the_vulture: (tvhead)
a romantic asexual

"When are you going to get married?"

asked the unintentionally cruel aunt
like she does every time she visits
too occasionally to explain
the lonely sorrow that is being
a romantic asexual

"When are you going to get married?"

the answer is always an awkward mutter
those who truly know me never ask
it's an unvoiced understanding
they know about, but never speak of
a romantic asexual

"When are you going to get married?"

the words cut a savage reminder
of all the things I'll never have
a wife, kids, the love that comes with them
all lost to me, as no one wants
a romantic asexual

"When are you going to get married?"

a prison sentence pronounced as a question
invisible bars of loneliness between me
and the joy I see everyone else share
half a life of heartache, and half a life to go, as
a romantic asexual
the_vulture: (Default)
I managed to regain a bit of my holiday spirit with the help of a little retail therapy:

the_vulture: (Default)
There's a whole host of things that need to be done and societal issues that need to be addressed in order to reduce bullying. One I'd like to mention today is ensuring young children are able to empathize with others. Ideally, this should come from the parents, encouraging their children to try and imagine what another child or person may feel like. However, as, sadly, all parents are not made equal, it must fall to education systems to achieve this task. I'm not familiar with early primary education curriculum, though I suspect there may already be some work in this direction, but I think that learning empathy really needs to be more strongly emphasized.

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In anticipation of [info]ysabetwordsmith 's Poetry Fishbowl concerning alternative sexuality and gender studies, I've written a poem describing one of the key challenges I face as a romantic (and very much touch starved) asexual.

(Yes, I was listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen whilst writing this.)

Because I do not touch that way

Not for me are the sweaty grapplings, concealed in the dark.
I kiss, I touch, with deep embrace, but never reach that mark.
The lesson was so hard to learn, so many hearts did fall,
that, as I do not touch that way, I cannot touch at all.

Kinsey’s X is what I am, and, of us, there should be more,
many with such sexless yearnings that I could so adore.
Yet here I am with none to hold, none near that I recall,
and, since I do not touch that way, I cannot touch at all.

The nearest heart to call my own, a thousand miles away.
With but voices we caress and with only letters play.
But what will become of us, when lonely nights come to call?
For, as we do not touch that way, we cannot touch at all.

There should be more hope and I should have some reason for cheer,
as the call is now raised loud for all the Xs to hear.
Yet, at night with no one to hold, I dread what may befall,
because I do not touch that way, I’ll never touch at all.
the_vulture: (Default)

... it is good to see that there are still average, everyday people who WILL take a stand against injustice:




Apr. 8th, 2011 10:01 am
the_vulture: (tvhead)
Based on the poem "Where They're Coming From", written by [ profile] ysabetwordsmith  during her most recent Poetry Fishbowl (with the theme of "Mad Scientists"), a discussion arose concerning what might happen if a victim of bullying somehow acquired the power to stop his or her torment (I'd recommend reading the poem and the resultant conversations). During one of the discussions, I was reminded of a web comic project I had done a number of years ago (before I was even fully aware of what a web comic was). The original project was presented as a very simple website with a single panel displayed at a time, looping continuously (so it's just as endless as bullying seems to be). I present here in more of a traditional web comic form: 

(Trigger warning: bullying)

The rest of the comic... )
the_vulture: (Default)
Proudly displaying some of my favourite moments of Canadianity:

First, the CLASSIC Molson Canadian commercial:

Second, a commercial broadcast during the 2010 Winter Olympics (TEAM  C A N A D A  ROCKS!!!) that really stirred me (and still does):

And, finally, 'O Canada', the Canadian National Anthem, as sung by several thousand hockey fans because no singular musical artist can really compare:

It took living in a foreign land for a number of years
, to be apart from everything Canadian, for me to really understand what 'home' meant to me. In all its diversity and its vast distances, with all that it shares with the rest of the world, there is still something beyond description, but immensely powerful, that unites all of us who live here, that makes us CANADIAN. It is something you will find nowhere else on this planet.

This is the nation of my birth. This is the country of a thousand journeys. This is the land where my dreams take shape and soar. This is where my spirit calls home. This is the best place on earth and its name is
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Waiting for me at the bottom of the large box of comics I've collected through the years of my youth is a set of prints of the character sketches Frank Frazetta drew for the production of the animated film 'Fire and Ice.' I think that film really exemplified the worlds that Frazetta illustrated, these incredibly primal, violent, savage, yet beautiful and, ultimately, mythic realms, populated by epic characters of our era's making: Conan, Kull, Tarzan, John Carter of Mars, and many, many others. These are the 'Beowulfs' that I grew up with and nothing breathed more life and power into them than the artwork of Frazetta.

You will be missed, Frank.
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It might be considered ironic that, whilst a number of folk have suggested a period of isolation to help me find my path, it was actually through many conversations, here and elsewhere, that I found my way. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me: by nature, I'm pretty damn introspective, so if I'm getting lost looking in, clearly the logical path would be to get some outside opinions... and that worked.

The end result is that, for now, I'll be focussing on deepening my connection to Irish Maritime culture. In my discussions, my grandfather's fiddle was brought up numerous times. It has become quite clear to me that, for me to really begin feeling connected to the traditions of my forefathers, I need to learn how to play a fiddle, too. And I shall!

I've hit one stumbling block already, though. Music lessons are frackin' EXPENSIVE! How expensive, you ask? I'm currently looking between $15 and $25 per HALF hour.  *eyes goggle in astonishment*  

Naturally, this means I need to learn as much as I can outside of these lessons. Fortunately, there IS a number of things I can study by myself first. I even already have the instrument and learning material for it. My year-and-a-day challenge, as my first step towards learning the fiddle, is to learn how read music and learn to play the penny whistle sufficiently to perform one of my favourite Maritime songs Farewell To Nova Scotia.

Here is one of my favourite renditions, as performed by The Irish Rovers, (though one of my uncles plays an astounding instrumental version on the mandolin, complete with complex embelishments):

My thanks to all who offered me their ear and their wisdom. 
the_vulture: (Default)
As my fortieth birthday approaches (currently with the speed of a freight train), I've been strongly contemplating reaffirming my committment to spiritual growth through some form of ordeal or challenge. From what I've seen challenges and ordeals, they are often utilized for a number of purposes, such as a rite of passage, a confirmation of faith, and altering one's state of consciousness, sometimes even all three at once. An ordeal, as the name implies, involves an extremely challenging trial that often features enduring pain, deprivation, physical exertion, psychological challenge, or combinations thereof. Often, the ordeal also involves extreme risk.

The rest beneath the cut. But please read 'cause I kinda need help with this. )
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It would be nice if the Arrogant Worms came back to revise their classic song to reference OUR 2010 OLYMPIC GOLD WINS FOR BOTH MEN AND WOMEN. Yes, we have once again reaffirmed that we are, as a certain Molson ad puts it, 'the 1st nation of HOCKEY!' Yep, even I'm feeling the National Pride thing right now. I couldn't catch the men's game live, due to my current schedule, but from what I've seen of the game clips, it was one helluva match, a true Clash of the Titans that'll go down as one of the greatest in the history of Canadian sport.

Oh yeah, we also broke the record for most gold medals achieved in the Winter Olympics!


I feel...

Aug. 4th, 2009 11:19 pm
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I just recently finished my first Aikido class in many years and it was GREAT!!! After several weeks of being on my ass because of my back, it was so great to hit the mats. I feel like a GOD!

 The instructor is fabulous, my classmates were very welcoming, and the dojo is air conditioned! (If you've ever had to do a martial arts class in a heavy Judo gi in the middle of the summer head, you'll KNOW just how bonus that is!)  Best of all, it seems that my old Aikido skills, as rusty as they may have been, came back pretty damn quickly, impressing Sensei to the point that, at one point, when some advanced holds and throws using a jo (short staff) were being demonstrated to the senior students, I was asked to join in. Furthermore, Sensei even invited me to meet a guest sensei that will be coming in for a seminar tomorrow, waiving the $25 fee that would have normally been asked. (I'll be paying it anyhow, though. If my classmates have to pay to attend that seminar, I will, too. That's just the way I am.)

 After class was finished, I felt physically incredible! It's like the 'me' that used to do 10k runs finally broke free of all the crap that's been going on in my life for so long.

 I am so PUMPED!!! 

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My return to Canada has been good to me. Yes, as I did in England, I've had a few reversals in fortune. But here, they have not been as frequent or as large. 'Course, it may simply be that my perception of them has been skewed by all the good stuff that's come up in my life, like a solid, stress-free job, where appreciation of my services is often demonstrated with bonuses and free use of a Crackberry Curve, and my really fab flat. It may even simply that things seem much easier to bear now that I'm home.

And that means a lot...


Practically speaking, it means I no longer have to worry as much about the consequences of losing my job, should that happen: being able to claim unemployment is a far cry from getting kicked out of a country!  :D

But there's more to it than that, far more...

It's the sense of 'belonging', that I am where I'm supposed to be. Where I am amongst friends and family. Where my accent isn't the subject of curiousity ("Sir, say 'tomato,'" "Sir, are you from America?" "Of course not, he's from Australia!"). Where there are far more places to roam to free. Where I am surrounded by the beauty of my homeland.

Where my heart always belonged.

I am home...


Apr. 16th, 2009 04:22 am
the_vulture: (Default)
Simply. Freaking. Wow!
the_vulture: (Man/Vulture)

Yeah, I'm feeling pretty mellow at the mo'...

It's late night and I've been dancing and sipping wine with the Mother Goddess. Yes, my spirituality takes me places sometimes...

It's been good to just move and groove to music and candlelight and I must say I've been long overdue for embracing my spirituality in such a fashion.

In other news, life seems to be on an upswing: with the Spring seems to have come with a number of bounties, including a generous raise, lotsa lovin', the location of a cheap futon frame to replace the one that bit the dust after less than two months of use, the revelation (courtesy of finally getting the nerve to call Revenue Canada) that I need not worry about declaring any of my income from the UK for last year's taxes, the subsequent discovery that I'm due a pretty mondo tax return (if I just get off my ass to file it), a new baby cousin, the purchase of a couple more didges, an enjoyable addiction to the Magic the Gathering card game, the news of my parents' departure on their easterly migration to here, the completion of applications for both supply teaching and a couple of full time positions next year, and an overall growth in my general well being.

Yeah, life is good...   : )

(PS: my apartment by candlelight is just... so... mmmmm.....)

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Raising my voice alongside [ profile] fayanora, [profile] dancingwriterand many, many others:

Keith Olbermann Speaks Out On Prop 8

The Vow

Nov. 11th, 2008 05:21 pm
the_vulture: (Default)

Before a candle lit in honor of the Fallen, I renewed my vow to them, to lead a life worthy of their sacrifice.

the_vulture: (Default)

It's been a few weeks since I've last dreamt of being in front of a class. I guess it says something about how much my experiences in the UK affected my will to teach, and confidence in doing so, that I've had bad dreams about it for months after leaving.

This time, though, the dream wasn't one where everything went wrong. Instead, it was one where I was co-teaching and/or sharing a class with another teacher and we talked about casual stuff - "Please don't erase those names; those are my detentions," "We should get some more board markers."

Although, in my dream, I was, again, unprepared for the lesson (a recurring theme in such dreams), I actually decided that I was going to ahead with my introduction to poetic interpretation unit using 'Big Bad John'. I'm not sure WHY I was going to be teaching poetry to a class full of adult technical support consultants, but I do remember feeling really enthusiastic about doing it.

*silly grin*

the_vulture: (Default)

One of the great benefits of having your own flat is that, when the music seizes your spirit in it's silken talons, you can dance with wild abandon... with the assurance of knowing that no one is going to see you doing it.  ;-)


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