The Problem with Past Tense

My dad died in 2006. Death is a strange thing. It’s not like you stop missing someone, but you get used to it. I don’t think you get over it. I think you just learn to accept it. Dad is no longer here. It sucks. it will continue to suck, but it’s the way it is.

Today my mum and I had to re-add me to the safety deposit box because the bank ‘lost’ part of my access. DON’T GET ME STARTED – THIS BANK, MY GOD. IT’S NOT LIKE MY MUM HAS BEEN A CLIENT FOR FORTY YEARS OR SOMETHING. Anyway, we have to review the list of people for the safety deposit box. Guess what? My dad is still on the list. We said, you know, we removed him when he died. He shouldn’t be on the list. You should take him off the list. He’s dead.

The bank dude was like, “UMMMM, I can’t take people off the list without my manager *anxious shifty eyes*.”

We went back and forth for a few minutes, and I finally said, “well leave him on the list, I guess it’s not like he’ll be dropping by to access the box!” My mum laughed and agreed, “Yeah, it’s not like he’ll stop by!” We chuckled, but the young bank teller was visibly uncomfortable.

But, I have a problem with the past tense sometimes. It doesn’t always come up. I’m okay saying “My dad used to own a restaurant” – he sold it before he died. I can also say, ” My dad read Louis l’Amour books.” He did. Or, “My dad tried to garden but never had the time.”

Strangely, I struggle with, “My dad was Greek.”

I know this may seem odd, but it’s like when I say he WAS Greek that he’s no longer Greek or he lost his ‘greekness’ when he died. But he is Greek. He’ll always be Greek. Canadian too! But how else do I say it? He’s “Dead but Still Greek”?

I feel like I need a tense in between past and present.

Death, man. It’s weird even after millions of years of evolution.



Because you can’t have two betta fish

Betta fish are those colorful, swirly, VICIOUS BASTARDS that will fight each other to the death.

Look at that glorious bastard

Look at that glorious bastard

Often as I’m working, I will think about cloning myself [I SWEAR TO GOD I am going somewhere with this – bear with me]- I’m the type of person that likes to be busy, I like to solve problems, I like to help and I hate to tell people I can’t do something. This often means that no matter what I job I do, I end up doing several related tasks that aren’t actually my job, but that I end up being really good at or that no one figured out yet.

But, it makes me CRAZY BUSY sometimes and things get dropped.

So, ergo my cloning thoughts. If I could clone me, problem solved!

But I ended up realizing that if there WERE Two Margarita’s, we’d end up fighting. Like Betta fish – each one wanting to be top dog! Butting our noses against the glass trying to get at one another in a fight to the DEATH.

Or rather, each one wanting to sleep in and snuggle the puppies while the other schlepp went off to work. [No, you’re going in today. I’m staying home. NO, YOU’RE GOING IN TODAY.]

And then we’d both feel guilty and end up both going in and resent one another while each believing it’s the other one’s turn to make coffee and who is also responsible for not putting the good eye shadow brush back in the right spot.

Plus, I’d be really uncomfortable around other!Me. She would know all my secrets. And she’d be as secretly mean as I am.

So, I guess it’s best that Margarita’s are like Betta Fish – better in singles than in pairs.



The Importance of Being Miss Piggy

Miss Piggy is my hero.

I feel like I need more of her in my life. Here’s a role model who knows what she wants, isn’t afraid to go get it, and won’t let anyone stand in her way. and she does it all by looking fabulous. Look at her!


She’s always well-dressed – looking her finest, BECAUSE SHE DESERVES NO LESS


She doesn’t take crap from ANYONE. she KARATE CHOPS those that dare to fight her.

Miss Piggy 1

She’s not afraid to try new looks or wear different things.


I feel like, as a woman, I should try to be more like Miss Piggy. She just… gets shit done. My only complaint is that she pined for Kermit for so long. DUDE CLEARLY HAD COMMITMENT ISSUES, PIGGY. If he wasn’t ready to own up to how fabulous you are/were, you should have dropped his green little ass and moved on.

Sure, they got married in the end, but she put up with a lot of shit from him. He was kind of wishy washy for a long time about her.

But other than that, Miss Piggy is totally my hero and I want to be more like her.


I’m doing this because why?

Ash and I spend a lot of time talking about writing. We spend more time talking about writing than we spend writing. Are writers by nature narcissistic?
We definately appear to be self proclaimed martyrs. All the writers I know talk about how hard it is, how they have to make themselves sit down and do it, how most days it’s like blood from a stone.
But, we keep doing it. I feel like I get a payoff from it, but I’m not quite sure what it is. I’m like a junkie except I rarely get the high and often bitch and moan my way through one paragraph after another.

But there is something to be said for how exciting it is when a story finally comes together. Now if only I could finish the book!