new pants!

When I was in grade 4, I really wanted jeans that were dark and light denim colour and my mom let me have a pair. They were not the exact same model that I had envisioned or wanted, but I was as happy or happier with these. My guess is that a friend had a pair of light and dark patchwork denim pants, and I wanted a similar pair.

Mine were composed of panels: one dark and one light from waist to knee, with contrasting panels below the knee, and in the back. The pockets probably contrasted with the back upper panels and possibly the belt loops too. I also had a white, patent leather belt with two rows of metal holes, about 1/4" in diameter, the length of the belt. My sister had a matching navy one (my sister and I often got dressed in similar, but not identical outfits).

Light and dark denim paneled jeans!

a fox

While roaming around at the back of my dad's farm one summer, my sister and I (? I can't remember who I was with) came across a fox sunning itself on a pile of rocks.

happy times, what I had

Wow. This exercise really worked! Almost immediately, after starting to think about happy memories instead of sad ones, I began to feel more grounded, and connected to the world, and other people. It's quite incredible!

I feel as strengthened by it as I do by the experiential anatomy classes I go to: at peace, limber, alive and happy! (Happier!)

Memory for today: ketchup toast! Louise's mom let her and her sister eat ketchup toast, something I had never seen before. I didn't want to eat it, but I was sure glad to see it existed!

Me, myself and I

I remember being out in a field. I don't know why I was out there. The dog was with me, but up ahead. I could see his or her's tail above the blowing grass. I thought "as long as Jesus is with you, you are never alone." It felt good to contemplate that thought, so I did.

Tiny Frogs

I'm at Louise's house in Greely, ON. It's summer and I'm there for a few days over night. There is a big abandoned quarry beside her family's home. It's a bright, sunny day and we find tiny frogs in the quarry, which we put in some kind of container and take home. The frogs are about 1/2 inch long. (They may be toads; I'm eight or nine years old and not a biology detail queen.)

The frogs are great: we've got five or six of them and their tiny size delights us. (Is that a kid thing? Prolly: kids are small in comparison to adults so they are prolly naturally drawn to minatures in other species and objects. And kids' proportions are different than adults. Kids have way bigger heads compared to the rest of their bodies than adults, for one thing, and I bet it's the same for other species.)

Anyway, we have the rad baby frogs in a container; I think it may have been a loaf baking tin.

Unfortunately, later we find our container empty. The boys next door fed them to their crayfish.

Louise

Saturdays, when my uncle Cory came to visit Dad, because he wanted to quit his job at the Royal Mint and become a farmer too, he always brought my cousins with him. Louise, who is about a year younger than me, is probably my favourite non-immediate family person from my childhood. Laughter-filled, fun, up for anything and way less timid than myself, we played barbies and dress ups, and sang and danced. Jesus! There are som many good memories associated with Louise. How could I have forgotten?

Anyways, today I remember "The Robber Dance," a little multi-media, avant garde performance I made up when I was about 10. It involved dress-ups, the old record player and eclectic selection of records left in it, singing, dancing and theatre.

The basic story was one of a guy robbing some peoples' house. We drafted my seven year old brother in for the part of the robber, I believe. At any rate, we played some record from the collection, acted out this skit of some people getting robbed, and put lots of dancing into the story line. I remember this little exercise being quite different than what we usually played, probably because the story was thought out in advance, and it involved a story and a somewhat choreographed dance. I don't think my brother was that thrilled with his part in the thing. Robber Dance!

march 19, 2006

Hello. A few days ago, I hit upon the idea of attacking depression through memories. It seems to me that the programming I'm reading about in books like Think and Grow Rich and The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People is something parenting can (and does) develop in some people: that the principles discussed in these books are so deeply embedded in some peoples' views that they cannot help but be successful, well-adjusted and happy. For those of us without this basic conditioning, another method is needed. Napoleon Hill (Think and Grow Rich) counsels in using auto-suggestion, but as Steve Covey (7 Habits) points out, this can lead to the "Cult of Personality," where the person is doing all the right things, and achieving outward success, yet feels miserable and empty inside. Some deeper way of connecting with the kind of outlook, hope and confidence that makes for a happy, productive life is necessary.

So I'm going to reprogram my memories. I know my formative years weren't all bad so this blog is an attempt to reconnect with happy memories, and establish connections stronger to them than to my sad ones.

Memoires of Some Happy, March 19, 2006:

I am in my mid-twenties, having breakfast, at two or three in the afternoon, at a little greasy spoon in Ottawa. I'm with Brian, my "bad boy" boyfriend who has attempted to address his hygiene and personal grooming habits in order to win my attention. It's worked, I'm very much in love. The woman serving us breakfast disapproves of the way we make out at the table.