claire.she.goes

Author: Claire

  • “It’s science fiction, crossed with chick lit, crossed with literary fiction…”

  • Garlic + Chamomile = WIN!!

    Over the past week or so the right side and back of my throat have been sore. And not just sore. RIDICULOUSLY sore.

    Honestly, it felt like someone had taken a knife and made a single, loooooong cut along its side.

    I sucked my way through an entire bag of Ricola. I drank mug upon mug of pineapple juice. I even had lemon-ginger tea infused with cayenne, honey, and the juice of a whole lemon.

    All powerful. But very unsuccessful.

    Last night it occurred to me that perhaps I didn’t have a sore throat. Maybe it was something more.

    I changed “sore” to “strep” in my search for “remedies”, and Googled away.

    One site mentioned garlic. Another chamomile.

    I scrawled both down, thinking I could last ’til morning.

    I was wrong.

    In the kitchen, I swirled one mashed garlic clove into a spoon of honey. “Oh man…” I sighed.

    I braced myself to swallow it, but something inside urged me to take things up a notch.

    I made myself a cup of chamomile, and added my garlic concoction.

    This morning my throat felt so good, I thought I was dreaming.

    Don’t be too quick to discount the obvious, folks. Ordinary items can yield extraordinary results. 😉

  • A time to rant.

    Maybe it’s because I’m black. Maybe it’s because–no matter what others say–today’s homophobia smells a little too much like Civil Rights Era racism, but I’ve grown tired of not saying anything.


    Source

    Yesterday on the Huffington Post I found this article regarding evangelicals and homosexuality.

    Apparently the authors are bothered about the fact that some Christians’ actions/words are referred to as “hateful”.

    Did you read that entire post? If so, bless you. I couldn’t make it past the introduction. And believe me. I tried.*

    Via Twitter today, I discovered this article. Andrew Marin, proprietor of The Marin Foundation, wrote a response to the aforementioned piece.

    I started to check out the comments. And made one of my own.

    In fact, I said

    It has occurred to me that a lot of people’s resistance to gay marriage and gay rights comes down to a matter of ego and selfishness.

    I was inspired after reading another user’s words:

    If the likes of Focus on the Family came out and said something like, “We’ve said some horrible judgemental things about the LGBT communities in the past and we’re sorry for them – they were wrong”, would they then no longer be “haters” if they still opposed marriage equality on the religious basis that “marriage can only be between a man and a woman”? At that point would it itself be “hateful” to launch huge PR campaigns to demonise people and institutions just because individuals hold to traditional religious views and wished to see them enshrined in the laws of the land (in the same way that some wish to see non-religious perspectives become part of the State’s formal framework).

    Just wondering where the balance in all this lies.

    (emphasis added)

    Which were written in response to someone else…

    I’ll tell you one thing, friends…I am sick and tired.

    I am tired of the pointless blame and immature whining of Christian conservatives regarding homosexuality.

    A lot of folks want to blame gay people for ruining the definition of marriage.

    Well. Would you like to know what I think makes a mockery of marriage?

    1. Divorce. If you’re going to claim that heterosexual marriage is where it’s at, then what of that 50% divorce rate? I don’t believe that divorce should be banned outright. Yet some people give up on their relationships far too easily.

    2. People who think that marriage is a game. Let’s face it. Far too many folks take greater care in their vetting process when they decide to buy a car or a piece of cheese.

    I once heard of an instance where a man (an artist? a pro-gay-rights activist?) met a woman, went to (his city’s) city hall, and married her. Not out of love. Not even because he thought she was hot. But because, hey. She was the right gender. As was he. They fit the combination concerning what constitutes a “lawful” marriage in various states and provinces, so–what the fuss–why not make a go of it?

    He did it to prove a point, and I believe he made it.

    All that sarcasm to say this.

    Why do some Christians feel compelled to adopt a superiority complex concerning those who do not hold the same views as them?

    As for the commenter that I responded to above, I remember feeling angry as I wrote. And sad over what some people of faith have become. Many of those institutions who want to uphold “traditional” marriage are vilified. But is it without reason? They often use hyperbolic rhetoric, depicting homosexuals as inhuman.

    And for what?

    To make gay people feel like the odd persons out?

    Is it because the Word says so?

    As much as I love my Bible, there are A LOT of regulations within it that Today’s Good Christians do not follow.

    Goodness knows, if some literalists had their way, I wouldn’t have been seen in public this week.

    (For reasons that are…You know…Womanly.)

    But I digress.

    For now, I will close with remarks from the end of yet another comment that I made on that very same blog post:

    …people can believe what they want. I’m old enough to be used to folks being hard-hearted. However that shouldn’t stop them from treating their fellow human beings with respect…

    Knowing Jesus–or, rather, THINKING that one knows Jesus–does not make one person better than anyone else.

    *After I wrote this post, I went back and read the article in question. Its content was no different from what I expected.

  • Today’s Discovery: Kindle for Mac

    Click here to get yours.

    Even though I know it’ll save me room in the long run, for the longest while I have loathed the thought of getting a Kindle. In my mind there’s nothing like a real book with real pages to hold.

    But a little birdie (Writers Digest’s Twitter feed) told me that this book was available for free today.

    Initially I was dismayed. On their set of download links, I had clicked to download The Portable MFA via Google.

    I thought, “Heh. I have access to Google. Doesn’t everyone?”

    Maybe so, but you’re out of luck if you want a book via that service and you’re Canadian.

    Fortunately I’m relentless. It was just as I began to lust after My Dreambook via it’s page on Amazon that I noticed a wee “Available on your Mac” notice under the shopping button.

    How stoked am I?


    The Portable MFA in Creative Writing should come in handy. I’ve been wanting an MFA in creative writing for ages, and I keep telling myself that THIS will be the December that I apply.

    However there are other forces at work.

    For, as I relayed in an email to my friend Joanne, the main reason I want an MFA is because I think that I lack the discipline to focus on my writing on my own. (I’ve had No Plot? No Problem! and known about NaNoWriMo for HOW LONG now?)

    Yet behind the scenes, deep down I realize that this discipline problem is directly related to my desire for success with the written word. Lately I’ve noticed that as my desire for success increases, so does the amount of guilt I heap upon myself about being undisciplined.

    I wish I had a chart.

    Add to that the fact that

    1. My local library has a Writer In Residence program–and I am super-stoked for my first appointment next month. I’m reading the author’s novel to prepare. It’s awesome.

    AND

    2. My writing course is over, but my assignments have left me with a plethora of possibilities…

    And I may not need to get a real-live MFA after all.

    All in all, its been a good day in ClaireVille. I hope that y’all are doing well!

  • Setting ME Free – An Ode to Rumpus Column #82: The God of Doing It Anyway

    Lately I’ve been doing a substantial amount of thinking about the changes that are coming over me. Slowly but surely I’m starting to appreciate myself more, becoming increasingly committed to doing what I was meant to do instead of pursuing what other people think count as “wise” career choices.

    As I consider this her blog, something’s been nagging at me.

    Because honestly? There’s a lot of theological content here, folks.

    Often insightful, sometimes cheesy, always me.

    At one point I even thought of scrapping my old posts. After all, I figured, I’m too religious for a lot of people.

    Yet I’m also too liberal for most religious types.

    But the greatest of these is writing, and over the past couple of days I’ve begun to have an epiphany.

    One of the reasons that I’ve avoided fully honoring my desire to be a writer is a healthy sense of Good Christian Guilt.

    Thankfully, I’m on the road to being cured of that.

    Minutes ago at The Rumpus, I read the following letter:

    Dear Sugar,

    Do you think there will ever be room for me in the art world? I love words, art, culture, ideas, and, most importantly, people. I read The Rumpus every day and my reading list savagely grows with titles I intend to devour. I am planning to go to graduate school within spitting distance of San Francisco because of its amazing literary culture. My dream is to take all the painful, gut-wrenching, soul lifting, breathtaking, fucked up and ordinary life experiences and turn them into stories that are beautiful and meaningful. I’m young and inexperienced and am desperate to learn and experiment with writing.

    But there’s something that paralyzes me. I’m a Jesus-loving Christian.

    The grad school I’m aiming for is a seminary because seeking understanding of my faith and reveling in its mystery is incredibly important for me. I don’t believe out of fear, but rather love. But I’m afraid that the beautifully open, tolerant writers and artists, like those I read circling in The Rumpus orbit, will not have room for someone like me because of what I love.

    Christians have a terrible reputation in the art world now, with due cause, but it wasn’t always the case and I hope that starts to change. There doesn’t seem to be a place for people like me yet. We are too liberal for most other believers, and too conservative for most liberals of other belief systems. I want to be a part of that change, but I need the push. I don’t want to beat people with my Bible. I just want to share my story honestly and connect with others without having to strip my beliefs from my writing.

    Do you think tolerance and love will ever go far enough to take in someone who reads e.e. cummings, soaks up Wallace Stegner, Deitrich Bonhoeffer and the Bible, and has books like “The Adderall Diaries” on my reading list? Or had I better prepare myself to start out without an audience and with a handicap? I’m standing at the edge. Should I jump or not? Is it okay for a Christian to “Write like a Motherfucker?”

    Culturally and Spiritually,

    Paradoxed

    Sugar’s response is brilliant. It includes gems such as this

    To think that you will be alone at the Christian writer table tells me you’ve got some reading to do. There’s a rich and varied tradition of such writers. Flannery O’Connor, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Anne Lamott, C.S. Lewis, Kathleen Norris, Reynolds Price, and Mary Karr spring to mind, among many others. What they have in common, aside from their Christian faith, is that they write like motherfuckers: full-throttle, no excuses, with humility and nerve, with intelligence and grace, with exactitude and audacity and love.

    and

    You must apprentice yourself to the craft, bow before the word. But most of all you must stop using Jesus as an excuse.

    I don’t think you know this yet, sweet pea, but I’m pretty certain you aren’t writing to me to ask if it’s okay that you write about your passion for Jesus Christ and whether the generally heathen lit world will accept you into the fold. You’re writing to me for the same reason Elissa Bassist did last year, though you use different language. You’re asking me if it’s okay to be you. You want me to give you permission to write your truth with honesty and heart because doing so scares the living crap out of you. I’m here not only to give you permission, but also to say that you must. There is no other way.

    (emphasis added)
    You can read the rest of what Sugar said right here.

    Her response also includes a link to a previous column in which she encouraged someone to “Write Like a Motherf**ker”.

    Sugar’s column made me smile. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I took her words as yet another sign that the time for me to embrace the all that I am is way past due.

    And so…I shall. 😉

  • I miss Lauryn Hill, circa *The Miseducation of…*

    But I love Jay Smooth.

    Kudos to him for being real.

  • Today’s Hair


    It’s been about 1.5 years since my last big chop. I really shouldn’t talk about rockin’ locs until I’ve let them fully develop.

  • Eight PM Epiphany

    Earlier this evening I was on the phone. I was speaking with a good friend.

    Long story short, one of my many illusions about someone that I care about had been shattered. (In spite of my advanced age, I’m still a bit naive. Bear with me.)

    One of the things that I love the most about dalia is that she keeps it real. There is no falseness in her. No pretense about her.

    We moved on a bit from discussing my latest minor explosion, to discussing life in general. One of the things that we touched on was my lack of one.

    Lest you don’t know, after a very brief stint back in Toronto (as of late November 2010), I moved back to my hometown [name removed to preserve my privacy] (earlier this spring). And although I led a relatively quiet life in my urban environment, here, I’m virtually a recluse.

    Thankfully I’m not comfortable with the status quo. Something has been stirring inside of me. I’ve taken a long, hard look at how I’ve lived. From the year I first graduated from university, I reckon I have attempted to make a go of things in the city at least half a dozen times. And each time I’ve returned with my tail between my legs.

    Yet after this last attempt, I have no burning desire to go back. I feel as though I’ve wound up back where I started so many times, partly because I belong here.

    Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been caught dead admitting that.

    However as I grow older I can’t help but believe that there is a life that I was meant to enjoy and experiences that I were meant to have right here, right now, as is.

    There’s a little something else that I learned.

    If I am to live the life that I was meant to love, I need to get beyond one of my really deep fears.

    For you see, Dear Readers, I think there’s something glorious that scares me.

    That keeps me indoors, and away from different events, and yet all the while…Longing for change.

    The prospect of A Glorious Life.

    As I said, tonight dalia and I talked briefly about living. And it’s only in the aftermath of our discussion that something occurred to me.

    There’s a significant part of me that doesn’t want to “get a life”. Mainly because I’m afraid that it’s passed me by.

  • Desperation Station


    Source

    I’m still in Toronto. But I’m hanging on by my fingernails to get by.

    And quite frankly, I’m wondering what for.

    Recently someone who knows my story asked me why I wanted to be here so badly.

    My response was simple, but interesting.

    All of the things that I mentioned to her are things that I can enjoy by visiting. I know this for a fact.

    Somewhere in my heart of hearts, I have made a god out of being in Toronto. I’ve become desperate and it has to stop.

    Interestingly enough, the steps I’ve taken to stick around can be undone very easily. Yet one undone there’d be no turning back. And I’d have to implement the next phase of my plan–Claire, The Return.

    Writer, teacher, small-town-creature indeed.

    Which brings my brain back to Toronto.

    How badly do I want to be here?

    Do I NEED to be here?

    Do I honestly want to keep struggling to achieve my goals? (YES, by the way. HOWEVER…)

    When I speak of goals, are my dreams really location-dependent?

    I’ve thought about it and I know perfectly well that they’re not.

    There are people who will be disappointed in me if I leave. Myself included.

    But more for changing my mind than anything else.

  • Next.

    I intend to cover more on why I left my job. Call me crazy. Call it cathartic.

    I’ve wanted to share my story for a little while. Then the other day, JB sent me this.

    …By the 3rd month I had to take a personal day off because I couldn’t get it together. I came to school one morning sat in a meeting and cried. I cried and cried and I didn’t even know why I was crying. I was overwhelmed. I had to teach drawing and I can’t draw. Yes, I have a degree in art but no, I don’t think I can draw well enough to teach other people how to. I hated drawing. I used to fall asleep in the middle of drawing still lifes. I hated them. They were so stupid to me. I hated perspective, I hated contour line drawing, I hated shading, anything drawing related I had no desire to do, yet I was supposed to teach my classes the same thing and get them to succeed.

    I think my heart actually skipped a beat.

    Teaching is not the wine-and-roses profession that some people believe it is. It can be exceptionally draining, demanding work. Trust me when I say that those out there who equate a job in education with easy work are, sadly, deluding themselves.