Anytime you go out, you have to layer 3 pieces of clothing, top and bottom, wrapping your head to shield against the cold. I dared to venture out on Monday to rehearse the cabaret I'm in, and I felt I was in the Arctic! It's maddeningly cold! I can remember a time, 2 years ago, when I was in Vancouver laughing at my family members because I had it so good out there, weather-wise. I could go outside with a jacket and shoes, not even think about gloves or a hat and scarf.

I'm paying for it; Karma has kicked me in the ass, coming back to this place.

Anytime I'm outside, there's cars banked into a signpost like a beached whale; firetrucks zooming past to rescue an unavoidable collision, slow-moving cars careful not to slip and slide all over the place, bundled up pedestrians risking the weather. I was surprised that there were people outside at all! I had to go to a meetup yesterday evening, and out of the 11 that rsvp'd, only me and another fellow showed up. We both live far, used the bus, so no one else had any excuse. They'd have thought we were stupid for even setting foot outside. I want to stay indoors until the snow has melted.

On my way back home last night, looking at the piles of snow that was burdeoning our city, I realized that once it gets warmer, the snow will be the perfect texture to make snowmen and fortes!

"When you're given a ton of snow, make snowmen" should be the new motto of Winnipeg.

My dad and I went out and about. He had a huge blanket to wash that wouldn't fit in our tiny washing machine/dryer, so the laundrymat was the answer. Since he had other things to do, I attended to the blanket while he whisked away. I went over my lines for one of my monologues.

The one about the menstruation is interesting: It's mainly about this woman communicating how the idea of Sanitary Napkins was a non-issue, that it was something that was a part of a womans life but wasn't talked about. We don't like thinking about it these days, but in our mother's generation, it was encircled in shame and discretion. Nobody talked about it, wanted to think about it, but the reality of it was vividly stuck in the corners of our brains. Bleeding once a month was referred to as "the curse" because it was surrounded in mystery. Of course it signified womanhood, but woman's understanding of our bodies was ignored and considered unimportant. Our bodies were considered gross along with the whole process of bleeding, and you were lucky if your mom or best friend talked about it. Even in stores, it was hidden in the back of the stores with no way of really finding them. You'd have to search it out like the Holy Grail, and even then, buying them was like buying your first box of condoms. It seemed to be embarrasing to conceive the whole menstruation ordeal we went through, nevermind buying pads, but these days, there's a whole marketing campaign going on, like Feminine Hygiene has come out of the closet in such an aggresive way. You can't watch TV or read a magazine without seeing an ad for them shoved in your face, and that's where you don't want one to be. There's so many different kinds, it's hard to keep up with them. Thinking about them in the past seems ridiculous now, but today, the promotion of it is equally ridiculous too. Which was better: being hidden or full-blown exposed? Why the extremes? Panty Liners are an excuse not to change your underwear. Black sanitary napkins are another way to ward off Vampires so they can't tell you're bleeding. The thong is suppose to "Sex it Up!",when really you're changing the things every 3 minutes.

That's just on pads, nevermind tampons, which is a whole 'nother topic!

Another monologue is about a widowed mother who has to deal with a wild child. Obviously, the father was the disciplinarian. When she went looking for her future husband, she was also looking for the ideal father for her children. She was so focused on a dominant father figure, that she denied her own authoritative skills, and never wondered what life would be like without him: Deep down, she feared she wasn't prepared for parenthood and had little faith in her skills as a mother. She probably even had a moment, while he was still alive, when she thought she could take care of the boy better than the husband, because he was too tough on him. I've babysat kids, and I fear that I'll be a wimp of a mother. I'd hate to be humiliated in public if my kids bossed me around or had free reign over the household. I'd be too passive in giving orders and feel guilty after giving them, overcompensating with all the junk food they can eat or staying up late to watch TV. We all want to be good parents. We all want to be better than our parents were, even swearing at one point that "I'll never treat my kids the way my parents treated me. I'll be different". Sometimes we treat kids the way we were treated because that's where we learned our parenting skills from. Sometimes we critisize other parents because it gives us a false sense of security; we believe we could be better, but it's like being an armchair coach watching a game that's not going well. It's so easy to point a finger of judgement when you have 3 others pointing back at you. Becoming a parent is On-The-Job training, and it never finishes. Parents are only people. Sometimes I have to remind myself that my mom is a woman and my dad is a man. My own parents feel their roles aren't finished just because it makes them feel useful. It's something they've done most of their lives and it's a parenting muscle that's been worked out since the birth of my brothers and myself. They fear it'll get flabby. Also, they fear that we won't need them anymore. They've also lost their parents to old age and death, so we're responsible for breeding grandchildren for them.

I'd better find a gay male donar soon...