Kim McMechan

Biography

If I wrote what I really wanted to say, I would write about how I love to run. I love the 25 minute mark and how the sky feels like it's rushing all around you and through you and you feel like something is carrying you and lifting you and breathing you all at once. I would write about the time in grade 5 when I tried to start a Minipops group with some girls in the neighborhood and we tried to sing 3-part harmony to We're The Kids of America even though we were all Canadians. I would write ab...

If I wrote what I really wanted to say, I would write about how I love to run. I love the 25 minute mark and how the sky feels like it's rushing all around you and through you and you feel like something is carrying you and lifting you and breathing you all at once.

I would write about the time in grade 5 when I tried to start a Minipops group with some girls in the neighborhood and we tried to sing 3-part harmony to We're The Kids of America even though we were all Canadians.

I would write about my really bad Christian Music phase in elementary school and about how I used to make up synchronized swimming routines all alone in the back yard pool.

I would write about the time in grade seven when some girls in my class and I did an air band to Material Girl for the talent show, and I played the tennis racket (guitar) in the back when what I really wanted was to be Madonna.

I would write about how I sit and write in the mornings while the light fills up the sky and how I love to sing, how even if I was locked in a tiny hole all alone at the bottom of a dark cave in a faraway land where no one could find me, I would still sing, in fact probably even more.

I would write about how I am so weary of separating myself and how I want to stop living in pieces and instead, just BE without looking over my shoulder so much.

I would write about my tiny daughter and how she dances in the kitchen and how one morning she was spinning and she told me to spin too, so I did, the fridge and cupboards blurring, and how I laughed out loud for real for the first time in a long while.

I would write about how I lose my keys nine times a day, have been known to drive away with my teacup on the top of my car and have almost burnt the house down twice because I went out and left cheese toast broiling in the oven.

I would write about the workshops I teach, where we sit around and read things about our lives and people cry and laugh and open.

I would write about the ordinary things of life like how I listen to too much CBC radio just like my mother, how my kitchen window looks out onto a hillside full of tall, thin pines, how I love the quiet, and the library and taking pictures of trees.

Stuff like that. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.