Heidi's Poetry and More

Say a little prayer.. for sleep.

2012-02-10T14:59:00.000-06:00

I love sleep. You all know this. I generally sleep very well. When I don't, (which is rare) it's typically because of anxiety, over-thinking, and/or bad dreams... and bad dreams really throw me off. Well, I have not slept well for a few nights, but finally last night was a good one. This morning I was like.. "Ooooh so thats what I normally feel like."

For us Christians out there my guess is that we have things we automatically pray for. Perhaps for food, driving, exams.. something that just naturally pops into your head and you pray. For me, no matter the state of my faith, I will say 'Ok Jesus, I need to sleep'. I don't know why, but for some reason the words just end up in my head. I guess it's a basic need, maybe thats why.

The end.

The sun

2012-01-23T00:25:00.009-06:00

Denying love when its
always been
a gift.
Peeling back the colorful paper,
the ribbons,
the bows.
You can't have this.

You can't have this.
Your being,
your spark,
your lantern lit eyes.
Are disgusting.

Crucifying
the already dying.
The Word you read from
proclaims it
so strong.

The blood curdles up in the chest.
The tears cease to have meaning
when the face is drippingly wet.

Stolen and lost

Refrigerated heart
wandering
wondering
Refusing to stand.

You have inky red fingers
stained by the letters
by a man you claim to be
He.

The sun settles down on the rocks by the river,
it roars out a furious song.
A delicate building
collapses right in it,
man
made
is never
as strong.

-Heidi Fischer
Jan 22, 2012

____________________________________________________

That was hard for me to write, and I didn't know if I wanted to share it. Generally speaking its describing how those who are in some way "different" are often denied and damaged by the "religious". Yet in the end it's what's always been there that survives; God, not man.

I've been heartbroken lately, for a few months I guess. We see things our whole life and then one day you start crying, you almost wish you didn't see. I feel heartbroken because of Christians, Christianity, Religion, all those words. I feel awkward saying it, almost fearful. Fearful that saying such things only can bring on a barrage of remarks that will add to the pile. Annoyed that people might think "Oh, she's lost her faith", or "Oh, typical seminarian having some sort of crisis", being told I should "Just pray". I get defensive before I even need to, anticipating let downs.

I'm tired of living in a world of so much Christian hatred. People can claim it as from the Bible all they want, in the end it is hatred and fear, perhaps mixed in with ignorance. People touting who knows what, as "Religion". Lately I find myself noticing it more and more and wanting less and less to do with labels.

I can't quite explain all that is going on inside me just yet. I feel sadness, anger, and in a sense that I've some how been let down. I'm tired of what goes on in the name of Jesus towards women, the LGBT community, other religions, ethnicities, etc, etc, etc.

I know I am not alone. I know Jesus is different than humanity. I know it is ok for me to be hurt and frustrated. But it isn't fun, and it's lonely.

Do you have any of the same feelings or struggles? What do you do when you feel discouraged, disheartened, disillusioned.. dissed? How do you survive, thrive, live, love in "the community"?

-Hugz.

2.5 and ticking

2012-01-15T22:00:00.001-06:00

I was thinking about this post I wrote shortly before leaving for Fresno. Feel free to read it first, or I'll give a quick recap right now. In it I discussed my life during the prior 3 years, and I wondered about my 3 year adventure that was up coming. I thought of the post today as my 3 year California adventure is in a few short months coming to its close.

I don't talk about this a lot because I find when I do I get strange looks, but I can't see your face when (and if) you read my words. I left for Fresno not necessarily looking for an education, but looking for myself. Oh sure I wanted to get the degree, more than anything though I wanted to grow. As a teenager I had a little poster on my wall that said something like;

"I'm lost, I've gone to look for myself. If I get back, before I do, please ask me to wait".

I thought it was witty, and true.

It sounds cliche, "looking for yourself". I don't know what else to call it. I don't know how else to frame it. I have no philosophical theories about how you in fact do not need to look.

What I know is I have found more of me, I have grown.

A lot of it has had to do with doing and saying the things that had long ago be placed in the "never" category.

I'll give you a little insider secret, when a therapist hears the words "I've never told anyone this before" or "I never thought I'd do this, but...", their heart sings. Not because we can't wait to be the first to hear it, because we know something is about to be honored. Something is about to change. It's exciting, terrifying, and glorious all in one.

I've done a lot of "nevers" in these 2.5 years, and found pieces of me inside them. It's not as fun as it may sound, in fact it's often down right dreadful.

Walking through the dreadful I've learned though is more than possible. Unglamourously possible. You crawl and you crawl, and all of a sudden you realize something is different. Perhaps you're a bit lighter, can think a bit clearer, can smile a tad wider, and have strength for the next step.

It's the battle, it's the adventure.. it's the "looking for yourself".

I have another semester to solidify my thoughts, as well as to experience. It will be intense and brilliant no doubt.

Keep looking my friends. We are worth it.

"Oh wow, they aren't giving those away, are they?"

2011-12-24T10:53:00.002-06:00

As most of you know I went to school in Norway for a year in 2001/2002. Well for Christmas mom came to visit me over break. We were going to spend some time with relatives, but on Christmas eve we had to stay in a hotel. We did some wandering and discovered a church that advertised a Christmas Eve meal and service. We decided to go. There was a small group of probably 25 people or so. We visited nicely, ate nice christmas food, sang songs around the tree, and as we left we were even handed small gifts from people at the church. We thought it was a really nice time. Well fast forward a few weeks later, my mom is telling my teacher about what we did. All of a sudden the teacher is laughing her head off, and my mother can't figure out what on earth she could have said that was so funny. The teacher then explains, we had unknowingly gone to a Christmas service for the homeless. Joke was on her though, we had a great time, and I'm glad we were none the wiser. This is a favorite memory, and a favorite story. I recently posted that on a facebook page comment of an online writer who asked for a story. I've told it at occasions where people are asked to share a Christmas tale. I tend to tell it often.

I am a story teller. It doesn't take long in a conversation for me to say something like "oh, that reminds me of the time...". Some years have more stories in them, some less. This is a year with a many a story.

I can not post the whole year's story here. Trust me though when I say, this year was momentous. You have each played a part, and for each of you I am thankful.

Long long ago in my teenage years, I made a decision based on a short story I read in one of those chicken soup novels. The story was about a young person who decided to give a much loved person in the community a card for some important occasion. This teenager then happened to visit this person, and realized their card was the only one on the mantle place. Although the whole community loved this person, chances are it was not known, or so the book suggested. The decision I made based on that story was that no friend of mine would ever go unthanked. To this day I do my best to thank the ones I love in words, gifts, and actions. Some times I go a little overboard, and other times I fail completely, but I feel compelled to try.

This 2011 has been a year my friends! Oh what a year. A year filled with the deepest of sorrow and a bundle of stress. A year of great accomplishment and the good type of pride. And all along you have been with me, never leaving me. You have made me tea, ate with me till we were sick, held me as I've been unconsolable, bitched with me, and typed word after word after word in online chat. You have prayed for me, watched movies/tv far too long and far too late, you have laughed with me over jokes that have gone on and oooooon. Your presence has been a gift.

You may have by now wondered about the title I chose, let me explain. When you come home after being away for a long time, expressions of old hit your ear, and you realize that is an expression that is only said in these parts, or at least much more often. "Oh wow, they aren't giving those away, are they?". An expression used by a many a farmer and saskatchewanite alike.. used to signify that they think something is rather expensive.

I have no perfect way of expressing my gratitude, I hope though to give it freely, not considering any sort of "expense".

Charles Dickens wrote the Christmas Carol with societal change in mind. He personally knew what it meant to work as a child laborer, this past trauma haunted him. He wanted Christmas to be recognized as a time where the well-off would support the poor, more than that though he wanted humanity to recognize the plight of their fellow beings all year round.

Like Dickens, I too wish to speak to the world, and Christmas is a suitable time to express ones wishes.

My wish is that we learn to say those things that for whatever reason go unsaid. To tell a person we love, that we love them. To thank a friend for being exactly who they are. For forgiving the past, because the future is much sweeter for it.

My wish is that you feel thanked for the roles you have played in my life, past, present, and future.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, May your New Year be bright.

Much Love;

Heidi

Go ahead, get angry.

2011-12-08T20:47:00.000-06:00

I don't remember which one, but during one of my semesters here at seminary I did a report on anger. You know pretty typical fare. Anger can be good, anger is a secondary emotion, God is cool with anger, express it in the appropriate manner. No one had their mind blown by it, but it did the job.

I have been having an angry week. I don't know what to do with it. Other than rant. Now don't get me wrong a good rant now and then can be pretty good medicine. It doesn't solve a lot though.

I'm mad at the world. Mad that I live in a world where a dude like Cain would even try to run for president. That somehow in his mind it didn't matter that he was the King of affairs, I'm still gonna rock this election. I'm mad that I live in a world that some Basketball coach can molest God knows how many kids. So many kids, that clearly several people turned a blind eye. I'm mad that I live in a world where homophobia is so rampant that it's some how ok for people to bash homosexuals at every turn. I'm mad that I ever feel embarrassed to call myself a Christian. I don't want to be thought of as any of the people above. I'm disgusted.

I'm mad at people and situations that have occurred thoughout my life and the lives of others I know. I'm mad at people who have told me to "get over it". Who have suggested; "maybe you should get a boyfriend". People who have told me not to be bothered, as these things have never bothered them. My friends have been abused, "aren't supposed to" love the people they love, have serious health problems, and the list could go on and on.

Anger.

I don't want to tie this up. There is hope and there is beauty, and fuzzy dogs to be pet. But I don't want to talk about those. God has awesome power. I don't want to talk about that either.

Why not just admit that things in this world blow. That some times we are suppose to say; "Yah that sucks". And yes; "That is some serious bullshit".

I'm angry.

From the very beginning.

2011-11-28T02:24:00.000-06:00

From the very beginning

My heart has been singing

A song that

Is strong

And beneath.

It’s wrapped up in layers

And all of the players

Get hidden

Lost like a thief.

When will you hear it?

You won’t.

Until it’s released.

I don’t know the words,

And I can’t play the chords,

But it ticks

Like a metronome beast.

The bed holds in its womb.

Safe ocean blue sheets.

Drenched in light cotton air.

Refusing to ever be breached.

But the sky is breathing out wisdom,

That the crib holds down in its fleece.

So you look to the sun,

Or you give up to the moon.

Knowledge is better in speech.

A pound weighs the same,

No matter the name.

I yearn to be free.

Ensnared by a drape,

Starched with erroneous belief.

So I look for the lever.

That pulls and will sever

Dusted with tears and with grief.

My fingertips reach it,

And the liquid that leaves it,

Is not sorrow.

It’s me.

-Heidi Fischer

Nov. 27th, 2011

Surviving Zombieland

2011-11-24T16:58:00.000-06:00

No not this Zombieland

My own personal Zombieland.

A land for both redemption and lament. Deep thinking and exhaustion. A place where there is less, but less is more. Few are invited in. The heart sings and it aches, eerily fused. Words remain unspoken in Zombieland.

Not easily reachable, liberties do not come for free.

Withdrawal is less by choice than by necessity.

Flesh is poison.

Countermands take time.

Yet solely 1 is needed.

The hoard does not impress.

In Zombieland.

Where Zombies throw their excess hand parts.

(They don't prefer hands, and are quite orderly.

Little known facts).

Home

2011-11-12T22:54:00.005-06:00

"Home" has meant a lot of different things to me over the years. For most of my life home was the farm. I have also made myself a home in Norway, Hepburn, Saskatoon, Fresno, as well as Humboldt though I haven't done a whole lot of living in The Boldt.

I'm starting to think about the end of all things California. I will obviously miss it. I think the old school winters are going to kill me once I get back to Sask. I'm most certainly not looking forward to that.

Apart from all the things I will miss, I am starting to get excited for what will be. I've been reading thrifty blogs lately and dreaming of filling up my new abode with "new to me" thrift items. I was recently reminded by myself that I did get rid of a lot of kitchen stuff (etc) for this sole purpose. I also have lots of packed up boxes of awesome vintage things that I can't wait to use again. My geese shaped measuring cups being one such item.

They look a little something like this.

I feel I can't let my thoughts wander too far into the future though. It's never good to get in that habit. You start to forget what is around you, and I have a lot I need to keep in mind. Clients being pretty high up on that list.

I just have to say though that I have started noticing the "Now and Not Yet" feeling (to borrow a Tim Geddert phrase for my own purposes). I feel it's good to recognize and honor this stage.

This is a stage I've navigated a few times in life already, I've varied in success. This time I plan to do well.

Suck it Delta.

2011-10-27T23:58:00.000-06:00

Completely and utterly
Lost and alone.
Because without you
I don't have a home.

But you aren't there,
Because I don't know you.
I once thought I did,
But you're far away.

You don't know me.
You can't hold me.

Chip chip it away.

But the chips they don't fall.
Instead there's a wall.
It covers your face,
I don't know you.

-Heidi Fischer
Oct 17, 2011

Google It

2011-10-27T08:54:00.002-06:00

I Google anywhere from 10-30 things a day.

I'm sure you do too. Who is that actor, lyrics to that that song, convert these units, why does my arm hurt, what the heck does that acronym stand for? The usual.

I remember when the awesomeness of Google came to my attention, early teen years somewhere in there. Although of course there were a few competitors at that point, I distinctly remember "Jeevsing it" on "Ask Jeeves". For fun, I just googled it... turns out they still have a site. Now it's just called ask.com.. and is lame like all other search engines. I enjoy making fun of any new site that tries to start. My usual line is "Are you Google? No? Then don't bother".

I remember the time when internet access was sparse, we didn't have it on the farm or at school. I'd see it now and then at a friends house, and such. I remember having lists of things I wanted to google. Like literally written down and in my wallet.

I also remember a time where I would want written out Beatles lyrics. I would sit with a tape (or cd) and hit stop play over and over to write it down, and then of course there would be the few words or phrases that don't make sense. Ah, how the internet has bettered life.

Do you remember (while not specifically google related, internet would have made life much better) being completely devastated that your preset vcr did not work and you missed a favorite show such as X-files? I do. Completely devastated because I knew there was a chance I'd never see that episode or if I did it would be years from then by chance on re-runs.

Oh, and don't get me started on "Christian search engines"

What's your favorite "the internet blowing my mind story"?

Keeping it together.

2011-09-11T23:38:00.000-06:00

I am hardly a few weeks into the semester, I am already exhausted. I was exhausted after the second day of On-Site orientation. Yet I am going to survive, of this I am certain.

Things are going well at Salvation Army. There they call clients "beneficiaries", it's something to do with the fact that they are labeled a Christian Rehabilitation Center, and with that comes the need to use certain language (for funding, or something). As I write I have seen 1 'bene' twice, and 3 others once. Next week I will see a total of 5 -- this past week it should have been 5 but one got sent packing.

My other site is at an Elementary school. At this point I have 3 referrals. I've met w/ a family and if 1 more piece of paperwork makes it into my hands I should be able to see 1 kid this coming week. I've made phone contact with another family, and not reached the other. I'm not particularly fond of the phone run around game, but it's getting easier over time.

I am exhausted, anxious, emotional, and have a physical symptom that shows up here and there. Yet when I sit across from a real live person all of that goes away. I look into their eyes as they invite me into their world, and I do my best to be the therapist I'm being trained to be. So far so good. I leave excited and proud of myself.

I have much to learn, but I have also learned so much already. It's a balance. Realizing that you are not a total dumb-ass, but that in some senses you still are. Acceptance.

It's hard for me to accept that for some reason I am morphing not only into a genuine adult but a professional. My psyche rebells against this. Too much freedom, too much responsibility, too many unknowns... ahhhhh! Then a bene cries in front of me for the full session, and it feels sacred and what I've longed to be a part of.

It's those moments that remind me to keep it together. It's those moments that remind me that freedom is indeed a scary thing, but the meaning to life isn't found in the fetal position (as pleasant as that posture can be for awhile).

Also, I like prayer. Especially prayer of others on my behalf. And Good Lord, I need it. We all do.

Art is good

2011-08-23T19:02:00.000-06:00

One of the ways I work through things is writing. Poems, journal entires, and indeed blogging. I've dabbled in painting on and off in my life. Nothing particularly fancy, usually just shapes and colors that are interesting to me. This summer I tried my hand at a little art therapy, and it was an interesting and helpful process.

Anger & Pain

Courage & Hope

Numb & Lost

Freedom & Faith

What I like is that everything doesn't have to have a particular meaning, and that you can just let it flow. Some times during or afterwards you find a meaning, and other times its just nice to have a project.

The second picture I never did figure out how to finish. At some point it got stuck under a chair and ripped, I think if I do decide to finish that particular poster I will work the tear into it some how. Perfect for some symbolism.

I contemplated wether or not I wanted to share my little art projects. Are they too personal, does anyone care to see them? I decided there is nothing wrong with choosing to be vulnerable, and that people who click on my blog are by now used to the type of stuff they might find.

Thanks for taking the time to look at it.

Stop saying that!

2011-08-18T18:11:00.000-06:00

As far as Christian lingo is concerned, what annoys you the most?

I'll tell you what bothers me;

"God won't give you more than you can handle."

This is usually said in order to comfort someone. Just so you know if you say that to me, I will punch you straight in the face (pacifist or not). Why is this a problem? Here's a list of reasons.

1. Ignores the pain or problem, and exhibits no sympathy.

2. Forgets that, well people die, become mentally ill, and other stuff (and that's probably more than they

can handle).

3. Assumes that God is directly in charge of whatever the issue is, and will choose to intervene at the

"right moment". God is not a puppet-master.

4. Does not take into account human will, sin, and just good old cause and effect.

5. Makes me want to punch you when said to me, or I hear it said to others.

Thoughts?

Top 10 Cartoon themes

2011-08-16T23:17:00.000-06:00

Top 10 Cartoon themes!
According to me, in order, and with reason. Click on each one to enjoy on Youtube.

Actually a kick ass tune!
1. Ducktales
2. Xmen
3. TinTin

Nostalgic value
4. TMNT
5.The Raccoons
6. Spiderman
7. Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers
8.Tailspin
9. Darkwing Duck

Hilarious Lyrics
10. Animaniacs
10.5 Pinky the Brain

Honorable Mentions: Flintstones, Gummy Bears, and Transformers.

Special mention: 90's Batman (aka what was used by someone during a composition recital)

Prayer and B161

2011-08-15T18:14:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite memories from Bible College is the prayer group who commonly met in room B161. I'll be the first to admit that 25% (ok, maybe 50%) of what I was doing there was to see if I couldn't gain a boyfriend. Yet if I'm not mistaken anywhere from 25% to 100% of what people do in Bible College is look for their potential mate.

I was thinking about this today and started wondering (apart from the boyfriend thing), why was i so enthusiastic about these meetings? I am not necessarily a huge fan of praying in public, and I am often much more cynical than I should be. Why then was I drawn into this group, and why did I participate so passionately?

I think I know the answer. I wonder if we didn't operate more as a support group than a "prayer group". Almost every day we would gather, and we would share with each other our worries. The prayers weren't masterful, but we meant them. For me, it mattered more knowing that others cared for me and that I could try to care for them.

How do we treat praying for others? Do we simply toss it up to God? Saying; "Thanks dude, I'm so glad you've got this covered". Or should we consider what our role in the situation can be? Most of us don't have the luxury of being able to meet with a group daily, and at times won't necessarily have a lot of knowledge about the person before us. Yet most of us have a lot of resources or knowledge of resources at our finger tips. Usually if only in the smallest of ways we can help one another.

I do think it is really important to pray, and on some occasions that is honestly the only thing that can be done. I respect and appreciate prayer. There is nothing wrong with a prayer group, but if I had a choice between a support group or a prayer group -- well I'm pretty sure I'd choose the former. Especially if it turned out the support group happened to also use prayer.

Tradition!

2011-08-01T01:09:00.004-06:00

Cue Fiddler On The Roof outburst by me.

I have a weakness, that perhaps isn't a weakness at all. Take any hymn beloved by me in childhood, and it will still be beloved. With such hymns come many memories! The warmest of these memories being me swinging high on my rusty farm swing-set, singing loudly so God would know how much I loved Him (and so mom could hear me from the kitchen-sink window). Some times now when I wanna hangout with God, but don't have a lot of words, I look up old songs - this happened tonight.

As we all know, theology within worship music is a hot topic, in fact I'm surprised Hot Topic doesn't have a T-shirt about that. The hymns that are so beloved by me, do not escape some serious foibles. Yet I persist in loving them. Wether or not I believe in the words, through these songs I feel connected to my faith, my community, my heart, and my God.

To be honest I feel hesitant to write what I've written. Mostly because modern worship music is a topic I get into now and then. I'm like an old lady who complains that the music is lame. I don't complain about say the volume or instruments but instead about feeling manipulated and some times the crappy quality. But I will then joyously sing a hymn about penal substitution (etc) that I don't necessarily believe in. So I'm willing to admit my or my hymns own faults, and I'm happy to say there is without a doubt plenty of modern music that is great. My heart connects with those old fashioned songs, and while I'm willing to question the meanings, I am also willing to embrace tradition.

This is a little drawing from tonight.

PS. What should the Hot Topic t-shirt slogan on this subject be?

Breakthrough

2011-07-29T14:57:00.000-06:00

Ok, so breakthrough is perhaps a bit of a strong word.. but today I definitely accomplished something.
In case you haven't memorized my life (jerk), you should know I have a bit of an issue in regards to driving in strange places. You can get caught up on this "issue" by clicking here.

Today, I was amazing. I rocked a drive to a place not only all by myself, but to a place I'd never been before. Last week, I drove to the mall all by my lonesome, but I've been there several times and know it's general location. That still felt good, but this was a new feat.

At 11:15 I called up a salon, and they said they could get me in at 12. I gulped and said; "Heidi you can do this". I gathered myself, wrote up some nice directions, and was on my way. I felt good almost the whole time - apart from a 3 minute stint where I didn't know if I was still driving in the right area, and was certain I would be lost for all eternity. I managed to convince myself that in reality, I was still in Fresno, with map and cellphone in hand - and I Heidi Fischer, MADE IT! I even drove around the wrong little strip mall for a bit, and only laughed at myself...

My hair is now a good 4 inches shorter, and all is well.

Feed.

2011-07-27T03:22:00.002-06:00

I drew this little number with something in mind. I was thinking about how even though we know something is a bad choice we do it anyway, typically a form of coping. It's not an unfamiliar story, we hope to escape something, but in the end feel much worse. We all know the drill, something as simple as eating too many cookies (guilty) or something much more worse. I guess in this visual form it just helped me to really hit the message home to myself.

After I finished drawing I thought to myself; "Well, it sounds trite, but my little anime me here doesn't have to be eating death, it can be barfing it up too"

..... so that's encouraging.

2011-07-19T01:54:00.000-06:00

My tears express what I cannot.
Lost in water,
Not in thought.

The now and not yet.
I sometimes regret,
knowing that either exist.

Drenched in mourning.
It
   drips,
   drips,
   drips.
Pure and uncontained.

In my heart of hearts
I really thought
Everything would change.

-Heidi
July 2011

Surviving Your Serengeti - Swanepoel. Review

2011-07-15T00:34:00.002-06:00

This book uses animals as a template on how to "Survive your Serengeti". While on a vacation to Africa, the main character Sean, runs into a friend, Zachariah, from 30 years ago. Sean and his wife choose to leave their group, and join Z as their new guide. In doing so they gain from his vast knowledge of the local nature, and Sean gains the strength to tackle his own personal business problems he begrudgingly left at home.
The book itself is an easy read, and can without a doubt be tackled in one sitting. The story itself was somewhat charming, but also predictable. As they came across different animals, I already knew how they would describe their strengths, and then link that to the business world. By checking the chapter titles, which mostly contain animal names and their strengths, you can get a general idea of the entire book. The African nature was nicely described, and that is the one high point in this book. I would not recommend purchasing this, simply skim the contents and you'll be fine.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

TWLOHA

2011-07-07T16:32:00.000-06:00

Back in about 2007 or so I came across To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA). I instantly fell in love. I find the organization so easily relatable, and fabulously real. The pain people feel is validated and not sugar coated. Hope is offered, but they don't promise it will be easy.

I would love some day to be able to work or even volunteer with TWLOHA. Who knows.

This is a video they released recently. Love it.

Vulnerability.

2011-07-02T21:54:00.013-06:00

You roll out of bed, and throw yourself together. You hop into your car or catch the bus. Something doesn't feel quite right, and then visions of your lunch sitting on your kitchen counter enter your now cursing mind. You plan a nice weekend away with friends or family. Maybe you go camping, sight seeing, shopping, and you have a great time. You get home, your bags hit the floor, and you head straight to the toilet. You catch a cold or get sick with the flu. As you lay around in your misery you think two things. That you forgot you could feel so bad, and that you will never again take your health for granted.

Common experiences. Things you can likely smile at and think, "Oh yeah, I've gone through that before". Easy thoughts that don't elicit a huge response.

Yet our common experiences, don't have to be mundane. They can touch down into the deeper things of life. When we are willing to be vulnerable and expose our own weaknesses, something new begins to occur. We can begin to realize that none of us are hurting alone and that in general there is a willingness of others to walk along side. Romans 12 has a famous little sentence in it that most of us have likely heard, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn". The NIV gives the section where this verse is found a nice heading of, "Love in Action". I think to "mourn with" as well as being willing to be "the mourner" are equally as beautiful.

You find yourself in a situation where your body is being touched. You feel terrified, numb, or perhaps nothing at all. You encounter a harmed identity as you walk through life working out what it means to be a sexual abuse survivor. Your boss calls you into their office, and you are told you are no longer needed. You weep in the parking lot as you wonder how you will pay the rent and what you will eat now that your income is gone. Your loved one is ill and dying, and there is nothing that can be done. You are devastated by their suffering as well as the void that will be left.

Common experiences. Things you can be hit with that sadly we read and can say "Oh yeah, I've gone through that". Disturbing things that elicit a huge response.

Through sharing these things with a friend, a pastor, a counselor, and even a stranger, something new can begin. Time and time again I've seen the outcome of this vulnerability. Scenarios where deep dark pains are brought to the surface, and freedom can be claimed. This doesn't eradicate the hurt, the brokenness, or the loss - but brings about a peace that is couched in releasing secrets, shame, and fear. We can acknowledge the fact that some times there is some serious shit to be dealt with and it won't just disappear. But we don't need to be in the pain alone, and together we can move towards who we really are.

I invite us all to dip our toes into vulnerability, and to find out if in the end we are willing to dive in.

A little while after posting this I ran into this excellent post on To Write Love On Her Arm's site, beautiful words. Check it and the site if you aren't familiar.

http://www.twloha.com/blog/am-survivor/

The Girl with the dragon tattoo X3

2011-06-05T23:40:00.003-06:00

Liz told me I could do a book review... why not.

The girl with the dragon tattoo - The girl who played with fire - The girl who kicked the hornet's nest

I read all three of these books and I loved them all! The author Stieg Larsson is now sadly passed away, and never got to see his success. I ended up seeing the movies first, in Swedish of course, and really enjoyed them. I hear Hollywood is going to make them, I think that's too bad - but I'll probably see them.

The books are long, but read fast and get you hooked. I read them easily, each in a week. That was during holidays though, with at least a good 4 hr read per day. Even on your night stand you should be able finish all 3 in a few months.

Why so good? The main characters are easy to fall in love with, especially due to their personalities and what are supposed to be their faults. The two main characters are Lisbeth Salander, and Mikael Blomkvist and it takes place in Sweden (it's no Norway, but it'll do). The girl is in her 20's, is a social outcast, a survivalist, and basically a genius. The man is older, and a journalist who ends up getting himself into hot stories that get him into trouble. Their paths meet, and the books take off.

I won't really bother explaining the plots, as you can just google that if you like. Of the three the first book is probably the best, and the other two are enjoyable as well. The author focuses a lot on the plight of women, especially in regards to exploitation. There are some pretty gruesome things described in the book, but I think it is done in a reasonable manner. The author also does a good job of describing how sex is treated in a pretty flippant manner in Sweden (supposedly), with out being ridiculous about it.

If you feel like getting lost in some suspense and intrigue this summer, pick these books up.

PS

The road to being a Bruins fan

2011-06-01T15:40:00.002-06:00

What with all the hub-bub in regards to the Stanley Cup Finals I figured I'd best throw my hat into the ring.

My dad has always cheered for the Bruins, my brother has always cheered for the Bruins, and I have followed in line.

When you come from Canada you have few choices, and from Saskatchewan even fewer. I've noticed over the years a lot of Bruins fans in Sask. Probably something to do with Original 6, and a general dislike of many other provinces - cheering for Toronto should pretty much be a sin.

I am not what you would call a die-hard fan, I don't know everything they've ever done and all about the players. But I've always cheered for them, and always will.

I don't blame every Canadian and their dog for cheering for Vancouver now that they are in the final, as I certainly cheered for Calgary in 2004 (over lame Tampa). I also posses a slight amount of happiness for those who have faithfully cheered for the Canucks their whole life - but that will fade when the sticks hit the ice.

I certainly won't be defecting, and I'm looking forward to the excitement and the sweeeet sweet chance at the Cup.

Hurra Hurra for syttende mai!

2011-05-17T01:14:00.004-06:00

Syttende mai is the Norwegian Constitution day, and is celebrated every May 17th. It is a great celebration with a large focus on kids. In the streets you will find Children's Parades, where schools have been selected to march their children. There is not a large military or governmental focus, it is the royal family who is given attention. They wave from their palace balcony, and watch the parades go by.

Also you will find the Russ teenagers creating general havoc. Russ as I recall is a celebration of the graduating class. You get a special jumpsuit and hat with your class color, that you wear anywhere from a month to a few weeks, until May 17th. Your friends write stuff on your jumpsuit, and you get various items to pin to your outfit for tasks done (typically naughty).

Additionally many of the people will be in their traditional Norwegian dress, their bunad. Or at least wearing clothes that are red, or have something to do with Norway. Flags are flown and carried everywhere, and music is playing and being sung.

Of course in good Norwegian tradition, food is not forgotten. The Norwegians famous for their love of hotdogs (polse) and ice cream (is) will be eating it all day long. Other delights will certainly be found such as lefse, chocolates, saft (concentrated syrup drink), cheeses, etc.

Every year at home in Saskatoon we celebrate in our own way. Typically having a little parade, possibly some entertainment like dances or presentations, as well as singing Norwegian songs. I was lucky to be in Norway for syttende mai in 2002, and it was great to get to enjoy it!

To celebrate today I brought surprise ice cream to class. HUZZAH!

Glee and Venice Beach.

2011-05-13T12:38:00.010-06:00

On Monday May 9th my darling room-mate Cassy with-in seconds of it being posted on FB entered a contest to see Glee being filmed. Later on Tuesday she received an email, saying she'd won - where and when to come, etc. So we quickly planned a trip, and were off later Wed. We arrived to our hotel maybe around 6, and went for a quick drink and bite before filming began.

We were told we'd get let in around 9pm, and indeed we were. Filming started off around 10:30 or so and we left after 1:00am. They filled the main floor with 'actors', that you could easily tell were placed by age, color, etc. We were up in the first balcony, and could see really well.

We got to see them film some stuff for the "Vocal Adrenaline" glee club, with "Sunshine" front and center. Eventually all the Glee characters came out and it was time to film stuff for the "New Directions". I won't spoil anything or get sued, so I'll just say they filmed 2 songs. Throughout they had to stop and reset for various shots, different angles, different crowd reactions, etc.

It was so cool to see the actors. They were joking around between shots, and it was clear they are friends and love what they do. They also joked around with the audience, and were taking pictures of each other and the crew throughout. Also have to say the director seemed so nice, and it was amazing to see how the crew does everything.

Closer to the end we got some surprise balcony visits. First Finn (Cory Monteith) and Mike (Harry Shum) payed a visit, and stayed for a long time. They joked around, signed some autographs, and answered some questions for about 15 min. Then our side of the balcony was paid a visit by Puckerman (Mark Salling) & Lauren Zizes (Ashley Fink), Sam aka Trouty Mouth (Chord Overstreet,!?) & Santana (Naya Rivera), and Artie (Kevin McHale) & Tina (Jenna Ushkowitz) - in said groupings. They all stayed for a few minutes, answered a few questions, and signed a few autographs. They were all super nice, friendly, and believe it or not just seemed like real people - who happen to be on a hit tv series.

Of course no cameras were allowed. I'm hoping later they'll have some pics up on FB that they took themselves, as they tend to do that.

It was just so incredibly fun, and clearly an experience of a life time. It is going to be so great to see that episode once it aires! I was reading an article about it, and since the majority of the episode was filmed in NY it cost them $6 million to make!! No wonder they did a few shots back at home in LA.

The next day after a good sleep and driving we made it to Venice beach. Here I laid happily in the sun for several hrs, hardly doing anything. This was my heaven! It was absolutely lovely, not particularly hot just nice and warm, lovely breeze, and the ocean noises providing the perfect soundtrack. I could have stayed in that moment forever, and wished there was a way to capture it. Perfect simplicity.

We then wandered the Venice strip, saw all the ridiculous things, and stopped for another small bite, and then began our drive home. A chance sighting of a Red Lobster made for another quick stop (Hey, where's my biscuits?) as well as a Starbucks stop to get the largest tea known to man, to help soothe my aching throat. We got home around 11:30, and I slept today till around 10:30am. My cold is in a full rage.... not that I'm complaining.

Fun with Heidi

2011-05-11T14:17:00.002-06:00

When I was about to do this I thought to myself, this seems like the type of thing I should record. I did my other nostril as well, but didn't bother posting that part. Turns out no squeezing of the pot is required, I had just made that part up.

The Gospel of Luke

2011-04-23T09:25:00.002-06:00

Each of the gospels paint a particular picture in the way they present the life of Jesus. Luke’s gospel is strongly about the worthiness and inclusion of all. It was radical for Jesus to have interaction with women, to present Samaritans in a positive light, or to have contact with an ill person, chapter after chapter he's turning the norms upside down.

On one hand this seems like such a simple concept, and yet when you read Luke he continually bombards you with this message. It is such an important message that it needs to be constantly repeated, and even though we often think we’ve got it under control, we continually blow it. We leave people outside of our circle, our church, and our profession because they are “different”. We say things like “they simply don’t belong”, “they have their own circle”, “they wouldn’t fit in here”, and believe that these are acceptable excuses. We scoff at those who are portrayed in Luke’s stories as those who believe they are “above”, and yet we repeat this message every day. This belief in being “higher than” has not faded out in our Post-modern age.

Yet we do not only struggle with being “higher than”, we also struggle with believing we are less. Personally I find myself believing thoughts such as; “I’m not smart enough, I’m not professional enough, I’m not beautiful enough, and I too, don’t really belong”. My friends discuss similar struggles, struggles that are imposed by society as well as internally. I find being reminded that regardless of anything I’m not “less than”, truly moving. We all have times where we feel less than, unaccepted, and unimportant. And so when we get inside the stories Luke presents, it can be easy for us to understand how the different women, shepards, tax-collectors (ect.), felt totally worthless – and also how amazing it must have felt to be validated by Jesus.

The ancient times and our modern day are no different in regards to this struggle. I am glad that the Gospel of Luke can serve as a reminder that all are worthy, including me. When I struggle to believe in my worth, the actions of Jesus are there to remind me that he exalted the lowly. When I find myself treating others as less than, Jesus prompts me to behave in a manner that is reminiscent of his own actions.

Fudgesicles - My best friend

2011-04-05T18:05:00.003-06:00

I don't know what it is but there is something perfect about Fudgesicles. It isn't beyond me to eat up to 3 at a time, which is why I don't typically purchase them. Today though on my way back from my appointment, they called to me, and I relented. I've only ate one so far, but that prob won't last long.

Mmm juice

2011-03-31T15:38:00.003-06:00

As you may or may not know, I have a weird thing for trying various tasty beverages.

I bought some fancy all natural, 100% pure pressed orange juice, not from concentrate & no sugars added. Literally when you read the ingredients it says "pressed carrots". I was skeptical it would taste as awesome as it sounds, but it does... as long as you like carrot juice. :)

Also I don't really know what this means but the bottle is a "Plant Bottle". It says "up-to" 100% plant-based, and 100% recyclable. Now the "up-to" gives away their secret, but at least it's recyclable.

The company is Odwalla, the juice I tried was just plain old "Carrot Juice"

Heidi's how to's # 5

2011-03-29T23:37:00.012-06:00

Make bath-time fun!

Step 1: Be somewhere that Oranges are cheap or better yet free. Lemons too. (Mine=Free) :) Cut up, put in container. Dig around cupboard and find some good smelling spice, oil, extract, etc. I also really wished I had some sea salts, but alas we had none.

Tip: I found sage and decided to try it... I wouldn't recommend it as it didn't seem to add anything and stuck to everything.

Step 2: Run bath, add sliced fruit (etc).

Step 3: Dim lights, and light candles.

Tip: Consider getting some beeswax candles, or some other healthier type. I couldn't stop thinking about the candle chemicals I was breathing.

Step 4: Get into bath, and enjoy. Stay for at least 1/2 hr for maximum benefit, consider keeping water, magazines, & ipod in reach.

(No picture provided). ;)

Step 5: Get excited about many possibilities such as: grapefruit, limes, various oils, milk, honey, tea bags (i read it online, and want to try it), salts, vanilla, peppermint.... At first i was thinking how cool it would be to have lavender, but after the folly of the sage, I'd say oils or extracts would be the way to go. Herby stuff just stuck to me and the bathtub, and I couldn't notice a smell.

Extra Tips:

If in California, do not consume one of the cut-up oranges while in bath, as this is illegal. Don't believe me? Google it.

This one's for the ladies... so pretty much right after the bath with oranges I was like "Hmmmm, prob should have put some baking soda in there".... if you know what I mean. So you might want to consider that for acidic things.

Have a face cloth at hand. Maybe it was just me, but something about this experiment made my face sweat like crazy, which is not my usual bath-time experience.

Go wild, experiment, and Have Fun!

Detached

2011-03-29T19:06:00.004-06:00

Detached.

An empty sort of sorrow,

smooth as glass.

But the window pane is

rattling,

it is about to collapse.

An empty sort of sorrow,

smooth and detached.

Nothingness.

A bird cage shakes,

it sways.

A floating

feather

murmurs;

"I can not be trapped".

Launching

into pause.

Eyes glazed over, unlatched.

Birthday cake frosting.

So sweet and fast.

Deep ocean dive,

blue freedom,

attached.

An empty sort of sorrow - surpassed.

-Heidi Fischer

Mar. 28th, 2011

My therapist asked if I'm published after I read this, narcism points for me.

Therapy - You should be in it.

2011-03-21T17:15:00.007-06:00

I am a firm believer that each and everyone of us is in need of therapy.

Granted, some more than others.. but I still say everyone.

Personally I have been sans-therapist since like 2007 or something, and it was high time I found myself a new one. I've been seeing a lovely lady for close to 2 months now, and it is going well. I did finally ask her what her theory was, and it's Psychodynamic -- Object Relations, with a dash of whatever she wants to use thrown in there. (Just in case you wanted to know).

I find the hardest part to be just getting started down such a road. Who will I see? What will they be like? Will I be disappointed? Can I really open up all that stuff again, and perhaps worse yet, new stuff?

Once I'm there, it's not as trauma inducing as I imagine it will be.

Now for those of you haven't seen a few therapists (like I have), or aren't being educated to be one (bingo), let me tell you this. Therapists are no longer like Frued (there may be a few), and they are also not like Good Will Hunting (again, there are certainly some). They are in my experience, more like somewhere in between.

What will happen? Well that is more or less up to you. Personally I talk, I listen, I cry, I get angry, I feel shy/nervous, I grow and I change. I generally feel excited to go, walk away with a lot of thoughts, confusion, heightened emotions, and become again excited in time for the next session.

And so that my friends is all there is to it. It is for me an interesting and powerful journey.

One that takes a lot of energy, but that I find to be ultimately fulfilling. I'm not that shy about my experience with therapy, so if you are curious about it for yourself or for whatever reason, I'm open to discussing it.

Drop me a line.

Lucky Mondays.

2011-02-14T14:43:00.003-06:00

Children.

Terrifying and delightful.

Today I met a new mentee. Things started off a little rocky, yet ended with being told from now on Mondays are "Lucky Mondays".

I must admit with this new role I am constantly amazed, amused, and humbled.

Also I bike to my nice pre-practicum placement. While google suggests other bike routes, this is the one I take. It takes about 15-20 min, and I enjoy it.

I hope Mondays continue to be lucky, for both mentor and mentees.

2011-02-12T17:26:00.006-06:00

anx·ious/ˈaNG(k)SHəs/Adjective

1. Experiencing worry, unease, or nervousness, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

What makes you anxious?

I by definition am not an overly anxious person, but i'll have you know I have my own set of fears.

As the picture has now tipped you off, it's to do with driving. Getting me to get my drivers license was like pulling teeth and I finally did it in grade 12. Even after that I only drove locally and exactly where I needed to be. Once I started living in Saskatoon during Bethany summers I would hardly drive anywhere, but that eventually changed. I wanted to be able to go places and do fun things, so I had to get over the fear. Eventually a very helpful turning point arrived when I realized I could read maps when I previously believed I couldn't. If I have something important like an interview or appointment I still drive to the place the day before so I won't be worried about finding it.

As all good therapists should I've analyzed myself and can't figure out any particular reason for the fear. I've never been in some scaring trauma inducing accident, or any other such thing. The most I do know is that I get anxious over not knowing where I am and or getting lost. I try to tell myself getting lost would be no big deal what with friendly strangers and cellphones, the self talk doesn't much help sadly. Also in new settings I have little to no sense of direction, annoying.

The idea of driving around in Fresno has been dreadful to me, and I've mostly been able to cop-out due to my lack of transportation. Last semester my friend got me to agree to help out with picking up her kids, with some initial nerves I went for it and it was totally fine. I have a pre-prac placement now and have also managed that drive, lol. Soon I'm going to have no choice but than to get around this place what with practicum and other such things.

And so today with much fear I conquered a drive that required more than 5 minutes but a good 25 min complete with a few exits and ramps. My lovely neighbor and kids accompanied me on the adventure and I survived. I rule the world! I can do this!!

I don't know if I conquered failure.. but I am amazing.

New Life Goal

2011-01-26T19:28:00.002-06:00

Today I discovered something.

Something that brings me such happiness, and something that tears me up inside to know exists without me.

While perusing my yahoo news, I discovered that a MA exists, a MA that I MUST complete some time in my life.

The Beatles, Popular Music and Society (MA) At the Liverpool Hope University.

That's right folks, you read it correctly. A BEATLES degree, that can be obtained in Liverpool.

I almost died when I read about this, this is beyond amazing. I honestly would drop my whole life to go and get this degree if possible.

This degree is taught in 4 Modules, and one is described as follows;

Musicology and the Beatles - In this module students will take a popular music semiotics approach and will textually analyse a variety of Beatles material.

ARE YOU FREAKEN KIDDING ME?

Now, according to the website this degree is basically meant for those who are looking to teach in a Higher Education type setting, which yah I'd be ok with. Buuuuuuuuuuut, because I'm a genius I would use this degree to be a Bealtes Specialist/Analyst for News, Talk Shows, whatever.

Oh man I really need to re-plan my life.... first get new Undergrad or see if they'll just accept me as is. Second get ahold of like $100,000 or more, I'm sure.

SIGH.

Life is cruel.

List of Swedish brigades

2011-01-25T17:22:00.003-06:00

You
Are never beaten.
If you’ve got enough,
nerve.
Invest,
equal amounts.
Sorrow.
Beyond impossible.
Presence of
mind.
All work.
Price of greatness.
Can never be,
complete.

Personal lives.
What we,
envisage.
Make themselves,
wings.
Broaden
our
understanding.

It’s a
whisper.
Responsibility.

-Heidi Fischer
Jan 25th, 2011

Most of you are probably aware of the game where you make up an album cover using random pictures, wiki titles, and quotes. Well, I thought to myself why not make a poem this way. So the title is a random Wikipedia article. And the poem is constructed from snippets of quotes, arranged as I saw fit. I'm pleased with the outcome.

Shameless promotion

2011-01-19T19:29:00.006-06:00

I use these sites to make my life awesome, feel free to do the same. I haven't tried the Hautelook one yet, but looks cool. As with most of these types of sites if you sign up under my links I get points, money, etc.

Living social/groupon sites that give you 50% off deals, etc.

Living Social

Groupon

Swagbucks, where i collect points to redeem for amazon cards.

Designer items for dealz.

Hautelook

Weighty Issue

2011-01-15T19:33:00.004-06:00

A few summers ago in like 2007 I got sick, and in the matter of a few months lost probably around 30 pounds or so. I didn't have a weight scale so I don't know how much I lost exactly, but I do know that I went from being around a 12-14 to a 8 or a very generous 6.

I went to a bunch of doctors and they never did really figure much out about what was wrong with me, and eventually while not cured I felt fairly better so I quit trying to figure out what was wrong. The best diagnosis they could come up with was IBS, so I settled on that and tried to avoid foods that I knew would bother me.

After the initial summer of illness, I put a few pounds of what I lost back on, but that was it. I didn't really change my lifestyle at all, but I did have a really active job at the thrift store so I think that kept what could have come back, off, plus I was still sick a lot.

I really did not enjoy being sick, but I did enjoy the weight-loss. New look, new clothes I could have never had before. Prior I had never really cared about my weight, oh sure there was the odd dress that I felt sad I couldn't fit into, other wise.. whatever, I was who I was, and I didn't think my size would ever change.

Now starting in 2009 my weight has been on the upswing, and while as always I'd love to blame America ;), it's not that. First off I'm hardly sick anymore, which I don't really know why, if anything I should thank America for that, or at least Cassy's cooking. The major problem is just the student life, while prior I spent a good work day on my feet doing a lot of active things at the thrift store.. now i sit around with my computer.

I'm not writing this to talk about my new resolve to to better myself, although perhaps I should be. More so I wanted to write for the following reason, weight issues seem to be something we keep secret from one another. Personally while it does discourage me that I'm gaining weight, it's not something I want to be ashamed of or try and keep a secret. My friends I now wear a 10 or a stretchy 8... so it is.

While now and then during the semester I manage to get in some exercise and healthy eating - that type of thing is not my strong suit. I can live with what I've gained so far, but I don't want to gain any more. And that my friends is my current struggle. And while I wish I could think up a more eloquent way of finishing up, that's how it's gonna be.

The power of suggestion.

2011-01-07T13:07:00.002-06:00

As I sat in the Denver airport yesterday, a guy came up to me and said;

"I know you're Canadian, so you'll be nice to me when I ask you to help me."

He proceeded to ask me how to get onto the internet, I helped him, and we had a great 5 minute convo. I was so thrilled that he thought I was going to be a nice person, that I was, exceedingly so. I did indeed check, and yes sadly there was a wedding band, but I digress. Eventually I wondered how he knew I was Canadian, only to look down at my shirt to see the big CBC logo.. ah yes. He was from Edmonton himself, therefor recognizing it.

Can you imagine how the conversation would have gone if instead he started off saying;

"You're probably going to bite my head off for asking, but..." or "Wow, you look like a huge bag - help me with this".

Obviously not well.

One of the things we learn to have as therapists is "unconditional positive regard". Which in laymen's terms means always believing the best of others and treating them accordingly. It doesn't mean you let anything fly, rather it is a belief in everyone's inherent worth.

This small encounter with my fellow traveller, reminded me of the importance of this. What a delightful world it would be if every conversation started with "Hello, I know you are a great person - let's talk".

Reading

2011-01-04T15:56:00.004-06:00

I love reading!

Any time someone tells me they don't read, I feel sorry for them, and try to convince them it is the best thing they could do.

My parents got me going on it, there is no doubt about that. Always a book to be read as a child, a magazine subscription to keep me interested. I quite enjoyed Highlights I do recall. I was a fan of Book It as well, many free pizzas were earned.

I remember already around the age of 4 the love was there. If a friend was coming over to play and I was getting impatient about the time I'd calculate how many books I thought it would take until their arrival, pull that many out and read them.

Being in school, reading anything other than your textbooks tends to get difficult. At Bethany it wasn't as much of a problem, and I'd usually get in a few books no problem. Grad school though, does not lend itself well to extra reading. So far I have managed about 1 or 2 short books per semester though, and thats not so bad.

During break is when I go for it, and this break I managed 3 books. The Hunger Games series, which by the way I recommend. I think my record during a break is 5 books, which I read during a Bethany Christmas break.

Right now the best way I seem to manage it is by reading adolescent books, that way they can be read in a few days. I'd love to be diving into Dostoevsky, but it just can't be done. (ps, Crime and Punishment one of my fave books of all time).

What has been your favorite read as of late? What's waiting on your shelf for you? Do you have an all time favorite book? I find it too hard to ever really say 1 but could prob come up with a list of like 10 or 20 favorites.

Heidi's How To's #4

2010-12-25T17:48:00.008-06:00

How to succeed in school.

1. Be polite

Show up on time. If you are going to be late, give notice. If you are going to be on facebook all class don't do it when they are watching. The teacher probably knows, but at least give them the courtesy of trying to hide it. Keep your mouthing off to a minimum, this will not win you points. Don't be too disagreeable. There is nothing wrong with voicing an opposite opinion, but a constant stream of it will only make you seem like a jerk.

2. Do your work

Novel idea, but actually pretty hard for some people. It is also important to not only do it, but do it on time. Now that's a double bonus. There is no trick to it, it's just a simple trick. Do things as early as you can. I know some people say they thrive on the night before pressure, and if that truly works for you then have at it. I on the other had will have a nervous breakdown with that type of system. Also who knows what the future holds, various things such as illness or work can make it impossible to get it done that night.

Even if you aren't able to hand in something that is "quality", just hand something in. It's better to have it done, than hanging over your head. And who knows, you may still get a decent mark. I found this past semester particularly stressful in the beginning and so resigned myself to getting B's, well some how I ended up with all A's. Relaxing and just handing things in as best you can, can do some good.

3. Figure out what makes your teacher tick

This is one I've always stood by, every teacher has personal quirks and you might as well obligee them. Teacher A loves personal stories? Fill up your paper with all that will fit. Teacher B wants your papers as short as possible? Don't hand in a 15 pager. Teacher C thinks Jim Carrey is about as good as it gets? Find a way to link your topic with the hilarity of his comedy. I'm particularly fond of tacking on previously written poems (that fit with the topic) at end of my papers, of course just for those teachers I know who appreciate creative writing. This step is one of my favorite steps as a student, I consider it a fun challenge.

4. Teachers are people too

Hard to believe, but true just the same. ;) Treat them with as much respect (if not more) than you would any other person. If you want to give them a birthday card, xmas gift, or just a thank-you note for being awesome - I say go for it.

5. Know thine self

Studying with other people almost pushes me over the edge, it is just not my style. I do not feel bad about declining to study with my friends. Others love having a group, or a particular friend to go over things with. Figure yourself out. Not so great at memorizing? Ask friends for tips, and try out different techniques. Not sure how to do your paper in the proper format? Google will tell you.

6. Don't lose your mind.

I've not read very many studies on this, but I think the amount of people who have died from a low grade is very few. There may be a few who fell over dead upon seeing a bad grade, but I think it is a slight number. Most teachers are cool with extra work, or you'll just do better the next go around. If it comes to it, while it can be a set back, don't forget classes can be done again. Typically a teacher doesn't want to do that to you though, so talk to them about what you can do.

As a kid if we ever happened to get a low grade my dad would always say "...well at least you know 60%". I think this is a good place to start from on low grades. Ok, what can I do to know 20% more?

7. Don't leave anything blank.

Fill questions in with anything you know, or you don't know. It's surprising what might get you a few marks. If the teacher has loads of extra credit options do as many as you can. Make stuff up if you have to, no one will die.

Not a student but you work? Most of these points can be applied there too, just replace teacher with boss. ;)

How do you succeed as a student? Any childhood (or later) lessons you learned that have helped you out as a student and in life? Who have been your favorite teachers and why?

Heidi's How To's #3

2010-12-24T00:30:00.016-06:00

How to be a Saskatchewanite.

1. You know what Telemiracle is, and you've donated to it.

You may hate this program, begrudgingly watch it, or participate fully. You cannot escape. I promise you you've donated to it. Either as a child at school (penny race), through your child (to school), or a local business collecting. Of course it is entirely possible your work place or family does a special drive itself. Having made $85,981,983 to date I'd say we have something to be proud of.

2. There is no Ikea in Saskatchewan

For some reason this means you are willing to travel far and wide for a trip to one, usually Edmonton or Calgary. You've done this at least once.

3. Roughriders

Football fan or not you are obliged to hop on the wagon. If you do not follow them throughout the year, you tune in when they make it to the cup. You own or have bought for a family member/friend Roughriders memorabilia. You have been to at least 2 Grey Cup parties.

On another but similar note other types of sports prove more challenging in terms of favorite teams. Baseball? Not so hard. There is a good chance you're a Jays fan, though not required. NFL? Could be any team. NHL? If you don't choose a Canadian team, my bet is on the Bruins, but still hard to say. Seriously I was at Old Navy in S'toon the other day and they had these NHL shirts, none of them were sold out, only Boston. NBA? Well, I know nothing about that.

4.Heritage Minutes (aka Historica Minutes)

I will begrudgingly let low knowledge of this one pass if you had more than farmer vision growing up. If not, shame on you. I will also state this not only marks a Saskatchewanite but Canadians far and wide. Our general knowledge of Canadian History comes from these minute long "commercials". Would I have ever known of the origins of Winne-the-pooh, Superman, or Basketball without them? What is your favorite line? So hard to choose just one.

I also need to throw in that if you are fairly aware of the Heritage Minutes you likely have some recollection of the Hinterland Who's Who. In fact the mere mention brings the flutey theme music to your ears in nanoseconds.

5. Tommy Dougalas is your hero.

Ok so maybe he isn't, but he's mine. And darn it he should be yours too. Ah father of healthcare, fellow saskatchewanian, and premier of my province. There are few points in which I stand strongly about, this is one, but I digress.

6. SGI, Sasktel, Saskatoon Berries aren't just funny words to you.

They are a way of life, they are your car insurance, phone-service, and pies.

7. You hardly smirk when someone talks about Moose Jaw.

It's not that weird of name for a city is it? Smutts, Elbow, Eyebrow, Climax, Forget, Indian Head, Onion Lake, totally normal right? At least "Pile-O-Bones" changed its name to Regina.

8. You are as tough as they come!

In particular I'm thinking weather. 40'C to -40'C (100F to -40F) you've braved it all, even colder actually due to our friend "wind chill". You kinda understand how other provinces/states get into trouble when there is a heavy snow fall (less equipment, sloping roads, driving skills), but you still laugh about it particularly when you think of the time Toronto had to call in the army to shovel snow. That special type of heat does arrive now and then, although as of late we've seen more rain than sun during our summers.

What am I missing? Of course this is coming from a 1982 model of a Saskatchewanian, other years may have other versions. Are you a Saskatchewanite or lived there long enough to say what makes us tick?

What makes you from your province or state? What is your favorite invention, landmark, person worthy of note?

Heidi's How To's #2

2010-12-23T22:25:00.008-06:00

How to Thrift Shop and Donate Successfully.

Being a former thrift worker much of this is from serious personal experience.

1. Remember that many thrift stores operate as a charity.

We all love getting a good bargain, here there is no doubt. Do you really need to save that 50 cents though, when it could be going to MCC or Salvation Army instead? I once had a lady try and get a tea towel for $0.50 instead of $0.75 because it was slightly faded. No dice. If you want something new then don't shop thrift. If you want a $100 antique for $80, we are more likely to help you out, just don't be petty.

2. Be a friendly customer.

Retail is a difficult business to work in, it can cause you to lose all faith in humanity. Don't be the person that knocks some kindly thrift worker over the edge. Of course we should follow the golden rule simply for the sake of keeping it. The fact is though you are likely to be more successful in your shopping if you do. In my case I'm much more likely to answer your call to look for something in the store instead of putting my hand over the receiver waiting for 1 minute and saying "sorry, I couldn't find a large black skirt".

3. These stores are not (typically) the same as a major retailer, so don't treat them like one.

If you call up a thrift store to ask if they have yellow buttons or The Illiad and they hastily tell you they don't know, don't be offended. Thrift stores are busy places. No public bathroom? Don't get in a huff. No public phone? My friend that is what your cell phone or that one pay-phone left in town is for. Offended by some random book that made its way onto the shelf? Truly sorry.

4. Do not donate crap.

Right now you might be thinking "Come on Heidi, don't be silly, who would do that". OOOOOOOOHHH NOOOOO YOU DIDN'T, is my response. Let me tell you a thing or two sonny. Let me run this scenario by you. The circle of life includes the fact that grandma dies. I am sorry for your loss. Inevitably you need to sort through her earthly possessions, and decide you shall donate some of it. So far so good. Imagine now though that you decide instead of actually sorting anything you will pull out all her kitchen drawers and just bring them as is. Now if Grandma was Martha Stewart this might be fine, this grandma though was not. 500 hundred random rusty, dusty, musty, busty (still reading?), crusty kitchen things from 1930 and on.

That is just one story out of a possible 1,301. A lot of those stories would include some of the despicable clothing that gets donated. If you don't want your paint covered jeans, I doubt no one else does. Bloody t-shirt? Yes please. Smoky, cat hair, mothball wardrobe? Don't mind if I do. Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but I am going to. Our giant green garbage bin gets taken away once a week, during really busy seasons we call for a second pick up. We don't trash things indiscriminately either, we make rag bags, sell random dishes for $0.10, sell bronze to some guy, cut jeans into squares for crafts, and send away clothes we don't want to some other charity. I don't even want to think about how many garbage bins more major shops fill up in a week.

5. Unsure? Call.

Don't know if the thrift store will take a set of encyclopedias? (no) Pick up the phone.

6. Thrift Stores Are Magical

As a customer and a worker my mind is continually blown all over the walls. There are wonderful, generous, kind donations from young and old. (I'm particularly fond of the lady who knits gorgeous mittens to donate, I have like ten pairs and have gifted ten others I'm sure.) I am amazed by kindhearted volunteers who want to help out the world - wether that means mopping the floors, sorting greeting cards, cutting rags, sorting clothes, dusting shelves, working cash, quilting, or keeping an eye on the customers. It is great to see the funds thrift stores can bring in, and important to realize what that means for the world. Personally "my thrift store" (as it has become) is a place that while far from perfect is a place I feel at home, and look forward to visiting whenever I can. As a worker my heart couldn't have been happier when i received notes of thanks for my work or good-bye gifts/hugs when I moved away, from both customers and fellow workers. La sigh.

What is your favorite thrift store find? Share a favorite story.

Find: Nikon Camera
The Beatles' White Album Record
Awesome Winter Coats, fuzzy boots, and various winter accessories
Strawberry Necklace, various rings, and leaf earrings

Story: I have too many, ask me for one some time.

Stay tuned for more. :)

In the Fresno area? Check out Megan's Zines, our resident thrift expert.

Heidi's How To's #1

2010-12-23T20:28:00.003-06:00

How to let your freak flag fly.

1. Accept yourself.

If you don't like who you are, why should anyone else? How can I do this, you ask? Excellent question. Read a book, enjoy some therapy, take a class, say a prayer, -- I promise you it can be done.

2. It is perfectly acceptable to be a nerd.

YouTube stars the Vlogbrothers and creators of Nerdfighteria have 434,116 subscribers, who are devoted to decreasing "world suck". That many people can't be wrong.

3. Everyone is crazy.

If you think you are the only one with problems, I assure you are not. If you don't think you have a problem, I assure you that you do. I have only lived to be 28 so far, but in these years there is one thing I have learned for certain. No ones life is devoid of pain, and this messes with our heads. See step 1 on how to deal with this.

4. Dress for success, but don't lose yourself.

-Listen to Stacy and Clinton, If they say not to wear it then don't. (Ok so i cheat, i wear eye sparkles this is a no-no)
-If you want to work for the rest of your life at a store that sells incense and dread wax, then wear, pierce, and tattoo whatever
you want - if not reconsider.
-Don't let Tucker make fun of your Rescue Rangers T-shirt, it's awesome. Just don't wear it to a job interview.
-Try on something different from the norm once in awhile. I normally went for the bootcut jeans, randomly tried on a straight-leg, voila new and nicer looking favorite.
-Ladies (and possibly gentlemen), throw in some excellent jewelry that helps tell something about who you are.

5. Embrace your obsessions.

As long as it is healthy and people don't start shying away from you, why not have something you love just a little too much? Know everything there is to know about the Beatles, good for you (me). Worlds best crafter? Blog about it daily. Engine enthusiast? Fix up those cars my friend. Worlds largest collection of Black Santa's? Display them with pride. We gotta fill our brains with something, might as well be something we like.

What have you learned that helps your freak flag fly?

Stay tuned for more "how to's".

Untitled

2010-11-21T03:30:00.003-06:00

I fear plastic Christianity. I fear what D.C. Talk so aptly quotes as “…Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips and walk out the door and deny Him by their lifestyle.” And tonight as I sat lost in a novel by John Green and the melodic wonder of the Kings of Convenience, I felt warm and filled with contentment for all the right reasons. I was being the real me, if only for an hour.

I have grown to love this place filled with people who bring me grilled cheese sandwiches shaped as a happy face, sit with me watching artsy movies, and stay up till 2:00am discussing how we can be our true selves, rid ourselves of our addictions. This place where 3 different church people call me to rectify a wrong. Real faith being lived out in simple true actions.

I do not want to be a paper person, a person who has no real meaning, easily blown away by life’s strange calamities. I long to learn what my grilled cheese sandwich to the world is. Is it my laughter, my willingness to cry when touched profoundly inside, my ability to sense the true feelings in a room? The poetry that flows from my heart and onto the page, with hopes it affects the reader at some capacity.

I feel lost at the best of times, not sure who my true self is and how to portray the real me. I don’t always know her, lost in easy distractions. I’ve grown to learn though, that this is all of our struggle. The best way to discover this is to find people who will let you in, and to do the same in return. I am amazed by intense stories, dark hurts, bright striking dreams, quivering and/or unwavering faiths, and familiar daily pursuits. Ordinary people, who become my heroes.

And I suppose the lesson that we must really learn is that who we really are is forever changing, a development that never finds earthly conclusion. We are not static, and new pieces are brought about each day. We are in no way really complete, and possibly that is the whole point. For as complete, what colors are there to be added? What artist desires to quit creating? Constant formation into something new, which is in fact sure avoidance of being toxically plastic.

And so perhaps there is little to fear, because my world is filled with so much goodness. I can lay my head down and safely know there is One who truly knows me, even when I don’t. And in my company are unfinished people, who just like me, are living out life in a standard uncertainty. Never truly lost, hardened, or blown away.

-Heidi, Nov 21, 2010

Almost 10 years

2010-10-17T03:18:00.003-06:00

Jeg liker til å snakke norsk,
men bare i hodet mitt.
Jeg er ikke veldig bra
ett ord
ett ord
ett ord
I didn't speak it then.
I was too embarrassed.
I once said "SpiseR", with a hard English R.
I was laughed at.
He didn't mean to - but
I was frail enough it hurt my feelings.

I watched 3 Swedish movies in the past 2 days.
I love hearing those breathy
"Ja's" og "Nei's"
Swallow them up, inhale the letters -
As though never spoken.

I hold onto funny words.
"liggeunderlag"
"Jo da!"
"søppel"

I was working on finding myself then.
I was too young to get it right,
but it was an important beginning.
I love the country that was my home for a year.
Even if I refused to speak its language;
or eat its grøt (Æsj)!!!!

I found kindness I never expected,
and a world where vanilla ice cream tastes good.
I don't know if I've ever since cried so much.
I know I haven't.
Tears for every reason that there could be tears.

No one knew I understood as much as I did.
I kept it hidden.
I was so homesick,
but did not want to let go.
Mine venner i mitt hjerte.
Men jeg vil ikke kalle deg koselig, for jeg hater det ordet.

-Oct 16th, 2010

2010-10-16T11:36:00.002-06:00

Streets paved with gold do not appeal to me
Only a world where we all will be whole
Crawl out of the ground
No more pits
That hold us all down
Talk to anyone long enough and you will find
We all have them
Working so hard to find light

Waterfalls that wash it all away
Temporary havens of cascading sunshine
You didn’t know
I pray you didn’t know
If not you, there would have been
Some other

Not quite bound by shackles
But no one quite breaks free
Not in this time
You see it in eyes
Longing, yearning – why can’t it be found
Walking on rooftops, only to find our wings haven’t yet
Sprouted feathers

Brazen orb you converse
Winking out messages
Laughter that rises up above clothed frailties
You couldn’t have known
Streets…what streets
I will run free
Among towering blades growing unhindered
Dewy tips bathing my feet
Warm embrace,
Unearned love like so many meowing whiskers

You can gather me
Gentle clucking, keeping time with your soft gentle bosom
Let those nails grow long
Inch by inch
Clawing up – up – up
Staying down isn’t worth it
I couldn’t have known either
Tiny doorways of beauty –
Unknown – encapsulated in flowers kept in jars
You cost us so little

I wish I could say I’ve never been afraid of tears
What could have been different
How I wept, am weeping
You weren’t popular but there was a
Swaying appreciation
Your white fleshy finger brushed away a tear
I think the nicest thing I’ve experienced
The closest I’ve ever felt to anyone
Witnessed only by a pool table, living out its
Usefulness

I do not long for a glittery crown,
The weight will seep into me
Its drug, one of unfulfillable desire
I know who you are, scheming to stand up along side me
Boxing up hope, begging us not to recognize
The frail cornered flaps
They strongly twine into each other, but one mistake
Breaks it all
I was taught how to make you… I was, not you

The God that I know won’t offer me some great palace –
With rooms unending – figures to be dusted – walls to be washed
No He’ll look down and clip back my nails,
No more need for these
Resting inside of my imagination
The Great Welder of Tear Ducts
An 8 ball will roll by and wink at me,
Nudging an old cue to attention
All the unknowns will be over
The last tissue known to man
Is God’s sleeve
Offered without pretense
He’s been ready.

-Oct 15th, 2010

2010-09-28T14:48:00.001-06:00

Tonight I wrote a simple poem, to God, to myself, and to anyone who finds themselves in the same position. You can find it below. After I wrote it, I knew I wanted... to write about it . Here are some of my thoughts: I hope they can be meaningful to you.

I have a lesson that I learn day after day, month after month, year after year. God is always right here, and only through him can I feel whole. I can fill myself up with whatever I want, but the more I fill the emptier I become, until “I’m very nearly gone”. I can tell myself that I’m fine, that I’m enjoying where I’m at – but the truth is I know better. God whispers to me that only He brings true fullness – and that I am free to choose one way or another. I usually struggle; I wonder why I feel off course, I “enjoy” my nothingness… until I agree to shift my position to facing Him. I very truthfully suspect I am not the only one who repeatedly goes through this.

We all have stuff that we turn to that we think will bring us completeness, stuff that is here, now, tangible. In and of themselves they aren’t all “wrong” things, though some are. There are things that are normal to want, and that are good to have in our lives. Of course there are twisted versions of those desires, things that we do to hurt God, others, and ourselves. In other words, sin. Either way we allow God to be substituted.

So how do I stop myself from taking the good or the bad and using it to replace God? What can we do to remind ourselves that God is our true lover, and is just as real as anything we can see? I don’t know if I have the answer to these questions, but what I do know is what often helps steer me back in the direction I need to be going.

Community. As the hymn says, “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God”. I have need of my brothers and sisters, and I am thankful that there are so many of you. I am encouraged and convicted by your sermons, lessons, and lives. I am brought hope and comfort through your prayers. When you share your struggles I feel blessed. I don’t need to write out a list of all we can do for each other, but we should know that it is long. There are often many factors included in my transition, consistently though my relations play a key role.

I don’t think I’m putting myself down by saying realistically no matter how mature I become this is probably something that will continue to occur throughout my life. I will turn, and I will come back. I think we all do, and will. I’m not using that as an excuse, but instead as a way to say; we all need each other and will continue to.

I want to continually have a meaningful and connected relationship with God, and I want that for you too. I don’t want to turn to things that seem so much closer, so much easier… but in the end are empty. The Spirit, if I allow, guides me in the right direction, as I believe He does in all our lives. And so too can we do this in our Christian family. Let us stand together knowing the One who is truly Good and truly Fulfilling. Let us build each other up, and remember to stand in community.

Something is missing,
And you’re right there.
I feel it all twirling,
but you’re still here.

I still know right from wrong.
With in my heart – a song.
But the rest of me,
the rest of me is
gone.

I can’t quite seem to choose it.
I very nearly lose it.
I’m all spun up.
The rest of me is
gone,
nearly gone.

My heart is beating fast.
I know this will not last.
You’re here,
though I’m very nearly gone.

On the window pane,
drops the noisy rain.
And I laugh,
though I know what’s going on.

I cannot quite confess,
what sits inside my chest.
I turn,
and I know it won’t be long.

This feeling that’s inside,
right now I won’t abide.
Yet you’re here,
and you never go real far.

You took up my cross.
I never can be lost.
You’re with me,
and I’m never truly gone.

-Heidi Fischer

2010-09-20T00:48:00.000-06:00

The impossibility
of impossibilness.
Tall like the snow capped mountains,
drawn in youth.
Implausible,
V-shaped birds hovering midair.

Questionable smile,
captured in time.
Considerable, toothy,
and red.
Idyllic, serene,
predictable.

Veracious.

Monster.

More true,
accurate, changing.

I knew something then,
nothing was stationary.
All creatures unique.

They faded, however.
Existent world.
Packed.
Frozen.
Stable.

Go Heidi Go

2010-07-05T14:42:00.002-06:00

One year down, 2 more to go.

I have survived Fresno thus far.

I think my out-look for survival is looking good.

As I look at my dashboard weather report it tells me it is currently 36'C (96'F), while the home I just left behind is experiencing rain and a chilly 13'C (55'F). I really wouldn't know though as I'm safely sitting in my air-conditioned paradise, at aprox 20'C. I'm suppose to be working on my reading that is due today, but my blog seemed to call my name for no real reason.

In a few days I will start my first class of this school year. "Class" though has a somewhat funny ring to it, when in actuality I'll be taking of to Honduras for a week. I feel half excited and half overwhelmed. I don't really know what to expect out of this trip, which is ok I guess.

I'm tired.

Back to reading...

Of Montreal - Wraith Pined to the Mist

2010-04-15T13:08:00.000-06:00

2010-04-13T15:17:00.001-06:00

Ache

Close your eyes,

And wake.

Let

Fall

in a single line.

Soak

Enclosed by

Warmth.

Water

And

FALLS.

confined to one stream.

Heidi Fischer

April 13, 2010

Invictus

2010-03-04T01:03:00.004-06:00

Invictus, what an awesome movie. (Side-note a bodybuilder, Grant Roberts from Saskatoon has a role... he also trained Hilary Swank for Million Dollar Baby.. but I digress.)

In the movie Mandela gives the rugby captain, "Invictus", a poem by William Ernest Henley. In real life this poem was said to be found in Nelson Mandela's jail cell. In actuality he gave the rugby captain, Theodore Roosevelt's speech, The Man In The Arena. I post both here, enjoy.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

-Henley (1875)

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. -Roosevelt (April 23, 1910)

Rita

2010-02-18T00:36:00.003-06:00

Rita died in the summer of 2003, around the age of 70. I had known her my whole life, and I had always loved her. She had married Ed long ago, and they never had children. Instead Rita had cats. A good portion of her life she had cancer. She fought it valiantly. On her death bed with love and tears in my eyes I thanked her for being my "cat lady". Months before she had asked me if I would read scripture at her funeral, I had agreed. Rita loved the Lord. She had planned that her funeral would be a Gospel sermon, an invitation to Jesus. She would not let an opportunity go to waste.

As a child I spend many Sunday afternoons on Ed and Rita's farm. I was a quiet child and didn't need much entertaining. Her cats were special companions to me, I enjoyed finding them and giving them love. On some occasions I would put together puzzles or play with old paper dolls. Additionally she also had a variety of cat books that were always interesting to browse through. My favorite book of all was; "The value of believing in yourself: The Story of Louis Pasteur". A colorful cartoon book, the test tube drawings intrigued me the most. Recently I found a copy at my old thrift store, I bought it with sentimental tears.

Rita taught sunday school, she was a kind and giving teacher. My small church didn't often have many children or youth, but she didn't seem discouraged and simply taught who was there. Sometimes that someone.. was just me. I didn't mind having her as my personal instructor. There are little tricks she taught to remembering things in the Bible that still ring a bell in my head.

Want to remember the order of the books after Romans? Just remember your vowels, g A latians, E phesians, Ph I lippians c O lossians. AEIO. I will never forget it. Want your Bible students to have great self-esteem? Never tell them their answer is flat out "wrong". Encourage them by saying "...I can see how you might think that", or inquire how they came to that conclusion, etc. Oh how was she the master of this!! I remember when the so called "baddest" kid around showed up for sunday school, and she spent the hr being amazed by his answers. Most other people wouldn't have given him the light of day, I'm sure he left feeling valid.

She taught me lessons just in her living that I hope one day I can live up to. There was plenty of time she lived with tremendous pain, and yet her faith never wavered. She had her issues with God like anyone else, and on occasions told me of her frustrations. Yet she never stopped loving Jesus, and never stopped wanting to serve HIM. I have also never known someone who could be so accepting to everyone they know. She was a master of the middle ground, yet did not let go of her own convictions.

She was not a superwoman, and was fragile like us all. Eventually her husband also was diagnosed with cancer. She told me with tears how it hurt her so much that the doctors would look at her with resignation and acceptance of her impending death... and yet would look at her husband with hope of healing. She didn't resent her husbands prognosis, but felt swept away by the look in their eyes when it came to treating her. She felt they didn't want to "bother" with her any more.

Today I miss her. She would be so proud to see me where I am, and I would be so proud to share it with her. I wish I could receive another card from her with its trademark ending; "With God's Richest Blessings, Rita".

I was richly blessed, and I continue to be.

God blessed me through her friendship, her faith, her instruction, and her example.

And of course, I should not forget... I was blessed by her cats.

2009-12-04T14:42:00.002-06:00

Love
Gooey
And
Moist
Chocolate Chip
Cookie
All
Filled Up
With
Christ.
Making No
Sense
Perhaps
Is My
Vice.
Like
Chocolate Chip
Cookie
A
Brand New
Rolls Royce.

-Heidi Fischer
Nov. 13th, 2009

Glory... purple car = me

2009-12-04T01:08:00.003-06:00

Food

2009-10-17T17:13:00.000-06:00

In my experience world traveling produces one sure fire result, missing food from home. I don’t just mean mom’s home cooked meals, although there is that too, but just recognizing anything in the grocery store. What I mean is being able to open your pantry, go to the store and actually appreciate anything familiar.

Junk food is always there for you though. From Norway, China to Brazil you will at least find a few familiar pops, chocolate bars, and chips. I happily bought a package of Skittles in China, and would purposely pick up Pringles in Norway and Brazil over the unfamiliar choices. It may not taste exactly the same, irregardless at least seeing familiar packaging smiling up at you will surely make your heart flutter.

Norway is the land of open-faced sandwiches. Pretty quickly I began to feel if I ate another one I would barf. Early on I came up with a calculation as to how many I’d probably eat in a year. It went something like this. 5 days a week, (times) 4 weeks, (times) 9 months, (times) 6 (2 at frokost, 2 at lunsj, and 2 at kveldsmat) = 1,080 + 288(4 on Saturday and 4 on Sunday (times) the aforementioned formula) = 1,368 open-faced Norwegian sandwiches. I don’t doubt I ate that many. Like all things though in the end I began to relish them. This was the land where I first ate brie, blue cheese, porchetta, and I’m sure other culinary delights.

I have noted that peanut butter as well as dill pickles seem to be a North American thing. Whatever you can’t have, you eventually direly want. Another thing of course is cheddar cheese… it’s just us N.A. saps that eat that garbage, as far as I can tell. Those fast-food restaurants that seem to hover around the world will still provide you with those tasty orange cheese slices, but I warn you they are not the same, and usually rather sickly. I remember trying to dive into a McDonalds cheeseburger in Brazil, and pretty much wanting to barf… although of course McDonalds can have that affect at the best of times.

Growing Up

2009-10-16T00:28:00.003-06:00

Growing up in a K-12 school of 150 students has its advantages and disadvantages. Advantage 1; it is pretty hard to get lost. Not physically… although I suppose there is that too. With one hallway and one angle, it is pretty hard not to know where you are going. What I really mean though is, if nothing else, you are ‘known’. Now this doesn’t mean you will have friends, or have a particularly lovely time… but at least your face and your name are known by all. Not a particular comfort I suppose to the kid who goes through grade 5-12 with no friends… but I think it has to be better than complete obscurity. This being known to all though has its disadvantages too.

I recall a grade 10 day when a few of us decided to be somewhat ‘naughty’. Mr. Sharman was particularly lenient, and we didn’t really feel like going to class. So we ‘hid out’ in the library for probably a half hour or so, expecting to be eventually found. We never were. Eventually we got a little nervous about this, but didn’t want to go waltzing back into class with no excuse. So I got the brilliant idea to call the secretary, and to ask for Mr.Sharman. The plan was that upon his answering we’d scuttle back into class, and act like nothing happened when he returned. We might still get into trouble, but at least it would be humorous. Instead of Brenda picking up the phone though, it was Mr.G. Mr.G…my favorite math teacher and acting director. He immediately said, “Is that you Heidi?” I froze… and had no idea what to say… so I just admitted it. He knew what we were up and said; “Will you at least be on the line when he gets there?”… I muttered “no”. “Well you better get back to class then”; he said sternly, but with an underlying amusement. We ran out of the library and hid out in the bathroom for a few minutes laughing hysterically, and wondering what to do. We decided to just bite the bullet and walk back into class. We did so, made some excuse we were trying to find books for “reading time”… this was English class we were skipping… and basically received no reprimand. This was Perdue School for you.

I never really fit in. I got by just fine, but felt just on the edge of the outskirts. Stay in line well enough and I maintained friendships, and I was just odd enough to be true to myself. With about 5-10 friends to choose from, this was a precarious line to walk. I was the first to wear ‘funny colored nail polish’, put sparkles on my face, wear army print clothes, and so on. I was made fun of for all of it… always to see in a year or two it followed by the crowd. It wasn’t like I was a fashion expert or anything, far from it… I just liked things that were fun or interesting… they just didn’t become interesting to anyone else until it was considered normal.

When I think about it the number 1 disadvantage was the lack of opportunities. No photography, acting if there was some luck, no neat clubs to speak of. There were sports, but that just wasn’t for me. I loathed the annual baseball day. Forced to play baseball with the entire school… fricken sucked. In grade 11 or 12 I finally decided to skip it. So Tanya and I just didn’t bother to show up, and we probably hung out at her house that day. I slunk back to school at home time, and made my way onto my big yellow bus. My younger bus-friend Dustin informed me that Mr.C was pretty pissed about my absence, and I figured I’d probably get into trouble the next day... again though this was Perdue.

Mr. C met us at the start of the next day and sent us to the Principals office. We told Mr. Newton that we hadn’t gone to the all-glorious baseball day. He just responded; “You know it is mandatory right?” To which we both said; “Yeah”. And he was like; “Ok, well that’s fine”, and told us to go back to class… this had taken a total of 25 seconds. Mr. C met us on our way back and didn’t believe us that we had gone, and so sent us back following behind. Mr. Newton just sent us away again, and we heard them shouting at each other as we walked away. Nothing more ever came of it. I probably skipped a whole of 2.5 days my whole high school career… I don’t think Mr. Newton was too concerned with delinquency.

I hated grade 9. Our homeroom teacher meant well… but sadly I sucked at math and he sucked at teaching it. I don’t think Mr. Sloman had a particularly easy time of it with most of the students. What I do remember liking about grade 9 was Home Ec. Class. Our school wasn’t equipped for this, so once a week we’d be bussed off to Asquith school, about 20 minutes away. I liked the cooking… not so much the sewing. (I don’t know if the following happened in grade 9 or another year...but a good story nonetheless). Confession time. As mentioned, I didn’t much care for sewing. On one particular day we were to sew pencil cases. We had cut out the required fabric squares, and were ready to go. The teacher sewed hers together complete with zipper as a quick demonstration, and then threw it to the side. I knew what I was going to do… I grabbed it while she wasn’t looking and passed it off as my own. I smirked inside as she pointed out the flaws and gave me a 7/10. Oh yeah… I was a bad ass. Ok ok.. I wasn’t… but in that moment I really felt like I stuck it to the man. Part two of Home Ec. involved us freely (secretly) taking things back to Perdue for our own later use. We once took back ice tea crystals and a few of us proudly snorted them in Mr. Sloman’s accounting class. Yes I must admit it; I’ve snorted a substance… legal as it was. I’m also particularly fond of the time we smuggled back an entire watermelon that was also consumed in class.

In a class of 6 it’s hard not to leave with the highest-class average grades 10-12, although I suppose 5 others didn’t. I still proudly display this on my resume… they don’t know the size of the school. I would have been a “mid-student” anywhere else… but again this was Perdue.

2009-10-12T18:54:00.001-06:00

Lazy and Hazy.
Nothing
Out
There,
To be Concerned about.

Beautiful Voices,
Joined
In
Harmony.
Guitar Strummed.

Trees
Have
Flourished.

Street Noises
Fade
Into
Nothingness.

Wasted Day
With
No
Regret.

Wasted Day
With
Select
Regret.

There is
No one
To
Hold
Me.

-Heidi Fischer

2009-09-20T00:42:00.001-06:00

I
Miss you.

I am
Not
Suppose
To say
It.

But,
I do.

2009-09-10T23:02:00.001-06:00

Don’t have the words.

Don’t have the words,
For what’s in my heart.

Left you behind,
When I shouldn’t have.

Heavy.

Alone.

Tired.

Doesn’t always seem
Like a free gift.

Even
Though
It is.

Looking for
Lightness.

Missing
Freedom.

Something
Not able
To
Turn.

Left you behind,
When you really can’t be left.

For what’s in my heart,
I don’t have the words.

-Heidi Fischer
Sept. 10th, 2009

The store: Part 1.5

2009-08-28T00:33:00.001-06:00

Hot cars didn’t impress her. A car worth 10 years of education didn’t cause her any special feelings. They were just purple, red, and blue. She could only note the color and knew nothing of the make. She would in no way turn down a car ride, but it wouldn’t influence her that was for sure.

She liked to watch the streets, the real streets. Watch the drug deals and people who walked back and forth like “Flintstone houses”. It still surprised her the amount of people that still smoked, when you really watched. TV and magazines have removed all that so you forget that particular vice is still doing quite well. “I wonder how those top Tobacco guys get through life knowing they are heartily supplying the world with cancer”…. “In another age they’d be paying a lot of indulgences”; she reasoned out.

The air was dusty and dry. She had only known this dryness and it barely affected her. The dust though… the dust. She felt bathed in it. When you haven’t been ‘in the dirt’, and yet the water you washed with turns brown… the evidence is all there. She made a mental note not to forget to wash up before eating.

She watched with total emptiness as the car across the street was ticketed. The car owner was literally 10 feet away from her. Yet he was looking the other direction waiting for his family inside the business. She watched them earlier when they had left the car and had not placed any money in the meter. She felt no remorse or guilt as they did finally walk across the street and pick up the ticket from the windshield.

Regina Spektor played over her ipod that day. She didn’t typically like female artists that much. Not that she had anything against them, but long ago she had noted that her music collection rarely featured women. The ones she did like were the Jewel (pre-whore), Fiona Apple and Lauryn Hill’s of the world. The ones that have something to say and do well to put it to music, with some (or a lot) quirkiness thrown in. She more or less imagined she herself would be that way if she were a musician.

The day from her standpoint was quite a success. It was a success because she got to spend the day sitting in a lawn chair with music playing in her ear. Additionally she did get to shoo away 3 shoplifters, another favorite past time. Sadly 2 (a pair) of these managed to get 1-2 tank tops… of which she did nothing about. From a financial standpoint though the day was not a success. Unfortunately this first (and last) ever sidewalk sale pulled about $20.00 in for the store.

The store: Part 1

2009-07-14T19:46:00.001-06:00

Here comes Jean. She used to come into the store at least four times a week. Then she was gone for months. I worried about her. One day she showed up, and it turns out she had badly broken her wrist. I had missed her, and was glad to see her return. Now she only comes once every week or two.

When I left the store the first time she actually gave me a present, complete with card! It was a dollar store basket of bathroom crap, but I still appreciated it. Even if I did donate it to the store, many months later. She typically spends at least an hr shopping. I can comfortably go for lunch break and expect her to be there when I return. She visits with everyone, and helps out fellow customers. She is a dear. I try to sneak in a hug now and then. I think she welcomes it. I don’t know if they are more for her or me.

I prefer working the till… most of the time. At the till you may have to deal with the drunken, high, or crazy. But I’m pretty good at that. At the back, receiving the donations… well then you get the boxes and boxes of un-ending crap.

80% of the drunk/high/crazies will leave with out a fuss when you tell them to. The other percent are the ones that yell, scream, and typically accuse you of being racist. Some just stare at you too… those ones make me the most uncomfortable. I’ve only started crying once, but only after she left. Typically I give the bored-est stare possible. Occasionally a threat to call the police is thrown in. I’ve had some regular customers even help out on these occasions… well maybe only twice.

The part I like about the front are my regulars. The ones who come in every day or at least several times a month. Some I know by name, or have given secret nicknames. We exchange small pieces of information. They comment on my clothes and jewelry, as well as my music choices. They slowly tell me about their life, or parts of it. They call me by name… I like that part a lot.

The back though can be good too. I have a particular penchant for purses, jewelry, books, and the odd antique. When a sweet load of donations come in, that for sure can be fun. Sadly though boxes of single mugs, 70’s Christian books, sickly Tupper-ware, and dusty picture frames usually take up the floor space.

Then there is Gus. I like him. He comes in every day, some times twice if he is really bored. He typically only spends around 35 cents… for sure no more than a dollar. He buys little bits of craft stuff, little ornaments, and garbage mostly. He once told me he had been an alcoholic, but quit drinking. I believe him, and I can tell. He has the look of a warn drinker, but the humor of someone who has quit. He likes to joke around about things, pretend he’s hit his head. He also knows a lot of people, some by name. He’s never been able to remember my name, though he’s asked a few times. For a really long time he called me “F.B.I.” because I was dressed as Scully for Halloween. Gus is actually one who helped me kick out a drunk guy… one of the ones that just stood there.

Long writing...

2009-07-05T20:57:00.001-06:00

Tonight I went for 1.1hr walk. Hoping to be rained on, wishing to run into someone I might know, and to gather my thoughts. Only the later happened, which was the most important anyways. As I neared home I got myself a booster juice. It would have been good if it weren’t for the ginger that burned my throat… I threw it away.

These last three years have been an experiment. They have been bumpy and exciting. There are things we will always regret, but for me it’s about a 90/10 split.. which I think is pretty good. I am proud of who I am and the choices I have made. I have learned that life is never easy, at least not for long. There is always something that can go wrong, but all around you there are always things that are right.

I wish I could say I have become a ‘better Christian’ or learned to know God better… but I am not so sure. The one thing I have learned over and over though is that He is always there, and listens to His people. I have learned how much I love being part of the Family of God. Knowing I have others who love me as a sister, and are willing to step up to my side. I love knowing others pray for me, and feeling that affection. I hope to become better at returning the favor.

I love the people I have met, and the people I continue to know. I always find it amazing how such wonderful people have crossed my path. After Norway I didn’t know if I could ever gain such wonderful friends…. Bethany College proved that I could. Again, not everyone rocked my world… but some of them did. If there is such a thing as “friendship soul mates”… I have found a few. Additionally there have been some delightful international friends thrown into the mix. Those lovely South Americans, and their different ways. They have shown me love, patience and taught me about generosity. Gisela and Adriel you have been an integral part to my life.

Who I was changed, when we decided to move on from the farm. Yet the family has survived, and we carry on. In the beginning it was unimaginable, now it is life. I credit Allan with helping me through this time. I know I was in his prayers, and he patiently waded through my calls and emails. The meaning of “home” has changed, and I’ve learned it’s more about the people than the surroundings. I will always be “from Arelee”, but it’s my family that matters the most.

As far as work has been concerned it went from ‘ok’, ‘bad’, ‘ok/bad’, to Amazing. Village Green, has been a challenge and a delight. The other jobs I’ve had in my life hasn’t really mattered… this one has mattered. Originally I was terrified, and now I scoff at people who talk of fearing 20th street. I have made friends with WONDERFUL volunteers and workers… and have gained so much from our customers. It’s not a wonderland in any respect, there are still problems… but I love it. I am excited to go to my job, look forward to the fun I’ll have, and I am thankful to feel loved and appreciated.

I am still an emotional person. I suspect I will always be. I have a joke that ‘if you haven’t seen me cry, you probably aren’t my friend’… a joke that’s close to the truth. I have no desire to hold anything back. I love to laugh loudly and to make other people laugh. There is nothing better than laughing over something so utterly ridiculous until you feel you may just lose your breath. I easily fall in love with people, and hold them tightly in my heart. This can be both good and bad.

As I walked around Saskatoon this evening, I thought about recent challenges as well as old ones. I thought about what a beautiful place this is, and the lovely people it contains. I thought about loneliness, and keeping Jesus in my heart.

Now it is time for a new adventure. This adventure is right around the corner, ever approaching. I don’t feel ready. Though I suppose no adventurer really does. I know what I am doing, and I want to be doing it… but apprehension is there. I am looking to God to calm my heart and ready me for this new time. I have been asking many people for their prayers.

This will be another 3-year experiment as it turns out. Off to California, to Fresno and sunny skies. I am terrified and thrilled all in one. I will learn more and come up against new challenges. Who will I become? What will God teach me, and where will He lead me? What friends will I gain, and lose? Who will touch my heart? For what reason will there be laughter and tears?

What will I learn on my walks… and what booster juices will I throw out?

2009-06-22T23:15:00.001-06:00

Amongst the garbage, drunkards, and whores
I met you.
It doesn’t sound pretty,
But I now have something more.

I came back
Didn’t know what I was looking for.
We both taught each other
And walked away knowing more.

I’d forgotten.
What it meant to be loved.
A new place built in my heart.
Didn’t know I could have more.

Irmão

I can’t articulate it.
I think though,
you know.
I’ve never been too good
at letting go.

Amid the fun, laughter, and chores
I met you.
I gained a brother,
and so much more.

Been torn apart,
felt lost and forlorn.
In you I found kindness,
friendship, and more.

Recall me,
your irmã,
and keep me in your heart.

-Heidi Fischer
June 22nd, 2009

2009-05-30T21:10:00.001-06:00

To be left wanting more
What an insufferable chore
What a tedious bore
To be left wanting more.

Knowing more isn’t there
But the heart doesn’t care
Painfully aware
Willingly caught and ensnared.

Can’t be undone.
Can’t be unwon.
Somehow
things are
just
as is.

Can not conceive
A solution.

Refuse to conceive
Resolution.

Before a live audience
Uninformed
It’s an
Act.

She knows better. She really feels she knows better. Can’t help it. She tells herself that anyways. Refuses to go there. Refuses to take the highest and hardest road even though it will do her heart better in the end. One day she’ll learn to do it, but not now…. not now. “Not nows” are easy so are “I’ll do better in the future”. It accepts current failure and celebrates future victory. What more could you want?

Prompt and correct responses to current situations are superior and look condescendingly down on ineptitude. They can continue to be lofty; she’s not yet ready to unravel it in the correct way. Recognition is the key she tells herself. To at least see what you are doing and then continuing to do it. It’s a copout and she knows that, but it brings comfort none-the-less. Dancing around it all with a faint hint of accepted acknowledgment. The dulled pain, and the heightened ache to come.

Accepted and Inevitable.

-Heidi Fischer
May 30th, 2009

2009-05-11T20:35:00.006-06:00

Never

Truly

Alone.

A
   L
   O
   N
   E

on your own
single-handedly
going through
unknown
alone.

Never

Quite

Alone.

Mascara
clearly
shown.

May 11, 2009

2009-04-19T23:30:00.000-06:00

Crestfallen tunes
Washing the background
Forming dismal waves.
Written just for me.
You don’t know what I mean.
I try to keep it that way.

Can’t believe
It will all be so soon.

Singers,
Know how to speak to me.
I wish,
I were them.

The Spirit
Is interested in me.
Why I,
So much less than Him?

Why is it so hard to learn?
To listen.

Never stays the same.
Never will.

Will it
Always follow me?
Or I
Always it?
Will I
Forget?

-Heidi Fischer
April, 19th, 2009

No one

2009-04-12T15:31:00.000-06:00

It matters less
When there is no one
To
Write For.

Broke
My heart
Unintentionally.

Too nice.
Too Understanding.

What
Have
I
Fallen for?

Little
Time
For concern.

Loneliness
Was designed
For
Contemplation.

24hrs
Of Comfort
Would be
Nice.

I feel it
Drained
From me.

Familiar place
My heart
The
Downfall
Of me.

It matters less
When there is no one
To
Write for.

-Heidi Fischer
April 12, 2009

2009-03-19T16:18:00.001-06:00

Lurid and
Dark
Inky mess
Hostile
Eyelids heavy with
Poignant immovability
You’ve never cared
You pull it off
Beautifully
I believe it
Truth
Or
Not
I wish for
That
Ability
Obtaining only
Fury

Pensive
As only
I can
Be

Brooding
Suits me
For a short
Time

Unending blocks
Falling down
Into
Inevitability
Wordless
Outward calm

Judging you
Not as uncommon
As you
Might think
Little guilt
Associated
With
Doing so

Uncompromisingly Irritable

-Heidi Fischer
March 19, 2009

2009-02-28T21:50:00.001-06:00

Weary
Bring me tea
Look up
From what you are doing
I’d like to sing
And you to play

Somehow
Go on
Faultlessly
Unkempt attire

I’ll never really cook

Cry
Heartbroken

I’ll miss you

Squander
Moments and money
Gazing
Notably brilliant

Sunny glint
Supplies
Strength

-Feb 28th, 2009

2009-02-16T22:58:00.002-06:00

Something in the air that flutters

my heart

and reminds it of what

has gone, what will go, and is going.

The ache

The realization

That not anything can be held onto.

Sentiment

What have you done for me?

The sweet release of held up tears.

You give me that

at least.

No one knows my story

quite complete.

No one will.

Only Him.

In the end He's the only one

who matters.

It's hard to know it,

some times.

Earth bound

as we are.

Oh my people,

do you know you are clasped inside me?

Do I know

what it means to you?

Sentiment. Sentiment.

What have you done for me?

I give myself to you,

completely.

-Feb 13th, 09

Will he know, that I

2009-01-22T22:59:00.003-06:00

Will he know,

that

cry?

That the tears are;

o.k.

Streams of release

and yearning for

change

difference

finality

His kingdom come...

Not so cold as I appear

Not interested in playing

the

game.

I hope you put your arm

around

me.

Let me settle in,

move

around

my hair.

I think he'll know my heart.

I hope

he will.

-Heidi Fischer

Jan. 2009

Memories

2009-01-14T22:49:00.003-06:00

Memories. The way he looked into my eyes, and without words I knew I'd be ok. Late night laughter.. and AHHMEN. Just before we saw K-OS it all hit the fan, but I wouldn't have been anywhere else. I thought my heart was broken, but I found Him that night instead. She knew how to laugh with me, let me be who I was. Rocked out to crappy rap music...was there any other way? Eeerh...Africa. There is something about you that never surprises me. You were a bit off, but then again so was I. I think you still are, but it makes me love you all the same. In your heart I see beauty, who you portray now is not really you. You let me think, worry, and fear as much as I needed... I would see tears well in your eyes. #1 prayer supporter, do you still pray for me? There are times I would give anything to be back in that world, when often I so wanted to be out. Yeah, we're holding hands F off. You still put up with my heart. I didn't care so much about praying, as much as being part of a group. We once meant so much to each other, it didn't last as long as I imaged. I'm not so sure she's ever changed. Just me, or my perceptions. Part of me idolized you, it took heartbreak to see the truth. I lost you to someone else, at least that's what I tell myself. I know the truth of it is something I don't care to dwell on. I love our laughter, our late nights, the secret that no one speaks aloud. Somehow it seems easier for you that way, so I too stay silent. You are a stunning woman, I wonder if I'll ever truly comprehend the knowledge with in you. And you sir are a cave of never ending wonders, just wave your hand and bring peace.

That Night

2009-01-03T14:02:00.000-06:00

He didn’t want to talk about it, just as much as the rest didn’t want to hear about it. That ‘black stuff’… how it tasted, its texture, how he felt, the atmosphere. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to get into it, but knew inevitably he would. As much as they wanted to the rest couldn’t just ignore his experience, someone would have to ask. Jessica finally had been the one to bring it up. She saw everyone’s eyes upon her, waiting for her to do what came naturally. Some times she wished she could ignore everyone’s expectations. That she could become a new and different person not just play out the role laid out before her. She knew though that tonight wasn’t going to be that night and simply asked Todd if he would feel comfortable sharing his ordeal. Sally on the other hand only cared what one other person thought of her, maybe two if she included herself. As long as the man in her life; David, agreed, laughed, cooed, and generally kept up with her that was all that was needed. Todd could talk all night and it wouldn’t matter to her, just as long as she could keep David’s attention. David genuinely loved Sally, but some times wished he could break free. He knew he always wanted to be with her, but didn’t want to be forced into compliance at all times. The only time he felt completely himself was when she was at her happiest and not in need of constant reassurance. David could easily tell that this was not going to be one of those nights. He placed an arm around her and kept a steady loving gaze. Eric couldn’t believe those two; even during a deeply important discussion like this they couldn’t even be courteous. He looked around, no one else even seemed to notice, no one ever did. He often wondered if he was simply just too judgmental, yet often wondered if others were just too blind. Eric saw that his opinions on the follies of others blocked his ability to see each person’s beauty, and this often distracted him from having a good time or even being able to pay sufficient attention to others. He knew this now as he kept glancing at David and Sally, and only hearing half of what Todd had to say. He wanted to sympathize with Todd, but simply couldn’t, he had gotten himself into this whole thing, and it was all so messy. Faye kept herself held onto everything Todd had to say, and each time he wavered she felt herself quaking. She experienced familiar shivers down her spine, and allowed tears to well up and trickle down her face. She learned long ago not to be ashamed of her emotions, and typically went on the assumption that displaying them openly was a help to others. This was usually true. Faye only wished that tonight Todd could let himself free and express himself fully, but knew he wouldn’t. Erica and Justin gave each other a knowing glance. A glance that said yes I’m bored, but know there is no way out of this. It wasn’t that they were overly callous, but that they had heard it all before. If not this exact story every other one Todd had ever had, they were his “go to” people. Erica worked hard to fight the small smirk that was forming on her face, Justin only encouraged it. Without more ado Justin’s phone started singing, he cautiously slid out of the room. Seconds later he reappeared, hand over the receiver, as the room went silent and attention fell to him. He momentarily glanced at Todd to receive permission to speak, and felt reassurance in his eyes. Jackson was on the line, he’d just got off work and someone had given him three free tickets to some play. Erica and Justin wasted no time, and Eric was only to happy to make it a trio. Todd easily allowed the shift in attention to take place, and was pleased when Sally started up some new casual conversation. He had done quite enough talking for that night.

Aslan, my heart, and the world.

2008-12-20T12:52:00.001-06:00

To me the image of a Lion suits God just fine. A beautiful wonderful creature that demands respect, holds much power, and should be feared. A wildness that can not be predicted, and a roar that sets your heart on fire. Yet there is not only that; there is a soft love, kindness, and care. I make it no secret that I think C.S. Lewis got it right. Narnia makes my heart skip as I catch wondrous glimpses of an imaginary Kingdom and those sovereign over it. We all know what Mr.Lewis was eluding to.

Perhaps I am only a child in thinking this way, if so it doesn't matter. I always feel I am meant to be part of these adventures. I'm meant to be in Narnia, Middle Earth, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and so forth. I am meant for those worlds and them for me. There are times my heart breaks as I long to be part of an adventure. To be part of something with great meaning, and to do for God what He wills me. How this sounds is apparent to me, and I no doubt shy away from these feelings and expressing them. Yet the right book, movie, and even allowing myself to daydream commonly springs these things up in me.

I do not know what this world brings, nor what my place in it will be. Though there most certainly is much hope for adventure, and deep inside that is what I long for. Also I take these feelings and use them to remember beyond all this there is indeed something wondrous, a place my heart yearns toward, that will be far more grand that I or anyone can imagine. And a God that no tale has described, brought to life, or painted a picture of will be there. On the day we meet I know that I will weep as our laughter is heard in the Kingdom.

While I do indeed hope for much on this earth perhaps the adventure of meeting the Father will be enough. Then again maybe not, after all... He's not a tame Lion.

Happy Birthday Me

2008-12-16T17:41:00.000-06:00

She crawled down onto the floor and placed her head on the carpet. Almost springing back up at the horror of those (what-ever the heck carpet is made of) intruding into her face. This was not the time for fear though, and she knew that. Not wanting to see what was in the next room, partially knowing what she would find. Had to confirm it though, couldn’t go on living life with a blank canopy. “Hector!! What are you doing here??” she shouted through the door. “You know perfectly well what I want” he barked back.

And he was right, she did know perfectly well what he wanted, just didn’t want to accept the inconvenience of it all. She threw the door open, and stared him down. “This is the last time Hector… the last time.” She knew it wouldn’t be, but it always felt good to at least say it. That seven foot tall brown rat, she never did figure out why he chose her…. never the less there he was. Wanting what only a seven foot tall brown rat would want. “Just to borrow your internet for 15 minutes…just 15 minutes…. Need to change my status, check my messages, Google some directions”. It was always always the same.

She didn’t like to be judgmental. He told her she was one of the only people that would oblige him. She never had cut him a key; he just got in somehow… using his ratly ways. Once in though he’d always patiently wait, and she couldn’t bare to turn him away. He only came by once or twice a month. She put up with him, but didn’t really like him either.

You know the type. You see them 4-5 times a year, run into them at the mall, post office, parking lot, zoo… and you want to turn away. Turn away and pretend they aren’t there, but there is something that doesn’t let you. Oh sure maybe you do once in ten times, but you know even that is better than most would do. You dread the trumped up words, hate the falseness of them as they fall out of your mouth, that forced smile that makes you feel like the biggest immoral fraud in history. You can’t believe you once knew this person, easily laughed, had conversation, saw a movie or two. How did you do it? How did it get to this? You know, oh you know… but it’s not like your going to toss it out there for them to snap up. They know the reasons, or they really are idiotic enough not to know… part of you wishes it so.

And so there he was type type typing away. Little ratty clicks one after the other, mystically using his whiskers to pound down the keys. The whisker typing was indeed the most fascinating part, being able to watch him at it was one of the only reasons she stayed in the room. He looked up bewildered and said to her “Do you see how many Birthday wishes you have”. “Yes, Hector… I’ve seen”. His eyes welled up, and lonely tears met the air. He muttered something about “What does, ‘Gratulerer med dagen’ mean”, and looked up at her with watery eyes. “It’s Norwegian; I guess it means congratulations on day, if you do it exactly”. “Oh” he said in a very small voice.

“It’s…. it’s just that…if I would have known I would have… have… well… you know… I would have….”. Poor Hector couldn’t find the words.

Christmas Quiz O'fun.

2008-12-11T01:20:00.003-06:00

Well you automatically get number 8 right, so good for you. Made this for facebook, but figured might as well let Talbot see it, as well as any others who might stop by.

2008-12-02T13:34:00.001-06:00

Nameless, faceless, twenty-somethings clamor to the front of the room. Pawing at piles of paper, looking for their name, their mark, their fate. Fate sealed by pencil marks, black and blue ink, circles, comments, checkmarks, and numbers. That long night of torment was it worth it? Was I able to cram enough in to make the teacher believe I know what I’m talking about, put the right quotes in the right place, cite things correctly, remembered a cover page. Yes it is all there.

I wait for the fray to die down. Not interested in standing through a heavy aired waiting game that has a dash of ‘hurry the hell up’ mixed in. No, thank-you. I’ll stay seated as I listen to the guy who often sat near me say something about ‘it was nice sitting with you’. Oh he’s talking to me. I nod my head and smile, same to you I say. As he walks out of my life and on to a nap.

I figure there is enough space to head to the piles of paper left over. I glimpse down and wonder where mine will be, and to my astonishment it’s sitting right on top, smiling up at me. I recognize my title and my name… yep that one is for me. Dreading the inevitable flip to the back, knowing a 50, or at best a 60 will be my portion. No turning away now I tell myself as I flip the old girl over and I find a fat 80% drowsily sitting on the paper. I look again, it is still there. I literally laugh out loud, and proceed to walk out of the room.

As I walk along on the grounds I flip through her, trying to read and not collide into others. I look up and find I am in the path of another girl, and if a new course is not set we will crash. We both smile over the absurdity of the situation, me trying to read and walk, dodging people. Stepping into social improprieties, I even let out a small laugh. She diverts her gaze. Don’t go too far sister; she thinks; we’re not that good of friends. I am certain if she too would have let out even the smallest of snicker she would have dropped and died right there.

2008-11-24T15:25:00.002-06:00

She didn’t remember anyone telling her about a trip, but she didn’t want to argue. Learned long ago that you should just do what those high-up people tell you. Nobody else seemed to be in disagreement, didn’t want to be the only one.

Climbing in she faced some of the others. Somber drained faces, dull eyes, tousled hair. No one made eye contact. Fearing what those words that float through the air might say. No one is speaking. No one is speaking? No one is speaking!! I’d better not either. Must be something we were told during a time I still can’t remember. If only I had something with me, a book, a game, anything that would turn this ashen experience into at least primary colors.

It had to be noon… IT HAD TO BE! No one offered food, and no one questioned its absence. Perhaps something is deeply hidden in my pockets? A mint, cashew, stick of… it was only a voyage of fantasy. Knowing perfectly well only fluffy bits would be found. The idea of consuming those bits of fluff did not go unthought, but were dismissed as nonsense. Hungry enough for Mountain Dew, Arby’s, and a Baconator rolled into one, she mused laughing inside.

Everything came to a halt and someone entered she didn’t recognize. They said “Eat this”, and presented a tray of something. No one leaped forward in anticipation, another rule she must have missed out on along the way. She didn’t care any more about being socially proper, and was the first to reach for what appeared to be a tuna sandwich. The others followed suit, and shortly things were rolling again. They had to be kidding. One stingy sandwich? What was next portioned out Kraft Dinner for supper? She wouldn’t put it past them, no one seemed overly pleasant.

Again things rolled to a stop. Some nameless person entered barking “Ok you guys, bathroom break”. Frick, about time. “Stand up, line-up, and you’ll go in groups of four”. Being treated like children, told what to do…. typical. It really didn’t bother her though. At ten you get used to being told what to do. They’d been traveling all day, and were already so very far away from home… she now knew everything was wrong.

She found it was best to do as she were told

2008-11-23T15:06:00.000-06:00

Waking up twenty minutes early didn’t irritate her this time. Instead she lied in warmth contemplating many possibilities, finding some satisfactory conclusions. Upon seeing people she found the usual perfunctory greetings, were no longer such, but genuine and warm. Small talk was no longer exasperating, but a simple prerequisite in finding common ground. Amusing anecdotes playing in the mind, causing full bright smiles to emerge, with no desire to quell them.

“We can’t all sleep in stair wells”, she thought.

“…But at least I’m having a great day”.

2008-11-15T17:45:00.001-06:00

It was bound to happen. Those slippery crowns have a habit of falling. No matter. Inevitabilities, inevitably come about. Quite so, quite so, indeed. There it falls; falls away… watch it float. What is left of commonalities? Sun-bloated frogs croaking out our destinies. Drop your figure on the line, and hope not to be crushed. Hoping for more than we ask. Doing less than is required, expecting what’s fair when fairness has never existed.

Singing until hearts ache with loneliness. Wondering, what would Israelites do? King David’s high falsettos demanding attention. Prometheus’ moans only part of the milieu. Transplant doctors clamoring, as the morning sun reigns. Jaundice bodies summoned into the fray. Nothings ever been expected or demanded. It’s not in His nature.

I think in fact this is 100% the only and best way of going about this… but other things could be ok, for you. Blank studencial stares and nods. Professorial gods falling into the post-modern trap. “The Woodstocks” rolling in the aisles with laughter, knowing full well they would be caught.Freud, Piaget, Vygotsky, you are no longer needed here. Just I, and all I imagine to be truth. Why should it be any other way? It’s too hard to remove the peanut butter and cheese that are coaxing us in.

Old man winter come hence

2008-11-08T12:26:00.002-06:00

Bring your 3 foot snow drifts,
Which tickle my ankles,
And soothe my calves.
Exotic car spa treatments.
The moisturizing effect
Of extra gas consumption.
Egyptian snow scrape face lifts.
My minus 40
Is another mans 104.
Frostbitten face
That compassionately reminds
I don't have to worry about being in charge.
The removal of the sun.
Allowing for more sleepy days.
Thick bulky clothing.
Forgotten gender.
Proper usage,
Of the cities kindly provided transportation.
As the snowy caps melt
Summer cruelly invades.
Bringing with it nauseating smells and colors.
Invading my sense of mortality.
I can only wait
For the next snow flakes to
Drop.

-Heidi Fischer

Obama, fee fie bo bama Obama

2008-11-05T12:32:00.001-06:00

My tribute to Halloween, poetry, and Aaron.

2008-10-31T17:18:00.008-06:00

Free candy snatchers at your door, give me some, give me more.
Knock knock knocking, at your door. I want candy, nothing more.

Oh Lenore, OHHHH Lenore!? Why'd you run out of candy? What a chore. They will now kill us, with blood and gore. For we have candy, candy no more.

Into our house they will come and explore.
With their hatchets drawn high, and torches well lit, abandoned peace corps. You could have bought the giant box, but no,oh no.... you'd had enough of that grocery store.

This is larger than Ares, Greek god of war.
Because they want candy.
Candy, nothing more.

I'm dressed as a Raven.
I'm a door!!
I'm obviously nothing,
now give me MORE MORE MORE.

Oh Lenore, Oh Lenore.
Turn out the lights,
hide under the floor.
For we have no candy, candy no more.

2008-10-27T15:02:00.001-06:00

I want to love and be loved.

Deep inside that’s all
even the most dismal want.

To be looked in the eye
and be told they are worthy.

It’s not complex
just something that’s forgotten.

Sensitive hearts,
aren’t told what to do with their tears.

I sense God’s heart.
In mine.
In others.

Brief glimpses into restored perfection
internal gasps of awe.

Trailed by tears of deep yearning.

It will always be imperfect,
until that day.

We will always be imperfect,
until that day.

We’re all searching for healing.

-Heidi Fischer
Oct. 27th, 2008

2008-10-23T23:49:00.003-06:00

There you are.
As real as anything.
Gleam of something in your eye.

Annoyance.
Resentment.
Confusion.
Melancholy.
Fear.
Satisfaction.
Even pity.
Plays out differently,
Each time.

Yet there it is.
There you are.

Uninvited.
Unwelcome.

Dusty room of forgotten youth.
Longing only for sandwiches.
Averting.
Fear of contact.
Feelings of abandonment.

Never ending stairs,
Leading upwards to…

In the dark,
All is deadened.

Waking,
the sun bids,
forgetfulness.

-Heidi Fischer
Oct 23rd, 2008

2008-10-04T16:37:00.001-06:00

Deep In the heart
It’s there
It sits
It waits
It’s there
Approach
If you dare.

2008-10-02T17:11:00.002-06:00

Parents do funny things (hi mom). Please let me relate the following story to you.

As a cute little Heidi I'd get rather excited for the upcoming Perdue Fair. And who wouldn't? Parade with candy throwing, cheeseburgers & fudgsicles, baseball games, prizes to be won, pony rides, trampoline jumping, the money dig!.. oh and the list goes on. Now that doesn't sound so unusual... but here comes that part.

For some reason dad got it into his head to impart to me that it would be likely that I would come across children who speak french. And so keeping that in mind I should learn a few phrases in case i wanted to play with them and communicate. Now in case you aren't aware although "Perdue" maybe pretty similar to a french word, it is no way a metropolitan center of many languages. So he taught me one or two sentences, and in the days and hours leading to the fair I'd be sure to go over these phrases with him.

Other than his own amusement I'm not sure why he did this, but what I do know is;

"Je ma pell Heidi" "Parle vous fransaies"?

.... although I sure as heck can't spell it.

2008-09-30T13:11:00.000-06:00

2008-09-27T09:38:00.000-06:00

Abstract collection of nothingness
Devouring the senses
Quiet servitude
Forgotten aesthetics
Soapy
Confused uncertainty
Ingrown and denied
Without hesitation

Pause

-Heidi Fischer
Sept 26, 2008

2008-09-25T00:33:00.002-06:00

I know nothing, and neither do you. Realize it, and lets party. Crud, party canceled... we realized something, therefor turning nothing into something. May not be much, but its all that's needed. What shall we party about now? The financial crisis in America?? Naw that wouldn't be nice.... plus probably not to good for us either. 2000 pies for each person... hmmm tastey. I'm lost, you too?

2008-09-20T13:37:00.002-06:00

Her glasses slid off her nose and into her hands. Mid-air they turned into a grenade, which did not surprise her. In fact she expected it, and was glad it had worked out so nicely. She tossed it into the nearby flower cart, leaving the bouquets wilted and sooty. No body noticed this, they never did. And so, she didn’t notice them.

“What’s the point”, she thought, “It’s not as though any of them were going to buy any for me.”

The sky was already growing purple, she would have liked to have seen the clouds, but couldn’t distinguish them without her spectacles.

“It doesn’t matter, there will be more clouds some other day,” she tolerantly reminded herself.

Soon though she had no need to see them, for she felt them all around her. She couldn’t quite distinguish the feeling, somewhere between maple syrup and cotton candy. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, it didn’t matter, and it wasn’t as if she had to explain it to anyone else. It was really the smell that alarmed her more than anything, shocked in fact to notice an aroma at all. Wet fur, that’s been wettened by…… hmmm, she didn’t know.

The streets were quiet, and Anna liked walking them. The cobblestones softly clicking with each step. Each click a testament to the concreteness of her life. She knew someone was coming after her, she neither slowed or quickened her pace. They’d reach her, or not, that was up to them.

“Anna, Anna….. your glasses”.

Cautiously she turned 163 degrees, and said after sighing; “Oh, I must have left them at the bookstore, thank-you”.

“It’s me, Hank, from the flower shop.”

“I know Hank, I know.”

Winter is inevitable

2008-09-17T19:03:00.003-06:00

Winter is inevitable. Just as the black section of my wardrobe is sure to call out to me. Favoring bright colors for some time, as they patiently wait, neatly hung, and clinging to each other. I will give in, falling into blackness. It actually looks quite good on me, as does the snow on the earth… sadly that’s not the point. I’ve chosen brown as a favorite color, or at least find it to work well. My favorite season is fall. Ironic in itself, considering what it brings. I recall my brother and I fighting over who had to use the brown face cloth, and who won the non-brown face cloth. The brown cloth was ‘poo’ and that’s all there is to it. As I think back on this common scene I often wonder with humor if mother didn’t simply do this for her own amusement. It’s not as if there was a lack of face cloths within the house, why always bring the brown one into the mix. I could see myself entertaining myself in this manner some day. A sleepless night spreads thickly, as does the amount of Nutella I am sure to consume in one sitting. Ones mind is left restless, which only makes sense considering it is not receiving rest. As I walk by the school I notice a sign which reads “Learning Moral Intelligence”. Perhaps I’m an idiot, but I’m not quite sure what it means. Any Psychology text book will simply take the idea of learning and blow it up in your face, tiny letters, slobbering dogs, and all. So lets forget about that… but “Moral Intelligence”. Seems an odd pairing of words, but something more in line with what my only true blog reader would try to figure out. So I’ll leave it to him, which he’ll get at right after figuring out the Internet.

2008-09-13T00:22:00.002-06:00

This monster with no name
None dread it like they should
If they should
When they should

No true stalemate exists.
You think you know how to modify
Co-habitate
Coagulate
Contemporize

Look away
Disgusted by one another
It was bound to happen
Or so we’re taught to think
Maybe it is

After everything else
Persistence
Subconscious
Escaping into nothingness
Wrapped in fluff

Bored of what is no longer there
Once was
Or still is
Who knows?
Flooded by perceptions
Irrelevant at best

Yearning
Buried by listlessness
Weary of originality
Personality without thought
Entranced by who’s prevailed

Side-line characters have all but vanished
I miss them nonetheless
They were more like me
Or I like them
We needed each other
Unobserved
Humanists at heart
I think

-Heidi Fischer
Sept 12, 2008

2008-09-11T19:51:00.002-06:00

I dart my eyes away quickly, then slowly scan the scene. I have the feeling you don't get out much. It won't be you. I see some acquaintances of yours now and then.

"i wanted to mean everything to you
but this isn't right
you keep coming back disassembled
and i keep losing this fight"

"She was underwhelmed
If that's a word
I know it's not
'Cause I looked it up
That's one of those skills
That I learned in my school"

Songs from the summer of '05 ringing in my ears. A time of waiting, annoyance, anxiety, and ideas being born. Dreams of missions dancing over my head like sugar plums on Christmas Eve. Tim Horton's brownies luring me to new chocolaty heights. Psychological understandings. Long phone calls to folks around Canada. Trying to leave things behind, realizing I wasn't yet ready. Fascinated by new insights. Learning trust.

Forever

2008-09-10T20:39:00.004-06:00

Some times I think your stories will never end. I actually imagine myself dieing before you finish. My signals that I'm beyond bored never get through to you. It doesn't matter how many times I say "mmm hmmm" or in fact quit talking all together. You just keep on going. Even if I become so bold (and I do) to say; "OK, that's enough, I'm bored" it doesn't stop. Fascinating really. I wonder how long I could drone on before your ears would start bleeding.

I'm a daydreamer. Most people dream about lovely situations; places they'd like to be, people they'd like to see, money they'd like to have, so on so forth. I think about those things too, but more often than not I'm kinda different. I often daydream about the most mundane things, as well as situations I don't particularly want to be in. I don't know what that says about me. Probably that I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.

I used to be a real people person. I think on some level deep inside I still am, but she's kinda been buried away. I've thought about why that might be, and I've come up with a few reasons, but it could probably use a bit more thinking still. Typically I become intensely good friends with the people I know, and then leave others out of it. Which in and of its self (whatever that means) isn't necessarily that bad of a thing. I think the problem for me is that I've been quite out of practice for some time now. Not having to try and make new friends, or in fact not really even wanting any new ones. Lately I think I've kinda been missing the old 'people person me', and been wondering where she is.

2008-08-27T08:36:00.002-06:00

I am nudged back into consciousness by stomach pain. Butterflies float across my brain, insects of listeria and IBS. No real concern, just flutters. Flaps that affect not me, but the Amazon rain forest. It doesn't take long for the bathtub to beckon me. My wet, hot, answer to all things abdomen. It doesn't last long, 7 minutes if that. Boredom as per usual supersedes the minor return to comfort. I lay in the tub until the last drop is gone, an activity I'm sure I haven't engaged in since the age of 12. In childhood I found the swirl of draining water to be of extreme interest. I would even add more after it had drained, just to watch it again. I'm not sure if that's true, but it sounds like something I'd do. Thirteen years later indeed the mini twister is still there, but it is not quite the tornado of nostalgia I had hoped for. My bed again welcomes me with its jaws wide open. Ready to envelop me in all things fluffy and soft. Sadly a faint whisper can be heard from that same mouth, reminding sleep takes second place when the body seems to prefer pain. Eventually I send my mind into a new "falling asleep technique" recently learned. During only the third cycle I am again in the land of nod. "Thanks Leanne... oh that Sherry". Particularly impressive considering my ailments. Again at 5 I awake, irritated by the possibility of more lost rest. This time, I don't even make it through the first part of the sequence. At 8:30 I am awoke by the ringing phone... muttering internal obscenities as for some reason I'm certain it's Village Green calling me at such a ghastly hour. In fact though Grant managed to lock himself out of his place, and needed my spare key. Silly Grant doesn't he know he can sleep standing outside his door, and erase all his problems?

Heidi's Poetry and More

Say a little prayer.. for sleep.

The sun

2.5 and ticking

"Oh wow, they aren't giving those away, are they?"

Go ahead, get angry.

From the very beginning.

Surviving Zombieland

Home

Suck it Delta.

Google It

Keeping it together.

Art is good

Stop saying that!

Top 10 Cartoon themes

Prayer and B161

Tradition!

Breakthrough

Feed.

Surviving Your Serengeti - Swanepoel. Review

TWLOHA

Vulnerability.

The Girl with the dragon tattoo X3

The road to being a Bruins fan

Hurra Hurra for syttende mai!

Glee and Venice Beach.

Fun with Heidi

The Gospel of Luke

More food related posts.

Fudgesicles - My best friend

Mmm juice

Heidi's how to's # 5

Detached

Therapy - You should be in it.

Lucky Mondays.

New Life Goal

List of Swedish brigades

Shameless promotion

Weighty Issue

The power of suggestion.

Reading

Heidi's How To's #4

Heidi's How To's #3

Heidi's How To's #2

Heidi's How To's #1

Untitled

Almost 10 years

Go Heidi Go

Of Montreal - Wraith Pined to the Mist

Invictus

Rita

Glory... purple car = me

Food

Growing Up

The store: Part 1.5

The store: Part 1

Long writing...

More

No one

Will he know, that I

Memories

That Night

Aslan, my heart, and the world.

Happy Birthday Me

Christmas Quiz O'fun.

Old man winter come hence

Obama, fee fie bo bama Obama

My tribute to Halloween, poetry, and Aaron.

Winter is inevitable

Forever