“I’m working on organizing” by Julia at Starbucks

Friday February 7, 2014 at Starbucks
5 minutes
An e-mail from the Playwright’s Guild of Canada

I’m working on organizing my life better. I told my mother on the phone that I couldn’t talk right then and that as soon as I got my shit together I would phone her back. I haven’t called her since December. That is not okay, and as a human being with higher education in more ways than one, I know this. I fully understand and acknowledge my position here, I really do. My mother never wants to disturb me. Even when it might be a good time to tell me that my grandmother who was in the hospital with something as small as anemia, actually died in there, and I would have gone to see her, if I had just known she was sick. So now that I haven’t called her, she hasn’t called me, and honestly, that’s a great great thing. Because she’ll ask how I am, and ask me to come visit, and ask me to come live with her, and ask if I say no to all of those things if she’d rather she just offed herself with sleeping pills, and when I say no to that, she’ll ask, even the ones that Michael Jackson was using, and I’ll say too soon mom, it’ll always be too soon.

“I’m working on organizing” by Sasha at Early Bird Espresso

Friday February 7, 2014 at Early Bird Espresso
5 minutes
An e-mail from the Playwright’s Guild of Canada

I’m working on organizing my thoughts about feminism. For a long time I’ve called myself a “humanist”, perhaps a naive cop out in an attempt to disengage with the question at hand, a cop out based in fear of ignorance. If feminism means equality, I am a feminist. I feel a flutter of fear and excitement at that proclamation. I remember being in the third year of my undergrad and in an elective Gender Studies class called “Women’s Sexualities”. The professor was a short-haired, sweater-vest wearing lesbian with square framed glasses and a deep love of the term “insofar as”. I was resistant to the male-bash, to the man as predator, to the negative focus on the differences of gender. I was challenged by our discussions that felt far away from my actual experience as a young woman in an urban centre and more based in academic jargon and name dropped heavy hitting feminist scholars.

“Hooded Shawl” by Sasha at her desk

Thursday February 6, 2014
5 minutes
the Circle Scarf tag
American Apparel

We were wiser when we were younger. Tuned into our hunger and our thirst. Seeing only the best and not the worst. Every person their own snowflake, melting on the tongue of the universe. We were wiser when we were younger. Brewing our tea in tiny cups and shaking hands with every stuffed bear at the party. No fashionably late. Always on time. You would braid my hair, fancy and french, and I would tell you made-up stories about a place we called “Venitaville”.

“We were wiser when we were younger,” you say, pouring more beer in my glass and getting really whimsical about it. “Remember that hooded shawl thing you had? That you’d wear October to April?” My Bubba had made it for me out of and old sweater. It was pink and purple.