The Breadbin

I'm excited.

A bit of trepidation, to be sure, but mostly excitement. Tomorrow as of 7:00 a.m. my professional title will have the word "manager" in it for the first time ever.

I've been a "co-ordinator" and an "operator" and an "in-store trainer" and a "senior sales associate" and a few other things that said "manager" without saying "manager".  I've led teams, assessed productivity, won contests for both sales and merchandising, mentored troubled kids (by far the most rewarding part of my career so far)...and when it comes to dairy and frozen foods, I've seen and done it all at this point. Even as an overnight stocker where I am now, I'm in dairy/frozen nine nights out of ten. I have been out of my comfort zone fairly often, and that's a literal as well as figurative comfort zone. I'm perfectly happy in the cooler or even the freezer clad in nothing but a T-shirt (okay, pants, too, smar…

I should have been a relationship therapist.

If I'd been thinking straight in high school, that's what I would have been angling for. Let's see: no math, a focus on making people's lives better, the opportunity to make an actual difference in the world each and every day, no math, no hard science but lots of nice mushy 'soft' science, I've been doing this stuff for longer than you'd believe as it is, and...no math.

I'd like to think I'm a good listener. I try very hard not to judge what I'm hearing--at least until I have all the facts (and in recognition that I may never GET all the facts). I believe, and have for many years now, that "right" and "wrong" are descriptive terms which need not have any moral judgment attached to them....and often shouldn't. What are you trying to do? Are you in Toronto and trying to drive to New York City? Then it would be wrong to drive west, or north. South would be right, except you&#…

I'm not scared of dying and I don't really care
If it's peace you find in dying, well, then, let the time be near
--"And When I Die", Blood, Sweat and Tears

"Hey, Ken! How are you?"
"I'm alive..."

That's been my standard response to that question whenever I'm not in the tip-toppiest of moods. Most people ignore that, the same way they ignore any answer to that question, leaving me wondering why they even bother to ask the question. A few will chuckle and say "well, that's a good start", or something along that line, and depending on how engaged they actually seem, I might come back with "are you sure?" in a not-quite jocular tone.

Maybe death is better.

I have no plans to die any time soon. Far too much to experience yet. But then, the only people who plan their deaths carry them out themselves, and that's not in my cards.

I have dreamt often of dying. My death dreams come in fits and spurts, and I've…

I just came across this and it made me stop short:
"(We have a) fundamental human need to categorize everything. To compare and fit things into their boxes so that we understand them better."
Whenever I see the phrase "fundamental human need", it activates a hand brake in my skull. Not quite as strong as "it goes without saying", but...strong. Because most of the time what follows that phrase is NOT a fundamental human need, but something strongly perceived as a need by the speaker.
There are times I feel like a label helps promote understanding, and I'll latch on to it. And then I'll invariably discover that (a) there are varying definitions of that label; (b) many people seem to value their definition over all others, and you (c), that just grates on me.
Take that 'demisexual' label I adopted last year. It describes me well, in many ways; need some level of emotional attachment for sexual attraction to occur; fantasies about celebrities a…

I hesitate to write this, because I will instantly brand myself as heretical, blasphemous, un-Canadian, but...

I...

I don't like the Tragically Hip.

I can't deny they're iconic, an absolute fixture of Canadiana, one of the most remarkable Canadian success stories ever. Nor would I suggest that what has happened to their lead singer, Gordon Downie -- terminal brain cancer -- is anything other than, well, tragic.

There have been posters circulating on Facebook for the past week to the effect that "Canada Will Be Shut Down On Saturday At 8:30 PM, Sorry For The Inconvenience"--and so help me, I thought that had something to do with the Olympics (which is another thing that I have been paying dramatically less attention to than is my wont).  Not to make a big deal of this, but...I can't stand Gord Downie's voice. It sounds to me like a chainsaw.

Please don't hate me. I have similar visceral reactions to other celebrated singers: Willie Nelson will always b…

Source background and questions taken from this Reddit thread. I would encourage anyone interested to read the thread itself: there's a goldmine of information on "how it works" in there.

I like being people's first contact with polyamory. I feel like I'm relatable for most of them: physically monogamous for the entirety of my marriage (even though I've been emotionally poly for roughly ever), able to gently reframe people's thoughts and assumptions, and of course I try very hard not to judge the feelings behind people's words. More than a few have come away from talking with me with new things to think about.

This, below, really captivated me because it's so raw. You can feel the pain here, and yet the writer is trying to honestly engage with people she doesn't understand. I respect that immensely. And so I'm going to give her questions (which are all very good ones) a go. You're going to get a deeper insight into my poly life than I…

You might think, if you don't know me well, that I lack an appreciation for weddings. After all, I'm proudly polyamorous and your typical wedding ceremony quite simply...isn't.

The fact is I love weddings. Absolutely adore them. Why? Because they are celebrations of two things that I and my chosen philosophy are all about.

Love.

And commitment.

_______________

We're getting to an age where we're probably more likely to attend a funeral than a wedding. But Eva and I have these twenty-something friends that have somehow accepted our forty-mumble selves as part of their in-group. It started with Glitch (and yes, that is his real name)...a man I worked with at Walmart who is now a good friend. He introduced us to some of his inner circle of friends: Brinn and Coralee...and Ashlea and Jeremy.

These are strong, smart, storied people with whom I enjoy spending time. I haven't spent  enough time, online or off, with any of them, and yet again...somehow...Eva and I were…

I asked my new love if there was anything she didn't know about me yet that was worthy of a blog post, and she stopped me dead with this:

"What do you like about yourself"?
A species of dull terror stole through my veins at the thought of writing on that particular topic. Nobody wants to read that, I thought. It'd be a blank screen...okay, maybe not a blank screen, but how do I write the things I like about myself without coming across like a vain prick?
I floated it as a trial balloon on Facebook. The response was instant and positive. Friends 'liked'...and commented, telling me things like "with your honesty and skill it would be a fantastic read". 
And I feel uncomfortable even relaying that. Honesty? I'm an honest writer and (in my adulthood, at least) as honest as I can be as a person, particularly about myself. I don't think that should be particularly worthy of note, but apparently it is.
I'll let you peek in a window here. I have …

I've been too busy living life to write about it, and the life I've been living is chock-full of things that can't be shared. (Wow, come the voices from the peanut gallery, there are things Ken won't share?)
Yes, there are. Many of them. 
So this blog has gone dormant lately. I can tell you that I've gone back to Grand River Unitarian, this time with Eva. The sermon this time round was on radical compassion, kindness and love--right up our alley--and it heavily featured the lyrics of Renegades, by X Ambassadors, which I have fallen in love with. I went despite having worked both the night before and the night of, and I made it through thanks to Red Rain. Yes, I will shill for this for a moment: it tastes like rancid cough syrup, but ounce for ounce it's the best bang for your buck in terms of energy drinks on the market. A dollar a shot, for something that's about the effect of four cups of coffee? Can't beat that.
No, I don't drink them often. I kn…