I know I promised...

...that last night's post would be cheerier than the one before -- but things got so cheery, I didn't get here at all.  I went to a party, you see. I ate. I drank (after my fashion) -- and I danced -- again, after my fashion, which is to say, badly. I had a great time.

Oh, yes.  I composed an occasion-specific, humorous version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and led the assembled masses (100+ people!) in singing it. There was the usual mumbling at the beginning, but by the time we got to the fifth day, everybody had got into the spirit, and soon there was the bobbing up and down, shouting, and laughter I had hoped for. Holey Moley. I felt like Leonard Bernstein.  ;>)

Christmas seems to be busting out all over Nanaimo. Just a few nights ago, Robin and I went to dinner at the Fox and Hounds, where we enjoyed the beautifully decorated tree but had to shout to converse with each other, because not only was Elvis singing the dreaded Christmas kitsch at full blast, but somebody's child was operating the Christmas-themed music box on the bar, making the snowmen twirl around and sing. (That's what inspired me to photograph the poster at the top of this post.)

I take great comfort from listening to the CBC, hearing the various announcers stating, almost unanimously, that they can't stand  Christmas muzak either, then playing carols sung by the choir of Kings College, Cambridge (MY kind of Christmas music!)

A Solemn Anniversary

It was twenty years ago today that Marc Lepine walked into  a classroom at l’École Polytechnique in Montreal. He separated the male students from the female students, and in the space of forty-five minutes, moving from classroom to classroom, he shot twenty-four women and four men. Then he killed himself. Of the twenty-four women, fourteen died.

(For news coverage of the event, click here.)

During his rampage, Lepine screamed "I hate feminists."

In the years since what has come to be called the Montreal Massacre, debate has flourished -- and continues to flourish -- as to the nature of Lepine's crime.  Was it symptomatic of a pervasive misogyny in Canadian society, or was it the isolated act of a deranged man? Will stricter gun control laws prevent a recurrence? Will relaxation of gun control precipitate more such tragic events?

I remember that day. I remember the feelings of sorrow and fear, anger and despair that overwhelmed me as I watched the news coverage. We Canadians like to think we live in a peaceful country where tragedies like the Montreal Massacre simply do not happen. The anniversaries, when we stop to look back at that day in 1989, are stark reminders that we have no special protection.

I saw a sign recently that read "Peace is not something you ask for; it is something you make."  As I reflect on the events of December 6, 1989, I feel the old fear, the old anger, the old despair again. I'm trying to keep that sign in the front of my mind, because all I can do, all anyone can do, is live my own life as peacefully as I know how.

sympathy for the writer

I had a very stressful day, so I just sat and watched a movie to bring myself down to earth. I watched The Lake House (with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves).   The trouble is, all through the movie I kept thinking about how confusing the story must have been to write. It involves two people corresponding - and falling in love - while they are living two years apart. My mind hurts, and I'm wondering whether I'll ever be able to read a story or watch a movie without analyzing it. (I confess I find the idea of  time travel mind-boggling. However, I still love the movie. I'm just glad I didn't have to write it.)

Earlier today, I was reading my new book about writer's block, and I came to the part about how if you're spending all your time reading about writer's block, you're probably not writing, and maybe you should stop reading and start writing. Duh. It was about that time that I realized that all the books I've read about writing really say the same thing - just write. So I put down the book, pulled out my purse-sized notebook, and wrote for half an hour (at Starbucks) before I went to work.  I could save a lot of time and money by writing JUST SIT DOWN AND WRITE on an index card and pulling it out whenever I get the urge to buy a book about writing. I think I'll do that. I also think I'll pop over to Starbucks again tomorrow morning before work. I seem to do well, writing in coffee houses. There's background noise, but  none of it concerns me, and that allows me to wander off into whatever world I'm trying to inhabit at the time.

Where do you write? At home? In coffee shops? At the library? Do you need silence? Noise? Music?