Accomplishments: My Puny Life

It's my birthday! Or at least it was (the days blur into one another when you are old), and I'm turning quite old. What have I accomplished for myself? Well, not much. I did graduate from university which might actually turn out to be the only acheivement of my life, but I sure as heck hope not, because the main reason I went to university was to write books. And I haven't written any. Or published a single thing for that matter. You might say, why haven't you? And I might say, you know what? Screw you! It's harder than you think. But I wouldn't because I'm nice, and because I don't actually know for myself that it's harder than you think. I just know this information from what other writers have told me again and again and again and again and again. Yes I've submitted a couple things to contests and haven't won any, and one or two stories to magazines but wasn't accepted, but I haven't really put my heart and soul into it. Why you ask? Because it's terrifying to put your heart and soul into something you know has a ten times higher chance of being rejected than accepted. When guys ask out girls they usually calculate their chances and make damn sure the chances are good. If the chances were ten time higher that she will say no than yes, no one would ever ask anyone out. And then no one would get married and the human race would quickly die out (naiive idea of procreation). But, as a seasoned writer (not really, that's some pretty light seasoning, like maybe a dash of curry, the mild kind), aware of the trials of publishing and the hundreds of rejections that you might receive before finally making it big, do I take these rejections to heart? Are you kidding? Of course I do. It's like someone telling you your baby is ugly. Not that I know, I don't have a baby.

That's the other thing, I have no babies. And for years I was positive I would have like seven babies by now. Granted, those years were the same years when 18 seemed mature (ha, as if!), and 25 seemed like middle age (ha, ha... sad...). But I recently discovered I wouldn't want my life to be any other way than it is right now. I realized with great relief that I would be perfectly happy if I didn't have kids for another decade. Let's take one decade at a time, people. Of course, by then my womb will be starting to shrivel up, but my dad's solution to that is: have a baby now, give it to Mom to take care of, and then you have years and years to have more babies (it's the first birth that can cause all the medical problems if you're passed 35. SCIENTIFIC FACT). Now, I don't know why my dad would be stupid enough to suggest this, unless he is secretly planning a divorce, because if I'm giving my mom a baby to raise, well, um, that would mean he would also have a baby to raise. I miss my parents, now that I'm moved out, I do. And I miss my dog Kezzie (she's super old, 17, older than most people think I am when they guess my age). But I am positively loving the independent life. My roommate is fantastic and I couldn't ask for a better place to live. My job is great too. I work for Telus Sourcing Solutions, but I'm under the Alberta Health Services contract, so it's like this: big Telus outsources to India but has its very own customer service company it can't afford to actually hire, so we get hired by other companies to do their customer service. What does this mean? Big Telus may have shoddy customer service but at least they own one of the best customer service companies in Canada, so that's got to count for something. The contract I work for is, like I said, Alberta Health Services. Apparently when Alberta outsources their customer service they go to BC... so we're like Alberta's India... But what's great is the kind of work I get to do: not selling phones or pushing services, but helping medical professionals with their benefits and pay cheques. As one coworker put it, "We help the people who save the world." Or, er, Alberta. But I've never worked for a company that makes their employees feel so respected and valued. Where I work, I matter. It's probably the best thing you can ask for from an employer. See how God has blessed me with the very things I was so concerned about after Auxano? A job and a place to live? Beyond what I asked for or imagined. He does that, God. I mean, not always - sometimes He has things for you to learn and sometimes you're just plain reaping your own consequences, but when He decides to bless you, He always does it extravagantly. Now you're asking, then why aren't I a millionaire? Don't be stupid. We all know by now that money means absolutely nothing. For goodness sake, two seconds ago the penny was a real thing and now it's just pretend.

But it doesn't matter how many books I've written (none) or how many babies I have (also none), I have accomplished a lot. Everything I've learned, everywhere that I've grown (I don't mean like how my chin hair is steadily getting thicker and turning into a beard that is the envy of all the boys, I mean like character growth), all the people I've positively affected, my family and friends, these are my accomplishments. And what greater accomplishment than my relationship with God, which has grown exponentially and will continue to grow exponentially because at some point you learn as a Christian that there is no end to God, and therefore no end to how much you can grow in your relationship with Him. And that is both frightening and wonderful. And so, I don't have to feel a single year was wasted in my - really, let's be serious - puny 26 years of life. Besides, God can return your wasted years. Thankfully, I don't feel He has to. What more could I ask for?

Now what about my writing you ask? Well, I am going to continue to struggle to write the book I know I need to write no matter how ridiculous it is, and I won't let anybody tell me that writing about unicorns is childish. Of course it's childish, you dumb goose, it's a book for children.

Convoking a Convocation



We weren't allowed to throw our hats.
I hid behind some trees and did it anyway...

I went to my convocation last week. What in the world is a convocation you ask?

con·vo·ca·tion
noun \ˌkän-və-ˈkā-shən\

a. The act of convoking.

b. A group of people convoked, especially the members of a college or university community who are assembled for a ceremony.

I love when dictionary definitions require you to look up the definition of another word just to understand the first one, like it's purposefully challenging your intelligence. To convoke means "to call (a meeting, assembly, etc.) together; summon." When you are summoned you feel greatly compelled to go to your summonses, otherwise you might end up in court.

After going to the wrong place trying to find my regalia, then going to the wrong classroom for the rehearsal, you would think this would worry me. Au contraire. It was extremely satisfying to know I was finishing just as I had started: not knowing where the heck to go. Five minutes before the ceremony started they told us that if we hadn't paid our fees or there were any outstanding problems, we wouldn't receive our degree. I was dumbfounded. You're telling me, the university is going to let some schmuck get up there in his gown and cap and inform him it was a false alarm? I have to believe that sometime between then and the five minutes before we were going on stage, somebody, somewhere would pull that guy out of line and tell him the bad news. My question is: how the heck did he get this far in the process (and why is he automatically a boy)?

I had been mourning the fact that graduation was not going to be what I had always imagined it would be, what movies made it out to be and what other departments who were with the same people throughout their program were probably experiencing. There were only two people I knew who were graduating with me and I don't think they would have reacted well if I started jumping up and down like a school girl (because that would be the last time I could use that expression legitimately) and giving them hugs and kisses. But I was feeling disappointed and lonely so I prayed and God showed me how to enjoy it for what it was, not for what it wasn't. He put me next to a very nice girl I hadn't met before but who was also in the writing program and this year the Christian chaplain was picked to say the prayer. She called on "the Prince of Peace" and I felt like God was telling me He was with me. I also felt like I was walking into The Phantom of the Opera when the opening music was played and I can only assume the guy playing the very old organ was trying to scare off any graduates at the last minute (university is all about weeding out the weaklings). I automatically "put my hand at the level of my eye" to block any strangling attempts, because if the UVic phantom was going to make his move it would be then people. But no worries, once you had passed that test (I got a B), the guys from Hogwarts showed up in their medieval, wizard looking outfits and played some music obviously inspired by Harry Potter. I turned to the girl next to me I had just made friends with and said, "Do you feel like you're in Hogwarts?" She said, "YES!" The Chancellor, aka Dumbledore, even had a purple Sorting Hat that he tapped on our heads before we got our degrees. Any minute they were going to call out, "Faith Blenkin, Griffindor!"



You can watch me gradauate in the UVic convocation video here but I don't know why you would. It is the longest video in the world and the first half of it is full of ponds and grass. I wouldn't make my worst enemy watch it. I am in it for point-two seconds (skip to 107:34).

This One's for My Bro

I wrote this when I was nine. I think it shows many things about me: my early love of writing, my hilarious and witty sense of humor and my ability to depreciate others for the sake of being funny, regardless of familial loyalty. I've kept the spelling and grammar mistakes for your reading pleasure. And yes, it was typed:

"Josh is my brother although he is stupid he is the kind of person you have to forgive him for being born that way. He was born on mars,although he was an ugly craeture my mom learned to love and care for him.And I think he turned out fine,(stupid) but fine.My mom (says) she named him Josh because of the way he makes his alian sounds.By the past few years he learned how to speak inglesh,and write now he can probley say all the words but,the docters say he will always make some sounds no one knows what he is saying. He will never get the hang of using the toilet.(This is a true story from Sanich News)

"By Faith Blenkin."

 You're welcome.



Ollie has issues...

P.S. I should clarify that the inspiration for this story came from hearing the plethora of my brother's action figure noises that were constantly coming from his room. It was his own language. I was always disappointed when I tried to play with his action figures and I think I now know why: I could never make those noises.

"Grandfather Christmas" Story

There were a couple people who wanted to read the Christmas story I wrote for my church's Christmas Eve service, which went very well by the by. I felt like I read well and got a good reaction from people who said they loved the story. So yay me! For those few people who were away at Christmas, and maybe a few others who like reading heartwarming stories, here she be:

~ Grandfather Christmas ~

Gregory only had a week to find his brother a Christmas present. His little brother Leon was missing a kidney and often sick and Gregory felt it was his job as the older brother to take care of him despite the closeness of their age — Gregory was nine and three quarters, Leon was eight and a half.


“What do you want for Christmas?” Gregory asked his brother over breakfast. The advent calendar showed seven more sleeps to go.


“I dunno. What do you want?”


Gregory frowned. He was convinced that Leon’s lack of knowing things was the sole cause of his frown crease between his eyebrows. “Well, what did you put on your Christmas list?”


“I can’t remember; Mom has it,” Leon said.


“You must know something that you want,” Gregory said. “Leon, listen to me.” He had found the best way to get Leon’s attention was to emphasize things as dramatically as possible. He waited until Leon, mid-spoonful to the mouth, looked up at him. “What do you want most in the entire world if you could have anything that you ever wanted?”

A Super Crafty Christmas

I have been busy writing a Christmas story for the Christmas Eve service at my church and I had to kill a lot of babies to get there. Wait, you know I don't mean real babies. Did you even read my last post, Girl Meets Boy Meets Awkward Meets Boy Runs Away? "Kill your babies" is an expression. Sometimes you have to delete parts of a story that you love because a) they just don't fit the story, b) you have a word limit, or c) deep down you know they suck. I'm excited because it will be my first time reading something of my own to a large-er group of people. I'm happy because it's actually a very small group of people and if I make a fool of myself I can threaten them to eternal silence. The story is about one little boy's effort to make his little brother's Christmas wish come true. I often end up writing stories about children, probably because of my immaturity level. Something about seeing things through their eyes makes me happy, and I find I usually care more about stories with children in them. Or romance. If there is not the possibility of romance in the first few chapters of a book, it is 75% more likely that you have lost me. However, I will usually persevere, I'll just be disappointed as I do it before I get so caught up in the story I forget to be disappointed.

Have You Been Schooled Lately?

I love shkool.

Our society says education is really important. You can’t get a good job if you aren't schooled. But then they school you by making you pay a million dollars to go to school. Then, when you can’t foot the bill because you don’t have a good job because you don’t have the schooling, they might let you take out a student loan, depending on whether your parents were nice enough to make under a certain amount of money but not nice enough to make enough money to pay for it. Then there are the really unlucky souls whose parents make more than enough to pay for school but they want to punish their child for all the pain and suffering they've caused. But what happens after you take out a student loan and you’re done all your schooling? Well, you’ve got thousands to pay off and not nearly as many job prospects as they pretend. I bet they didn't tell you they were playing pretend, did they? Maybe they don't know that when you're playing pretend you have to say, "Pretend you're the dad and I'm the mom and Jimmy's the baby," and then Jimmy will say, "Why do I have to be the baby?" And you'll say, "Just because, Jimmy, just because." The good news is that with any luck you might be able to get that good paying job that you couldn’t before. The bad news is that for the first decade of your life any money you think you are making doesn’t actually belong to you. You are not working for your livelihood, you are working for the schooling you had to take in order to get that job.