east van chronicles

knowing when to turn off.

2012-02-09T13:23:00.001-08:00

It can be so easy to live online.
I knew someone once, back when chat rooms were the thing. Maybe they still are; I wouldn't know. Anyway, he was always going off to the nearest internet cafe (we were on tour, and he didn't have a laptop; this was the late '90s and laptops weren't quite as prevalent then) and he would...Chat.
And I couldn't understand it. Why, why would he want to sit in front of a screen for hours when there were Real Live People all around him? Including his fellow cast members, who were only too happy to bicker at him, play loud music in the van, and go dancing at any weirdo nightclub we could find on the road.
On second thought, no wonder the chat rooms looked so appealing...
But the thing is, I find myself online so much now, what with this career development course I'm doing this month, and also looking and applying for jobs, and emailing, and blogging, and let's not forget the monstrous, life-eating FACEBOOK. Where I pop in to see how my friends, local and distant, are doing; to make some smart-ass observations; to answer and write messages; to see if That Guy is online so I can start a conversation. A Chat, if you will.
That Guy refuses to email or phone me, which means, if I was a smart girl instead of a fool, I would leave him the hell alone. Instead, if I see he's online, I start feeling twitchy and doing this little monkey-dance/chant in my head that sounds like this:
lookatmelookatmelookatMEGOSHDARNIT! And then, whether we converse or not, I feel like a bit of a twit.
If I was a very strong girl, I would leave Facebook altogether. I've been tempted, but I really have some great friends on there, and I wouldn't hear from them as much (nor they from me) if I didn't hang on to my account, so for now, it stays.
But I have decided to stay away from it for a while. Messages will come to my email account anyway, so there's no pressing need to go on there compulsively.
My job-searching (god, now there's a whole other blog post) is done for the day.
My coursework also.
I've checked my email enough times, already.
Time to switch off and face the real world, rainy though it is today.
POWER: OFF

Ten Thousand Hours

2012-02-02T22:53:00.004-08:00

I just read a fascinating book by Malcolm Gladwell called "Outliers". I could rave about the whole thing but really, you should just read it yourself. There's too much interesting stuff to go into here, but basically he's writing about how there's no such thing as a self-made man; that our background and economic class and antecedents and culture help to shape us into successes or failures (or pilots who crash planes- see, there's even a chapter about plane crashes! I have a morbid fascination with plane crashes so I couldn't help but be hooked).
But in one chapter, Gladwell mentions the theory of 10000 hours, which I've read about elsewhere, in Daniel Levitin's very cool "This is Your Brain on Music". Meaning that ten thousand hours of work is what it takes for pretty much anyone to become an expert at anything. Ten thousand hours of math. Or painting. Or practicing, say, the accordion. The theory being that there are no 'prodigies' or 'geniuses' but rather people who apply themselves while others slack off. Oh sure, there are some people who are innately more talented than others. But ten thousand hours is the great equalizer: after you've put in that much hard work you are going to be damn good, whatever you do, or so the theory goes.
I like the democracy of this theory, but it daunts me too. I am coming to the end of my first week in this Career Evolutions course I'm doing, and all this self-evaluation is waving some uncomfortable truths in my face, even though my facilitator is encouraging and supportive.
I can be lazy. I can be easily discouraged. I would rather seek the new shiny thing than apply myself to the old standby which has lost its novelty. And yeah, I know that these bad qualities are hardly unique to me, that I'm in good company. But it strikes me that there's really no outside fix for this stuff. The hard work lies with me; I must make changes within myself or all these golden opportunities I have will pass me by.
But I AM learning some wisdom in my old age. I am slowly learning not to get too discouraged by these harsh truths and to focus on the baby steps rather than the big picture. Need to network? Start attending the city's Squeezebox Circle to meet other accordion players. Want to write? Spend a little time every.single.day. doing some form of writing, even if it's just blogging. Sketch out the idea for a song. Don't get discouraged if nothing clicks right away. Revisit later. Read new books rather than lazily re-reading the same old favorites. Squirrel away new ideas and phrases for future songs. Don't beat yourself up if you're too tired/run-down to jog; go for a walk instead.
Although I am still worried about money and work, I am encouraged to see that I'm not wasting time getting depressed and upset, as I have in the past. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the time to do all this self-evaluation and exploration. I'm writing songs with an incredible person who can teach me a lot about creative songwriting and expression. I have the time to play my guitar, to write, to go for long walks, to learn how to drive (I took the car out on the road today! And survived!). I'm spending time with some amazing friends, and also with someone who makes me feel sexy and admired, which is a real boost.
As I write this, I realize that the reason I probably feel less depressed is that I feel more in control. And yes, there are still lots of things I want to work on: spending less time on the computer is a biggie (that means YOU, Facebook!). But it feels as though changes ARE happening, and if I can keep going this way, then the next few months won't be a waste, even if I don't find meaningful work before I leave town for the summer.

2012-01-26T19:01:00.000-08:00

It's been too long since I fired up my camera for anything more meaningful than the odd self-portrait/Facebook profile shot. My little camera makes my eyes look impossibly green, although when I look in the mirror more often than not they look blue to me. My face sometimes looks older than I expect, although not as old as I actually am. I don't smile because it crinkles up my best feature (eyes) and shows up my less pretty one (mouth). So I shoot for dreamy and mysterious, but often end up looking slightly fed up, even when I'm not.
I wish I'd taken pictures this week though, because this is the kind of post that really needs a shot to back it up.
I spent the week hanging out with a dear friend and getting to know another one better. It was raining, that really hard Vancouver rain that we turn on in the winter to scare the tourists away. She was in town to get her eyes fixed anyway, not to gallivant. So we did a lot of driving in the rain. Walking in the rain. Swearing about the rain. And then today's wind blasted all the clouds away and the mountains said see, we live here too and the waves danced and seagulls rode updrafts past the top-floor window of the fabulous West End apartment we were lucky enough to be in this afternoon.
We did a lot of relaxing too, the three of us. Eye surgery and a cold and bad weather led to divine laziness. (Guys, it's all true!!! When you're not around we spoon each other and give great scalp massages and lie on the living room futon snuggling and talking about sex and boys and all the other important and confusing things in life! Just like in your fantasies, except without the full-on nudity and unconvincing moaning!) My girlfriends all have a sad tendency to live or move miles away from me; now I know that I need to schedule more girl-time, by hook or by crook.
Here's the shot I took on my iPod and am totally unable, for reasons that are too boring to go into, to email to myself:
Three sensibly-clad feet on rainy pavement, posed on a tile that spells out the name of our tiny Goldrush town in the Cariboo. Two of us wanted to show the Vancouver newbie one of the best views in town, but it was so rainy and cold that we snapped a couple of pictures and retreated to a warm house, armed with steaming bowls of beef Pho soup. I ate more Pho this week than I have in a lifetime. I am now in love with Pho. I could eat it every day for a month and still come back for more.
My bank account is dangerously low. I need to jog all the Pho (and chocolate; girls eat a lot of chocolate) and salty snacks out of my system. But I wouldn't have traded this week for anything.

Women and Wine

2012-01-23T22:32:00.000-08:00

Sitting around a cozy kitchen table tonight with five beautiful, sexy, fun women tonight
and a couple bottles of wine.
I don't spend too much time with girls en masse
I'm more used to mixed groups, or just men.
Groups of girls make me a bit fidgety, as a rule.
Not because I'm a boy-magnet (I'm NOT), but because I'm not very girly really.
Sometimes it can feel like a meeting for a club that I'm not a member of
But I had a good time tonight
Lots of laughter and the kind of conversation you can only have when
there are no men around and
I realized that I haven't spent much time around groups of women since school
and it felt pretty good.

Not coincidentally
Boys are confusing
or really, I suppose they're crystal clear and I'M confused.
In the interests of not being a blabbermouth I will only say
that it is weird to
simultaneously hold the upper hand
and be in thrall at the same time
That's all I can really say right now
and I'm glad I can retreat into Girl World for the time being

On the plus side
I haven't bitten my nails in a really long time
I think this may be a record in my 37 years of life on this earth
I've been running, too
But
I haven't been to the gym and I've been eating out like it's an Olympic sport
So next month it's time to get serious and start exercising for real because
one of my best friends is taking me dogsledding at the end of February
DOGSLEDDING!! How cool is that?
I can't wait to go visiting up north for a week
Can't wait.

I need to get serious about finding work
before the money runs out
because a month of eating in restaurants with friends
will tax the ol' bank account no end

That's all I've got right now except
I have to go out tomorrow night too-
One more friend is in town, playing her squeezebox
and I will venture out to see her
and then I REALLY need to behave myself
This has been a self-indulgent month
and although I don't feel all that guilty
I need to rein it in a bit/
a lot

I don't know quite how to end this post
except to say:
I love all my friends
I am tired of unrequited... whatever
I have recorded some great songs this month
I don't want to hurt anyone
I don't want to get hurt
I am very lucky
I have been very content for weeks on end and it feels wonderful
I am grateful

loose lips

2012-01-19T21:41:00.001-08:00

I have been eating all day.
My excuse: it's cold (for Vancouver). I can't complain- friends up north tell me it's minus 30 where they are. Suddenly minus three doesn't seem all that bad. It's a good thing this cold snap is an anomaly; a whisper of icy wind and my body reaches for the chips. And the bread. And the candy. Andandand...
Now I understand why the little old ladies in cold Slavic countries are round, more often than not.
I had a lazy day, eating and checking Facebook far more often than I should. This evening, someone posted this article.
I read it and saw more of myself in there than I was comfortable with.
Not in the wife, who weathered a bad year and saved her marriage, at least for the time being...
...but in the person who wanted to leave his marriage because his pride and self esteem were at a low ebb. Because it was easier to wipe the slate clean with an angry hand than to stay and rebuild. I thought about this for a moment. Went a ways down the road of maybe and if and why. But then I shook my head.
What's done is done. It doesn't matter why I left. I don't know if I'll ever really know all the reasons why. It's too late to go back, even if I wanted to. What I need to do is make sure that I do the best I can, always. That in the future I'm as classy as I can be, and as honest, and as kind.
And that includes what I choose to say, both here and in person...
...because I'm a "tell the world" kinda gal. When I have important news-especially if it's about love- I tend to blurt it out to everyone I meet.
There are few things as satisfying as telling someone something juicy and getting a great reaction. But...
It's not very kind. Or very classy. Or very mature. And the things I write here could come back to haunt me in a big way. Even if they don't, I don't want to be ashamed of the things I've said.
So while I can't guarantee that I won't sometimes blurt out a juicy tidbit to the right person, I AM going to try to be a wee bit more discreet.
Because frankly, things are getting more interesting by the day around here.
More news on that when I figure out what to say, and how to say it.

on jobs, friends and running

2012-01-12T23:07:00.000-08:00

application form:
why do employers want to know such ridiculous things?
"highly motivated"
"good communicator"
"team player"
let's cut to the truth here:
I need this job because nothing better came along.
I will work as hard as I can for you; in return you will pay me a shitty hourly wage
and when I find something better-
please god let that be soon-
we will part not-friends not-enemies
and you will be another notch on my resume

I signed up for a job search program today
actually I'm pretty excited
I hope they can help me find the skills I need
to get ahead
to find work that I love
to be better at the work I am already doing

but
I need some money flowing in
this month that means
childcare
role-playing for medical exams
and maybe some busking
as well as applying for some retail stuff

i know one of the things that will come up
in this job-search course:
I am afraid:
i have great ideas but I'm hell on follow-through
I would rather languish in poverty than risk rejection
I am lazy:
I would rather do the easy thing than the thing that takes discipline
I hope they can help me change this about myself.
I think between them and me we can do this.
Sometimes I believe this.

In spite of the uncertainties I feel pretty positive right now
the weather is amazing
I have been running
exploring further east
parks and shops
bought a few more albums for the turntable
friends have appeared and reappeared in my life
I wake up happy and excited
Not knowing if it is the sun-
a welcome shot of vitamin D-
or just my body's mysterious chemistry-
which gives and takes away happiness
seemingly at random
I enjoy it while it lasts
all of it:
the uncertainty
the welcome surprise of an unexpected email
pushing my body to run further, faster
the sound of Lady Day crackling through my speakers
a free, unemployed, delightful day of running and exploring
dinner with an old friend; slipping into the easy chatter we've shared
since grade three

I have found gratitude again
I will try to hang onto this feeling
when the sky deadens
when no one calls
when the bank accounts drain and the Visa bill mounts
when I long to be kissed
I will try to remember today.

How I Got Food Poisoning and It Led to Spontaneous Enlightenment, At Least Until the Next Time I Feel Grumpy About Something

2012-01-07T17:30:00.000-08:00

So there I was, on Thursday, feeling kind of toxic again. Vancouver in the winter, the long, rainy winter- she does that to stronger souls than me.
I had been on the bus, the (in)famous Number 14 bus; watched with disgust as a man- who really didn't look all that nutty- got on, opened his briefcase, got out a pack of wieners, slit them open, took one out and began to munch it. Its meaty wiener smell drifted over to me, blech. It was floppy, and flesh-coloured. Luckily, I had to get off the bus right then. Somehow that random act of ew seemed to encapsulate the whole day for me.
It was the inevitability of the clouds and the rain.
It was yet ANOTHER example of how people can be pigs, especially on downtown eastside transit.
It was the 2 hours of training I was going to, which added up to about 25% of my total work hours this month. No money coming in, too much going out= bad.
It was knowing that the Guy I Really Like doesn't feel the same way about me, however much I may not want that to be the truth.
It was feeling as if everyone else was working, or making grand opportunities happen, or creating something amazing, while I was stuck in this backspin of poverty and frustration and stagnation.
Anyway.
I came home that afternoon feeling pretty sorry for myself.
And cooked myself dinner, because whatever else has happened, a tasty home-cooked dinner can make the end of the day brighter, right?
Well, it did, until about 5-o'clock yesterday morning, when the salmon I'd cooked and enjoyed began to make itself known.
I'm not finished with you yet.
By the time I was supposed to get up and go snowshoeing with a friend, it was clear to me that neither the snowshoe adventure, nor the band I was supposed to see with another friend, nor any of the other plans I had for yesterday, were going to happen. I was going to have a long and painful day communing with the porcelain gods.
And I did. I'll spare you the gut-wrenching, scenes-from-The-Exorcist, passing-out-on-the-bathroom-floor details. They weren't fun. On the plus side, I got a LOT of extra reading and sleeping accomplished.
But as I rested, I got some thinking done. And I realized that no one else is going to come along and save me. Not my family, not my friends, not some Dream Guy, wherever-or WHOever- he is. Don't get me wrong: I wouldn't be half the person I am without the people I love. But if I truly want to be happy, and make this life work, then it's going to have to start with me.
And when I awoke this morning, not only was all the bad salmon purged from my system, but so were the bad feelings.
I'm not saying it's a miraculous cure- I'm sure I'll still wake up feeling crappy some days. But I'm going to try and banish those feelings, whatever it takes.
Exercise.
Practice.
Writing.
Job-Hunting.
I'm sorry I've been such a drag lately. It's been a hard few months. But I've been making it harder than it needs to be.

It's a Vinyl World

2011-12-31T16:37:00.000-08:00

Yeah, yeah, Happy 2012 and all that. Now. LOOK AT THIS!!!

For some reason, I've been itching to buy- and listen to- records. I missed the slight hiss and pop, the album art, even the skips and jumps. This has been an on-and-off yearning for a while, but while I was at the Culture Crawl last month, I saw a suitcase record player in someone's studio, and I was hooked. No complicated (and expensive) hi-fi system. No external speakers. Just a small, funky unit, minimum dollars, and I could start buying used records and become an audio nerd!
Well, after much online research, and then after traipsing around downtown today, I ended up with this little guy for all of SIXTY DOLLARS. And no, it's not as retro cool as the suitcase turntable I originally wanted, but let me repeat, it was SIXTY DOLLARS. And I got it from the drugstore two blocks from where I live. Not only does it play vinyl, it also rips it to MP3 format (so I don't have to haul the turntable or the records up north with me this summer). AND there's a CD player, an FM radio, a headphone jack and USB and memory card ports. I think I'm in love. Right now I'm listening to Duke Ellington's Concert of Sacred Music while I blog. Heaven.
Of course, it wouldn't have been smart to buy a record player and then have no records to actually play, right? Right. So I stocked up while I was visiting Dad in Kelowna. Well, 'stocked up' may be an exaggeration. I bought 6 records.

As well as the aforementioned Duke Ellington album (featuring the Duke himself), we have:
The Police, "Syncronicity" (an absolute '80s classic, in my opinion)
Alberta Hunter, "Amtrak Blues" (this was a shot in the dark. She's great. Now I know)
Baaba Maal & Mansour Seck, "Djam Leelii" (I LOVE jangly, hypnotic, repetitive African pop music!)
Stan Rodgers, "Turnaround" (...and I love Stan. He's a Canadian troubadour, and he died way too early)
and...
a Smithsonian Folkways recording of someone reading the poems of Robert Service. (Two words: Gold Rush)
So while I don't have too many albums yet, I think there's enough variety to keep me going for a while.

January 2nd-
New Year's Day was on a Sunday this year, which means that today (Monday) has still seemed part of the holiday limbo, the last holdout before all the stores reopen and everything gets back to dull, rainy, winter-in-Vancouver normal. The lights are coming down. Soon my little tree will get tossed in the dumpster and Christmas will officially be over. I didn't want to mess around though; I wanted to at least start the new year on a high note, so I've been making lists and crossing off 'To-Do's' as I get through them:
Study for Learner's License
Tally receipts for 2010 & 2011
Apply for a recording grant
Exercise
It helps that I can now listen to music (records! radio! hee hee!) while I apply for grants and get my tax stuff ready.
The year is young, but so far I've been a good girl.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-30T21:59:00.000-08:00

Still working out the sizing bugs! You may have to save this comic to your desktop in order to zoom in on it... but if you feel like it, then Accordion Girl wishes you a very happy 2012!

storybook.

2011-12-28T18:28:00.001-08:00

Every Christmas, I want the storybook experience. And the wonderful thing about still being the 'kid' generation in my family is, I get it. I get the lights and the carolling and the solid month of singing, AND I get paid to do it, too. This Christmas Eve, I got a delightful dinner at my mom's cozy East Van condo, surrounded by some of my favourite people. Then I got to lie around, grazing and digesting, on Christmas Day with my mom and her delightful roommate. Then I took the midnight bus to the Okanagan, and now I am at my dad's, where there are more starry-eyed delights, like skating on the local pond (skating! outside! the quintessential Canadian Experience!), a slightly drunken walk through fast-falling snow in the dark, and more rich food than I should have touched (I may go home with a few extra pounds, but by god I have eaten well this week). The only thing that would have made things better up here would have been if my brother and his wife could have come too, so that we could have been lazy 30-something kids up here together. I have transcended the whole Present thing (I got very little in the way of material things this season); the delight is almost all wrapped up in the gift of family and friends, lights and music and snow. I thank the gods, as I do every few months, that I truly LIKE my family, as well as love them.

But...
Here's my secret confession: If my Christmas is like a storybook (and it has been, truly), then I wish that my New Year's Eve could be like a movie. If Christmas is a week or so of childish self-indulgence wrapped in delight, then I wish that New Year's Eve could be a night of sleek, shiny pleasure. Cool Venue. Dancing. Live music. Maybe a chase scene, followed by The Best Kiss In The World at midnight. Am I the only person who feels like this, or do we all secretly long for it?

(Spoiler Alert: I don't think this is going to happen this year. Not the dancing, not the chase scene. Certainly not the Kiss. I will have a perfectly nice time at my friend G's New Year's party, and I will be grateful and happy to attend. And I will refuse, dammit, to lower my expectations.)

Seasonal Sum-up

2011-12-21T22:57:00.001-08:00

Journey Mama wrote a post in bullet points today, and I am shamelessly going to steal this idea, since I don't have a long story to tell you today, just a few shorter ones...

* I realize that I haven't said anything here about how awesome my job is right now. And sadly, it's almost over. Three more days of caroling and then of course, we're done, because Christmas will be upon us. Getting paid to sing is like getting paid to breathe, for me. I'm always kind of quiet before the first gig, letting the chatter of the others wash over me in the car as we drive to the gig. And then we sing, and the loveliness of the harmonies washes over the four of us, and over the people watching, and it's a kind of Christmas-y magic. We've had some great moments, like when a guy spontaneously bought us cookies while we were caroling outside a mall. And a young skater kid watched us all through "Silent Night" and then told us how his Socials teacher had been telling his class about the German & English soldiers who sang together on a Christmas Eve during the first world war. Lots and lots of happy old folks at the seniors residences which are our bread-and-butter gigs. Hitting that perfect, sweet high note at the beginning of a carol and hearing the room fall silent. Balm to the soul, as they say.

* While it's true that Christmas is not the easiest time to be alone, I have been so lucky to stay nice and busy with work, and to have some wonderful friends to see. Yesterday I went skating with my friend Galia, her husband and their two kids, whom I have doted on since they were born. And then I partied with my five wacky friends from C-Level, which is the purely-for-fun a capella singing group I'm in. We drank copious amounts of alcohol, talked about sex, watched "The New Girl" and tried to stumble drunkenly through our favorite Christmas carols. And I've been connecting with other friends as well recently, both in person and online. And although I joke a lot about my eccentric rathole apartment, I actually love it, AND my roomies. Feeling very lucky and loved right now, in general.

* Gonna spend Christmas Eve with Mom and bro and some assorted friends and family here in Vancouver, then bus up to Kelowna to see my dad right after Christmas. Not having any upcoming work (arrrrgh) means I don't have to rush back for anything. Poor mom's in the thick of rehearsals right now, but she's determined to hold this Christmas Eve dinner. We'll all eat way too much, of course, and I'll probably sleep over at her place and lie around digesting on the 25th.

* Only four months and change until I'm back in Barkerville! Hard to believe, and it'll go so fast. I want to take a career exploration course (there are some free ones available) in the new year, and also get my driver's license at long last! I really hope some interesting work comes along, but I hope that I can use this time to create some new opportunities for myself as well. I wouldn't say no to a date, either, before I'm back in the northern wastelands where the men are few, and far-between, and just plain odd. But I'm not holding my breath on that score.

And finally...
This is a time of huge confusion and change and scariness; not just for me, but all over the damn place right now. So when life is getting me down, I just look at this photo, and it makes me smile.

"I am the Goaltending Owl of Christmas!!!"
Merry Merry. Happy Happy. May your days be merry and bright, as the song says. Drink and eat and have fun with whoever you spend your holidays with.
Much love.

community.

2011-12-10T23:07:00.000-08:00

Oh man, I was so lost, this week.
This virus came from nowhere and BAM! I was sick, and tired, and so, so low.
"Depression" is such a weighty word, but I could feel it knocking on my doors. I could feel my eyes stretched wide with sadness, with not letting tears fall. I would be walking down my wonderful street, and I could feel my face contorted in a sad, furious mask.
No one left emails. No one called.
I felt invisible. I felt like no one would ever love me again, and that all my friends had forgotten about me.

Yesterday I was raw. I saw the sun was shining so brightly outside, and I decided to walk a long, long way to meet a friend. The walk was longer than I expected, but it was very sunny. Along the way, I took some pictures. My mind was still spinning in a sad, repetitive cycle, but I could feel the sun, and the warmth of the day, and at least some of that got through.

Then I met a friend for lunch and had another walk. It was hard to feel so bad when the weather was doing this, and I was here:

By the time I went caroling last night, I was exhausted. Too much walking and the sad feelings were still there. So I went skating afterwards. Skating on top of a mountain. There were even reindeer up there!

I skated around and around (it's all I can do; I can't do fancy tricks or even stop very well, but by god I can skate in a circle), and after half an hour I was pretty much cured. Skating meditation. The bad thoughts had receded. Even though I lost my cel phone up there I was not reduced to a sniveling mess. And today I woke up and felt so much better inside my head, even though it was rainy and damp and I had to go caroling outside at a mall.
And then I came home and sang MORE carols with a bunch of friends and heard from some other ones online and felt less alone and much more loved.
It's hard, you know? I feel like a wimp saying this and I know there are so many larger problems all around and people suffering and I GET that, I really do, but this is my problem right now. You create this life with someone, you build a family. And then one of you might tear it down and you have to build something entirely new. Where there was once always someone there, for better or for worse, now there are holes. And sometimes you feel as though you might just fall right through one of those holes and there would be no one there to catch you.
So this is what I would say, in the end: I want to be brave enough to pick up the phone more, to make more plans with people I don't know well but want to get to know better. Even just send some encouraging online notes.
I want to be the kind of friend who's there to catch you, if you feel like you're falling. And I want to be caught, too.

escapism.

2011-12-05T20:56:00.000-08:00

Today was a rest day, an all-day-in-bed kind of day. I've been felled by a persistent virus, and after days of pretending it wasn't there so I could keep going through various gigs, I had to admit defeat on my day off. I have absolutely no energy at all; I feel low and lonely and depressed, (the virus at work; I've actually had some wonderful gigs and good fortune recently but it's hard to stay happy after days of feeling shitty), but I WAS lucky enough to have an entire day to rest.
So, I stayed in bed, but I traveled the world via the magic of movies. What better way to take a holiday from a sick body and sad mind?
My journey actually began a day or so ago with the French movie "Monsieur Ibrahim". Today I made stops in '80s America ("Charlie Wilson's War" and "Say Anything"), Belgium ("Moscow, Belgium") and Siam ("Anna & the King", which I'm taking a break from because it's long and not totally grabbing me). I also recently watched "Nowhere In Africa" (Germany & Kenya- one of the best movies I've seen in ages) and "Lost in Translation" (Japan, but more importantly, one of my favorite movies of all time).
People may complain about Netflix' selection, but I'm enchanted by all the foreign movies on there. The only problem I have is deciding what to pick!
Now, of course, I am itching to pack my bags and get on a plane to... where shall I go? I've been drawn to European movies lately, but I'm dying to get to somewhere warm, to a place where I absolutely won't shiver, not even once. Not a resort, not something fake and manufactured for tourists who want to be served everything on a platter. I want a tiny, eccentric place to live in, a new language to learn, a few people to befriend. I want a local market to shop at, and a bar/restaurant I'd be comfortable eating alone in. I want sun, water, simplicity, music. Given my limited budget, I'm thinking somewhere in Mexico where I can learn Spanish and hide out for a week or so. A total change of scene.
Of course, I know what's behind this (and probably sort of behind the illness, too): I am learning to be alone, and it's proving to be a tough lesson. Hence the need for a change of scene, I think. I need to toughen up, but it will take time. I need to learn confidence in my body and my Self, the essence of who I am, but it will take time. I need to learn to ask for help, and for company when I am feeling alone, but that will take time too.
I think the thing is that my whole concept of what is 'normal' has been severely toyed with, so I doubt everything. I left a stable relationship at a time of life when most people seem to be settling down and having babies. I got sick when I thought that I was invincible. I live in two vastly different places per year. I have roommates and live in an eccentric building and I own next to nothing. I fell madly out of and into love but I have no idea what to do about it. There is no roadmap for this life, and I know that everyone feels like this. We are all trying to find our way, and when we glance at the map we can only see the path we've taken, not the road ahead.
I love my life, the weird, winding, rocky, beautiful little path I'm on. I really do. But tonight, I will put the headphones back on soon, press 'play' and start another movie so I can escape for a while. When I get some energy back I'll start planning a little trip, I think. Because there is only so much watching I can do. I need to start starring in my OWN movie.

Pitch/Reality

2011-12-01T23:47:00.000-08:00

oh, her email tonight
out of the blue:
I JUST read your email from months ago-
are you okay??

I thanked her
gave her a brief summary of what she missed:
yes, surgery; yes, breakup; yes, moved and
yes, am okay

re-reading my answer to her it is clear-
There is a difference between what I pitch to people:
I am a professional musician!
I have never been healthier!
'Freelance' means I have my own schedule!
I am single and loving it!

and the murkier depths of reality:
I am riddled with self-doubt about my abilities and my career choices!
I scarf down pizza slices on the way home from rehearsals!
I work out, go running, then bum cigarettes from my roommate!
I am either ridiculously busy or still wearing pyjamas at noon!
I write random, newsy, funny things to a far-away guy who probably wonders what on earth he did to deserve these notes he gets from me!
And in the meantime, my own city is remarkably free of anyone who wants to love me!

the constant struggle:
not to let the pitch and the reality separate too much.

Welcome to: Day jobs with Accordion Girl!!!

2011-11-23T14:22:00.000-08:00

Accordion Girl dreams of the Best Gig Ever. It would look something like this:

Of course, reality doesn't always quite measure up:

2011-11-23T00:12:00.000-08:00

Latest installment (it's a bit smaller than I would like, so click on it to enlarge):

2011-11-21T16:16:00.000-08:00

So you know how some days you really feel as though you could scale mountains? Hell, some weeks are even like that, if you're lucky. Last week was one of those: I went running, did an epic 12-km hike with my bro and sis-in-law, saw tons of great friends, played and wrote some great music, including my first-ever solo set playing songs that I wrote (!!!)... it was a pretty fantastic week, all told.

Today is Monday. Today, getting out of bed and getting dressed was a pretty big deal.
My phone didn't ring.
I haven't been outside all day and now it's not even 4:30 and it's getting dark.
I meant to get at least 4 hours' worth of practice or writing in and instead I wasted time looking at Facebook and obsessively re-checking my email.
It's one of those days where I feel to my bones that no one will ever love me again, and I might as well bury myself in a pile of chip bags and Kleenex and balloon up to 200 pounds and get 20 cats and knit them all little sweaters.
The weather is gross.

I blame the weather, quite frankly. Last week was mostly sunny and cold. Today it's damp and overcast and my body just doesn't do well with no sun which is a bit of a problem, given that I LIVE IN A RAINFOREST ENVIRONMENT, FERGODSSAKE!

On the plus side, I have been eating really, really good food for the last few days. Some of it I even cooked at home. I'm on a middle eastern kick right now; lots of hommous and tzatziki and cauliflour and beets and lamb.

On the plus side, I did the East Side Culture Crawl this weekend, which is just so fantastic. All these wonderful artists and sculptors and musicians open up their studios and you can walk right in and look at their work (and admire their funky homes). It was sunny and cold all day Saturday and yesterday, and my friend Ari & I took in quite a bit of Art, in between grazing on all the snacks that obliging artists had put out, and gorging on charcuterie and cheese at Au Petit Chavignol. We joked that our crawl had more to do with eating than art, and it was true.

Most of the paintings, jewelry and other stuff, was out of my price range. I did, however, buy this:

In case you can't tell what it is, I will tell you: it's a pretty silver pendant, in the shape of a pumpkin seed. How perfect for moi.

I'm going to admit that this day has defeated me, and curl up with some chocolate and a movie.

2011-11-12T22:55:00.000-08:00

The rain, it keeps on coming. My roomies and I, we wear sweaters and cover our windows with shrinkwrap to keep the drafts out, and some of us (by which I mean me) eat too much pasta and other starchy things to keep the damp and the cold at bay.

I sit at the desk in my little sitting room and occasionally I do grown-up things like sort through receipts and study the Learners License manual so I can eventually, finally learn how to drive. More often when I'm in here I'm checking my email, or the inevitable Facebook, but there has been some progress. I have been practicing my music. Multiple times. Writing songs, even. This week, I will perform my first-EVER solo set (all my own songs, at that) at a friend's open-mic night in this new neighbourhood of mine. I can't believe I'll be doing that. It's gonna feel as though I'm naked. In front of people.

So yeah, you DO get more stuff done when you're not in a relationship. Or I do, anyway. I guess I'm going to have to learn how to make time for both, or at least I certainly hope so, eventually. But this is okay for now, it really is.

I biked to my ex's, in the teeth of a ferocious windstorm yesterday. And I looked around at the apartment we had shared for so many years, which he had totally repainted and redecorated, and I didn't feel one pang of regret or nostalgia. We sat and drank coffee together, he and I, and he said I want to tell you something, so it's not awkward later on. I'm seeing someone. And I smiled, and congratulated him, and I was really pleased for him, and still there was no regret, and only a bit of nostalgia when we hugged goodbye.

Today I looked at myself in the mirror and said: This will not do. So I got myself to the drugstore, handily located next door, and spent some time in one of the aisles, and now my hair is a lovely dark reddish brown, with not a bit of grey. I had 2 music rehearsals with various people whom I adore and then I came home and played some more music by myself and I had several messages from more people I adore and one of them (one of the most adored, although he doesn't know it) said: How's life treating you? And I realized that it was treating me very, very well indeed. And then I finished this song:

I WAS HERE

I was here, or haven't you heard
I'm leaving a trail with the written word
and I'm taking a stand, yeah I'm raising my voice
it doesn't feel as if I even have a choice
I write my name in the sand, though the tide washes it clean
so I don't even know if it was ever seen
Just a trace of my bones against these stones
saying I Was Here.

This is me, I'm making my mark
I'm holding this pen like a candle in the dark
saying This is how I felt, and this is what I did
This is when I was brave, and this is why I hid
I said goodbye to my old life and went towards the new
I went and fell in love again 'cause that's just what I do
with my heart and my hope on my sleeve
saying I Was Here

Sometimes I'm clumsy, sometimes I forget
Sometimes I just spill it all, say things I might regret
It's not always easy to say how I feel
Don't know when I should close my mouth or what I should reveal

I was here, but after I'm gone
who knows if anything of me will linger on
All my mistakes, all the things I did right
will vanish like a shadow when it meets the night
I'll say goodbye to my old life and head towards the new
I hope that when I die I've done the things I wanted to
But wherever I go I'll let them know-
I'll tell them I Was Here.

idiot week.

2011-11-08T18:36:00.000-08:00

What a full-on week of idiocy it has been, ladies and gents! I hope someone will tell me that Mercury's in retrograde, or something like that, because otherwise? I'm just a twit, and that's hard on the old ego.

It started last Wednesday, when I moved over to my buddy Gord's place to dogsit and promptly broke his freakin' dryer by overloading it with my clothes. Do you know how expensive it is to fix a dryer? I do. Now. Not to mention that one of my best friends now thinks I'm a moron, although to be fair, he's been pretty nice about the whole thing.

Then I went to a concert on Saturday; a free concert at the library. It was sublime. But... there were not enough seats, in fact there were hardly any. The ground was cold, so I sat on my coat. Which had my cel phone in it. Which reacted to being sat on by displaying an image I had never seen before, a giant "F". I have no idea what that "F" stands for. Is it "Failure"? "Freak-out"? "Fix Me"? "F'ing Moron"? Your guess is as good as mine. I only know that it would do nothing else until I yanked the battery out and put it back in. Which- thank god- fixed it.

And then there was last night. I played at a swanky fundraiser. Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I arrived at my apartment, pleased as punch to be home again after being at Gord's for a week. Got in. Took off my coat and changed out of my swanky duds. Decided to go for late-night crappy Chinese food. Closed the door of my apartment, only to immediately realize that my keys were upstairs in my room. The dilemma: wake up my sleeping roomies with The Loudest Doorbell in the World or... call Mom, who has a spare key? The choice was clear: Call Mom. She already knows I'm a twit. I'd like to keep the wool over my roomies' eyes for a little while longer.
Oy vey.

On a more positive note, it really IS great to be back at my crazy apartment, and I'm so pleased that it's starting to feel like home. I've still got no regrets re. the India trip, and I've really been enjoying getting a bunch of stuff done and seeing lots of friends in the last few weeks. Including some I haven't seen in years. No dates yet, but I'm working on enjoying my own company (when I'm not hanging with friends, that is), and I know deep down that that should really be enough for now.

Maybe I should also work on being less of an idiot. That might help my chances in the old dating department...

decisions, decisions

2011-11-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I turned down an interesting work/travel opportunity. Well, not just 'interesting'. Exotic, scary and loosey-goosey might actually describe it better.
It had been in the works for months; an opportunity to travel to India for a week (only a week! So short!) and make music with a mixed group of Indian and Canadian musicians at a festival in Delhi. I'd been invited this summer, but funding difficulties had reared their ugly heads and for months I'd been unsure of whether or not there would be money for me to go. So I'd gone ahead and made other plans, and of course the gods laughed their mocking laughter and some tentative funding arrangements came through last-minute and suddenly, with just over a week before the trip, here I was being told that if I could just run out and apply for a travel visa and then when I returned from the trip if I could just apply for a grant to cover the cost of my plane ticket etc, and ififif, then I could be getting on a plane in a week's time and flying into Delhi.
And I said no.
And yes, there were regrets, but they were so superficial that I had to laugh at myself even as I was having them, because they were almost totally along the lines of what will I tell this person/that person that will make them understand why I said no? and will I be less of a cool person, less of an adventurer if I don't go? Stuff like that.
Maybe an opportunity like this one will never present itself again, and of course I have regrets about that. But you know what? In the space of the last half-year, I got cancer, had major surgery, broke off a very long relationship, worked and lived away from my home for 5 months, fell for people who didn't feel the same way about me, came home, moved house and jumped straight into a busy and demanding work schedule.
I don't have anything to prove.
If I want to stay at home and get caught up, emotionally and financially and artistically, rather than spend 8 days blowing money I don't have halfway around the world, that's okay. If I want to spend next week practicing music and crossing things off my to-do list and planning my future, that's okay too. The trip sounded under-planned and my presence was more due to the fact that they wanted a female musician to be involved than that they had any real idea of who I was or what I did.
I will continue to try and say yes to the very things that scare me the most, because I know that the scary things have the biggest pay-offs, most of the time. But today, as I type this and stare out of the window at the fall leaves and the mountains, I say to myself I am home. And here I stay, at least for now. And the feeling of relief is strong and sweet.

New 'Hood

2011-10-18T17:08:00.000-07:00

day off.

2011-10-17T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm enjoying what feels like my first day off in a while. There is a large mug of tea at my side, and I'm wearing my Pumpkin Patch hoodie while I type this. Those are two things that give me comfort, but they're also a necessity in my new place; it's such a cold building! On the plus side, it's hard to laze around all day in here; on the minus side... well, it's hard to laze around in here! Reading the inspiring words of Kindness Girl and her sister, Jen Lemen before I get up to do a multitude of chores, big and little, I am reminded to treat myself with kindness today, even as I get some necessary stuff done:

1. Reach Out.
I am still figuring out this whole Single thing. Of course I am; I was with someone for 14 years! And now I'm alone, so there's no default Someone who will see me at my worst, my most whiney and sad and plain, and still love me. But wait, that's not true! I've got friends and family who want to spend time with me, who call me up and make plans with me even around my hectic schedule. And that makes me feel very special. Today, an old friend that I grew up with in Toronto, one of those once-in-a-lifetime girlfriends you whisper secrets to and play make-believe games with, is coming to Vancouver. We've almost drifted out of each others' lives in the decades since our girlhood, but Facebook keeps us loosely connected and every five years or so she comes down here from the Yukon on business and we have dinner. And it's lovely. Sometime this week I'll catch up on her life (as a mom!!! with 3 kids!!! None of which I've even met!) and she'll hear about my life and I'll remember that even occasional friends are so worth keeping. However...

2. Take Time For Yourself.
I told my mom yesterday that I had a day off today, and was there anything I could do for her, as she's very busy rehearsing a show right now. She said there wasn't, but did I want to meet up for brunch? And I realized that although I love hanging out with my mom, I really needed to just take this day for myself, without any plans to meet up with anyone. And so that's what I've done.

3. Find something you want to do, and take the time to do it.
Sleep in. Read. Savour that coffee. I've got a bunch of chores I need to get done today, but it's a perfect Fall day and I want to make sure I enjoy it too. One thing I've decided is that when I head out to buy groceries today, I'm going to bring my camera and take some shots of my fabulous new neighbourhood. And then I'll post the best ones here, so you can meet my new 'hood.

Okay, that's enough planning for now. Time to get out there and enjoy this day off!

on the flip side of fine

2011-10-12T01:01:00.000-07:00

You spent the last week-and-a-half trying to keep it together-
arrival, move, jobs
and with the first real day off, your body shuts down.
Sleeping, to fight something that's wrong inside
something you did to yourself during the move, probably, lifting boxes
Over 4 months since the operation and you thought after everything you did this summer that you were fine, you were healed
But you're not

You turn down work so that you can rest, work you need because you're spending too much
(as usual)
Skip a rehearsal because of the cramping and fatigue; your excuses sounding feeble to the impatient person on the other end of the phone

The cat winds around your legs, stares reproachfully at you when she catches your eyes
You've been staring at that machine for hours, she complains
that one, or the one in the living room, the one that plays the same shows over and over all day
and it's true, you have, and even though you almost never spend your days like this, you feel guilty
and guiltier still for eating your own bodyweight in Ben & Jerry's

You signed up on a dating site for a laugh, scrolling through names and pictures through the day
and ended up deleting your account in horror
I can't do this

You went to a party last night
you drank too much because you were shy
You realized today
that you are distracting yourself
with boys, with friends, with booze, with anything
so that you don't have to spend time alone with yourself

It's after 1am
If you hit "publish", these bare, dark thoughts are Out There for everyone to see
and what does that make you?
Wouldn't it be better not to be so exposed?
This is a kiss-and-tell world; it's not classy or nice to lay it all out there
but
You are trying to make sense of it all
and to leave a mark, also
to say I Am Here
in happiness and in sorrow, for all to see
including yourself

And the best thing I can hope
is that I will re-read this in a while
and know how far I've come

thanksgiving

2011-10-09T16:36:00.001-07:00

I've been saying it all day, out at the Pumpkin Patch.
Happy Thanksgiving, Have a great Thanksgiving.
as they file off the wagon, bags bulging with pumpkins

and so now I take a second to say thanks, myself:

For blue skies and sunlight, after so many days of grey.
For work, especially at the Pumpkin Patch, which still makes me happy after 9 Octobers there
For my new place, eccentric though it may be, which is starting to feel like home
For friends and family, who make me feel loved whether they are sitting across from me at dinner, helping me move house, or sending me smart-ass remarks from a computer screen
For health and strength and resilience, which I am so lucky to have in abundance

With all my heart, thanks..

2011-10-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

This is Accordion Girl.

She has a big red accordion. She also has five other accordions, most of them tucked away in storage. They are called:
The Big Black One (given to her while she was busking at the ferry terminal on the Sunshine Coast. True Story.),
The Little Black One (she's had this one for years. If it was in better shape it would be her favorite.)
The Swedish One (gutted and only useful as a wall decoration these days)
The Playhouse One (given to her by the fly man at the Vancouver Playhouse. People really like to gift Accordion Girl with accordions!) and...
The Button Accordion (the one she can't really play.)
That's a lot of accordions!

Last summer, Accordion Girl worked up North, at a little theatre company in a gold rush town. She wore a hairpiece that made her hair look really curly, and a dress with dozens of ruffles, and she was very happy.

At the end of the summer (well, actually, it was more like autumn), Accordion Girl went back to the big city. At the beginning of the summer, she had said goodbye to someone, and now that she was back in town, she had to move all her things (including the six accordions) to a new place, and start a new life.

She had some kind of weird jobs to get her through the fall. One of them was dressing up in a magician's costume and scaring trainloads of people with a giant fake saw.

The other one was playing her little black accordion at a pumpkin patch in the middle of the country (well, Richmond).

It was nice to be outdoors so much, and sometimes you could spot random celebrities at the Pumpkin Patch, people like Elivis Costello and Tamara Taggart (not together, though. That would be weird.) But although these jobs were diverting, Accordion Girl wanted more from life. Like... a career that maybe meant that her next home wouldn't look so much like this:

Plus, Accordion Girl had realized over the summer that she still had the ability to fall madly, deeply, and very swiftly in LOVE. This was exciting, but it meant that she was never fully in control of her emotions.

Will Accordion Girl find success in her career? Will she adapt to her eccentric new home? Will she learn to be happy on her own or will she be able to fall for someone without turning into a zombie? Stay tuned...

11:11 pm

2011-09-29T23:12:00.001-07:00

(actually, it's 11:12 by now, but 11:11 looked better as a title.)

well, i started the day in my little northern mining town
and am ending it at my mom's place in east vancouver
ten freaking hours on the Greyhound, people
(although it was pretty enjoyable to just sit quietly by myself and just read for ten hours straight. read, and watch the fraser river and the mountains and the fall-coloured trees flitting past. i don't remember the last time i read for ten hours. i most certainly didn't have time to do that this summer.)

i think i'm a bit shell-shocked, honestly.

i mean, the place i left has no traffic lights. not one.
and the town restaurant?
well, last night at the restaurant, we trooped in around 8, amy brought a dvd with her
and so we watched "The Long Riders": my roommate, my two bosses, dave and cheryl, who run the Paw, and Francesco The Italian Waiter-
Movie Night at the Bear's Paw. cool.

here in vancouver the traffic hums past all. the. time.
there are a million restaurants on the drive, but i bet i can't watch a movie at any of 'em
i am uncomfortably aware that my old home and life are just down the street from where i sit right now
and it is so surreal that that life is gone forever
and here i am, at thirty-seven
crashing on mom's floor for a few nights until the big move

going to move in to new digs next week
and get used to the sound of traffic all over again
and look both ways before i cross streets
and remember not to say hello to people on the street unless i know them

going to buy a new bed at ikea
it'll be a double, on the optimistic assumption that perhaps, one night, i might get to share it with someone
(not any specific someone, you understand
i'm just looking ahead to a time when i might have a love life again)

going to re-connect with city friends over coffees and rehearsals and walks
and try not to miss all the friends i made this summer
try to stay connected with them over distance
and trust that they'll be there next year
and that so will i

going to try not to lose my heart to anyone else for a while
take things slow and not fall madly in love after five minutes because really?
Today's Single Women are cool, they date; they don't get all fluttery at the drop of a hat
(um, i think i have a lot to learn. sigh.)

going to accomplish at least some of the things on my to-do lists:
the little, niggling ones like taxes and bills and chores
and the great big ones like travel and creativity and staying fit

autumn's here
old things are dying
new things are on their way

2011-09-17T15:43:00.000-07:00

summer came, finally
two weeks of swimming, sunning, hiking
these weeks of one-show days: less plays, more playing
we celebrated Christmas in September the other day
(because none of us are actually here at Christmas time)
we ate hugely, exchanged presents, sang carols
it was kind of magical
I looked around the table at this 'family' of people I've known and worked with and thought
thanks for this

the next day it was rainy and grey again, summer gone for good

I spent a couple of hours talking to someone last night in the cold outdoors
and he said
that when he hires people, he asks them what they think their greatest achievement is
which kind of floored me
because I realized that although I'm proud of many things I've done
I don't know if there's one specific thing I could point to right away and say this is what makes me so proud
I guess if it's anything, it's
writing music for a (small) hit show
clawing my way back from surgery to work up here
playing in Montreal with Zeellia

so maybe this year is going to be about achievements
no, not 'maybe'
it WILL be about:
making changes
doing things I can be proud of
creating things
making music
making money
being happy
finding balance

speaking of which, that someone I talked to last night is a someone who makes my heart beat a little too fast
someone I love talking to
but
if I looked up the definition of 'He's Just Not That Into You'
his picture would probably be right there
so, onward I guess
easier said than done, though
but if this summer has taught me anything it's that I'm tougher than I thought
and now summer's over
my time up here is nearly through
and although I know that there will be more hurts to get through, and more confusion to navigate
there will also be tremendous joy, of this I'm sure
new jobs, new place, new life waiting for me down south
in just over a week's time.

Why I love this place: the Cariboo Gold Quartz Mine

2011-08-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

I have been avoiding the big city (Quesnel) on my days off, and the last couple of weeks found me at Bowron Lake with family and friends, sunning and swimming. This week I was determined to relax right at home; no cars, no travels, no companions, just me and the town of Wells. If it was rainy, I'd sleep and read. If it was nice, I'd head up Cow Mountain to the Cariboo Gold Quartz Mine.
It was sunny.

First, I walked up Lowhee Road, which I'd never done before. Barkerville Gold Mines has some buildings up there, so I didn't go too far, since this is an active gold mine, and gold miners are rather possessive about their property. However, I did stumble upon their top-secret stash of gold! You think they'd be a bit more clever about hiding it...

I crossed the creek, spotting a gold panner along the way (I also gave him a wide berth, since gold-panners are also possessive about their spots and I didn't want him to think I was horning in on his 'claim'.)

And off to the old mine. My fascination with this place is only equaled by my fear of bears, so I am always a little antsy here. Plus, there's something so spooky about old buildings. Spooky, but wonderful.

My favorite building up here.

One day I hope to come here with someone who knows the history of this gold mine, and can tell me what everything is. At a guess, this is an elevator, which either took men down, or gold up. Dunno. The whole side of the building has peeled away, so if you can scootch under some branches which block the trail, you are in like Flynn, and you can explore to your heart's content.

Barkerville Gold Mines is working up on this mountain, so who knows how long this old stuff will remain before it's knocked down to make way for a new mine working? This building has been gutted, probably by heavy snows, but the ground around it is covered in core samples.

My second favorite place: a short walk to a gaping mine shaft.

If you head right, you will be standing on top of a huge tailings pile, where you can survey your domain. Look down, and there is a tangle of machinery which always reminds me of the ghastly Ironworks building in Stephen King's book "IT". As far as I know, Fred Wells' mine was a safe, good place to work, not a haunted kill-site, but the rusty scraps of god-knows-what always give me a bit of a chill.

Speaking of chill, you can feel the mine's cold breath as you approach this shaft. Just a few feet in, the floor is covered in ice.

*A disclaimer: I am far too smart (and too chicken) to enter a mine shaft. AND YOU SHOULD BE TOO! Anyone who goes into a mine shaft is an effin' idiot, and deserves whatever happens to them.*

And down a creepy little path to some more buildings. The Dark Lord apparently reigns here.

There are bits of machinery lying around- who knows what they used to do? Well, someone probably does know. That someone, however, is not me.

Finally I'd had enough of overgrown ruins. The beach on Jack o' Clubs Lake is glorious: strange-coloured sand, shrubs, and stunning views.

I also took a path along the lake for a while. There were claims staked all the way along it.

After messing about on the beach for a bit, I decided to walk over to the highway and the visitors' centre, but the only way there was either through a vile bog, or a wade in the lake, so I chose the latter (although I experimented with the bog first...)

It had been almost a 2-hour hike at this point. I slogged home, wet to the thighs from the chilly lake, and devoured my very late lunch with a huge appetite.

shoulder season

2011-08-16T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've been waking up tired these last few days
although I still have lots of energy for the shows-
no, scratch that, sometimes I have energy-
other days I guess I phone it in, a little
except we're pre-telephone in 1869, so I guess I'm telegraphing it in

Don't get me wrong, I still love being here
and most days, I remember that I'm lucky to be here, too
different test results, different surgery, and I wouldn't have been
I have a birthday coming up
and I feel pretty lucky about that, too
even though the numbers are getting bigger and bigger
i still can't believe I'm over thirty, and thirty happened quite some time ago

but Fall comes so early, here
on the heels of a too-short summer
I count evening swims on one hand this year
including one moonlit skinny-dip, which was amazing; I want more
bike rides are buffeted by headwinds with a chill I can't ignore
I bought a warm coat the other day, which I'll need sooner than I'd wish
but

cold aside, part of me wants to stay here with
a woodstove, a cat, and a box of books to read...
not go back to the city, where things lurk:
taxes, memories, responsibilities, jobs I need but don't like
I'm excited too, though
there will be new places to live, new people to meet, interesting jobs
even love? but I can't even think about that

I guess what is feel is conflicted
I know this summer can't last much longer
Time stretches and snaps like elastic
and what felt eternal is now almost done
and I am slowly learning
to trust in people and places
even when life takes you far away from them
If I did the same thing, stayed in the same town all the time it would be dull
but it is a wrench to know that I have to move on
to start again
scary and exciting both
so I will try and push through the tiredness
and enjoy every last minute here

reality check.

2011-08-07T17:29:00.001-07:00

She comes up to me before the 1-o'clock show. Not much older than me, but the years have not been as kind to her
I remember joking with her and her family yesterday before our 4pm history drama
I was in character at the time: Irish whore, whisky in hand

She says: Johanna Maguire- did that really happen to her? (Irish whore, whisky in hand, dead at thirty-four, beaten to death by her man)
I say yes. Yes it did.

She shows me the scar on her neck
Two vertebrae here are fused together because of the same thing she says
He got life in jail for that.
It just goes to show you, doesn't it? she says. it's been happening to women for so many years.

it just goes to show you.

festival

2011-07-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

There's an explosion of hippies in our tiny town; festival-followers, musicians, crew and the like
We Barkerville workers are seasonal, but tolerated, the hippies, less so.
They swim naked in the river/smoke grass in public/pee on our lawns/leave garbage everywhere/make a noise

All this is true, but they are fun to watch, in their swirling skirts and outrageous hair-
and that's just the men-
I stare at this influx of people
My goodness she's beautiful, look at that kid, wow- a gorgeous man (so many gorgeous men!)
a strange reminder that this year, were I the type, I could make eyes at someone, follow them back to their tent
intoxicating thought, even if I am too chicken to try

I love to watch the festival kids
dancing to the bands with no self-consciousness at all
dirty feet and ragged hair
up past their bedtime
until they melt down and are carried away to sleep

And the music-
folk/punk/dance/lounge/acoustic/plugged-in
accordions fiddles guitars singers stand-up bass
We know we shouldn't, with our 8-show long weekend, but we dance
and stay up too late, and shout over the music 'til we are hoarse
Taking it all in, this explosion of noise and people and events

He says bring your clarinet. If I see you, I'll call you up to the stage and you can sit in
And so I will take it out of the theatre for the first time in months
packed in its case
race to the gig after our last show and hope to be seen
So that I can be a tiny part of this festival scene

on the other hand...

2011-07-09T15:44:00.000-07:00

there are clouds sitting like trolls on top of the mountains
no really, I haven't seen more than a teasing glimpse of sun for days on end
my very soul is damp
the Barkerville cat spends her days dreaming on our green-room couch
dreaming of warmth, of foxes, of whistle pigs ripe for the crunching
while outside the rain is sheeting down

bears really do lurk in the woods
and doubts like grizzlies growl and mutter
inside my mind from time to time
the age-old questions, even here:
what am I doing?
where do I fit in?
am I loved?

there are always dishes in the sink
and mud on the floor
and tiny biting bugs that wriggle their way through any screen
and almost no solitude

stand strong, feet firmly planted
and remember to take up as much space as you deserve
remember that joy has its flipside, sorrow
and that both are fleeting, but important
remember that there is no misfortune that cannot be made smaller
by sugar, fatty foods, friendship, music and sleep

there are bumps in the road, even here
and boredom and dirt and frustration
but that doesn't change the essentials
all the good things that are
this I know, deep down

2011-07-06T15:44:00.000-07:00

2 nights ago
an evening trip to a cold, cold lake
there were four of us racing behind trees to change into swimsuits
dashing towards the shadowed water
I was the first one to dive in
and the first one to scream
breath rasping inoutinout as my feet grew numb
but we all dared, more than once
and we have pictures to prove it

then a dusk drive to the middle of nowhere
a place where men once sought gold, built homes
where seven women were wives, storekeepers, whores
where now there is nothing
no ruined cabins, no half-buried treasures
just a fast, icy creek
secretive trees
the danger of bears
and a road becoming overgrown and narrow

If I walked further along
past where we stopped the car
past washouts and fallen trees and old tailing piles
would I walk into history
like those long-ago gold-seekers
so that one day someone would come to this place
and half-hear my voice
in the wind

2011-07-05T16:19:00.001-07:00

I fall in love with you slowly every year
reluctant to arrive here
in your lingering days of spring mud and roof-high snow drifts
you cannot win me over with the ocean
your mountains are no great things, your lakes are hidden away, not easily found

my love is slow-growing
no sudden thunderbolt-
a breath of utterly clean air
ragged clouds brushing treetops
abandoned gold-rush ghost towns
metal roof raindrops at 3am
the sight of a town at sunset
lifting my heart as I come home

Daytime/Nighttime

2011-06-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

Daytimes up here are easy: breakfast, cleaning, commute, show, lunch, show, rehearsal, commute, dinner, hanging out- It's hard work, but the routine and the company are soothing and a lot of fun.
Night-times, it's harder not to think about the end of work up here and the new life that's waiting for me back home. Okay, it's not just that that's on my mind. There's a lot of stuff, both here-and-now and future, to mull over. There is so much to think about, and it bubbles up into the forefront of my mind when I'm trying to sleep. The night before last, sleep was so long in coming that my eyes had a permanently red sheen all yesterday, and working up the energy for 2 shows and a rehearsal felt like swimming through a muddy bog. My brain literally felt fried. It always makes me laugh when I watch shows like "24" and the hero's been up for a full 24 hours and he's still saving the world; I'd be curled up in the fetal position, sobbing... and that's just if things were going normally- I can't imagine what I'd do in a crisis.
Fast forward to today, and 10 hours' sleep makes life look a lot more bearable... Here I sit, in my 19th-century Irish whore's costume, plugged into the 21st century with the aid of my laptop and the theatre's wireless internet. The 2nd show begins in about 15 minutes. I have an unshakeable feeling that I am exactly where I need to be right now, and that makes the midnight fears- about things like moving, and housing, and love- feel very far away indeed. I tip my water bottle in salute to Johanna Maguire, the Irish whore in question, whose life was, by all accounts, both brutal and short, and whose indomitable spirit I get to try and portray in our 4-o'clock show, 6 days a week. And then I shut my laptop, take a deep breath, and step onto the stage.

and then...

2011-06-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

It's still cold here.
Rain today, cloaks on over giant dresses and petticoats- halfway through June and I still need tights under bloomers!
But this is superficial, because I. Am. Back.
Dusty house, crazy roommates, cooking together and laughing like hyenas in spite of sad stuff. Bliss.
Rehearsals, and shows, and more rehearsals and more shows... and a gala opening to look forward to on Saturday:
3 weeks and a day post-surgery.

I left some things behind in Vancouver:
warm weather (sadly. it's still like earlyearly spring here),
cancer,
some of my summer clothes (a packing oversight, unfortunately).
And my relationship.
Yeah, I DID just say "my relationship".
Obviously, this is not just MY story, and so I will be brief in the telling.
But after 14 years it felt like time.
It felt like that to me.
But maybe not to the other person involved.
So I got to be the one who dropped a bomb and then left the city.
And he got to be the one who stayed and dealt with the fallout.
I'm not proud of that. But I didn't see another way around it either.

So now I get to be... what?
single, I guess.
Wow.
I'll probably turn out to be a Crazy Single Cat-Lady.
since I wasn't too good at those games when I was 23, and I certainly don't think I've improved much in the interim
but I guess I'll learn.
Or I'll buy a cat. And then another one. And then...
well, you get the idea.
Anyway, it felt like the right thing to do.

I could say more about this- and I will-
but for now I have a costume to put on
makeup to apply
and a small ghost town of tourists to entertain.
Later.

slightly expanded from my latest Facebook status update:

2011-06-06T16:20:00.000-07:00

flight to Cariboo: booked for Friday afternoon.
hair: cut and coloured (thank god. I look 10 years younger).
hockey game: game 3 tonight!

Oh yeah... one more thing:
Cancer? Officially GONE!!! Lab results came back this afternoon. Now I can breathe again.

one week in

2011-06-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

so- fingers crossed- one week from today i will be back in the cariboo, rehearsing and performing shows. i woke up this morning, looked at the clock and thought: wow. this time last week i was already unconscious and under the knife.
this friday i can:
get out of bed unaided
shower
dress myself
go for long walks, although this makes certain family members nervous
entertain guests
next week i'll have to be doing a whole lot more than that, which is exciting but nerve-racking too. when i think too much about having missed nearly three weeks up there by the time i go back i get a bit crazy, so i've been keeping busy and learning my scripts and a brand-new accent for one of the shows- a dublin accent, very fun.
everyone's been superstars down here, but i'm starting to feel ready for the more rough-and-tumble treatment i'm going to get from theatre royal and the rest of the barkerville gang. there's only one thing...
the pathology report, which i won't get until next week, which will conclusively say whether or not there's cancer in my lymph nodes.
the surgeon thinks probably not.
i FEEL pretty great,
they did the surgery, which is a good sign,
and i have to go ahead and book my flight soon, but...
i won't know for sure until next week, and although my spirits are high, it's another wait for news, and on some level, it's driving me nuts.
so keep your fingers crossed for me one more time, won't you?

at home/what you took

2011-05-30T10:12:00.000-07:00

what do i remember?
everything.
admissions, 6am. waiting, always waiting.
pre-op, 7am. undressed, anonymous, gowned and stretchered.
strangely not more nervous, feeling the way you do before a big gig or some other thing you can't quite imagine doing
in half an hour i will be unconscious and they will be cutting me open
how do you begin to even be scared about that- it's too surreal.
pushed through cold halls lined with canucks pictures- hockey fever even in the OR- entering the room and seeing them all prepping for my arrival.
the biggest thing that has ever happened to me and i won't be conscious through it
asking the anaesthesiologist where he was from- saudi- and suddenly slipping
into nothing

waking
to a gorgeous view on the 4th floor, i think
slightly weepy, feeling as if i hadn't quite finished dreaming a dream
hoarse from the breathing tube
thirsty, and not allowed to drink
but fully aware, fully alert
looking at the clock: high noon. that means they went ahead with the surgery. it's done, all of it.
taken to the ward
gynocology/urology
not the gyno ward where new mothers go
they wouldn't want to mingle with us
more waiting
waiting for news
waiting for the surgeon
waiting to get up
waiting to get to sleep
waiting for visits

some impressions:
not too much pain, which is amazing
i've had worse hangovers than this
catheters are surprisingly convenient
walking, when it happens, is surprisingly hard and i do the zombie shuffle around the ward complete with iv drip and ass-exposing gown- what a cliche i've become

knowing- from eavesdropping other patients' stories- just how lucky i am, how my news could have been so much worse, how blessed i am with friends and work and family
but anger, yes, now that begins now that i'm home
you took some things from me and i'd like them back please:
confidence in my health and my body
speed, fleetness
a lifetime of saying i've never had surgery, never even had a cavity, never known how rare i was in this
you took my ability to bear children
took things out of me
left me with doubts and fears and a new vocabulary:
cancer survivor
post-operative
recovery
left me questioning any ache and pain i get: what is this? should i worry?
this can be a dark place and i need to go there sometimes
even as my steps grow stronger
as i return to work- i WILL return to work
as the soreness fades
i will come back here
to remember what you took from me

2011-05-25T08:38:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time. I'm so sorry, but I think you'll get it when you read this. There were friends and family to tell first, not to mention the fact that I was just so busy for the last three weeks. I did write, but I couldn't post until now. Here's a selection of posts I wrote but didn't publish right away:

may 1st, 2011
this feels almost entirely too easy.
it's so weird to be back here, because time is doing that stretchy-slidey elastic band thing and it could almost be that i've never been away; there was no ghost train or pumpkin patch or 'brief encounter'. when you have different jobs throughout the year you remember things in terms of work. this was the month i did so-and-so, that was the christmas i went here...
well, this is my third time here, and it's starting to feel like a second home. i got here friday night, stayed up late in a frenzy of unpacking, did the same yesterday. there are only two of us in the house so far; the others arrive in a few weeks. it gives us the chance to settle in, clean, stake out our territory and make things the way we like them to be. i am very lucky in my roommate (the only newbie this year); he likes things tidy (so do i) and so we cleaned and organized things together and this shabby Panabode-style wood house has never looked so tidy or felt so much like a home in my memory. last year it looked like a frat-house most of the time. i think i tackled so many years' worth of cobwebs yesterday that the house realized i was a friend and has made brendan and i welcome here. i felt kind of silly, but i even 'smudged' the house yesterday with some sage i found in the living room. so many years of people staying here, happy and sad, getting along and fighting... it just felt like the right thing to do. i sheepishly admitted this to brendan and he said he agreed.
today was mayday, and glorious sunshine to go with it. such a funny contrast to the deep snow which is still piled everywhere; they had a long, snowy winter here this year. brendan and i hiked through the meadows, on snowmobile trails that were still firm enough to hold us, and also on ski trails where the snow was starting to get so rotten that we sunk in up to our hips every other step. quite a workout! we were out for at least an hour and my face is red from the sun. i hadn't thought i'd need sunscreen quite so early, was more worried about whether i'd brought enough warm clothes!
speaking of bringing things... although i had to pay quite a bit to ship five boxes of stuff up here, it was worth it. my little bedroom is cozy and homey, and as the house fills up with two more people, if i need to retreat to my room i will feel happy there among my things. not that i need to retreat right now. my roomie is 10 years younger than me, and very happy to be here. i was afraid he might be a bit too much of a 'keener', but his enthusiasm is contagious, and after the boys and their distinct lack of enthusiasm last year, this is great. to have already done a hike, on our 2nd day here, is wonderful. we seem, so far, to be able to strike a nice balance between talking up a storm and being silent, between hanging out and giving each other space. as i said, i feel very lucky.
today was so beautiful that this afternoon we even got our bikes out for a quick ride to upper wells (it was a quest for junk food, very necessary after all our exertions!). to be able to cycle, on roads which were clear and dry, but surrounded by many feet of snow... was not something i'd ever experienced before. now the sky has clouded up and our rehearsals begin tomorrow, so i'm glad we snatched the chance to get outdoors while the going was good.
i am keeping my fingers crossed that our phone will soon be working. the people at telus seem to have a hard time setting up phone service for residents of wells and every year there is a weeping and a gnashing of teeth before phone service is hooked up. they promised me 'today', but it's 5:30 and still no dial tone. my sweetie's going to get one more night-time call from the gas station phone box, i guess.

may 8, 2011
i feel such a weird mixture of lucky and unlucky at the end of this first week that i don't really know where to begin. 'begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end and then stop' is a quote that popped up in a novel i was reading, so here goes...
it's the evening of the first day of rehearsal, last monday. i get several facebook messages from j: 'call me'. so i do. our phone line isn't functioning yet so i call him from the public phone outside the whitecaps motel. i'm worried that his mom has fallen ill, or that he's had some kind of health scare, but the news he has is about me: my biopsy results have come back positive for cervical cancer. i'm reeling, trying to keep it together and take it in while standing outside at a public phone. needless to say, i can't and i start crying but i'm still trying to keep some kind of control, since i'm not in private (although at least wells isn't a high-traffic area, at least not at this time of year). j's obviously in shock as well. anyway, we talk it through as best we can and then i have to go and break it to amy & richard at theatre royal, after the first day of rehearsal, that i may have to leave, that i may not be able to finish my contract here, that i may not even get to really start it. and they are shocked too, and supportive.
and so the week goes by in a flurry of rehearsals interspersed with phone calls to places and departments i never wanted to have to speak to : gyno-oncology, cancer agency, hospital, not to mention family and a few calls a day to j for moral support and updates (at least we have a functional phone at the panabode now, so no more weepy public phone calls after that first night). i learn a few things: first, that things tend to move quickly when you have anything to do with the dreaded 'c-word', and so i have an mri scan scheduled for this tuesday, and the cancer agency has even managed to get that done in prince george so that i don't have to come all the way home to vancouver. i will miss one day of work, the theatre will cancel one show this week, and then i can keep working up here until i fly back home.

Friday May 20th, 2011
How did it get to be almost 2 weeks since that last blog entry? How did I get to be sitting at the kitchen table in a log house, typing at 10pm while the final addition to our household bakes late-night Peanut Butter Whoopee Pies?
We are four now. Me, Maya, Robert and Brendan. Three of us worked here last year, and the new guy is fitting in just fine. Maya showed up tonight and immediately started baking, which is how she settles in. This is a quirk I can live with very easily, although my waistline may not thank her. The Panabode, our house, is cozy and friendly. I think it responds to the love we're showing it, shaking off years of casual neglect; well maybe not shaking it all off, but looking brighter and nicer than it ever looked last year. Not just a place to live, not just a party shack, but a home for 4 very different people who will hopefully be able to get along for the next 4 months.
Not that I'll be here for the next few weeks, unfortunately. My schedule next week is as follows: Do shows all weekend, fly back to Vancouver on Monday night, have a consultation Tuesday morning, have surgery on Friday. And then.... we'll see. I'm raring to get back up here and keep working, but I'm terrified that my body won't be a resilient as I want it to be. And it's a bitter pill to swallow, this knowing that I won't be able to bike or run or fling myself around the stage as i've been doing these last few weeks.

So do you see? I'm typing this back at my home in Vancouver, and the last few weeks feel like a dream; did I really get all the way up north, start doing a show, and then find out that I have cancer and have to fly home for surgery? How could I not be in shock?
I go into VGH early Friday morning for a hysterectomy. A what?! I'm 36 years old, for godsake. I can run, I've biked 15km a day for the last week, I feel healthy as a horse. My spirits for the last few weeks have fizzed like sodapop as I made new friends, learned new songs, tried on costumes and re-entered 1869. Now suddenly I'm a cancer patient. In a few days I will be sore and tired, fuzzy-headed on painkillers. I wasn't ready to come home. I am so afraid they'll forget abut me up there, that the wound made by my absence will heal seamlessly and if I'm lucky enough to go back (which I won't know until after surgery), they won't care.
I miss my life before cancer. I know how lucky I am, but I'm still angry and scared.

Happy Pie

2011-04-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

Ah, Spring! When we celebrate the birth of so many new creatures by... eating them. Yum.

The weather is still unseasonably cold, but the sun actually comes out for a few hours these days, and my third (and last, please god) virus seems to be gone. I even went back to the gym today, the first time in almost a month. Good thing, because I leave town in less than two weeks. Two weeks: time's flying by. I can't believe it.

Anyway, J and I had a really annoying meal last night; you know the kind- we went to our local Mexican restaurant and had a totally indifferent meal. Nothing was bad enough to complain about (except the lack of Guacamole on my plate, which the waitress claimed they had run out of- at a Mexican restaurant! On a Friday! until I saw some sitting on J's plate and then she stammered "well, he got the last bit".) It was just a truly bland meal- nothing had any flavour to it, and it wasn't even particularly cheap, to compensate. So today I swore I'd make up for last night's blah experience with a little home cookin', and...

I finally made something from a recipe I found in Saveur Magazine, which is sort of like National Geographic, but with recipes. This is an Easter Lamb Pie, from Sicily. Your basic meat pie, but with a twist: the 'pastry' is yeasted, and is really more like a bread than an actual pastry.
You start out by making the 'pastry'. It's like bread- you use yeast- but also like pastry- you use shortening. Is there anything in the world whiter than shortening? It's the purest white I know.

Then, while the dough is rising, you combine chopped up lamb with herbs and garlic. Lots of garlic.

This should really be done the night before, so that the flavours can marinate the lamb, but that's not essential, unless your Sicilian grandma is around to kick your butt.
Your boyfriend might mock your attempts to make meat pie and document it. Ignore him. Or get your revenge by including his picture in this blog.

But he won't turn up his nose at the finished result. Infact, he'll even help you decorate it:

Baaaaah! Happy Spring, everyone.

Coffee Shop

2011-04-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

Last year, I had a few... issues. Basically, I felt like I'd painted myself into a corner. The really bad thing about that is, you can get so panicky about the situation that you can't see a way out. Some people get really depressed about this. I don't think I was depressed. Let's just say I had some angst. Maybe some Weltschmerz. Ennui? Anyway, whatever it was, I felt crappy enough that I wanted to talk to someone. So a wise friend told me about Family Services; I called them up and they put me through the intake procedure and said it might take a 3-4 months for someone to become available.
Actually, I think it was only two months. If that. Someone became available, and every few weeks I'd get on a bus headed south a few blocks and blurt out some of my problems to a lovely lady who had no ties to my life and who listened non-judgementally and sympathetically to my woes for half an hour. Sometimes I'd laugh; sometimes I snorfled my way through a few Kleenex, but it felt necessary for a while, anyway. I think on some level I was hoping that I'd have a momentous breakthrough- you know the ones where the light goes on above the patient's head and they cry: aha! I'm like this because of that! And they cry it all out for awhile and then... no more problem.
*Spoiler alert: that never happened to me.
Actually I still struggle with many of the same issues I had last year: poverty, instability, self-doubt. I know that I will have to work on those things for a long time. Maybe I'm still in a bit of a corner; it's just that it's not a bad corner to be in most of the time. There are friends and family in my corner with me. I have a window there, and most of the time I remember that if I want to walk out of there I may get some paint on my shoes but I probably won't die. Hell, we're all in some kind of corner, aren't we?
Anyway, one of the most therapeutic things about going to counselling was this place:

Most times I'd get off the bus and I'd be early for my session (because punctuality is NOT one of my issues), so I'd go to this coffee shop.
There's a lot of wood there. A pleasant view of the neighbourhood. Food that's actually made there, instead of being trucked in from some mass-producing bakery of blah.
Lots of times I'd take a tea along with me to Family Services, and it would sit with me through the next half hour, along with the kind lady who was listening to my problems.
When the sessions were over (I think the deal was a dozen, and I spread 'em out over four or five months), I wasn't magically 'cured'. My counsellor was sympathetic, but not much of a one for coming up with actual gameplans. But I'd talked out some of my troubles and I headed off to Barkerville and a much-needed injection of work and confidence. And I didn't have any need to be up in that neighbourhood anymore, so I didn't get to visit the coffee shop anymore.
Yesterday I passed through that neighbourhood on the way home from a rehearsal, and went back to the coffee shop for a snack. It was a good time to be there; not too busy, no lineup. They've expanded a bit, which is good, because they get pretty busy sometimes. I had a dark, strong Americano and a lemon tart.

A little boy saw me fiddling with my iPod and said "Do you have any games on there?" I admitted that I did. "Can I see?" he asked, and so I ended up letting him play a few rounds of Angry Birds while his father got him a snack. He was probably around four; still young enough to be totally trusting and careless of Stranger Danger. He leaned against me while he commandeered my iPod and I was happy to let him.
I could probably wrap this story up neatly by contrasting me in my dark times last year (unhappy, uncertain of everything) with this happy, confident little kid, but that feels a bit cheap. I will say that it was good to be back at this coffee shop, which is a special one in a town filled with far too many cookie-cutter coffee shops. It was good to have much longer hair and fewer pounds on me than last year. It was nice to feel the sun trying to poke through the clouds that have been too present lately. It felt really nice to be headed home and not to a counselling session.

2011-04-02T09:50:00.000-07:00

We fled south last weekend, tired of the ever-present rain and grey skies of Vancouver. I don't know if it's been a particularly grey winter this year, but it sure as hell feels like it. However, we should have known that if you're fleeing bad weather, don't stay in the Pacific Northwest:

Portland was just as grey, just as cold, and even more windy than V-town. However, it had a few things going for it: it wasn't home, so it had the novelty factor going for it, its downtown is very easy to walk around, and in spite of the grey skies, it's a lovely town with a million restaurants. What could be better?
(An aside, if you'll indulge me: why does Portland have much, much, MUCH cooler movie theatres than Vancouver? Are we really so lame, so apathetic, that we let stupid chains like Cineplex take over all our theatres? Well yes, sadly, we are. When we were in the Land of the Free, we went to a fabulous place called the Living Room Theatres... it was a bar, a restaurant, and several tiny, comfy movie theatres. We lazed in fabulous chairs, alcoholic beverages in hand, and enjoyed a lovely movie experience. And this seemed to be the norm down there rather than the exception. Vancouver NEEDS this.)

We walked miles (we took the train down, so we kinda had to. But I love walking, and J was pretty game). When it got really gross out, we retreated to cool indoor places like OMSI, the huge science centre/planetarium/Omnimax/submarine on the other side of the river. We spent a day scoping out the shops (and bought multi-tools at REI, the US equivalent of MEC). We strolled from one restaurant to the next until our stomachs protested. We relaxed in our beautiful downtown hotel. All in all, it was a delightful 4 days.

Now we're back, and my stomach tells me I should go back on my no-wheat, no-dairy no-fun diet immediately. With costume fittings for my summer job looming, I have to agree. Here's something that fits the bill, although it's unlikely that I'll lose any weight eating it. I justify this breakfast by saying that there was a bag of fingerling potatoes sprouting in a cupboard, and I had to use them up. But really, it's just a way of making my holiday seem as if it's not quite over yet.

Salmon Hash
I had a version of this at the Benson Hotel in Portland. The salmon was pale, smoked and mixed right in with the wonderful, slightly too greasy potatoes. My version uses Indian Candy (because that was what was in the fridge), and my potatoes didn't really "hash". It was still really good, though. (And no wheat or dairy to be found!)

Chop some onions, garlic, and whatever herbs you may want to throw in (I had cilantro, so that's what I used).

Toss it in a pan with some olive oil, and stir until the onions are translucent.

Meanwhile, boil some potatoes.

When the potatoes are soft, add them to the pan, along with some more olive oil, salt and pepper (I like Fleur de Sel better than table salt), and maybe a couple of mushrooms.
Let it all cook until the potatoes are getting crispy on the outside. Then add the salmon and some of the herbs.

Finally, slide a poached or fried egg onto the top, and garnish with more salt, more pepper, and the rest of those herbs. Take it to the table and break the egg yolk so that it covers the hash with warm yellow yolk. Bon Appetit!

2011-03-21T12:53:00.000-07:00

Oh man, isn't "I should..." a daunting way to start a sentence?
I SHOULD be doing something constructive, like cleaning my apartment.
I SHOULD go outside and buy food to eat tonight.
I SHOULD stop staring at my computer screen all day.
I SHOULD spend some time with friends before I go away for five months.

Thing is, it's raining out there. AGAIN. Shopping for food means I have to get wet. I'm starting to feel a bit like a cat about getting wet because it has happened so much this winter. And I was supposed to see a friend today but she texted me to warn me that both her kids have colds and I was like no way. Sorry, but I've been sick for weeks, now. First I was just snotty and then I was getting better and then I was hammered by some kind of virus that left me feverish and achey and snotty and cough-y and I'm only just getting over that. I can't go to the gym because I'm still too tired and sick. So, no. Can't risk it.
I know, I know. Soon I'll be living in a locked, darkened room, never venturing outside (too many germs) and peeing into milk bottles whilst wearing kleenex boxes on my feet. But although it's still wet and cold out, things are actually looking up... See the following items for proof:

J and I are heading to Portland next weekend! On the train! We did this because a) it's not much of a holiday if J has to drive for hours and b) It's a train! Trains are awesome! I can't wait to step onto it (at 6:30 am, ouch) and plunk down into our Business Class seats and chillax for eight hours.

The Redboot Quartet played at The Blushing Frugal Bride's wedding last Friday night, which was lovely. Even though I was still pretty sick (and had had only 2 hours of sleep, thanks to the fact that I was looking after my brother's bed-hogging dog), I managed to have a great time. I danced for a while and I'm pretty sure I even laughed a lot. That may not sound like much, but after a couple weeks of illness-induced depression, where I was bursting into tears after doing simple tasks like grocery shopping, laughing feels really good.

Plus, I lost so much weight on the no-dairy, no-wheat no-fun diet (coupled with a few days of being too stuffed-up to taste anything and therefore not eating anything) that I was able to wear my extremely form-fitting blue Cheongsam dress with silver flowers, which I haven't been able to squeeze into for lo these many years. One may question why I was wearing a very Chinese dress to a Ukrainian-Irish wedding, but the answer is simple: because I COULD.

So you see: thinner, healthier happier, gigging, imminent travel... Life is actually pretty good. Just keep your viruses and your rain away from me. I'd like to laugh again sometime this year, 'kay?

2011-03-12T00:58:00.001-08:00

Oh my.
It's been a while, hasn't it? And I can't write lots now, because it's 1am and I needneedNEED to go to bed. But I feel compelled to post a quick update here...

I have a cold which is turning into a chesty infection-y thing right now. So does J. So we stumble through our work days like tired little zombies, not really getting anything like the maximum enjoyment out of life. But in a week and a half we're supposed to be heading to Portland for a quick vacay before I leave town. Oh, and it's raining every. freaking. day. here in Lotusland. Which I suppose is our penalty for not having long snowy winters, but please. I would rather have those any day. This rain is killing me slowly. I spent the day at my new job clad in a hat, fingerless gloves and a woolly cardigan, and I was STILL cold.

My naturopath put me on a healthy diet which prevents me from eating wheat, soy, dairy, sugar, corn and eggs. Okay, I cheated on the sugar a bit, because I'm still drinking. The first week, I thought I would lose my mind but now I kind of like it. I've lost some weight, too. Oh, and I'm working out 2-3 times a week and loving it! I never thought that would be possible.

I'm leaving for Barkerville in a month-and-a-half. I can't believe it's coming up so soon. And I'll be up there almost five months this time.

Sorry for the boring update, but I'm tired. More (and better written) updates soon...

How Iron Maiden Taught Me a Lesson.

2011-01-21T09:42:00.001-08:00

Last night we caught a very fun and inspiring documentary on the Sundance Channel. "Flight 666" is about Iron Maiden, and an epic tour they did a few years ago, covering countries and continents in just a few months. Not only were they flying huge distances between shows, but their lead singer, Bruce Dickinson, was also piloting the huge jet that took them there. Unlike the recent documentary about Metallica, in which the band had to enter group therapy because they were at each other's throats, "Flight 666" is incredibly sweet. This real-life Spinal Tap may sing about the Devil, but on their time off they visit tourist sites together, bring their teenaged kids on the road, and even... golf (they have Iron Maiden golf bags for heaven's sake!). The scene that really made me smile was one where they're somewhere in Mexico, visiting a Mayan ruin. They all go down into the tunnels beneath one of the temples and you're thinking okay, this is where they get all satanic and sacrifice a goat or something. In the underground dark, the drummer cups a candle in his hands and... makes a wish for his friends' health and happiness. When you see footage of them on stage in front of thousands of writhing fans, their delight in what they're doing shines through in their huge grins.
I ran into an acquaintance a while ago, a musician I respect. He was making a living playing in a band with some other aging rock stars, members of a fairly high-profile Canadian group. "They all need lawyers to talk to each other," he said. "When they need to make a decision everyone has to vote and argue and it takes forever."
I thought of that group as I was watching the Maiden documentary. How some cling stubbornly to one way of life because it is lucrative, or because it is the only way they know, even though it brings them pain and puts them into conflict with people they once liked. And how other people can be following the exact same way of life, and still be doing it with joy and enthusiasm. If I have one wish for 2011 it is that I have the courage to let go of things that are not working and also the courage to keep putting the effort into things that do work.

2011-01-18T09:26:00.001-08:00

So yeah, I'm kind of missing Winnipeg. Which may not be a sentence you hear much in Canada during the winter. I'm not doing all that much and yet everyday some money flies away and there's not any coming in (except for my Climate Action tax credit- thank you Revenue Canada!) and that makes a girl worry, a little bit. Maybe it's also because the boyfriend got us a giant flatscreen TV, which I'd been grimly fighting against for years, only to discover that we can has Netflix now and I'm in danger of turning into a drooling couch potato. (We watched 13 episodes of 'Mad Men' in something like 2 days. Maybe three.)
I won't lie: it is hard to know that you were arbitrarily replaced by Management because they wanted more local talent in their show and you spend the whole month knowing that because of this whim, someone else is doing your job with your friends and earning your money. I'm kind of mad, but not at my replacement, because I've met her and she seems really sweet and (I know this is mean, but-) she's not as good as I was. But I miss my friends and the sense of purpose you have when you're working. Definitely this is one of the downsides of a career like mine.
Okay, but... yesterday J and I got it right. There was sleeping in, and breakfast together, and a nice walk down the Drive, and best of all... dinner. Which was (drumroll please) mushroom & feta-stuffed ravioli with a lovely pesto sauce washed down with a bottle of red wine.

Doesn't this look amazing? And it was made from scratch, ladies and gents. Applause please.

Even better, there was laughter and conversation with the dinner. And instead of sluggishly watching TV for hours we picked one interesting move (Jules & Jim, anyone? French New Wave classic or just kind of weird? Discuss.) And so to bed.

Today I'm meeting an old friend to reconnect after many years. And in one of the upsides to a career like mine, I have free tickets to a bunch of plays coming up, which should get me away from the TV for a while.
Am I missing Winnipeg? Maybe, but there's enough happening here to keep me happy. Now if I could just find an interesting job...

fearless.

2011-01-14T09:40:00.001-08:00

I try to avoid making profound statements over on Facebook; hell, I try to avoid getting too wrapped up in the whole Facebook thing at all, especially now I've seen The Social Network. But on New Year's Day, only mildly hungover, I wrote something like This year I will be: kinder. happier. friendly. fearless.
Fearless is not necessarily about taking giant risks, although it can be. For me, this year, being fearless means getting out of the ruts that keep me confined. It could mean selling myself a little harder so I get that job. Or believing in myself enough to keep going back to the gym.
I just came back from the cold prairies, where I practiced fearlessness in little ways that were nevertheless really rewarding. I got outside, even though it was cold and dry. I walked miles every day; I skated on the Red River, where the city and the sky made a beautiful backdrop. I made an effort to see new friends, people I don't know all that well who were flatteringly happy to see me. And I spent time getting to know an old friend better, all because I had the courage to say let's get together.
I know these things probably seem so small and easy, but even little things can take effort, if they're things you're not used to doing. I'm going to try and do a few things every week that are outside my comfort zone, and if they're interesting, I'll write about them here.
How will YOU be fearless in 2011?

Cheese Puffs Vanquish... Everything.

2011-01-04T14:06:00.000-08:00

It would be easy to look at this period of the new year as a glass-half-empty time, if I were so inclined. But although I don't make resolutions per se, I have decided to look on the bright side of things this year. After all, there is so much to be grateful for right now. I may not have a job, but I have some money saved, for a change. The Post-Holiday Blues may lurk, but the the new year is about fresh starts, which is exhilarating. I may not be working, but that gives me more time to develop my own projects and schemes. I have already had the time and energy to try snowshoeing (which was heavenly, and I will definitely go again as soon as possible), hit the gym, and wander 'round East Van taking pictures with my new iPod retro camera apps, which are terribly fun, and make even the most pedestrian picture look fabulous. I may be finished with 'Brief Encounter', which is kind of hard, because I know that right now, they are rehearsing without me in Winnipeg, and a new accordion player is taking my place. And that is hard to take, quite frankly, because I really could have used that job. But on the plus side, I fly to Winnipeg on Thursday to visit my mom and see the show as an audience member. How many times do we get the opportunity to see shows that we have been in? Not too often, believe me. See how this works? I feel happier already.
And then there are cheese puffs.

Actually, they are technically Green Onion & Cheddar Puffs, but I made them with Cheshire Cheese, because that is what we had in the fridge. Along with some quite frankly past-it green onions, but since the oven makes even fresh onions limp, it didn't really matter. A large mug of coffee, 1/2 a dozen of these on a plate, and you are instantly happier than you were before. I guarantee it.
(You can see the recipe here. It's easy, fast, and utterly delicious. Plus it's hard to stay glum when the smell of them baking fills the air.)

2011-01-01T14:46:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I bailed on the whole Reverb 10 thing. I was enjoying it, but then there was an epic cast party that lasted until after 4am, and the next day was Christmas Eve, and then Christmas Day was upon us, and... well, you get the idea. It's like someone blindfolded me and bundled me in the Christmas Truck and we bumped along so fast that I was just saying hey guys, it's okay, I like this but can we slow down a little? when it all ended and here I am on New Year's Day in a clean and newly de-Christmassed apartment. Wondering where it all went.
It's always a sad day for me when I have to take down the decorations. Compounded this year by the fact that we had a real tree. I actually thanked it before I broke it in two and stuffed it into a garbage bag. It's lying next to me on the floor, rather like a body. It has to be disguised because we're not actually allowed to have Christmas trees in our place and I don't want to get evicted.
How was Christmas for you, anyway? Mine was fast, as I said, but fun. Too much drinking and rich food, of course. A few extra pounds on the old frame and not enough (not any, actually) trips to the gym. Lots of family and friends and a gig and the closing of my show.
Today it's sunny, and if the sun is still out tomorrow I'm going to get into the mountains and try snowshoeing for a few hours. The cards and lights may be gone, but tonight we visit friends for one more meal out, and my new fave cookies are chilling in the fridge so I can bake them up in a few hours. I can almost hear them whispering to me: A whole new year awaits; hang on to good friends and excellent cookies when you get the chance.

New Name

2010-12-22T23:44:00.000-08:00

December 23 – New Name

Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?

Um, this one's kind of weird. I like my name. Mostly I get called by my full name, which is Alison. But I also get a lot of Al, a few Allies, some A.J's and the Redboot Quartet calls me Al-J. I like all the permutations of my name, really.
The only other name I can think of is Miranda, which my mom was totally going to call me but then she forgot when they brought her the birth certificate to fill out so then she went with Alison. I think Miranda is kind of a sassy, take-charge kind of girl. But then I might get called "Randy" or even worse, "Randi", so maybe I lucked out there.
My name is who I am; I don't think I'd change it, even if I could.

Travel/Future Self

2010-12-22T09:41:00.000-08:00

Oops- missed a day. Here are two for the price of one:
December 21 – Future Self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) (Author: Jenny Blake)

December 22 – Travel How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? (Author: Tara Hunt) {Future Tool: New Year’s Goal Questions for No-Goals Creatives from Jeffrey Davis. For the next 10 days as you round out your year, we’ll share one tool each day to help you [...]

Future Self, writing in the year 2016...
Dear Me,
If you do these simple things, the next 5 years will be so much better:
Focus on the good stuff; learn to let the bad things go instead of obsessing so much.
Save some money. Ask yourself if you REALLY need that coffee, that chocolate bar, that sweater.
Build on good habits like getting up early and hitting the gym. Don't give up just because you had a minor setback.
Look for work; don't wait for it to come to you. Create work opportunities. Be creative.
Assert yourself. Don't downplay the many skills and talents you've acquired over the years. You are amazing!
Use the phone, letters and face-to-face contact to maintain friendships. Be less of a loner and more generous. Be the friend that people can call at 3am.
Be generous and giving in love. Remember it takes work to maintain a relationship. Learn to accept the things you cannot change.
Travel. It's always worth it. Which leads us to...

Travel. In 2010, I travelled for work, to Barkerville and Wells. One of the best decisions I ever made. Living and working in small-town BC for over 4 months made me a stronger, more confident person. I also travelled for pleasure, to Winnipeg of all places, to meet up with my amazing mom, who was working there. (She's back there this year... but she flies in tonight for Christmas. Yay!) I hung out with her at the gorgeous B&B she was staying in, got taken to a Turkish-style spa, and ate way too many great meals. And, as I always do with my mom, we walked for miles.
In 2011, I already know I'll be heading back to the 'Peg; not only to see my mom but to see the play I've been in. If I'm lucky and everything works out, I'll also be heading to Istanbul in February for 2 weeks with the Reptiles. Bliss! Then back up to B-ville in the spring and summer. 2011 is also the year that I want to go back to the UK with J, who has never been. We've been promising ourselves for YEARS that we'll go and see our families there before it's too late. Travel is something that I've been wanting to do more of for years, so I'm making 2011 my Official Year of Travel. There.

Beyond Avoidance

2010-12-20T10:59:00.000-08:00

Beyond Avoidance: What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?) (Author: Jake Nickell)

What I should have done a long time ago: Take responsibility for my health and weight and start exercising and watching what I eat. Will I do it this year? Well, I did just join a gym, so that's going well. On the other hand, I probably ate my own body weight in cookies and candy canes at our Christmas party last night, so...

Healing.

2010-12-19T01:47:00.000-08:00

December 19 – Healing: What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011? (Author: Leoni Allan)

Definitely drip-by-drip. Friends always heal. Connections. I am so all about the connections. And just having the chance to BE. To be ME. To do six months of counselling with someone who said I hear you. I get it. To spend four months somewhere new this summer and be a performer, no holds barred. Working. That's a big healer. I love that my work is a life-changing thing rather than just something I do to make money.

In 2011 I would like to keep building a tribe of really good friends. I think that will keep me healthy like nothing else. I took my time getting home tonight because I stayed late at work having a great conversation with someone and my only regret at the end of it was that I had taken so long to feel comfortable around this person. If I can build the confidence to let people in sooner, I think 2011 will be a very exciting year! And I want to keep on getting work that challenges me, because when I have good work, everything else is just gravy.

Try.

2010-12-18T00:07:00.000-08:00

What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn’t go for it? (Author: Kaileen Elise)

Now's the time, isn't it? We come to the year's end, we think about everything we swore we'd be and do, and how (badly) we measured up to our resolutions. I can hardly believe it was almost a year ago I sat in a hot tub on Denman Island in the pouring rain, laughing and crying with 2 girlfriends and talking about the months past and the months to come. I didn't know about the bad stuff that was coming: months of being broke and working retail and a horrible flu/cold that stuck around all January. But I also didn't know about all the wonders-and there were many more of those than the bad stuff. Things like: going to Winnipeg to see my Mom. Spending 4 months as an actor/singer miles away from my safe routine. Performing at the Ghost Train this fall. Getting my current gig at the Playhouse.
But I digress. I swore last year that I'd write at least a set's worth of solo material. I even started a song-a-week project this summer. Which lasted a whole 3 weeks before the Barkerville rehearsal schedule wore me down. So when the Accordion Festival happened in September and I was invited to play a set, I bailed. Oh, I claimed that I didn't have enough material, that I wasn't ready... but what it came down to basically was fear. I was too afraid to stand there on a stage and say This is my stuff. This is me without a band to back me up.
So, 2011, let me have another chance to prove that I can be a solo artist. I've already been asked to play at the festival this fall. This time, I'll be ready. Afraid, but ready.

Lesson Learned

2010-12-17T00:20:00.000-08:00

What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?
(Author: Tara Weaver)

This one's easy... I think.
I learned that I can be my own worst enemy. How is that the best thing? Because if I know this, I can change it. And if I can change it, then nothing will stand in my way.

Reverb 10: better late...?

2010-12-16T00:32:00.001-08:00

December 16 – Friendship How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst? (Author: Martha Mihalick)

Okay, so I'm late to this thing, but some of my fave bloggers are following the prompts over at Reverb 10, and I though it'd be fun to jump in. I may try and do a few of the ones I missed, if I have time...
So anyway, friendship. You know when sometimes all things are pointing to the same subject or issue in your life? Synchronicity, if you will? Well, that's what friendship has started to feel like lately. And then I sign up for Reverb 10 and... here it is again, for heaven's sake.
I blogged recently about friendship, and how I feel that I am not being very good at it lately. As 2010 ends, I am mourning friendships that seem to be fading, while trying to learn how to be a better friend to the ones I have, and how to been open to new friendships instead of building walls of shyness around myself. I hope that I'll be better at being social (and sociable) in 2011, but for now I'll pay tribute to ten friends who changed the way I see the world in 2010:
A makes me see the magic in our crazy, musical life.
G shows me the power of honesty, and the value of a good chat and a hearty laugh.
M reminded me to be young at heart.
V showed me the fun in of getting outside for a swim, a bike ride or an ATV trip.
R is calmness, dedication to craft, sly humour.
M proves that brothers can be friends as well as family.
B reminds me that 'crazy' might be another word for 'unique'.
P's dedication to maintaining friendships over years and distances is inspiring.
S showed me that sometimes the same people who hurt you can also bring you great joy.
A's enthusiasm is infectious.
Thanks to all 10 for showing me different ways of seeing and living life.

Aches and Gains.

2010-12-14T09:21:00.000-08:00

I sound like an old lady these days. "Oooh, my abs!" I squeal, as J makes me laugh about something. I'll go to lift something and my upper arms and the muscles over my ribs (what are those called?) will protest and I wince at the unaccustomed pain.
I signed up at a gym last week, one that offers a 30-minute kickboxing circuit. My punches are still kitten-weak, but every time I go, I learn a tiny bit more about correct posture and explosive force. At least I know what I'm aiming for, even if I can't deliver yet. Vancouver winters are seldom cold, but the constant rain can make a wimp out of fair-weather runner like me, so when I accidentally discovered this gym, so close to my place, I checked it out right away and signed up, an early Christmas present to myself.
Yesterday I was huddled on the couch most of the day, tired and depressed. You know those days when you dig a tunnel of despair and are so obsessed about it that nothing can help light your way out again? Not the company of J, not the whiff of our lovely little Christmas tree, not coffee or- well, you get the picture. J's advice was to stay put and rest, but I knew that only one thing would help: action. So I got on my bike and headed down to the gym. 30 minutes later I was red-faced and sweaty, but the fog had lifted from my brain and I felt more alive than I had in days. I was able to go out that night and revel in the company of friends, and see my way out of the dead-end that my mind had been languishing in.
That's worth a whole bunch of sore muscles, in my opinion.

2010-12-09T00:36:00.000-08:00

Been thinking, this night and the last few, about Alec & Laura, and their relationship.
Alec and Laura, for the uninitiated, are the protagonists of this show, which I'm lucky enough to be a part of right now. They meet, quite by accident, at a train station. She gets grit in her eye. He removes it for her. A friendship blossoms, becomes a romance. But they aren't free to love each other: they're both married to other people, people they love, and they have children. Before they can ever consummate their affair, they realize that it is doomed, and that they must always be apart. They choose to do the "right thing", but in doing so, they sacrifice their love for each other.
What I think about, in those moments when I am backstage, or in the dressing room listening to the dialogue coming over the Tannoy, is how I look at this story now versus what I would have thought back when I was, say, 21. Back then I would have been unreservedly on the side of True Love; I would have raged at the fact that Alec and Laura make the decision to go back to their spouses. Black was black and white was white and lovers should be together.

Now, at 36 (and in a 14-year relationship), everything is shades of grey.
If we are lucky- and I count myself squarely among the lucky- we meet our soulmates, and settle down together. But years of familiarity breeds...? Not contempt (hopefully), but certainly the shine wears off. Here's what you can't realize until you've been at it for a while: you have to work to make it last, folks. Add kids into the mix; I imagine it gets way harder.

And then, one day, you may meet someone shiny and new. Someone who hasn't seen you hungover or belching or bleary-eyed. Someone who makes your heart beat faster, your eyes sparkle. Who hasn't heard your same stories a thousand times over. Everything they do is endearing. There's a great quote from a movie called "The Beach" which has always stuck with me:

"When you develop an infatuation for someone you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example. Now, in the long run, that's just the kind of dumb, irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But in the haze of infatuation, it's just what you've been searching for all these years."

Alec and Laura have this kind of infatuation for each other. He claims to love her over and over, although (as Laura herself admits) they hardly know each other. They discuss secrets and dreams with each other: her love of music and adventure; his interest in a particular kind of medicine. If Alec and Laura were to end up together, their relationship would become something more prosaic, but while they meet once a week in the anonymity of the train station, they are free to love each other without life getting in the way. "I never think of myself as 'grown up'" Alec admits, and perhaps it is his reluctance to grow up that leads him into this affair, while the more sober Laura never abandons herself as easily as he does.

Two things that make their story interesting to me:
We see their affair almost exclusively as it pertains to Alec and Laura alone, and not as it impacts their spouses. And so we don't have to ask ourselves the obvious questions: is adultery 'bad' and 'wrong'? How will it affect their marriages? Instead we examine how the affair affects the two lovers. Also: Alec and Laura never have sex. And so their affair is one of hearts and minds, rather than bodies.

But is their affair necessarily all bad?
Certainly they are desperately hurt at its end, and although we never meet Alec's family, Laura's husband Fred begins to feel abandoned, though he never guesses why. But Alec eventually has to leave his safe, boring life as a GP in the English suburbs to help start a new hospital in Johannesburg. And although Laura doesn't go anywhere, we get a sense that perhaps she will allow more room in her life for her music. So they've both grown and changed by the play's end, although the process has been terribly painful. Should they have done the 'correct' thing and avoided each other from the start, as Laura's instincts tell her to do? Or did they help each other to grow?

I don't have any answers, and that's the truth of the matter. Ask me again in 20 more years. I look at Alec and Laura playing out their ill-fated love every night and I think there but for the grace of god. I think that I have a wonderful man, one of the best you could ever find, and I love him with all my heart but sometimes I meet men who make my heart race and my breath catch because they are shiny and new, because they see me differently, and I chase after these new connections when maybe I should be running away. And yet at the same time I know how rare it is, and how lucky I am, to love and be loved by someone who has known me for so long and still loves me, despite all my faults.

I stare at the screen and I realize that I don't know how to end this without being trite, or without sounding as if I condone adultery, which I don't. So maybe I can't end this properly. I'll go on being who I am: imperfect, conflicted, wanting to have my cake and eat it too. And I'll keep listening to the lines in this play, and hoping I never find out how it feels to be Laura.

backstage

2010-11-28T00:23:00.000-08:00

Onstage is: smiling and knowing your cues and not screwing up and most importantly, making everything look so easy, they won't realize how hard it is.
Backstage is where the real show is. I wish I could show you. I wish I had pictures. Backstage is 150 lighting cues, over 50 video cues, over 50 fly cues, and who knows how many sound cues. Backstage is a complex dance between actors and crew. Entrances, exits. Quick changes, scene changes, crossing from stage left to stage right and back again. Watching from the wings. Staying out of the way. Knowing just when to lurk just offstage and when to go downstairs and read a book for a while.
Next time I whine about 'fitting in' on a new job, just shoot me, okay? It's a couple of days since then, we just had our first audience tonight and I can't imagine how hard it's going to be saying goodbye to these guys in a month's time.

a different perspective

2010-11-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

"...or, you could look at it this way: a friend of your created a job especially for you." said J, and his words yanked me out of my self-pity and over-analysis this morning.
I had been feeling a bit blue about my new job, and guilty because I shouldn't be feeling blue about a job that is giving me a wonderful opportunity and paying me so much, and right before Christmas too. The problem is, I allow myself to get very shy in new situations, and to be the last one in to a project, to have to make my place in a group that has bonded together for over 3 weeks already, feels very hard. Add the pressure of having to add pretty accordion parts to a band that has also been playing together for weeks... well, I lost track of the good stuff and allowed myself to feel hard done by. J's words left me feeling guilty, and so I hereby am trying to re-program my brain to look at the many blessings of this job and overcome the things that scare me. It's good to be able to vent your doubts and fears to a trusted partner, but it's also easy to get stuck in a rut of negative thinking and "I can'ts". Every job I've ever had has been an opportunity to learn something new, and now I think I know what this job has taught me. Is teaching me. It's an ongoing process.

Disconnect

2010-10-29T10:19:00.001-07:00

When I am home alone in the daytime, I revel. This may take small forms, like staying in my pyjamas until 2pm, or reading at the table. I keep the blinds open so I can see the grey day unfolding, and I cook, or I clean, or I spend too much time on the computer. I practice my juggling until the person downstairs must be like: enough already! Stop dropping those balls on the floor! I've taken to playing Baroque music on internet radio recently (or as one station intriguingly calls it, "Barock Music") because it is old, stately, beautiful, and never, ever, schlocky. Simple, small, domestic things that only feel so good because I don't always have to do them day in, day out. Yesterday and today I have been: cooking delicious meals, making my place look nice, and fielding calls about my next job, a job that will pay me a very nice sum of money to play my accordion for one of Vancouver's biggest theatre companies. I find the word "blessed" a bit precious, so let's just say I feel pretty lucky right now, alright?
Lucky, but slightly disconnected.
Disconnected as in, well, here's a weird little image for you:
I'm fishing, and all around me are lines that I'm supposed to be managing. Some of them have some pretty big fish on them, wonderful fish, but the lines are so long and the fish are so far from me that it's hard to reel them in.
Some of them are close to me, but the fish are tiny, so I just pull 'em out from time to time, look quickly at the fish, and put them back in the water.
Some of the lines that I thought held a juicy fish now seem to be empty.
And there are lines that I haven't even checked yet; lines that may contain the most brilliant, plump, nourishing fish I've yet to meet.
Substitute friends for fish and maybe you see where I'm going with this.
I'd like to be a better friend, but sometimes the rules elude me and I feel like a total beginner. Distance and Facebook and my ever-changing jobs don't help any, and I blame them loudly and often to J, to my blog, in 'counselling' (when I was having that), but I think I need to stop blaming and start trying harder. Facebook is a too-safe place to dip into, leave little remarks, and withdraw, but if push came to shove, if things got hard, how many of those "friends" would give a damn about me? Would do more than write "OMG I'm so sorry lol" and move on with their days? And to be fair, how many of them would I do more than that for?
Friendship should be messy sometimes, and awkward. Friendship should be about being there in tough times and getting drunk together and babysitting the kids when there's no one else, and having it out when you're angry and celebrating the things that are awesome. I wish I had more friends like that; hell, I wish I WAS a friend like that, but I'm not. Not often enough.

Actors and musicians? Stevie Nicks said "Players only love you when they're playing", and ain't that the truth, more often than not. Just because you're my BFF right now doesn't mean it will last once the band breaks up/the show closes. Even if we have the best intentions, we probably won't see each other very much.

Girls? I haven't been great at girlfriends since high school. School was easy. School was she's my best friend; those two/four are inseparable/this is my group, that's who I hang with now and forever. And yes, I am well aware that it wasn't like this for everyone, that school can be the worst time, but I was lucky. I had steadfast friends. Always. After school is I'm moving 2000 miles away. It's boyfriends and husbands and children and differing lifestyles and work and snatching time in the midst of All This. I honour and love the girlfriends I have (a short but lovely list that happily includes my mother) but sometimes (like today) I see a report card and my name and a comment that says: could do better.

Guys are easier, until they're not, and you're thinking well, I like you a lot, which also means I find you attractive, which is a can o' worms and no mistake. I don't want to live in an all-woman purdah, but if I'm hanging out with a guy then there are unwritten rules, right? Like, coffee once in a while is okay, but calling you to go to a play or a concert because my guy is busy/not interested might be weird/predatory/seen as cheating. I pause here and think that maybe I'm over-analyzing, but then I think of my other 'coupled' friends and how often I hear them say that they went out with a guy who wasn't their partner. Which is practically never. I don't want to just have friends that are 'our' friends- although I value those highly-I want some of my own, female and male. But I think this is hard to do.

So what, then?
Today I'll wrap up this blog, which has taken a long time to write. I'll cook dinner for my man, who is one of the best friends a girl could hope to have, because he is working sick today and little things like dinner mean more when you feel gross. And I'll go to the theatre with a girlfriend, one of the good ones, one of the ones who stuck around through the kids and and the distance and the different life paths and I think we'll have a great time.
And I'll keep myself open to new friends, and try to be better and more honest to the ones I have, and I'll stop checking Facebook so often because I don't think that what's on there is the best kind of friendship.

Breakfast!

2010-10-18T13:30:00.001-07:00

There's something about autumn that makes me want to get cozy. You know, cooking and cleaning and the like. I guess a lot of us are like that, and not just humans. Underneath everything, we are all just animals, sensing the return of cold weather and storms, and wanting to prepare for them.
Both my current jobs require me to be outside, sometimes all day and late into the night. While I am loving this, when I am at home I find myself cooking and cleaning up a storm. Add the fact that we are trying to save money right now, and that we are getting most of our groceries delivered these days, (thanks, SPUD!) and you have a lot of nesting going on!
Jon has long been able to use up leftovers in a delicious and interesting way, while I am more the type to go and spend 40 bucks on groceries to make one lousy meal. But lately my inner penny-pincher seems to have finally kicked in, and I am getting better at grabbing the wilting spinach or the last few eggs and making a meal from those. Here's a dish that J and I both love, which is the ideal way to use up slightly over-the-hill veggies and pretty much anything else you have lying around:
Baked Frittata:
1. Chop up some veggies. This morning I had a sad-looking red pepper, some basil, and a few cloves of garlic, so that's what I used. Oh., and turn on the oven to about 425 degrees.

2. While you are chopping, you may want to be boiling some diced potato. Usually I use those little mixed red, white and blue ones, but today it was a good ol' Russet potato.

3. Meat is good, although optional. I had to use these up today, so in they went.

4. Seasonings make it taste way more interesting, and are a good way to use up wilted herbs and containers of stuff in the fridge that really should be used before they go bad... I find that I can't get enough thyme these days, so I use it in a lot of stuff.

5. Once the potatoes have softened (but not too much!), start browning the meat in an oven-safe skillet. I bought this one in Barkerville and have been loving it because it cleans so much better than a cast-iron one.

Now would also be a good time to add the seasonings, like that pesto, and some old salsa you found in the back of the fridge.
6. Once the meat is cooked, add the veggies. and stir. Oh, there were mushrooms in the fridge as well.

7. Don't cook this stuff for too long. Remember, it's going in the oven soon...
When everything is nicely coated in oil and seasoning, smooth it down with your spatula and turn off the heat. Pour in some beaten eggs. I use 4, but you could use more if you wanted.

8. Stick it in the oven. It'll probably take about 15 minutes. Take it out once the eggs are cooked, but not too dry! This is what the end result looks like:

9. Wait a couple of minutes so that the eggs firm up and the frittata will slice properly. Then cut it up, eat, and enjoy!

The awesome thing about frittata is that there are no rules. You can use pretty much anything you want, as long as it goes well with eggs. Pretty much anything that would be in a quiche, for example. You could also just cook it on a stovetop, without the baking, but I like the oven-baked consistency better. And like I said, it's a great way to use things up. AND, the perfect autumn-day nesting-inside food. Yum.

2010-10-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

"Alison continues to explore the grimy blue-collar underbelly of show business daily at the pumpkin patch and nightly at the Ghost Train."
This is my latest Facebook status update. I try not to post updates too often, but the phrase slipped into my brain today and I couldn't resist.
I'm not really complaining. I'm happy to be working, although I enjoyed having a few weeks to nest at home after so long away. Running, cooking, cleaning, exploring east van again, finding new pictures to capture my beautiful, troubling, grubby neighbourhood.
But tell them this at theatre school: if you're lucky, VERY lucky, you will get to work at one of our big theatres for a while, and life will be sweet. And if you have ideas and confidence and drive, you will create your own piece and if it's good you'll ride the wave of critical success for a while, and life will be sweet.
But in between those heady times will be the meat-and-potatoes work, including what I just did for the last couple of days, which was: dancing around in a giant pumpkin costume for over five hours a day.
Stay in school, kids.

on perspective and climbing mountains.

2010-09-30T13:20:00.000-07:00

have a reason to go. it was a radiantly sunny day and the thought of staying inside any longer hurt my brain. after several days of late night and bad sleeps i was finally feeling well-rested, but a call about work had left me feeling frustrated and itchy. i find myself- often- trying to find a balance between not feeling taken advantage of and not coming across as someone with a big entitlement chip on my shoulder. this makes me grumpy. so what better way to get out of my head than to go and climb a big ol' mountain?
the first 1/4 is the hardest. the trail is grueling, the view is dull, and the mountain seems to stretch above you eternally. you can't ever imagine reaching the top. your legs protest, so does your heart. you are lapping and being lapped by chattering hikers with noisy friends or ipods, who smell and spit. it takes a lifetime of suffering to reach the 1/4 mark and when you do your whole body screams what the hell? there's no way i can keep going! there's so much more to do and i can't do it! but...
don't panic. after the 1/4 mark you will find a rhythm. your heart won't slow exactly, but its <thumpthump> feels steady and not as if it's going to leap out of your chest. the noisy hikers have mostly stopped talking now, saving their energy for getting to the top. the halfway and 3/4 markers will come upon you much faster than the first one did.
set goals. but make 'em reasonable. i have 2 goals when i climb this mountain: climb it faster than the time before, and don't die. so far i have accomplished both those goals pretty much every time.
look around. unless you're trying to set some kind of record, pause and remember why you came here in the first place. take a few moments to inhale the clean, pine-scented air (just hold your breath until after that sweaty hiker passes you). look behind you through the trees and notice how the city and the water are shining like jewels below you, getting further and further away. hear the birds singing and a waterfall splashing beside the trail. the summit is the goal, but let the journey soothe as well as challenge. otherwise, you could just be on your stairmaster, or running up a steep hill in the city.
the last 1/4 is hard, too. you're pretty tired, and realizing that you won't be breaking any records this time. your legs are weak, because there are 2830 steps on this trail (no, i didn't make that number up- this is true) and you have nearly climbed them all by now. your heart is tired too, from pumping extra fast for over an hour. your clothes feel clammy. but look up. you can finally see the mountain ending, just above you, and nothing but the clear blue sky beyond.
take time to celebrate at the top. let the sun and the mountain breeze cool your flushed cheeks and dry your sweaty shirt. go and buy that snack. (hey, there's an upside to climbing a ski hill, and the upside is that snacks and toilets await you at the top.) look down, way down, at the tiny city 3700 feet below you. your neighbourhood, brimming with energy and noise and problems, is hardly visible. the frustrations and annoyances that seemed so huge this morning are invisible specks. you climbed nearly 3 kilometres, straight up, and you are too tired and too happy to think about anything but your next meal.

2010-09-25T00:32:00.000-07:00

So yeah, I'm home.

Hit the ground running, so to speak, and didn't let up for a few days... headed off to play at a jazz festival on the Sunshine Coast, and just got back last night from some late summer/early fall camping. A few weeks' worth of freedom before fall craziness begins.

There was some intensity at first as we both adjusted to the fact that I was... back. And that, well, if clothes and books and things could be left behind for 4 months then other things/people could be as well, and what did that mean, exactly, and what did that say about the future, our future?

It's a very interesting position to be in, to be able to leave everything and everyone for a while and get a whole new perspective on what (and who) matters. And what matters to me right now is building on the foundation I laid this summer. New confidence, new perspectives, new friends, new motivation. I spent so much of last fall and winter looking inward, trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. And then I spent the whole summer just doing. So now it's time to balance both those things. Taking action. Paying off debts and making life more secure, but also doing the things I need to do creatively to keep my sanity. Keeping the new friends I made, but cherishing the old ones as well.

I want to keep checking in here from time to time, but hopefully if I write less here, it simply means that I'm living more.

Hey, I turned 36 this summer. Isn't it time to start living?

Welcome Back.

2010-09-07T22:56:00.000-07:00

Well, not quite back. I'm actually writing this in Nimpo Lake, 3 hours west of Williams Lake. I am decompressing there for 2 nights before tackling Vancouver. My buddy Amelia is cooking at a lodge there and it seemed to make sense to call in on her before heading home. 2 nights to ease into the End Of Summer.

Four months of swimming, canoeing, dancing, playing, workingworkingworking. And now I go home.

I close my eyes and try to imagine the adventure ahead and I have no. idea. what I am heading towards. But I am ready to take the leap.

See you soon.

moving house.

2010-04-26T12:23:00.000-07:00

What are you doing over here? My summer digs are here! Or you can head straight to the 'Blog' page here.

Have a great summer!

my city holds its breath.

2010-04-19T18:41:00.000-07:00

Beck's song "Earthquake Weather" is in rotation on my iPod (as are such timeless classics as "The Hamster Dance" and Duran Duran's "View to a Kill", but the awful songs on there are another post altogether). I remember reading somewhere once- where? probably on the internet- that the Japanese called certain weather "earthquake weather"; days of stillness, as I recall, when there was no wind and everything waited.

My city is waiting today. Grey and still and untimely humid for mid-April. I run to the park and around the lake once, twice, three times, gulping in air that feels too still and too moist. It has been a day of sitting in front of the computer fiddling around with Photoshop. Day two of my first "professional" photography gig. Running is a relief and an escape and a question: how much longer will I be able to run? Will there still be too much snow up north? Will I be too afraid of bears to attempt it?

Today I hold my breath and cinch myself into the corset I will wear all summer long under various Gold Rush-era costumes. I hope that by the end of the summer I will be smaller and the corset will be more forgiving, but who knows?

I know that around the world, people are waiting too. For planes to be able to fly again. For a volcano to stop spreading so much ash, already. I know people who are getting ready to fly to Europe this week. Will they be leaving on schedule?

Every morning I rise early, for me, with a load of energy and high spirits that nothing can quench for long. I am so grateful for this energy, and fearful of its leaving.

I am counting down: last time I play with this band. Last time I play with that one. Last time I see him or her; last time I do that or go there. Soon, there will be new stories to tell you, new people in my life.

Maybe new people will read my stories, too. I'm planning to keep writing, but at a new location for the summer. Come on over and visit me here, starting in May. I hope you have a great spring. Me, I can't wait for the waiting to be over.

2010-04-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

i have been sitting so long, my ass is numb

trying to write things but the words don't come

waiting for inspiration but my skies are grey

feeling like i wasted this free day

there are a million things i should get done

but do i want to do any of them? not one

emails are trivial, phone doesn't ring

no willpower to practice or sing

i could complain or simply shrug and say

"this day's a write-off, tomorrow's a new day"

far away/so close.

2010-03-28T21:00:00.000-07:00

Doesn't air travel blow your mind?

I mean, isn't it crazy that I can wake up in Vancouver, BC, get on a train, be at the airport in under an hour and be in Winnipeg, Manitoba less than six hours after I woke up? And I can also iChat with my sweetie and talk for free over the internet as if we were almost in the same house. The world is tiny.

I'm in the Prairies to spend a week with my mom, who's been out here since January doing some stage managing until mid-May. If I don't see her now, then by the time she gets back I'll be up north and who knows when we'll meet up?

She's staying long-term in a B&B haunted by three portly cats: Indy, Pumpkin and Shadow. Today we roamed by the Forks and had sushi (sushi! on the prairies! another example of how small the world now is!) and I marveled at the sun and the complete absence of snow. (An unfortunate by-product of how small we make our world? Jet fuel as destroyer of snowy landscapes?)

I get back and a few weeks later I'll be gone again. Up north, where I suspect everything will seem far away and the world will get larger again. Until then I scratch a living catch-as-catch-can, play a few last gigs and savour the good stuff:

looking out from the stage at a gig and seeing some of the people I love most staring back at me
sharing a stage with three of the craziest, most inspired friends I have, and getting to make music with them
sunny spring days in Manitoba with my mom

This spring is shaking up my old beliefs and habits and making me believe that life could change forever.

What is Spring telling you?

2010-03-13T15:07:00.000-08:00

Stop the presses! Professional Musician Actually Caught in the Act of

Practicing Her Instruments!

Stunned partner, friends say they've "never seen anything like it!"

It's sad but true. I don't often just sit around and work at becoming a better accordion player and singer. Which, I know. "Ambivalent" and "Lazy" probably don't cover the half of it. Being one of those lucky folks who can coast through most things in life without putting in a lot of grind is a mixed blessing I guess: saves you a lot of effort but gives you lousy work habits.

But here's the thing- having to work at a crappy retail job 3 days a week sure gives you (and by you, I mean me) a better appreciation for the work you really love. And a burning desire to do more of that and less standing around making sure grubby little children don't get too violent with puppets that don't belong to them.

So on my days off I'm pleased to report that I've been putting in some long-overdue work on my 2 favorite instruments and actually hearing the results. Which is good, because I have some gigs coming up.

Being productive is also helping me to avoid the 800-pound elephant in the room. You know, the one with dollar signs in its eyes and a sign around its neck that says You Owe Me. Because really, who don't I owe at this point? Visa, Cel Phone, Utilities, Taxman, Medical... they're all lining up to take a piece. And I really, really have nothing left to give them. This time of year is always brutal. And I'm lousy with money. So roll on, May. Because although it means I'll be heading far, far away from my home and loved ones, at least there's a steady job waiting for me. (Thankfully, compared to most people with credit cards and mortgages and kids, my debt load is tiny. And I know I can get out with some steady work. It's just that my work is so seldom steady.)

Being at home has also given me ample time to read my favorite blogs and news sites, and so I offer the following observations:

Why, why, WHY is "DH" the preferred acronym for one's husband in the blogging world? As in "dear husband"? Can we get any more 1950's? Blech.
I hereby swear to never, ever use the following texting acronyms: LOL, IMHO, ROFLMAO. They annoy me. However, I do admit to using BTW and my favorite: WTF.
If I have kids, they will never have a "playdate".

Okay, time to do some chores. Otherwise, my DCLS (darling common-law spouse) will come home and shout "WTF?!"

Later, 'gators.

2010-02-28T22:12:00.000-08:00

In the midst of honking horns, gleeful shouts, a fairytale ending to two weeks of olympic games-

A sobering email comes in.

It's from my aunt in England. It's titled simply, Mother. It can only mean one thing.

My grandmother, my mother's mother. Gladys Dennis. Grandmee is dead, at the staggering age of 103.

Bon writes so tenderly in this post about caring for her grandfather as he nears the end of his life in a hospital bed. I am bowled over by her love for him. I am so sad that I have never felt anything like this for my own grandparents.

My relationship with her was a casualty of distance and dementia. She lived in England. I live in Canada. When she did live with us, for 5 years, her mind was still ok but her body was failing her. She was the sick lady in the guest bedroom. Then as her body got better, my parents split up and she went back to the UK and lost her memory. My aunt would go upstairs to work and Gran would forget that she was still there and call the police and say she'd been abandoned. She went into a home and survived, as tiny and frail as a bird, long after her sense of self had flown.

When she saw you, her face would light up and she'd say "Hello, Lovely!" Even though she didn't really know who you were she knew you were someone she loved.

She couldn't remember what happened fifteen minutes ago, but she could sing the lyrics to wartime pop songs and seeing Hitler's face in a documentary could still inspire pure terror in her.

Her house was bombed to the ground in World War Two.

She survived on her own after her husband Fred Dennis died of emphysema when my mom was 19.

She was born in 1906. Nineteen-oh-six. Can you imagine the things she saw, the changes she lived through?

I wish I'd known her better. I wish I'd appreciated her more when she was with us. I wish so much of my family wasn't so far away.

Rest in peace, Grandma.

2010-02-17T11:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, J & I celebrated our 12th anniversary together. What did we do? Well, we ended up playing 'tourists' for a day, and got caught up in the Olympic Party Machine that is sweeping our city at the moment. The surprising part, at least to me, was that we ended up having such a good time doing it.

Yes, the Games have begun, and like many people in Vancouver my thoughts about them were mildly grumpy when I though about the crowds, and extra-grumpy when I thought about the staggering expense attached, the expense that we'll ALL be paying off for years and years to come.

I have no problem with athletes. In some ways they are like artists: they practice their skill hard for years and years and most see very little reward for their work. (I mean, when was the last time you saw a bobsledder with a big-name sponsor? They all get media hype for the olympics, but I bet most of us would be hard-pressed to name a luger, a curler or a ski jumper when the games aren't on.) As a non-athlete who is cowardly about heights and pain, I have huge admiration for people who can jump off a gigantic slide and soar through the air, or survive being cut in the face by their partner's skate and even think of trying again. Some might say that what they do is ridiculous, but hey, I play the accordion for a living. I prance around on stage pretending that I'm someone else from time to time as well. Who am I to throw stones? So if these athletes want to compete in their sports and win little metal discs as a reward for their risks, their pain, their hard work, good on 'em.

I DO have a HUGE problem with the olympics as a money-sucking, corporation-favoring machine. I think that they have no business spending the amount of money that gets spent on these games, lying about how much it's going to cost, and then making us pay through the nose for years. My friend Rodney deCroo writes brilliantly about it on his facebook page, and his arguments are much better-informed than mine, so I'll get off my soapbox now, and say...

... that before yesterday, I never would have believed that I could have so much fun in downtown Vancouver on a Tuesday in February! Jon and I walked around for hours, taking in the free performances, the crowds, the fun. And I thought isn't it kind of sad that we need this kind of bloated, over-priced, over-budget event in our city to let our hair down?

Restaurants packed with happy diners. Strangers spontaneously talking to each other. Parties in the streets. Free concerts all over the place. Pedestrian-only areas. Art installations everywhere. A downtown core filled with crowds and excitement. For a moment, we have become a city that knows how to celebrate life.

When this is all over the after-party hangover will begin, and we will be grumpy again. But I hope that we will remember to tell the ones in power that this- this explosion of art and music everywhere is what Vancouver needs more of.

And in this time of gigantic budget cuts to the arts, something that we're going to see less and less of, unless we fight hard to be heard.

Fired Up

2010-02-11T19:10:00.000-08:00

Last night I emailed a friend:

'You know how I started off the New Year nearly naked in a hot tub with you and B, swearing up and down that I wanted to take more action in my life and stop watching from the sidelines all the time? Well, I have no work and life feels as if it's kind of standing still, but now I'm back from Surrey and excited about starting to figure out where the hell I'm headed for the next few months...'

Man, I was so full of fire in early January! And then life and inertia and unemployment and dogsitting rose up and claimed me, and I tumbled happily back into the sticky chocolate pudding-ness of the everyday, where you take a few stumbling steps forward and a few more giant sliding steps backward again.

I am back from my doggy job in Surrey, and as much as I bitched about the locale, I was overjoyed to spend time bonding with my furry 'niece' and 'nephew'. How can you possibly complain too much about this:

"I'm getting fed up with these damn photos!"

...and this:

"Pleasepleaseplease play Tug-o'-War with me rightnowrightnowrightnow!"

Nope, pretty hard to complain about that, huh?

Plus, they don't call it "City of Parks" for nothing:

Pretty hard to believe that this is 10 minutes' walk from Strip Mall Hell, isn't it?

Back when I was more fiery and conflicted, lo these 2 months ago, I accepted a job offer that will take me up north for 4 months this summer, and I was reminded of that job yesterday as I sat in on someone else's audition. Now only 3 months (less, actually) away, and I am excited to work somewhere that will stretch me as a person and as a performer.

Here's what else I want to experience in the next couple of years:

I want to go to the UK with my guy and see our families over there.
I want to hear the call to prayer soaring up from hundreds of mosques in Istanbul again.
I want to sing more often, and get really good at it.
I want to play music in Montreal, Toronto & Europe with my best friends.
and more prosaically, I would like to sort out my finances so that the future isn't so scary, tax time isn't a drag, and collection agents don't call us all the time.

Let's see how that goes, shall we?

(In the mean time, stay tuned for my reports as the bloated, costly Olympics descend on my city. I intend to go to as many free concerts as I can, avoid all public transit, and definitely not see any of the actual sporting events.)

Oh, and by the way, I made 2 incredible pizzas tonight. From scratch. Dough and all. In case you thought I was doing nothing with my days. Cooking: I highly recommend it. You will always surprise yourself with what you can do.

happily ever after...

2010-01-30T19:43:00.000-08:00

Lately, all my posts have been very earnest and about self-improvement and other Serious Things. Which is great. But I don't want all my 2.7 readers to think that I've lost my frivolous side. So, in honour of the fact that I'm killing a bottle of red wine by myself (well, the dog is here too, but he's mostly asleep until I say the magic word "walk")and because I'm flipping channels between "Four Weddings & a Funeral" and "Grosse Pointe Blank", I present...

Romantic Movie Scenes That Make Me Swoon:

OK, I love the part in Grosse Point Blank where John Cusack and Minnie Driver leave their high school gym during their reunion and do it in the nurse's office. That scene is coming up shortly, so I may have to stop writing for a while soon...
The part in "Four Weddings" where Hugh Grant says "I wish I'd rung you. But you never rang me. You ruthlessly slept with me twice and never rang me." And then he runs after Andie McDowell and says ..."I really feel. In short...in the words of David Cassidy, in fact, while he was still with the Partridge Family: I think I love you." (My other favorite part, and the line my friend Toni & I used to quote to each other ad nauseum is "Excuse me. I think I need to be where other people are not.")
Pretty much any part of "Lost in Translation". But specifically when Scarlett and Bill are in the hotel bar after the fire alarm goes off and the piano player's playing "I'm So Into You" and they're plotting to stay in Tokyo and start a jazz band. Oh, and the ending, of course. What's he whispering in her ear? Isn't it cool how we never find out?
The sort-of creepy but at-the-same-time-cute relationship between Andrew McCarthy (teacher) and what's-er-name (student) in "New Waterford Girl". I visited New Waterford this summer (it's in Cape Breton) and believe me, you'd want out of there too.
The surprising chemistry between Ben Kinglsey and Tea Leoni in "You Kill Me" (I watched this movie 3 times back-to-back when I was sick and visiting up at my dad's) ...
...and also between Denzil Washington and Angelina Jolie in "The Bone Collector" (totally forgettable movie, though, so don't bother renting it if you haven't seen it.)
Mr. Darcy saying "I most ardently admire and love you," or something like that, at the end of "Pride & Prejudice". And yes, I mean Colin Firth. Is there any other Darcy, really?
The ending of "The Sure Thing". I have an ex-boyfriend to thank for introducing me to that movie. He had a thing for Daphne Zuniga. I had/have a thing for John Cusack. We were well-matched. In that respect, at least.
Oh my god, I nearly forgot "Amelie"! I adore that entire movie! But especially the end, when they kiss. growlfl.
The ending of "Casablanca". Because although I am no expert on the Silver Screen, I DO love this movie. Just like "Lost in Translation", it proves that sometimes, it's sexier when Guy doesn't get Girl.
Runners-Up: Dave, Bullworth, The American President, L.A. Story, While You Were Sleeping, Garden State, Delicatessen...

There's not much wine left in that bottle. Which means that I'm probably forgetting a few of my fave movies in my alcoholic haze. As you can see, I favour the quirky comedies over the mushy stuff. What about you? C'mon, weigh in. What romantic movie scene leaves you breathless?

Another house, not my own.

2010-01-26T21:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, remember when I was all excited about house- and dog-sitting for my brother? Well be careful what you wish for, because the gods like to have their little joke.
*This post is firmly tongue in cheek, by the way. I am not complaining full-on. It's just that there are... complications.

First off, the Dog. He is seventy, in human years. Seventy. He should be hobbling around with greying jowls, glad to be home after sedately walking a couple of blocks.
Not this dog. He is a mutt, of Border Collie and god-knows-what-else origins. Sterner stuff. Which means that he can run and walk for hours and be ready to go again after a quick nap. He will chase a ball until it's too dark too see it, and then he will find it by the distant thud as it hits the ground. He would live outside always, if he could. Four days and I am already a love slave to his Sad Puppy Eyes. And I am walking. Three times a day I am walking. And running. And rollerblading. Anything to keep up with his needs.

Which is actually great, because Hello, room full of chocolate bars! My brother and his wife are raising money for a charity called Team in Training by selling chocolate bars. (Don't get me started on the irony of raising money to run 21km by selling sweet, fatty desserts. There is something so intrinsically wrong about that, Team in Training. WRONG.) Let's just say that I need these walks badly, given the choco-temptations lying in their office.

Lastly, I forgot how far away my brother and his wife live. They live in Surrey. I make no apologies to any of my readers who may be from there: Surrey is Hell. No, I take that back; Surrey is not interesting enough to be Hell. Surrey is Skytrain and strip malls and big box stores and fast food and white trash and litter and bland condos and falling-down crackhouses and the Mirage Nightclub (which my brother calls the Sluttage, for obvious reasons). East Van has many of these eyesores also, but we do them with style, dammit! I miss my 'hood.

I would like to tie this all together with a snappy ending, but I am tired. So very tired. And it's been three hours since the last walk. Which means that it's almost time to do 'er again.
*I would like to reiterate that I am (mostly) joking. Except for the part about being tired. Which I am. I mean, I've gone from being pretty much a couch potato to being the auntie of a very active pooch. You'd be tired too. Oh, and what I said about Surrey. I meant everything I wrote about that.

Ennui, and links to help you escape it.

2010-01-15T21:53:00.001-08:00

Here's where it gets hard: when the excitement of the new year wears off, when friends & family leave town and the money is stretched tight with no end in sight, when the fiery resolve of a fresh year burns down to smoldering embers. How to keep ennui (and bad habits) at bay? Not sure I have the answer to this question totally figured out yet. Mundane as it may seem, a To-Do list actually helps a bit. Crossing off things as I do them makes me feel as though I'm accomplishing something even though it's small. Baby steps. I know. Rome wasn't built in a day, and all that. Embrace the ennui. Or not. Actually, here are some things that are rocking my world and keeping a smile on my face even through the frustration:

my brand-new, super-awesome (and gag-me expensive) Bogs. Get some. Especially any of you who live in remote areas with, like, snow. And mud. They're waterproof, they'll keep your tootsies warm down to minus 30 degrees, and they look great, too. Bonus feature: buying them guarantees that the sun will immediately come out. It happened to me today, true story.
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Terry Gilliam redeems himself after "Tideland", which in my opinion was one of the worst movies I ever saw. "Dr. P" is bizarre, rambling, and looks fantastic, like all of his movies. Is it me, or does Gilliam have a thing for giant flying heads and saucer-eyed young ingenues? Who cares? One day I will write a song or create a show that puts people in a world like the one in Terry Gilliam's head. And then I will die happy.
Food. Ok, I feel conflicted about this one, because I really want to lose some weight this year, and soon. But... J made some killer Eggs Benny the other day, with a Hollandaise sauce to die for. And I ate some amazing risotto at a tiny little East Van restaurant yesterday night that tasted as though a hundred chickens died to make the stock it was cooked in. And Waves makes the best hot chocolate of all the coffee bars, and I slurped up some of that last night before seeing "Debt: the Musical". Which also rocked my world. Go see it, even if you're in debt yourself. Especially then.
House-sitting at my brother's place in a week: exercise room, pool, laundry, dog... need I say more?
The Cross of East Van. I haven't made up my mind on this new piece of art yet. Eyesore, or proud community badge? Creepy Christian undertones or righteous ex-gang logo? You be the judge:

Yep, pretty strange, isn't it? (thanks to vancitybuzz.com for the picture). I may have to add an image of The Cross to my title bar, since this is East Van Chronicles after all.

And finally... the last thing that's rocking my world is THE BEST PICTURE I'VE EVER TAKEN OF MY CITY. SO GOOD, I HAVE TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS. Drumroll please.

Thank you Vancouver, for reminding me why I love you. And thank you blog for cheering me up on this january night.

You Complete Me.

2010-01-05T10:25:00.000-08:00

Still doing a lot of sitting around at home, due to this cold. Which leads to a lot of journalling, thinking, and brainstorming, much of it along these lines: Who knew the human body could contain this much phlegm? As I canceled both work and fun events yesterday so that I could be at home, I realized that I was truly sick and can only be thankful that I have the time to take it easy right now. Sometimes your body just knows.

Still doing a lot of thinking about what's ahead this year and how to make it really count. It's my year- no, it actually is: the year of the Tiger, in Chinese astrology. Yesterday was a big one in terms of The Future; I had 2 meetings, both of them dealing with future work opportunities. The first meeting was a gigantic job offer, a huge, flattering, scary, fun possibility that involves lots of hard work and living in a very isolated community for up to 4 months, away from everyone I know and love, performing every day. The second meeting was with my most beloved band, and it was the kind of meeting we have periodically (although mostly via email), where we basically re-hash our frustrations over never being free to play or tour at the same time. We say a lot of IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoubutIcan'tcommitrightnowduetosuchandsuch and then we all sigh in frustration and look for other work. Being in a band is a lot like being in a relationship. No, actually it IS a relationship, but a tricky, polygamous one. Being in a band comprised of four busybusy people is like having an affair: there's never enough time, no one's ever completely happy, and whatever you do, someone ends up getting shafted.

In honor of my new, fiery (and phlegm-y) commitment to Living Life To Its Fullest, I want to make a bold choice to start the new year off with a bang. But instead I hover, unable to jump in to this new job opportunity without an ache of regret.

You see, if I leave the city for 4 months, I won't be able to make music with my friends for a long time. And one of them might move across the country in the interim. My latest self-help book says that every decision leads to wonderful opportunities, and I am starting to know that. This is a wonderful band, but I can't possibly make a living off it right now.

But, but... when I stand on stage with these guys, I feel more powerful, more talented, more complete than I've ever felt. We have a long way to go and they drive me nuts sometimes (and I drive them nuts too, no doubt) but there is something so special there.
Part of me would like to be like of hero of some mushy chick flick; you know, the one where you think the lovers have gone their separate ways and then in the last scene he runs into the airport just as she's boarding the plane and holds out his arms and says I didn't marry the other woman/take that job after all and they fall into each other's arms as the credits roll. But there are 3 other busy people here, and if I ran into the airport, metaphorically speaking, ready to declare my devotion, I might just find that the plane had already taken off. Without me.

All of which is a really convoluted way of saying that I can't help having regrets, even as exciting new possibilities open up before me. And I have less than a week to make my final decision about a huge chunk of the coming year...
Stay tuned.

2010-01-03T10:06:00.000-08:00

The new year is really here. Time to take down the blue disco-ball Christmas decorations hanging off every available surface in our apartment. Time to start making those calls and doing that practicing and looking for those jobs and setting those goals. It really is. Time, I mean.

As we age, my brother and I, and have no children to replace us as "the kids", we spend Christmas in a floaty sort of limbo. The Day itself, the 25th, becomes less important (for me, Christmas has always been about the 24th anyway; the anticipation being so much more fun and mysterious and exciting than the payoff of Christmas Day.), but if I'm lucky and not working, Christmas Day becomes Christmas Week, which lasts until the 1st of January.

So it was this year. My brother, his wife and I flew to my Dad's on the 25th (replacing getting up early for presents with getting up early for the airport), and lay around on my father's truly excellent couches eating rich food, drinking too much, and watching hockey. There were no hyper-excited children underfoot, and not much in the way of presents, since we'd spent the money on plane tickets instead. And what is Christmas without kids, really? Well, just a time to eat, drink, be with family. A time for talking with far-flung family members over the speakerphone or on Skype. A time to be there for my dad, who lost his wife last Boxing Day.

He's doing great, though. Looking ahead, not pining for what he lost. And, symbolic though a "new year" is, I too am looking ahead to see what comes next.

I'm working on my attitude, that's the first thing. I'm staying positive, even though I have this cold which won't #%$%& leave. I partied a little too hard last week, ran 8km with my super-fit brother right after Christmas, played a high-energy New Year's Eve party and stayed up until 3:30 that morning. All of which was very, very fun. All of which was very, very bad for this cold, which has lodged itself in my chest and nose and is hanging on like grim death.

So the challenge has been: how do I spin this into something good? And the answer- well, maybe I can be thankful for having this weekend free, so I can rest and take care of myself before work and meetings begin. Maybe I can be thankful that being stuck inside gives me time to do some brainstorming and journaling instead of running around trying to do too much in the cold and damp.

And I am thankful. Because although staring the new year feeling awful was not what I would have wished, it has reduced life to the essentials. Stay warm and dry. Conserve energy. Plan, but don't do. Spend one day doing nothing but watching tv and eating expensive takeout you can't even taste because your nostrils are plugged up.

Rest, and wait, and see what happens next.

2009-12-14T00:01:00.000-08:00

I think I keep this blog so I can remember what happened a year, 2 years ago. I read memoirs and biographies, and marvel at how sharply and how skillfully writers can bring distant memories and dialogue to life. While I, on the other hand, have to stop writing this and scratch my head for a moment and think what was I up to this time last December?

Oh yeah, I was right in the middle of Medea rehearsals. Okay, good. Brain's not totally fried yet. Although alcohol isn't helping. According to J, I turn into a goldfish when I drink, with a lousy 7-second memory that causes me to repeat stuff endlessly. Played some music at a private party on Friday, the drinks were flowing, and all I could do when I stumbled home was rhapsodize about the "melt-in-your-mouth" roast beef. Over and over. Poor guy has to listen to my slurred speeches about beef while mercifully, I forget all about it until he teases me the next morning. That can't be good.

This musician's life is a hard one, I'm telling ya. I'm caroling every other day, which is great in that we're performing at old people's homes and they love it. But it's killing my voice, which is both phlegmy and husky right now, an unattractive combination. And the band stuff is killing my liver, because my bandmates drink like fishes. Hey, I got a free trip to Montreal, though. Can't believe that's already over. I love that city. This time, the weather was perfection, I flew in two days before our concerts and I walked miles, soaking in the atmosphere of a city so unlike Vancouver. One day I basically walked for seven hours, with the odd stop for delicious meals along the way. St. Denis and St. Laurent. Vieux Montreal. Atwater and Jean Talon Markets. Outremont. I stumbled through conversations in my very basic French and wanted to move there immediately, become fluent, and spend my day in a haze of bagels, cafe-au-lait, and working the odd theatre or music gig alongside friendly and gorgeous Francophone men.

****************

Much, much later...

I started writing this entry days ago, thinking I had loads of time to finish it, when lo, both computers in our little house were struck with what I can only assume is a machine version of Swine Flu, and screens were dark for the first time in... well, a long time. Mine is still refusing to switch on right now, so I'm typing this on J's MacBook Pro, which has a fried logic board. Which means that it's basically been lobotomized and can perform simple tasks like blogging and emails, but if J asks it to download video, it says duhhh and drool drips down the screen and then it shuts off. Merry Christmas, J! Guess what you're buying yourself for the holidays?

I'm so glad it still sort of works, though, because have you ever tried blogging on an iPod Touch? Not recommended.

It's been an intense few weeks, actually, and I'm still not sure how to blog about it. Huge feelings in my heart: fears and love and sadness and joy and confusion and despair and hope. Fall is always such a busy time for me, but all that work's ending, and it's hard not to get blue at all the No Mores in the air:

no more caroling (in a few days)

no more playing trumpet in the Winter Spectacular pit band

no more Winter's Tale

no more Redboot Quartet (at least for months)

no more awesome friend (off to a cooking gig for 2 months)

no more mom (also away on a job in the new year)

Into the void of the new year: fears and possibilities and maybe even some kind of re-birth. Or at least, a re-boot.

The friend who's leaving said to me in Montreal that she hoped I could learn to live my life all the time like I do onstage, by which she meant: big, fearless, powerful, confident. And it is just hitting me for the first time in my life, that not to live a fearless life would be the worst thing I could ever do to myself. It is so hard for me to live like that every day, to turn off those nagging voices of self-doubt and fear and criticism without being in an altered state or onstage. It is so hard to re-program your brain to stop sabotaging yourself.

Amanda, at Tumble Dry wrote so beautifully recently about how at some point, it is unforgivable to keep doing those bad things to yourself: eating that extra greedy bite, smoking, not taking the time to do the important things, - whatever your own personal failings are. It is unforgivable because we all owe ourselves more than that. Here's what I'm trying right now:

running every other day, rain or shine

accepting compliments gracefully, without self-deprecating excuses

eating less, and eating better

starting conversations with people I want to get to know

saying what would I do if I had no self-doubt? And then acting as if I didn't.

Right now I am so filled with sadness: the rain is pouring down for the 1000000th day in a row, I feel lost and worried and tired, so many things are ending... but inside there is a spark of hope: I can make changes. I can create new opportunities. I can learn to be fearless.

I have begun to make changes. It would be unforgivable to stop making changes.

This could be an amazing new year.

Owning It.

2009-11-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

Last night I watched my show open, and it was a great show. People listened, and laughed, and the music all worked, and the cast were brilliant.

And at the reception I was thanked, and appreciated, and complimented, which felt amazing. People I'd hardly spoken to during rehearsals because I was too shy, too wrapped up in myself, came up and told me what a great job I'd done. I sat in a little room drinking gin and talking to people I really like and respect and felt totally accepted.

And it struck me, afterwards, how much time and effort I waste, waste, on being fearful. And scared. And shy. And self-doubting. And although I'd had such a good time during this process, it would have been so much better if I'd left those feelings behind me much, much earlier.

I'm not going to wallow in regrets about that now; I'm going to try and hold on to all those wonderful things I felt coming my way last night so that next time, next job, I can step into my role with pride and strength and know, right from the start, that it's going to be an interesting, challenging, fascinating journey. And that I am just the right person for the job.

On Getting Mad.

2009-11-15T23:38:00.000-08:00

I knew it would have to happen. I watched a run-through of the show and they were ignoring things I'd asked them to do many times; being as sloppy and non-specific with the songs- my songs- as they were being precise with their lines. I adore them all, and I think they like me, but somewhere along the way I had lost their respect, and the music was suffering.

My boyfriend, a graduate of the same theatre school, was matter-of-fact. "Get angry with them," he told me. "I know how they think. They won't respect you unless you're tough with them. It's what they're used to." He was right (it's a fantastic, but very challenging theatre program, where the teachers' philosophy is to break you down and then build you back up.) and they deserved it. So why was it so hard? Why did the thought of having to give a hard-ass speech (much less harsh than anything they hear daily from their instructors) at the next day's rehearsal keep me tossing and turning that night? Why does anger, or the mere anticipation of it, tie my stomach in knots and make me weep?

I hate to play the old blame-my-parents card, but anger (healthy anger, that is) was always a tricky issue with us. We're English, for god's sake. We suppress. We stiffen those upper lips and swear, tightly, that nothing is wrong. None of us is very good at blowing our tops and moving on; we glower and sulk until prodded. I can't get angry without a million buzzing voices of self-doubt torturing me:
It must be my fault.
What right have I got to be angry about this?
If I show anger, I won't be loved/liked anymore.
If I get angry, I am a demanding bitch. I should be more accommodating.

I am a woman. I would be willing to bet that we have more anger issues, in general, than men do. And that for some reason- and no, I don't think my parents can take all the blame here- I cannot feel angry without getting so wound up that I cannot use it effectively. Assertively.

"Remember to breathe," my lover tells me, the night before I have to stand up to my cast. "If you feel tears coming on, breathe from below them." He gestures to my stomach, the centre, as my Akido sensei used to say, of my Qi. J has been assailed many times in the last decade by my highly-strung, ineffective rage, and so his words feel especially like a gift.

I go in to rehearsal and deliver a talk, so choked up that I can hardly get the words out. I don't cry, although my chest feels as though there are metal bands around it. I don't know if the lecture helped, but the next run-through is noticeably better. And I think they still like me.

Two days later I am still shaking my head at myself, and looking for solutions so that it will get easier the next time. And the next time. And the time after that. Solutions that are mental: detach, don't over-analyze. Solutions that are physical: centre, relax, and above all: breathe.

Even when you know deep-down that you need to change; and you're willing to make that change, it's always easier said than done, isn't it?

All Hallows Eve

2009-11-01T01:09:00.000-07:00

Every two weeks I sit in a small office and tell a gentle, motherly lady about my problems.

Which, the more I go, I realize just how lucky I am.

Not that I didn't know this already, but sometimes you forget, in the daily rush and press of life.

If nothing else comes of these sessions, at least I will come out of them knowing this: that the anticipation of events is what scares me; that I am strong and brave when it comes to actually doing things. I write down the things that scare me, and then I watch them crumble into dust when I face them head-on. A new job. A difficult person. Being broke. The future.

Right now, my mom is working with people who have been broken since they were kids. They are broken, and yet they build hope with what they have left to work with, and they carry on. They are lawbreakers, addicts, homeless, bipolar. In the shadow of their misfortunes I am speechless and grateful for the gifts I have: love, family, friends, work.

Tonight was the perfect Halloween night, as if all the planets had aligned: Saturday night, clear but slightly misty, and... (special bonus): Daylight Savings the next day. The streets were choked with freaks: bunnies, slutty nurses, witches, cowboys, monsters of all descriptions. The side streets echoed (and echo still) with firecrackers. It was as if the whole city had been saving up its zany party animal side for this one night. I threw off a long day of work, threw on some mad clothes I found in the dark corner of my closet, and headed out into the night to gulp red wine and eat too much sugar.

Too lucky to feel anything but happy on this night of spirits.

Meme of the Day

2009-10-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

I've been a huge fan of SweetSalty Kate's for a couple of years now. In fact, it's fair to say that it was her blog that made me want to start writing again, and that led to the birth of East Van Chronicles. I started reading her blog when she was going through the most heartbreaking time imaginable, so to read about her triumphs and successes these days is truly wonderful.

Anyway, enough gushing. I've been kinda stuck lately on what to write about here, so I'm doing the following meme, courtesy of Kate's other blog. If you like it, paste it into your own blogs and do it too...

The Dread Crew Meme

1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose? Companion: Allan Breck Stuart from R.L. Stevenson's "Kidnapped" (he's brave, resourceful, and sexy to boot.)
Vehicle: The Giant Peach from "James & the Giant Peach" (Roald Dahl)
Tool: One Ring to Rule Them All, of course!

2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why? Into any of Charles de Lint's Newford stories. I've wanted to love in his world (and specifically in his fictional city of Newford) ever since I first read "Memory & Dream". Folk musicians, good friends, artists, dreams, danger and lashings of magic. What's not to love?

3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Who do you choose, and why? Rupert Campbell-Black, from Jilly Cooper's "Riders", "Rivals", etc series. He'd be impossible, but never, ever boring. Or Lord Peter Wimsey. Hmmm.

4) The War For the Oaks (Emma Bull) is my go-to book. I could read that book fifty-seven times in a row without a break for food or a pee and not be remotely bored. In fact I’ve already done that but it wasn’t fifty-seven times. It was sixty-four. In fact, the only book I have ever literally finished reading and begun to read again. Immediately.

5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable? George, of The Famous Five. She got to dress like a boy, had a dog, and solved mysteries with her 3 cousins all the time.

6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening? Pennywise the clown in Stephen King's "It". Slag him at your peril; that guy can write some truly terrifying stuff.

7) Every time I read The Bible, I see something in it that I haven’t seen before. Actually, I'm just kidding. I've still not read most of the Bible. But I have read "A Room With A View" about 1498 times, so I guess I'm still finding new stuff there.

8) It is imperative that The Eight be made into a movie. Now. I am already picketing Hollywood for this—but if they cast Angelina Jolie or Amy Adams as Catherine Velis, I will not be happy. I will, however, be appeased if they cast some plucky, talented lady I've never heard of.

9) The Power of One is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film.

10) After all these years, the scene in the book/movie "Jacob's Ladder" where Tim Robbins' face goes all blurry in the mirror still manages to give me the queebs.

11) After all these years, pretty much any scene in the book "Frenchman's Creek" by Daphne DuMaurier still manages to give me a thrill. Oh, and when Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy tells Elizabeth Bennett how much he "ardently admires and loves" her. Sigh.

12) If I could corner the author Robert James Waller, here’s what I’d say to them one minute or less about their book, The Bridges of Madison County: "Your book stunk. It had no redeeming features. As a bookseller, I was embarrassed to sell it; in fact I actively tried to prevent customers from buying it. It came out over 15 years ago but I still grit my teeth with rage when I think of how crappy your writing is." Actually, I'm way too polite to say that. But oh, how I wish I could.

13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is The Size of the World. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to pack it up, pack it in, and start traveling 'round the globe.

Stylin'

2009-10-09T14:04:00.000-07:00

Ever have those days where nothing, absolutely nothing in the closet feels or looks right?

I think it's partly the changing of the seasons, especially the summer-to-fall transition. We had an especially hot summer, where basically going around naked, or as close to it as possible, was the only solution. Now Fall -and a job- is here, and I have to wear things again. Real things. Things that, you know, co-ordinate. And I'm looking at all the stuff in my closet and it looks bloody terrible. Worn-out or childish or ill-fitting or just plain what-was-I-thinking? Being someone who um, fluctuates in size (and taste) from time to time doesn't help either.

The bottom line: when my next cheque comes in, I need to stock up on some cheap-yet-professional looking clothes that flatter my curvy figure while not looking as if I'm wearing a sack. If nothing else, it'll be a nice change from my jeans/cowboyhat/neon orange sweatshirt I have to wear at the Pumpkin Patch. Now that's a flattering ensemble!

Re-Vamp

2009-09-28T12:14:00.000-07:00

In an effort to avoid some composing work, I've tweaked my blog header a bit, thus wasting a good hour and a half! Inspired by the wonderful ladies at Shutter Sisters, who pointed me in the direction of a really fun Polaroid app, I've put up some of my favorite pictures of my 'hood, taken by moi over the past couple of years. Not only did I mess with the wonderful Rollip to create the faux-Polaroid look, I also had to download Picasa to create the collage effect. Do you like it?
*clears throat and waits anxiously for non-existent feedback*

Just think of all the useful things I'm learning while I'm avoiding doing the real work I should be doing! At this rate, I'll be a graphic designer before long...

Lying Fallow.

2009-09-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

The last few months have been quiet ones for me.
Not a lot of work- except for the part-time work in August, I haven't done a lot since the spring. I don't count gigs and band rehearsals, since they are barely paid and sporadic.
Not a lot of socializing- other than the Nova Scotia trip, we've kept to ourselves.
Not a lot of exercise, which I'm trying to change by starting to run again.

Every day I troll the internet, looking for work that I could live with, at least until the next theatre contract. I send emails into the ether: I am a composer, answering your job listing, here is my website and hear resounding silence. I email the director of my next theatre project: here are some sketches, when do we start and hear almost nothing back.

I am making this quiet time count for something. I cook and learn and cook some more. My eating- out bills have dropped. (Although my weight hasn't. Funny, that.) I have written some fine songs, songs I'm really proud of. I weigh my options and try to figure out where to go next.

But I feel a little bit like the Invisible Woman right now.

Online Journal... or Performance Art?

2009-09-17T23:38:00.000-07:00

Had an interesting conversation with my mom today on the perils of blogging.

Mom's never read my blog. Not that I'd mind her reading it- I don't say that much about her here, and our relationship is very close. But we were talking about family, and relationships, and my dad, and my recent visit to see him. Which I had been considering blogging about here. But as I said to Mom tonight, " I wouldn't want him to read the stuff that I was going to write here. And if I don't want him to read it, then I shouldn't be writing it here."

I consider blogging to be a form of performance art. There is, in its public-ness, a "look at me" strut, an online airing of things that are maybe better left in the dark. It's a fine line. I want to be honest, to make this thing more than a banal listing of the Momentous Events of My Day. Jesus, if you want that, read my Twitter/Facebook blather:

Going out to see a play!
Making dinner right now- yum!
Listening to music!

Who cares?

And I get a thrill that you (whoever you are) read this, that friends and strangers (not many, but some) find these words in the vastness of the internet and spend some time with them, with me. I have no intention of making this blog private.

But today's conversation was a good wake-up call. I have not (yet) violated anyone's sense of privacy here. That I know of. I admit that I read blogs like this one and tune in eagerly for more. Blogs like that disclose so much. That's her choice. But it's not mine.

I will be honest here, but not at the expense of other people. I was lucky to wake up to this before someone got their feelings hurt.

J just asked me what I was blogging about. And so I told him, about the conversation with Mom, and the not writing really private stuff about people other than me and he was like, Duh. Because he's always found this blogging thing kind of weird. And because he knows that sometimes, it's all about him right here. Love ya, Babe.

He's Good. Maybe Too Good.

2009-09-07T10:54:00.000-07:00

J is too good with the birthday/Christmas presents. I'm definitely going to have to step it up this year, especially in light of the fact that my Christmas present to him last year was... a dolly.
Nope, not this:
or this:
...but this:In my defense, he did actually want one. I mean, he asked for one and everything. But still, a dolly? Could I possibly have chosen a present with less romance?

Now that you've seen how bad my present was, let's see what J got me this year for my birthday. On the great day itself, I had the small matter of a trip back from an island, a cd release party, and a stinkin' head cold to take care of, so he saved my present until yesterday. I wanted a surprise, so he didn't tell me what it was. In fact, I didn't figure it out until we got off the skytrain yesterday and arrived here. Yes, in honour of my newly-sparked interest in cooking, he signed us both up for a Knife Skills course. And it was awesome! For over 2 hours, we learned to dice, mince and julienne... and we got to eat the fruits (veggies, actually) of our labour: a smoky bacon-and-clam chowder and a frisky Asian chicken stir-fry. I could get addicted to cooking classes. I mean, I know cooking's all popular and trendy right now, thanks to "Julie and Julia" and countless other bestseller books on the subject, but learning to cook really is fantastic.

But now the pressure is on. Christmas will be here before we know it, and J's birthday (and it's a big one this year) isn't far behind. And I'm gonna have to bring it. Help a girl get some inspiration, will ya?

You Can Learn A Lot About Someone From Looking at Their Google Search Bar:

2009-09-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

What's on mine...

casseroles (cheap recipes)
facebook (haven't bookmarked it yet, although I'm on it everyday. Must be my ambivalence towards Crackbook)
helicopter parents (found a great site about "free-range parenting", which I'm a big fan of. Helicopter parents are so-named because they hover over-protectively over their young all the time.
end of six feet under (we've finally watched all 5 seasons. Now I'm gonna have to get a life again!)
david hasselhoff (don't ask)
jimena (seeing if the hurricane had wreaked much havoc in Baja yet)
pop music communist russia (upcoming theatre project)
smithsonian folk (ditto)

35

2009-08-31T10:51:00.000-07:00

Thirty-five started with a bang.

Thirty-five so far has been: a cold in the head at the worst time, traveling to a lovely island to play music, double-accordion jamming on the ferry ride home, a cd release party in a blue taffeta dress watched by family and friends. It's been: getting to play in and play out my birthday, with gigs on either side of it, like a cushion. It's been sleepless nights and stuffy noses and hot sex and being broke and cakechipswinetequilashotsvodkawaterwaterwater.

I've packed more living into the past 48 hours than I often do in a week or more.

I want the whole year to feel like that.

Why I love living on Commercial Drive: reason # 386

2009-08-27T17:07:00.000-07:00

(overheard outside Mark's Pet Stop; said in a sexy European accent):
"Do you have anything for a really arrogant cat?"

Taste!

2009-08-19T15:11:00.001-07:00

Summer time is the perfect time to really taste life. Scent and taste are heightened by the heat: cheese left on the counter is runny and ripe, not rubbery and boring like it is is if it's straight from the fridge. In honour of this lovely summer day I am trying to savour things, not easy for someone like me, who tends to swallow food-and life- without really chewing sometimes.

Today I am relishing the creamy feel of good Brie on the back of my tongue (a decadent treat, thanks to a couple of babysitting gigs); the sharp bite of Gipsy salami, a hair-ruffling breeze as I walk home, the peace of my empty apartment which I have to myself this afternoon. One thing that hanging out with small children has reminded me: they live almost utterly in the moment.

Not a bad thing to try every once in a while.

Body, give me a break already!

2009-08-15T15:02:00.000-07:00

Jane the cat was curled up in her cat-nest in the flower beds by the front door of our building as I returned from grocery shopping this afternoon. Old, half-blind, half-deaf and weighing all of about three pounds, she has taken to snuggling in my arms every time I pick her up after months of running from me as if I had the plague. Owned by one of the apartment's crazy cat ladies (there are quite a few), she'll probably end up as a tasty hors d'oevre for a passing coyote one of these days, but I hope not.
Cuddling Jane was the nicest part of a walk/grocery shop with a low point that included honestly feeling like I was going to pass out in the SuperValu, which would have been embarrassing to say the least. I still feel vaguely nauseous and wrung-out. I'm trying to figure out if my body is protesting:

the cleanse I'm on
the fact that I've quit taking the Pill for a while because I figured it was time to give my body a break and maybe this is causing some weirdness as my hormones re-align
That Time of the Month: the first post-Pill Curse
all of the above

I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, folks. Trying to focus on the positive, save my money and get healthy. So Body, cut me a break here! I need some energy, some pep to wake up with. Feeling like a limp french fry (white, slightly sweaty, limp) is NOT conducive to Getting Things Done, alright?

point form is all I have the energy for right now.

2009-08-13T17:50:00.000-07:00

Am halfway through a new (but temporary) job, which I thought I wouldn't like but actually I do. Suffice it to say that my child-wrangling skillz are slowly improving.
Fighting- I don't know what? Mild depression? Lethargy? Merely the onset of a cold/flu-like illness? Not sure. All I know is that it's hard to get out of bed right now (might be something to do with having to get out of bed so early these days!)
To counter-attack the lethargy and tendency to nest and hermit rather than go out, I am concentrating on improving my budgeting/banking skillz. Realize that I am starting basically from scratch in this area, which is depressing at almost 35. Did you know that I have never made and followed through on a budget? Ever?
I've started a new blog to chronicle my ongoing efforts to gain money and get fit. I'm not going to link to it. Yet. We'll see how it goes for a while. I may want that one to stay more anonymous. No names and locations are mentioned on that blog to protect the not-so-innocent (me) from being rumbled as Financially Foolish and Physically Flabby. Am excited to see if I can follow through on this self-improvement kick. For once.

2009-07-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this by the harsh glow of the computer screen, staring hard at the keyboard to see letters through the gloom. It is 10:47am in my apartment and there is almost no light.

Why, you ask?

Because this week the sun is our enemy, coming as it does with heat that has shattered records all over BC, dryness that has sparked innumerable fires and forced us to flee inside from its burning rage. So there are blankets over the windows of our west-facing apartment, fans going full-tilt, fish floating sadly in a too-hot tank. I know how they feel.

When I got home from my tour (more on that later), J had put tinfoil in the windows to keep out the heat. My suburban middle-class what-will-the-neighbours-think hackles rose immediately. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can live in a place with tinfoil on the windows," I whined. "It looks so awful." After a few more pleas, he sulkily removed it, and the heavy blankets went up instead.

We moved our social life into the bathroom last night: pool-less as we are, our tub was a decent substitute. A few candles 'round the sink, Latino music on the radio, a pitcher of Mojitos resting on the toilet... and the two of us- neither one a small person by any means- crammed naked in a cold-water bath together. Not a pretty picture but hey, needs must when it's thirty frickin' degrees outside!!! It's either that, or wear this stylish tinfoil hat to keep out the rays...
On a related note, the latest Redboot tour was short and sweet and really fun, although we had to cram a whole load of driving (15+ hours) into one day to get up north to our festival. A/C blasting, CBC on the radio, our bass player reading great chunks of a novel aloud to us to pass the time. Set a new record for the furthest north in BC I've ever travelled- Kispiox, we love you! And since it seems to be the day to post weird pictures of me, here's another one:

Lastly, I want to write about something that has haunted me every day for the past week, although it doesn't fit with the goofy tone of the rest of this entry. Last Thursday, some wonderful members of our theatre community lost their children in a horrific accident. Although J & I know them, have worked with them in the past, we don't know them very well and this is not my tragedy, so I'm not going to write much about it here. I will only say that the news hit me like a punch to the gut, and if it hit me like that, I can only imagine how their friends and family must feel. How they themselves feel, I don't even want to imagine. To witness the web of love and support for these people that has sprung up across the country has been amazing, and I can only add my prayers for strength and recovery to the hundreds of others.

On The Shore.

2009-07-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

Being back on the North Shore is a trip, and I don't just mean that in the it-takes-one-hour-to-get-here sense, although that certainly applies too.

I mean it in the sense that I can walk up the hill from the house we're house-sitting, and stumble across the home of an old classmate of mine, a kid who once bought me my first bouquet of roses when I was in grade nine. His dad was-and still is- a taxidermist, and he was obviously a man who loved to take his work home. The lamps were made of, well, legs. There was a stuffed bear looming in a dark corner, and beavers and deer frolicked stiffly in various poses. It was the stuff of nightmares; no wonder that relationship never went anywhere, although I remember the roses fondly.

Around the corner from where we're staying is the house belonging to the father of my best high school friend. She married in Ireland, and had a second wedding at her dad's place. Now we've fallen out of touch, and walking past his place makes me feel nostalgic and sad. She has two kids now, and a stepson who must be a teenager. The last time we spoke, she sounded more Irish than Canadian.

Another short walk downhill is the house where my dad lived for a short time, with the woman he rebounded swiftly into a relationship with after my mom left. (sorry, that's bad grammar, but oh well) They had a giant dog, a Great Pyrenese, who had hip displasia because of her giant size. Dad and Misha would hobble down to William Griffin Park because, as Dad said, "We like to watch the skateboarders."

Bits of memories swirl around my neighbourhood like leaves; I reach out, and catch a memory in my hand with every walk I take.

New Scotland, Old Stomping Ground: a photo essay

2009-07-15T16:20:00.000-07:00

New Scotland is what Nova Scotia actually means, and Old Stomping Ground is what this was to J, who grew up in Cape Breton, though he wasn't actually born there (he doesn't really like people to know that he was born in... Regina! Sorry Babe, the secret's out...). It was my first time in Nova Scotia, and my 2nd time in the maritimes (I was in Newfoundland when I was nine).

We went there for the wedding of one of Js high school friends. Of course, everyone moves away from Nova Scotia once they hit about 20; they have to go to school, and find jobs, and you can't get jobs in NS, not many anyway. But J's friends have formed this loose but totally strong web that spans time and distance and very diverse lifestyles. They may only communicate via Facebook and the odd phone call most of the time, but when the chips are down, they're totally there for each other. In this case, that meant flying in from BC, and Calgary, and Ottawa to be at the wedding. I envy them this connectedness. Oh, and they may have lived Away for over half their lives, but never, ever doubt that they are Nova Scotians to the core.

So for J, it was a journey down Memory Lane, complete with drives past his old house, highschool, and oddly named fast food joints:

But for me it was a journey of discoveries and new things: Halifax (which I adored) and its British military heritage:

Fortress Louisbourg with its French military history

Travesties:and delights:

nautical sites,

harbour lights,
sailing on the Bras D'or Lakes
small towns:
and big cities, spooky after dark.
J reconnected with old friends and high-school sweethearts (no, that wasn't weird and she was totally nice)...

...but we had time alone together, too...All in all, it was the perfect vacation.

(except for the part where we were flying back home and hit some heavy turbulence and the plane hopped around in the sky like a giant metal frog for an hour and I am so motion-sensitive that I still felt as if I was in that bouncing plane hours later as I was sitting at the computer and I was terrified. The end.)

2009-06-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

For me, Oatmeal was one of those things that I read about for years that was a fearful let-down when actually tasted. This was the "porridge" I'd been reading about for years? This mouth-burning, grey-brown... mush? I turned up my nose and quoth "nevermore".
Over the years, I've re-acquainted myself with it a few times. Week-long cleanses that involved eating whole grains in the morning, that sort of thing. An uneasy but cordial relationship. Most recently it made a cheap and healthy breakfast while I was on the Barkerville spring tour.

My sweetie's under doc's orders these days to get his cholesterol down, and what magic food does that, you may ask? Well, apparently oatmeal and cinnamon are both great, and as an added bonus, oats are supposed to help burn that hard-to-budge belly fat. So guess what yours truly is scarfing up for brekkie from now on? (Getting J to eat it may be harder, since he hates porridge, but I'm slowly converting to a fan of the stuff.)
Here's my secret:

Use good grains. For me, that means Red Mill brand grains. I use the 8-grain wheat-free variety, but I'm always open to recommendations...
Salt can make or break a bowl of oatmeal, say the old-timers, so I always add a pinch. Today's online opinion, however, seems to conclude that it is unnecessary.
Here's the clincher for me: I always add a generous serving of nuts, raisins and banana for flavour and texture. I like those items to be hot and cooked, so rather than adding them at the end I throw them in as the grains cook up. Sunflower seeds work well as the nut contingent.
Yesterday I was unable to find any, but when I next shop for food I will probably buy some raw hazelnuts to chop up and sprinkle on top of the oatmeal when it's done.
When it's all cooked up (about 7 minutes, yo. Quick!), I sprinkle cinnamon on top. Then I add a scoop of plain yoghurt and a squirt of honey or maple syrup. I will probably start putting fresh cherries on there as well, since this is the season. Tasty goodness!

I guess touring will often send you home with a renewed zeal for healthy living, since being on the road is seldom healthy in any way. Forget the nouveau rockstar "I'm travelling with my nanny, my yoga teacher, my therapist and my organic chef" scene. All four of the redboots crammed into a Volkswagon station wagon for 5 1/2 days. Competing for space in there were 2 amps, an accordion, a fiddle and a double bass! I am still in shock that we fit everything (and everyone) in. If we hadn't had a roof rack, we actually would not have succeeded. We relied on the kindness of family and friends for accommodation along the way, and boy, did they ever pull through for us! Amelia's Uncle Julian stocked the bar, fed us mountains of cheese, stayed up partying until 3am and cooked us giant greasy breakfasts for three of the 5 nights we were away. Russell's mom gave us fresh fruit and sleep when our bodies needed it most. And we had a crazy dance party at my friend Betty's house in Duncan, complete with wine and cheesecake. So as you can see, we were treated like kings, but like kings who have iron constitutions. Copious amounts of liquor, late nights, cheese and grease can take their toll. You can see pictures of us performing and cavorting here.

So anyway, this week/month/rest of my life is about clean living. Oh, and apparently it's also about adjusting to the fact that while I was away, plumbers re-directed our plumbing so that all the taps in the bathroom have been reversed. Hot is now cold and vice versa. Yes- wait for it- even in the toilet. You haven't lived until you've felt your bum warmed as you... nevermind. I don't know who they're hiring for this job, but I suspect they're discount plumbers. Thank god we're off to house-sit in North Van at the end of the week. We'll be living it up over there for a month while the plumbers bugger everything up back home.