Reflections on the life of Marilyne Brennan It’s hard to know how to summarize a life like mom’s. I spent the last several days gathering perspectives, listening to stories, sifting through them, feeling like each is just a chapter of a book that she wrote with each of us; each one with a multitude of chapters that we still get the chance to read, or re-read, through the telling. Mom was a thrift store jumble of wild adventures, endless curiosity, boundless…
Yesterday was a challenging day. Today, mostly less so. But it makes me think about the things that happen to you, and how you manage them – and how other people manage what is happening to you, for them. And how fucked up that can and will get in the grand scheme. I feel more than blessed to have some really solid humans in my life, that are there to hold me, to feel me and advise me, and give…
So this thing I wrote got published! Here it is: ON VANCOUVER’S DOWNTOWN EASTSIDE COMMUNITY Denise Brennan owns and runs Creative Coworkers, the coworking studio where Misfit Press plies its trade. We invited her to be the first guest contributor to our blog and to share her stories about the studio’s neighbourhood – Vancouver’s complex Downtown Eastside. In this post, she tells us how her experience of living here affects how she thinks about things like community, security, and humanity. Last…
This is a post about why I do what I do with my life right now. It’s about me, and my experience. But mostly it’s about you and me. Many of you have been around for the last year of ups and downs. It has been a roller coaster – a fantastic, terrifying, soul searching cluster fuck of near failure and near success. Of doubt and of confidence. Of making choices, some great, some not so great. It has been…
Somehow I stumbled across this eulogy for my grandfather in my email drafts tonight, and I find myself regretting that I didn’t find a larger audience for it a while back, so I feel like I should share it. The week my grandfather died, I was heading to Europe for the first time in ten years. I chose to continue with my plans, instead of going home for his funeral. Because he was already gone. Because I think it’s what…