I am the son of an engineer who thinks engineers are better at finding answers than anyone else and no one can understand engineers except for other engineers. They all live a tough, misunderstood life. If it they didn’t get paid so much money then I might feel bad for them. On the other hand, if they didn’t get paid so much they probably wouldn’t think so highly of themselves and then they would be more tolerable. Today, I am here to give you hope that you don’t need an engineer to help you find answers—you need me.

Last night Leah and I went to Ikea to buy a Christmas tree (a real one). Ikea seems like an odd place to get a tree, I know. But you can get them at Ikea for $20 and you get a $20 gift certificate (…if you spend $75). We found a cute little tree that will fit perfectly in our apartment. As we go to leave with our tree, Leah asks the guy—Do you have an saw to cut the end? He didn’t. Why didn’t he? Because we bought a Christmas tree from Ikea, that’s why. What the hell do the Swedes know about cutting down trees? I would have thought everything, but apparently not. We shrug and leave.

We have to cut the bottom off (for proper watering practices). I didn’t really want to buy an saw. Other than for Christmas trees, I honestly don’t do a lot of sawing, go figure. There was no Canadian Tire or anything handy around so we pulled into the Superstore, hoping they would have something in their small tool section (conveniently inside same aisle as the automotive, Lego, Christmas lights). All they had was what they called a hand-saw. This was nothing more than a glorified knife. But, I thought it might work. Please note that this isn’t a toothy saw, but looked like it was tipped with sand paper. I am sure the engineers are rolling their eyes. IT MIGHT WORK!

We got home and I threw the tree down on the kitchen floor and took out my new hand-saw. It didn’t work. I sawed about a centimetre down and it became apparent that I wasn’t going to be going much further. The tree sap gummed up the saw and basically was going no where fast. No matter what angle or how much force I applied. I was going to be there all night. This is where I started to think. This is when a genius was born.

I went over to my extremely limited tool box. At this point I was so frustrated I was prepared to take the claw end of the hammer to it, but then I had a way better idea. I took the hammer and a flathead screwdriver out. I wedged the flathead into the dent I had already had and started hammering the screwdriver into the trunk. I pulled it out, moved over a bit and repeated. I did this over and over (only took a couple minutes) and already half of the trunk popped off. Eureka!

I started to work on the other half of the pie. Except I accidentally, not knowing my own strength, plunged the flathead straight through to the other side and I couldn’t pull it back out. I really didn’t want to use a Phillips head because it would chew up the tree. Luckily, lady fortune was staring down on me and I had another flathead. Again, I had another genius moment. Instead of hitting the tree straight on, I attacked it from the bottom and took off whole slices with every hit.

After a few more minutes I had a clean bottom with a few, small peices in the way which (finally) the hand-saw took care of. Do you see my brilliance? Do you see it? I don’t need you no more, stinky engineers!

Heavy heart gets lighter by your side
but there are thoughts I’d wish I’d heard
if they ask you how I’m holding up
say I’m holding out for the words
– Capsized, Sarah Harmer

I don’t have a shiny new topic for you. I am still carrying a lot of the same wounds. I have been wondering how I have healed.

Last week, I went to see Kimmy Beach and Tom Wayman read here in Calgary. Prior to the reading, I was chatting with Tracy. She mentioned that I should spend some time chatting up Wayman—maybe making it easier to get into the UofC’s MA (English) program. Wayman is a prof in the English department and a damn good writer—someone who I personally look up to. I had met him once before (at the Talking Fresh workshop at Luther College in Regina, where I met Brenda). I had also emailed him once last year to inquire about doing an MA. I sort of hoped, when Kimmy introduced me that night, that he would remember me, but he didn’t. Since that email last winter I really haven’t thought about doing an MA. The conversation with Tracy opened up the thought once again.

As many of you know (because I have written about it before), the last time I was in university didn’t go very smooth. I have to say, now that I am living with a student, it has certainly opened my eyes a bit. However, Leah is much, much more responsible than I ever was. It’s hard to say what happened first—my laziness or my anxiety—but either way it crippled me, frankly. Actually, it was my laziness. I lie sometimes, which is not part of the solution. I crippled my ability to write anything for a long time. By the end of my degree, I would have to stay up very late, until I could barely stay awake and then I would write (but not that well). I was so tired that all I could was write—couldn’t worry. Worrying takes a lot of energy.

Here I am, again, pondering what I should do with my life. I have been out of school for a year and a half. I think I worked on one poem a couple months ago and South Country Fair before that. Creative writing still fills me with a lot of anxiety. But, I can say that working a full-time job as an Editor has instilled a certain amount of confidence in me—because I am good at it and encouraged here. This blog has also given me a certain amount of confidence, as well. Even if I am not writing stories or poems, I am writing here and this very public place doesn’t scare me. That’s probably because I started and stayed in a good place.

However, how do I know if I am healed? And I realize that’s more of a personal question and/or something that you can’t answer. So that’s not a good question. How about an analogy: If I have a wound and all this time and growth has created stitches/bandages for my wounds and I have begun to heal, then how do I know how much stress I can put on myself and/or the wound. Has enough time gone by that I could successfully go back to University?

I have thought about attempting to find more work in a field where I could write as well (such as the company I have started but haven’t mentioned because it isn’t going to launch until the new year, so that’s a secret—shhh!). That wouldn’t scare me. In fact, that possibility really excites me and I feel like I would only gain more confidence. I do feel like I am moving forwards, but I just don’t know how fast I am going and what I should do in the near future.

Do I keep allowing time and experience to heal me and slowly deal with anxiety or turn around and face it?

I really love good commercials. I don’t and never have played World of Warcraft, but they sure know how to make a good commercial.