r.i.p. old friend

a friend of mine passed away a week ago today. he was a 29 year old daredevil who pushed every boundary and filled every second. i hadn't spoken to josh in four years. i communicated with him solely by posting comments on the most outrageous facebook photos he posted. still, when i heard his body had been found after almost two whole days of searching, i was wracked with grief and sobbed in grotesque fishy gasps. this is because of who josh was.

i first met him when i was twelve years old and in junior high. josh was nine and already skateboarding with the "cool" kids in my grade. "cool" has eluded me my entire life, so this nine year old who had such a solid handle on it was quite impressive. josh was polite, sweet and shy. (shy is something he would grow out of relatively quickly, but the other two qualities stuck around for his lifetime.) everywhere i went in my youth, josh was there. that's something that happens in small towns. the crowds are always the same. i was priviledged to snowboard with him more times than i can ever count. the kid was fearless. after highschool, i started dating one of josh's best friends. for the next eight years, josh was around even when i didn't want him to be.

i've been to seven memorial services in my life. they are always sad and always make me examine my own mortality. i left josh's with purpose. i've never seen so many faces at a funeral. i don't know how many people are meant to fit into the brilliant cultural centre, but those on the main floor and in the balcony were packed like sardines. every door was left open so that people could spill out onto the lawn. josh's eldest brother spoke eloquently and bravely. his fiancee was a lioness (aptly labelled by a friend) who greeted everyone with grace and courage.

josh had an uncanny ability to make everyone feel as though they were his best friend. he certainly made me feel that way. i'm sure every single person at the service would say the same. another friend of mine, allison, posted something on his facebook page that resonates with me. she spoke about the number of people at the service who loved him, but more incredibly, the number of people there that he loved. she said that it was "inspiring to know how much love your heart was capable of holding." and that's the truly astonishing thing. this twenty-nine year old pro-skateboarder who travelled the world doing what he loved, opened his arms to everyone he came across. he had no delusions of greatness. he was spiritual, humble, and kind to a fault. he lived fully in the present moment, and never allowed heartache to damage him.

and it's that purpose that has haunted me since i drove away from my old town. i want to fill every moment with living. i want to appreciate what i have. i want to risk my significance and open my heart to everyone i come across. i want to be less judgemental and less afraid. i'm proud that i knew josh. i feel like it was such a gift.

i don't know what my purpose is in posting this here. i think i'm just in awe that a person can make a difference in this world just by LOVING. (josh made all the difference in the world for countless disenfranchised kids.) i think that's so inspiring. i think it's a lesson. thank-you josh.

(photos: josh and tia. josh being josh.)

so sometimes i'm a maniac. who isn't?

today i got angry. so angry that i was shaking, which is really quite rare for me. i have to feel extremely disrespected to lash out. (and boy, did i lash.) funny thing is, i feel no remorse for losing my temper. i try to err on the side of kindness at every turn, but i am not a doormat. i dare anyone to treat me like one. i can go from zero to psycho in half a breath. a woman told me today that she couldn't wait to tell everyone she knew what a terrible business i have. (another first to catalogue.) i replied "please do. god forbid i ever have to see you or anyone else like you in my store again." too far?

things seem to break-even for me. shortly after my field trip to the dark-side i got a call from a director i looove. he asked me to read for a part. his notes on the character i'm reading for are as follows:

"she has such a big heart. even when she's hurting, she can't be mean-minded. she never loses hope. i think in the audition you should just play yourself as honestly as you're able to."

what kind, uplifting words. so i'm not perfect. and maybe everyone doesn't love me and my little shop of horrors. i got over pleasing everyone in grade eight. no love for you, shrew.

so che questo:

or rather, i think that laughter is the most important thing. at least as important as oxygen, water, or bees.

and this delighted me:

"Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn't the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.I sent the music to the photographer, Paulo Pinto, who I Googled on the internet. He told his editor, who told a reporter and the story ended up as an interview in the very same newspaper.Here I've posted a short video made with the photo and the music."

Jarbas Agnelli

alligator pie

well i was late for my own “grand opening” soiree, which is pretty typical. i could argue that i was FASHIONABLY late, and considering that i curled my hair for the occasion i think i can sell that as truth. overall the whole shebang was a smashing success. (quite literally since i ended up smashed and singing in my bff’s passenger seat. i can vouch for very successful drinking if nothing else.)

{*sidenote* just kidding dad.}

i feel utterly consumed with the store right now. the newness of it all inspires me. it’s a clean slate. i’ve said before that I like beginnings. they are pie-crusts that i can fill to bursting with the fruits of my imagination. i’m painting things. i’m building things. unfortunately the aftermath of inspiration has created a shanty-town in my living room. i’ve got stacks of empty picture frames fencing in glue-guns. (yes, plural. one gun is never enough. ask the NRA.) flattened silverware has booby-trapped the path to my bedroom. piles of tulle look like cotton-candy corpses. it’s a war zone and i’m sprawled in the middle of it wielding plastic scissors. i’m not really sure what I’m making at this point but I’m pretty sure I LOVE IT!!!

but there's another side to this frenetic energy that terrifies me. i worry that i will become nothing without it. if i stop moving i will cease to exist. (which is not a new thought for me.)there is a passage by yan martel (author: life of pi) that i stumbled across years ago in the globe and mail. i like it.

"I got to thinking about stillness. To read a book, one must be still. To watch a concert, a play, a movie, to look at a painting, one must be still. Religion, too, makes use of stillness, notably with prayer and meditation. Just gazing upon a quiet lake, upon a quiet winter scene - doesn't that lull us into contemplation? Life, it seems, favours moments of stillness to appear on the edges of our perception and whisper to us, 'Here I am. What do you think?'
Then we become busy and the stillness vanishes, yet we hardly notice, because we fall so easily for the delusion of busyness, whereby what keeps us busy must be important, and the busier we are with it, the more important it must be. And so we work, work, work, rush, rush, rush. On occasion, we say to ourselves, panting, 'Gosh, life is racing by.' But that's not it at all, it's the contrary: Life is still. It is we who are racing by."

so within the midst of this chaos i'm looking for moments of calm. i'm trying to breathe. i'm trying to believe that i am more than kinetic energy. i'm slowly learning that the world will allow me my allotted space whether i chase after every moment screaming or sit in silence and watch it swim by. who knows: it might even be safe to sleep. (mon dieu!)