Johnny Cash once sang, “I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down, / Livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town…” I love Johnny Cash, but that’s not why I wear black. I don’t wear black because I’m depressed either. Or to look thin. Or to look mysterious.
Scot for a Day: Hanging Out with Haggis
For a wee Canadian lass, I felt a bit like a kid at an 18th century wedding on Robbie Burns Day. A true fish out of water. Nessy out of her Loch, as it were.
Fireworks, Afghanistan Style
At 21:45 the loudspeakers crackled and announced “Attention on the FOB, Incoming. Take Cover. That is all.” I laugh every time I hear those last words because it reminds me of the absurdity depicted in the TV comedy “M*A*S*H*.”
The Brothel Project: One Strange Journey
I guess I can consider myself a movie star now, even if The Brothel Project is the only film I ever star in. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as nervous as I was in the moments just before the movie started, having not been allowed to see it before its debut on January 31 at the Victoria Film Festival.
Winner Takes All. Again.
Charisma is no longer magic, it’s measurable. So will the winner keep winning if the rest of us can now study her secrets to success? The playing field’s been leveled.
Oh So Human
As far as I know, I am a human. Last time I had an MRI, nobody saw anything alien in my body — or at least nothing that worried them. My blood tests don’t raise eyebrows. It appears my human-ness is valid. But how do I really know?
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