I’m very far from my new tires, my work, my home. On yet another cold day. My father came out to meet me after he went to purchase the tire he was going to purchase in the afternoon.
With an hour or more to spare, sitting at the side of the road near the airport, there was nothing to do. I was too far from a parking lot, coffee shop or warm place. I’m living in my car for the afternoon.
The phone calls I’d been meaning to make – I made them. The things I meant to check up on – done.
My car is now much cleaner. I also discovered that had I truly been stranded, there was a few pieces of frozen-by-the-Canadian-winter bread under my seat.

Book Trailer: The Power from MovingStories.TV on Vimeo.

Directed by: Irene Duma
Voice Over: Diana Galligan

It was a great honour to be a woman who had lived in slavery, and had found pride and strength in the power she had.
All the training I ever had was only teaching me to reveal the human heart – now I saw that. I could feel her world flowing through me – I had no concern about doing a good job or sounding okay.

It wasn’t about “doing it right” it was about letting it flow – allowing the pride and sadness and life to flow through me. I was merely the instrument of the story. Nothing more and nothing less.

The narration was recorded for Book Shorts produced by Judith Keenan, directed by Irene Duma. The book is called “The Power: A Novel of Voodoo” by James Duggin.

book trailers

book trailer production

Now I face the responsibility of owning a dog with my boyfriend. A little puppy, no less. An adorable little puppy that we are going to call Maggie. She’s in Ottawa right now and we’re going to drive up to get her and visit friends.
It’s terrifying. I feel like a parent about to have a baby -  I’m not sure I can live up to it. What if I forget to feed the dog, or leave her in a hot car…
I’m excited. I’m scared. Maggie will probably melt my heart when she looks at me. That will be after she chews up all my possessions.

Bring on the new world. The new life. I step fearfully into the future.

Sometimes I don’t call. I meant to but I got so caught up in all the new people I had one hour stands that I forgot about you. Or you were farther away than I wanted to be. Sometimes there just wasn’t the free flowing air that I needed.
Then again, sometimes I do call but you’ve found someone else. They came in and knew right away that you were the one. You had a need to fill and you filled it.

Once in a while, we both click. I like you and the place. You like me. My cheque clears.
Short lived encounters…in anticipation of new beginnings.

…is best done with boxes from the liquor store.

…is a great workout.

…is a gauge of where you are at in life.

…is a new beginning.

My boyfriend and I are now moving in together and decided to live in a neighbourhood that neither of us have lived in. Which eliminated most of downtown. That and we want to save money – which means as creative people, we’re kinda edged out of downtown for a while.
So we’re moving to Toronto’s east end – across the “psychological barrier of downtown” as my friend Andy puts it. The Bloor Viaduct in Toronto seems to be the outskirts of “downtown” proper that always separated the downtown cool from the east end cool.

This choice seemed monumental – like when I was a teenager trying to decide whether to be a hippie or a punk. Talking to both groups and trying to figure out which was cooler. A ridiculous quest really – since cool is relative. But, it was a choice to make. A direction to go. A fork in the road of life. I chose punk, by the way, which lead me downtown in the first place. To the cool clubs, bands and underground hangouts. Passing by and through a lot of different people.

And now I’m moving out of the last hip place into a new place. Sure, it’s still in Toronto. In a cool neighbourhood. It’s just that it’s a smidge off what I consider cool.

Chrysallis.

From one location, from friends, neighbourhoods, rituals to another. Favourite haunts, the best places to buy falafel, chinese food, vietnamese sandwiches, health food, cheese, coffee. From the sound of garbage trucks at 12:02 pm to what? Maybe it’s because I haven’t found a place yet. Or I can’t figure out where I was supposed to be at this point in my life.

I have a nagging feeling that while things are supposed to get better with a move, they could get worse. Maybe there will be a little dog that barks all day. Or a drunken neighbour that spits on me when he talks and smokes cigarettes.
Or no view. At all. Right now, I have the best view of the city from my window. I love it. I sit on the couch and watch it for hours.

What if all I see is brick, a garbage can or people’s feet like on Laverne and Shirley. They had it okay. They had each other.

Right now, the future is uncertain.

I’m moving. That in itself is a victory. I have lived in my apartment for many years. It’s cheap and in a great neighbourhood. That’s been my badge of honour. Mostly the cheap part. Cool, hip, in-the-know.
Ok, it has inconsistent heat in the winter. And mice in the walls. Did I mention the pigeons in the ceiling – very “The Crow”. I can sit on the couch and watch the world go by. Literally. I look out over Spadina Ave. – a busy street for shopping and restaurants, and late night, post party Chinese food.

Maybe it’s time for a new badge of honour. The ride of cool is finished. Do I really need to get on again?

When I’m in rehearsal, I’m at peace because there’s no place that I’d rather be.

And watching my troupe – the Chemists – at the start of a scene and see it grow into something magically funny. We had the fortune of having a great teacher/director – Sandy Jobin-Beavens.

I got to do a monologue where I was a waitress with a southern accent. The accent was the easiest part – finding the timing, playing with the words…and it’s just a memory. A beautiful moment in time.