Let’s Start at the Finish Line
It all began with a frenzied race to the egg – just call me Flo-Jo (Florence Griffith-Joyner) because I smoked those wannabes. Or call me Usain Bolt because I gloated when victory was certain.
There was no gold medal, but I got something better – a soul. Then it was all about getting bigger and badder. Clearly, size mattered to me, my parents, and the doctor.
I developed these neat things:
- Liver – Teaches me to reduce the toxins in my life (a true inspiration for this feminist blog!)
- Lungs – Reminder that we all have to not only take things in, but give back daily
- Eyeballs – Help me witness the chauvinist bullshit I critique
- Heart – Miraculously, this still works despite my habit of (ab)using it often & wearing it on my avant-garde sleeve
- Mouth – Works really well for kissing & telling people to kiss off
- Hands – Make it possible for me to raise a powerful fist in the air & fold origami glocks
- Legs – Allow me to stand up (for myself)
Before 9 months were up, my mom had a C-section in February. And the world welcomed Mary with lots of blood like in The Shining. It was a day of reckoning in Canada!
Mary
glockomablog@gmail.com
Giving It To You Right Here & Right Now
Today I’m still the same person, but taller and vulnerable in new ways after swallowing harsh-reality pills. The world can be like coffee – dark, bitter, and staining your teeth. But I’m not one to wave the white flag and surrender – I will fight to the end for what’s right. And as for those pills? Wash ’em down with optimism and a critical eye, Neo.
Having graduated from university with a psychology honours degree, it will come as no surprise that I’m fascinated by people’s behaviour and the intricate workings of the human mind – at times they’re like oil and water. It is the chaos, eccentricity, and humour in life that intrigues me the most. Anything that’s clear-cut turns me off like a foul odour.
Basically I’m the weirdo marching to the beat of my own eardrums. I have a supernova of ideas swirling around in that mushy, gray matter upstairs. Jump on my bandwagon and you’ll surely be in for a bumpy (but interesting) ride.
Glockoma 
Posted by Candy on April 30, 2010 at 1:03 AM
I have no clue how I ended up on your blog… I really don’t. But what I found most special is that I lost my father March 23rd of this year after a stroke. And I read your eulogy… and cried. Because my father was like that too. So fun and he was my world. Literally, as I have no siblings or a mother.
I was robbed of a eulogy.. of a funeral… of even so much as a wake. My step-mom had him cremated within 27 hours of his death. No services. No nothing. I am left empty beyond words.
I wanted to thank you for sharing your journey. I can’t explain it, but there is some comfort in knowing someone else out there had a father who was their best friend and is now feeling that loss.
Wishing you strength and happiness,
Candy
Posted by Mary Shaw on May 3, 2010 at 8:52 PM
Wow. Just wow. I can understand how upset you must feel about not even being able to have a proper tribute for your dad with a eulogy or funeral service. That’s awful how your stepmother had your dad cremated so soon after his death. I’d also feel robbed and empty.
But you can’t keep thinking about what you missed. You have to try to focus on his life. Celebrate the great person he was, what he means to you, and how many people loved him. Although thinking about the happier times may actually make you feel sad (because it reminds you of what you really miss), at least it’s something positive in the end.
I can tell that you’re a strong person. Some people would just break down, but you reached out to me. And I’m very grateful that you did because I, too, take comfort in knowing that somebody else had a close relationship with her dad and went a great loss, too. It reminds me that I’m not alone.
If you want to converse about this privately, feel free to e-mail me at glockomablog@gmail.com. And please stop by again soon. Although lately I have blogged a lot about my father’s passing, I’m trying to continue blogging about other things (feminist topics) that also matter to me. It’s a healthy distraction, and maybe you’ll see it as one, too.
I’ll keep you in my prayers.