Archives for posts with tag: love

[An unedited version of this was published at my ridiculous Tumblr earlier today]

Today is October 1. A month ago I essayed a project/challenge called #30posts, wherein I tried to write a blog post a day throughout the month of September. The results were interesting.

As a writer, and a person, I feel pretty happy with it. Writing every day (I actually missed a few days — hey, 27/30 ain’t bad, is it?) made me more attuned to my actual work as a writer, and, moreover, put me more in tune with my life as, well, me.

The internet is an interesting, weird, endless place. My work is one one-trillionth of a percentage point of what’s on there, and so what I put on there isn’t actually important or immense. What I found important, however, was that one month and thousands of views later, I feel closer to a lot of people in my life. Read the rest of this entry »

When I ill-advisedly came up with the idea for #30posts a month ago, I didn’t know how it was going to go. I didn’t know that I was going to get thousands of page views and tons of input. I didn’t know old friends were going to come out of the woodwork and tell me they were enjoying what I’d been doing, and I certainly didn’t expect that it was going to help me feel better.

Thank you to those that tried to take this journey with me. Tim, Anita, Dawn, Sara — regardless of whether we kept up, we tried, and we struggled through.

The virtue is in the striving, and we are all of us virtuous.

Thank you to the dozens/hundreds of friends that turned my links on Facebook into public conversations. Thanks for caring, for liking, for sharing, and for Like-ing, and for Share-ing.

Thank you to the people on Twitter who have shared my stories, and with whom I have had wonderful conversations about the simple and massive things that unite us as people, like love, sickness, and expression.

Thank you to the men and women who inspire me daily to be a better writer, a better artist, and a better man. Thank you for your casual kindnesses, your warmth, your empathy, your love, your drive, and for the way you push and shove and sculpt and construct me.

Thank you to Montréal, and POP Montréal, for the pick-up. Being home brought me back to myself. Being with you brought me back to myself.

This is post #27 in my #30posts challenge.
(I slipped up a bit. I’m sorry.)
Some of the more popular posts in the series include this one on sicknessthis one on love, and these four (1234) on my adventures at POP Montréal

September’s almost over, which means #30posts is almost over. This fills me with two predominant feelings:

  • relief (blogging every day isn’t easy)
  • mild confusion (what do I do now?)

As of October 1, I’ll probably take my foot off the blogging pedal for a bit — but only for a bit. This whole process has been valuable. Getting back in the habit of writing daily has helped my own writing, both the creative stuff I do when no one’s looking as well as the marcom stuff that helps me pay my bills (when I remember to — returned from Montréal to find my cable and my internet cut). Read the rest of this entry »

Last night my pal Frank called me for a chat after midnight, and we got into a discussion. It meandered all over the map; it went backwards and forwards in time. It was conceptual and theoretical and just really, really good.

Along the way, I let something slip. I think I actually prefaced it by saying, “You’re the first person I’ve ever told this…” Read the rest of this entry »

Like I was saying yesterday, there’s a certain power to a coming-of-age narrative. Doesn’t matter if it’s The Catcher in the Rye or The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Everyone was young, everyone remembers how it feels, everyone kind of wishes they could go back and do it again. As isolating, dysfunctional, shaky and generally miserable as my formative and teenage years were, I’d redo them in a heartbeat — and I think you would too. Face it: whatever else they were, those years were exciting and full of discovery. At times they were confusing and isolating, but those things built character. Besides, can you honestly say that you feel less confused and isolated as a grown-up? I know I can’t. Read the rest of this entry »

Saturday I did something I’ve never done before: I rushed a TIFF movie.

The movie: The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

The company: Comely and delightful fellow #30posts essayer Dawn.

The beverages: Lattés.

We waited in the rush line, talked about things, endured some rain, got a glimpse of Johnny Depp driving away, and so on and so forth.

I had never read the book the movie is based on, but by all accounts it’s one of those books, the ones that leave a dent. It was like that for Dawn. It was like that for the people behind us in line. Read the rest of this entry »