staunchly stoic older couple in a tiny Aquabus, which heaves against the water en route to Granville Island? Perhaps I am in a meeting in the matchbox-sized grey Quaker church opposite my place. How am I writing? The options are my phone, laptop, a pen, or using my best friend’s phone with the voice activated android assistant….

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My Bucket List

  From the Almost-Scorching-My-Fingers-It’s-So-Tangible Department Writing Goals Finish my memoir and seek traditional publishing routes. Complete a cohesive work of poetry to publish before release of memoir. Work on something funny like A Day of Musings With @Bookmark_Terry. Very Important Non-Writing-Related-But-Equally-Attainable Zone Improve my health dramatically. Enjoy gyms and all the amazing machines there, which I do. Swim. Walk a lot. Be Terry in training starting n-o-w. In the Not-Too-Wing-Nuttish Realm of Possibility Make money so I can keep travelling, studying, and immersing myself in healing, nurturing, culturally diverse, and intellectually stimulating environments. Take a hot air balloon ride, something…

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The Cycle Continues – Lidwina Bautista

  I see her — a small, brown woman pushing a baby carriage behind a white woman; sadness envelopes my heart, weep I say will my weeping free her or console her? I see their passive faces wanting to disappear and hide their faces educated women, forced to flee the poverty and bleak future at home.   I wonder what she is thinking fear of people laughing and feeling sorry for her JUST A NANNY, a maid, must comply to her master’s wishes/commands or be sent back to her past from which she is trying to run away.   Hush,…

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Six Reasons Why I Love Self-Deprecating Humour

I love laughing at myself. Now, for those who know me, don’t worry that I am doing so to put myself down. Why would I do that? What’s my height again? Oh yeah. I’m four feet six inches on a good day. Trust me, you’ll see nary a hair on my head when the day is less joyous. ********** I’m so shy and almost too reverent of people and things. For instance, if you invite me to a family dinner—yes, even when I’m expected–I still won’t knock on your door too loudly. I don’t want to announce myself by jolting…

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