My Musings

Feed your intellect

The safe space we’re all craving

Finally a quiet space where I can share what’s been eating me, without fear of judgement or sounding silly.

  • Sobriety thoughts

    Sobriety thoughts

    This June marks my eighth year sober. On one hand, yay! On the other hand, also yay! But there’s always a slight pinch I feel somewhere whenever I think about my anniversary. And I think that it’s because I developed a drinking problem at all. Because when I was younger, I never understood how/why people…

  • I think our grandmothers were right all along.

    I think our grandmothers were right all along.

    While I consider myself a skeptic, someone who tries to be rational and objective and who likes to rely on scientific studies to come to new conclusions (or harden up old ones!) I do think that our grandmother’s were onto something. Well, many somethings. The first is that I can remember my grandmother telling me…

  • From books to experience

    From books to experience

    There is a house, one enters it blind and comes out seeing. What is it? A school. -the ancient Sumerians. I began my university experience a bit later than most North Americans. I was 22 when I enrolled at a local community college on the foothills of the Rockies. I was fresh off the boat…

  • The Humours of Whiskey

    The Humours of Whiskey

    I cannot stop humming Hozier’s rendition of this Irish drinking song. The first time I heard it, I was rendered speechless which is ironic because I have been sober (from whiskey) for over six years. Whiskey was my closest friend and also my nemesis. But I started abusing it after I returned to academia back…

Why write at all?

Sometimes just to push against the dark void that will swallow us all. To raise a fist to our own mortality and say, “I’m alive”. Or simply to get all those thoughts that are bouncing around in my head over and over and over again. Or maybe it’s because I’ve always fancied myself a writer, but now as a former academic I will probably never be published. So I’ll writ e here.

Or maybe because it’s cheaper than therapy? The blank page can take whatever you throw at it and I’ve been too hesitant in my life to actually share my views. My experiences. In a tangible vulnerable way. In a way that other humans can read and say, ‘yeah, that resonates’. But it’s only the most vulnerable expressions of our experiences that can ever illicit a response in someone else.

This is obviously not me

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