W101.4 – Time to Say Goodbye


I had a hard time with this writing topic. First off it seems a bit ill-timed to see the subject being “The Serial Killer” with everything that’s going on in Moncton, NB right now.  Secondly, I’m not someone who has experienced a lot of ‘loss’  For two reasons (I’m seeing a pattern…)  The first being that I’ve been fortunate enough to not have experienced a lot of loss in general.  I could go through the women I’ve had and lost and how that’s changed me, I could go through the friends that have come and gone, the material goods I once coveted, the child that never was.  I could go on a dark tirade about the ‘have nots’ and why I should still have them or whatever perspective I wanted to take on the topic but there’s just not any value, to me, in that type of discussion.

The second being that I discovered my spiritual centre in Shamanism some years back when I re-connected with my father and I was taught about how to deal with loss and that you can accept that not everything is in your life forever and that if you lose something, the best way to deal with loss is to accept that someone else  might have needed it more than you.  I was given the example of a cat.  Say your cat ran away, heart wrenching right? You can choose to believe that your cat is out there, scared, alone, in trouble… and pine over that for however long, but there’s also a flip side to that reality that maybe your cat knew someone needed them more.  Like that old lady down the street who just lost her husband and now she has no one so your cat shows up on her door step to be loved and cared for in a manner that you may have taken for granted as their owner.

It was a very interesting discussion and other examples came up like being robbed.  If someone is that desperate to come and try and steal your money, it’s better to believe that they need that money more than you do, because who would go to such ends to get money, unless it was an incredible situation.

To some it might sound a bit… naive, rose-coloured even.  But it’s about perspective, and I’ve always said “Perspective can change your life depending on how you look at it”

Anyway, enjoy the story.


Time to Say Goodbye


“I want you to know”  I said, placing my hands on the warm banister and turning my face to bask in the radiance of the summer sun “That I’ll really miss you”

I gazed over the balcony of my 10th floor apartment, not wanting to look back inside at the hardwood floors or the rays of light bursting through the bay window that framed the university off in the distance.  Even with the sun heating my apartment to a balmy 35 degrees it still seemed cold.  Instead I inhaled the fresh air that came with the benefit of the nearby park.  The lush trees puffed up like emerald green cotton balls.  Ripe with nurture from the spring rain and summer sun,  bundled together in a series of lines through out, giving the sense of nature having sectioned off a series of areas for people to rest, relax, or play.

“You don’t need to say anything, I understand that you have to go” I rambled.  I didn’t want to listen to what anyone else had to say about the topic.  I just needed to get it off my chest how important you were to me.  I knew you’d be back eventually but that didn’t mean I was ready for you to go.   “I get what they meant when they told me it was seasonal, you were a big part of the best 4 months of the year.  You made me smile, laugh, and gave me memories that I’ll tell my children about one day”

My throat tightened and a ball formed in my chest, like a vice grip on my heart.  I wasn’t sure if I could choke out another word without shedding a tear.  Even the castle-like university on the horizon couldn’t distract me enough to put my emotions aside.  Despite the vaulted peak of the clock tower that looked like it was reaching up to shake the god’s hand, despite the battlement stonework of building that held our national flag.  It just wasn’t enough beauty to compare to yours.

So I chose to reminisce.  It was all I could do was to remember the good times.

“remember…” I took a deep breath and smiled my most genuine smile while basking in your radiance “Remember that time I was at the bar with all my friends, I must have been there since noon until dusk when you signaled it was time to go, but you burned me so good!  It was terrible but we laughed so hard about it the next day at my cherry red skin”

The memories came at me like the dam broke on emotions that I had been holding back, denying, for so long.   I had so much fun that I didn’t want to believe you’d leave.  I wanted to stop time and just enjoy an eternity together in this moment.  I wanted to invite everyone over for one big going away party because we always had the most fun when everyone was together.

“Or-or-or” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, embarrassed that I cared this much over something so fleeting but you hung around, in silence, so I figured you wanted to hear what I had to say.  Right?  Of course.  “that time, at the park right down there.  That park where I take ChuckChuck to play fetch.  It was down there that we were all playing together, eventually we had a picnic and some other dog came up and stole the ham sandwich right out of my hand! I couldn’t believe it but that’s how we met our best friend and now we all go to the park together… Well… We did… but…”

I didn’t want to say it.  I didn’t want to admit to myself that my life was going to change without you around.

“but…” I couldn’t say the words.  You started to look like you were fading as the sky started to take on a darker hue “I understand, it’s getting late and you have to go”  The chill of the approaching evening grased my back softly, offering it’s support but it just wasn’t the same as the energy you gave me.

“One more thing!” A burst of courage exploded as I reached for you with all my might, my hand stretching toward the setting sun

“I’ll miss you, summer”


Thank you for reading my installment of Day 4 – Writing 101


p.s. Credit goes to a rando-blog that I stumbled upon earlier who has a dog named “ChuckChuck”  I’m not allowed to own a dog because I work too much and it wouldn’t be fair so I’m going to live vicariously though them and their dog owner stories.


W101.3 – The Meaning to Life, in 3 songs.

So today’s homework for Writing 101 is another free write but this one is about 3 songs that are important to us.  There’s a funny thing about this as I’ve just recently started to re-listen to songs from my youth that really got me through some hard times in my twenties.

First off, getting in touch with my argueably emo side I present to you Ill Scarlet’s “Nothing Special”

I could go through it lyric by lyric and word by word dissecting everything an what it meant to me and why but to sum it all up it’s been debated that I’m that idiot savant, border-line genius that could achieve anything if he just wanted to be what everyone else wanted him to be.  No matter who I encounter I try to inspire and build up something in them so that they know they can become what they want to be all the while I don’t want to be anything special.  All I want to be is me and when people tell me that the me I need to be is the me they can see… I don’t believe it.  Who would know Me better than me?  When I first heard this song, this album, it didn’t leave my ipod for years afterwards until I gave the ipod to a friend who broke his and I just didn’t need it anymore.  I think it was his birthday or something like that.  That friend is now my Chef and still a very important person in my life.

Song #2?  You wanted uncensored free writing where I’m not afraid to be naked well, baby, you got it.

Although these artists are close to my heart and the hearts of many who know of them, that could be said for the whole “Rhymesayers” label.  A pack of passionate hip-hop artists who know how to masterfully bind together words that make you, any of you, completely fall victim to the story behind every song.  Too often when I hear music on the radio I find a complete lack of ability to relate to the artist… On some level that’s a good thing.  I don’t really want to relate to Nickleback or… I don’t even know what’s popular… Taylor Swift?  Who can relate to a bunch of rich kids that straddle to border between over privileged and psychotic.

But I’m getting away from the point here.  My #2 song, and #1 artist;  Atmosphere and their (in)famous song “Fuck you Lucy” Off their Album “God Loves Ugly”

At first I wasn’t sure if this wasn’t the song I wanted to put up for #2.  But the emotions that pour though me when I hear the song tells me I picked the right one.  “Lucy” (it’s rumoured) is a joke name (I know there’s a better word for that – Soliloquy?) for Lucifer, the devil that resides in all women… Hey, I know it’s dramatic but I was 20 and known for finding the craziest girl on the block and falling madly in love with her.  Now between leaving the nest and a very chaotic trip through my 20’s involving lust, love, drugs and darts, I was a very angry person.  My headphones were my bubble and Atmosphere was my shell.  When I listened to their music it was like “Oh, this guy gets it.  This music talks to me” but it didn’t just talk to me, it changed my life.  It gave me an outlet, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world and probably controlled the worst of my depression.  Where some people cut, drank, or turned to whatever other vice they had, I put on Atmosphere and worked out.  I never liked self harm.  If you want to feel pain, work out.  You’ll feel pain for days.  Not exactly the healthiest perspective but far more productive than running a blade across my wrist or anywhere else.

I remember the first time I heard one of their albums.  I don’t remember which one it was because it was my roomate at the time who put it on.  Alright flash back.  I turned 20 and moved in with my ‘best friends.’  After a year of living with them I realized they were the furthest thing from friends than a man could ask for.  That depreciating type of super-nerd that knew more about anything and everything that you could possibly hope to know.  Or that was my perspective at the time.  For the more spiritual ones reading this, they were the poison in my pool of life.  So my brother dropped me a line, knowing that I was back in the City, free from the nest he and his buddy needed a roomie.

I couldn’t have jumped on it any faster.  This was really the beginning of my ‘corruption’ as some might call it.  I lived a very pure, virigin, life.  Playing it safe was the key to my existence.

Flash forward.  I’m down in the basement, chilling in a chair and the other roomie offers me a smoke and puts on some music.  Tells me this is the best music I’ll ever here.  I’m 20.  Impressionable, and this guy has tattoo’s.  Second in cool only to my brother.  And he puts on Atmosphere.  The world erupts in epiphanies like a wide eyed deer staring into the headlights of the life he tried to ignore, despite that it was rushing toward him.

This type of passion toward Atmosphere is pretty common among their fans.  They mention it from time to time in many of their songs.

Song 3…  Oh man I don’t even know.

When I looked at this subject I was at a complete loss, thinking “there’s so many songs! How will I choose!?”  I’ve been writing for about a half hour so far, not including searching youtube for the right link.  The first two songs Jumped out before I even had time to think about the songs or what they meant to me.  I just knew.  But for #3?  This is the last one, there’s no turning back from picking this song out.

Even after flipping through 45 000 tracks that I have on my computer (By artist) I still can’t think of any song that was even close to as significant as the first two so I’m going to leave everyone with something a little lighter and just a song that I really like.

Song # 3 – The Stand by “Mother Mother” off their album Eureka.  A good ole Canadian Indie band from Vancouver BC.

I just think they’re neat 🙂

Thank you for reading,


W101.1 – So… Just Write?

So I’m taking part in this new thing… well.. newer than this new thing.  This blog is new, but the newest of the new things is the new Writing 101 that’s going on in the daily prompt.   In an odd sense of belonging and coincidental signage, the theme of the first project is “Just write”  20 minutes of free writing to be put up on the blog.  Which at first seems like a cop-out but that’s only to me.  Who am I to argue with the teacher.  I am the student (Ohm… No that’s not an acronym)

I think my biggest struggle with this being the first lesson is that I’ve been free-style writing for 10 years on my public journal that I keep over on Digital Expressions and have been keeping for the past 10 years.  Not 10 years straight mind you.  There was times where access to a computer or time, more accurately, was limited.  So where I look at free writing or when I hear those two words combined the first thing that comes to mind is a simple narration.  Something that is my forte to say the least.  I could narrate a frog crossing the road and make it sound interesting… but I feel like that’s been done so I won’t go there.

Blogging in it’s whole is something of a bandwagon that I was on before it was a thing but at the same time it was very much a different outlet for me than it has become today.  Today people blog not only to get their voice out there but to get their voice out there on a very particular topic that is almost sanitized in the professionalism of it.  I’m not trying to paint with a wide brush here (Although I realize I do that a lot) but the blogs that are ‘out there’ the most are the ones where people are almost ‘safe’ with what they’re writing about.  Something that appeals to the masses and hell, why not? That’s how you get out there right?  So the point I’m really trying to make is that I’m not trying to crucify those who write opinions professionally, it’s just not something I “get.”

For me, writing has always been a very personal outlet, where I could express my queer thoughts and odd nature without the risk of being judged.  Even in  my darkest moment where I wrote something akin to psychobabble without punctuation or paragraphs but rambled for paaages, people still managed to comment either agreeing or giving me moral support for having the gall to ‘get it all out there’ because, in my belief, what causes people to go off the handle is that lack of outlet.  If you have no one to talk to or no where to put your thoughts, your mind will be poisoned.

10 mins left AHHHH The pressure!

Writing pressure.  The one pressure that drives me round (Right round baby, like a record baby, right round round round…. Sorry.) As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m a kitchen manager.  I deal with Students of a Post Secondary level that are looking for a job to supply them with beer money, or rent… but most likely beer money.  So it goes without saying that pressure is nothing new to me and nothing I can’t handle… Except relationship fight pressure.  That stuff is THE WORST.  Amirite?


The pressure I get from writing is all self inflicted and I feel that’s the worst pressure of all you can put on yourself.  When you put pressure on yourself you’re like a nail that’s holding the hammer.  You can pound as much as you want but you’re a) Doing it to yourself and B) you’re only impacting yourself into something that you can’t get yourself out of.  I feel like there’s more analogy talk in there but I’m going to skip over the rest of it because it’s starting to hurt my head (And all I can picture is a Cartoon nail with a hammer above it’s head clenching like ‘this is gonna suck!”)

As I come up on the last 5 minutes of ‘just write’  I ask any new readers who are about to come by here, but how do you deal with writing pressure?… that took me way less than 5 minutes to type…


Thanks for Reading,


Passed, Future’s Past

In a certain unexpected irony, I’m going to write about the past-tense daily prompt about past-tense thoughts of the future-tense…  I’m not really sure if that’s irony really, or just a little bit silly.


The question posted was “As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? How close or far are you from that vision?” Which is a great question because most of us had some grand scheme, at 8 years old, of what we wanted to be when we were a grown up… like 20 years old! It’s amusing when I look back on my youth and how incredibly short sighted I was (and still am on some level.)  I never saw myself as a grandpa let alone a father.  I never thought of myself as a career man let alone a manager.

When I was but a wee lad, I remember fondly that one of class assignments was the very subject I’m writing on now, but I was a kid.  I never thought I’d make it past 25.  Now I’m 30 and I still don’t know what the hell I want to be when I grow up.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Go back to public school, little Zacharay Edwards is sitting there in class, glasses so big they practically rested on the top of his cheeks more so than his nose.  Everyone was off talking and socializing about their great plan on how they were gonna become a go-kart racer, or a veterinarian, or a doctor, teacher.  All these great careers that we saw our elders with and were taught that everything was cool if you knew someone who had that career.  You never thought about what your parents were complaining about at the table about how Jenny “doesn’t do anything but complain” and your mom ends up picking up all the slack and “oh my god could you believe that Frank just took stress leave?  What stress he doesn’t do anything!”

These are the things we’re never taught about in school.  There’s no Real World 101 (Which, I personally think, the world would be a better place if there was such a course.) But, man, there’s plenty of tests to tell you what you should think or what you should do.  I went through a battery of them as being one of the first of what I like to call the ‘Ritalin Generations” where if you didn’t fit in you were medicated until no one noticed that you didn’t fit in anymore… I say that but then I look back on how disjointed and off topic this entry is and think “Maybe, just maybe, on some fractured level, they might have been onto something”

So what was I thinking in class? (See, I told you, you’d get used to this)

I was the only kid thinking “Oh god I don’t know… I just want to… I don’t know” I had no clue, I was 8.  I never thought about this.  I didn’t have anyone in my life who was particularly inspiring to me other than my big brother, and he was the definition of Gen X.  Man I looked up to him like he was the coolest kid I ever met, I was so lucky to have this bad-ass as my brother.  He never laughed when everyone else did, but he still managed to make everyone else laugh.  He never wanted to do anything that the man told him to do.  He was always against the grain and living free.  “Just let it ride” he’d always say to me.   But to have your inspiration be in someone who’s the polar opposite of you leads to a little bit of… internal chaos.  I constantly tried to live up to my brothers ‘whatever’ attitude and that wasn’t me.  My brother was never picked on like I was because he was too cool to be picked on.

When he was 16 he decided to move out and go live with friends.  The months prior to his departure were laden with vials of oil, strange girls and reckless behavior.  Nothing I understood then at 12 but the one thing I did understand was that he was still so cool.  I didn’t know what drugs were, what parties he went to or anything like that.  I just knew that he was what inspired me to let it ride.   Shortly after he moved out he got a job at a chain-restaurant and later told me that the job ‘saved his life’ the boss there took him under his wing and really looked out for him, got him off the street and kept him busy with working in a kitchen.

So COOL! I thought, as a kid.

Shipped off to highschool when my single father decided it was my single mother’s turn to raise me (A damn smart choice on his part, despite what I thought then.) At this point I lost contact with my brother.  I knew he was the wild child and on a downhill spiral of the debauchery that came with Kitchen work in the early 90’s but I knew nothing more than that.  Keep in mind this is before everyone had an e-mail let alone facebook.  Every now and then I tried cooking, I couldn’t scramble eggs and I had a temper that would make a 2 year-old look calm.

Only when I was a 19 y/o college drop out did I get a job to get my ‘foot in the door’ as a dishwasher at a casino restaurant with hopes of moving up into one of those jobs where people dish out jack-pots and get $1000 tips.  A year later one of the cooks called in and they needed a prep guy so I was the most capable dishwasher and they moved me up.

So lets wrap this all together in the beautiful way that an eerily coincidental universe could.

What did I want to be when I grew up?  My Brother.

What do I do now? After that faithful day I was moved into kitchen prep I spent the next 10 years honing my skills to become someone who manages a kitchen, where I eventually hired my brother so we could work together to create, inspire, and feed the future.


Thank you for reading,