Wild and Precious

Too bad I'm not drinking these days...

So Tuesday happened...

And then Leonard Cohen died today, just to ice our cake of despair nicely for us.

If my Facebook and Twitter feeds are accurate (and when is social media EVER NOT totally unbiased and accurate, she said with heavy sarcasm), the world is teetering on the brink of destruction, and apocalypse is nigh.

It may very well be true, though. I was reading a book when the U.S. election hit (Emily St. John Mandel's excellent Station Eleven), which is set in a not-so-distant future where a virulent flu has wiped out 99% of the world's population and survivors live in a word without electricity, internet, gas. It paired all-too-well with actual events, to the point where I looked down at the cat, rolling plumply on my bed, and promised mournfully, "I will never eat you, Molly." (I might have to though. People have been forced to do so much worse; unimaginable actions. You don't know the half of what you are capable of, good or bad. You have no idea what's coming down the pipe.)

Enough. Mourn, if you want to. I cannot take my emotional temperature from the same ten or twenty people I always turn to for wisdom on Facebook without feeling frustrated.

What are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?

What am I going to do with mine?

Am I going to rail at the shittiness of the world on Facebook or am I going to DO something about it?   I am sickened by how much time I have wasted staring at that damn feed, watching the same people say the same things, agreeing with each other, "liking" each other's comments; an endless snake eating its own tail.

I am going to try and spend less time online and more time actually connecting with my friends and family in a way that is meaningful to me.

I am going to keep teaching preschoolers and underfunded and at-risk kids how to make music, how to channel all that crazy energy and those wild impulses into something beautiful. I will keep being simultaneously exhausted and renewed by their daffy, impulsive, annoying, beautiful selves.

I am going to try harder to be part of change. To support people who feel threatened and marginalized. I will not apologize for being lucky,  but I will try to acknowledge my privilege.

(I will also stop using the word privilege. Or the word creative, when used as a noun: I'm a creative. What the actual fuck does that even mean? Hell, if we're making early resolutions, I will stop making the thumbs-up sign, which looks dopey as hell but I can't seem to break the habit. And saying "like", as in "I'm like...")

A wise person said to me yesterday that social media allows everyone to feel as if they need to editorialize everything, all the time. I will say this: that if I, or anyone else, watches this shit go down and thinks that writing about it is enough, then we are part of the problem.

Enough. I will post this (and yeah, link to it from my social media platforms) and then I will get off the damn internet and enjoy my two days off. Because I don't know how much time I have left, but I won't live as though I have a sword hanging over my head. We all have that, all the time. Nothing changed except maybe it got a little sharper this week.

That's what I'm going to do.

What will you do?

The Eye of the Beholder

I ran 10k today. Last time I did that was over 3 years ago, so it's kind of a big deal. 

Am I bragging? Hell yeah. Two months ago I wrote this on my other blog. I was overweight. I was eating any old thing I wanted. I was unhappy with how I looked and felt. Every day I started off with good intentions and every night I craved and caved and loathed myself for my lack of willpower. 

But I had a job coming up that I knew would be highly physical, so one day after I kind of hit bottom in terms of self-loathing, I got up just enough willpower to stop eating bread, pasta and desserts. I went on a few runs with my boyfriend, who likes to jog 2 to 3k to clear his head after working inside all day. 

A friend of mine was doing this and losing pounds, so I started doing it too. (Although I must say that my Bright Lines are a bit fuzzy 'round the edges at times, and I eat a few things that aren't approved in this plan.) I joined their Facebook page and I appreciate the support we all give each other. 

I moved to the prairies for 6 weeks and started bike-commuting every day. And running. And doing this very physical outdoor show. We built our set every night, did the show, took down the set again. I revelled in the heat of a Saskatchewan summer; kept biking, kept running. Kept eating well. 

I feel great. Dammit, I look great. I am so proud of myself. I can't wait to see where I'm at in another couple of months. 

And yet...

I shot a music video recently; or rather, I was in a music video for one of my songs. When I watch the rough cut I see my big eyes, my smile, my strong, sexy legs... And I see my flaws, over and over. Thin lips, short grey hair that never rippled or flowed down my back the way I wanted it to and when I cut it off this summer it felt like freedom but it also felt a little bit like failure. I see the weight I haven't yet lost, may never lose, because I am built to be short and curvy and I will not, will not starve myself, work out for hours, deny myself every last treat or cocktail just to attain that magical number on the scale. 

I know that my female friends will tell me how beautiful I am- and I will believe them- but when my male friends tell me I look good, I will feel more validated, because I am a hetero woman and I want to look good in men's eyes. Tell me you haven't felt that way; go on, tell me. 

I know that there are as many types of "beauty" as there are people on this planet, and yet I will always feel too short, too brunette, too plump, even though I know that even models are eaten up with self-loathing. 

I read, nightly, about rape, about abuse, about the ridiculous ways that female athletes at the olympics are treated in the media. I know people who can't run, can't exercise because of health issues, or abuse, or depression. Are their bodies any less lovely than mine because they don't have my good genes, or good fortune? 

I want to say that my decision to eat better and exercise more is an experiment in willpower- and it is- but it is also firmly rooted in a desire to look good, and not just for myself.

I can't tie this post up tidily at the end here; I have a few disjointed things to say and that's it:

When I work out, when I eat better, when I do yoga, I feel fierce and strong and self-confident. I am proud of what I can make my body do. As a musician and a writer, I see it as a strong example of what happens when you cultivate a daily practice. (Funnily enough, I have always been far more successful when it comes to exercising regularly than when it comes to playing music or writing on the daily.) I will not apologize for either my good genes or my good luck, but I will try to honour them by treating my body with love. In all its stages and levels of health.

I want to tell everyone- and especially anyone who's just feeling as if it's all totally beyond them- that it IS possible. You can make small changes in what you choose to eat. And then make bigger changes. If you are able to, you should do something physical. Because there are so many people who would kill to be able to do what you take for granted. (But if you can only handle one thing, change what you eat.) 

If you are a big, healthy, confident woman who revels in her sexy curves, then I salute you. I want to believe that I am as beautiful as you. And I know how hard you've worked to love yourself. If you're thin, tall, blond model-material who hates herself, I wish you peace and self-acceptance. 

For me, I just want more years of good health, more days of smart choices, more moments of happiness and confidence. I want to carve out some time for myself, even when things get hectic again this Fall, as they surely will. And I want that for you too, whoever and however and wherever you are. 

To Be A Rock and Not To Roll

Good gravy! Is anyone else having trouble yanking themselves out their holiday torpor, or is it just me? This December I had a dangerously seductive combination of (just) enough money, and plenty of time off, and I'm a bit ashamed to say that I really did very little over the holidays. I read, I lazed with the cats, I didn't even see many friends, if I'm going to be honest. I was a wee bit of a hermit, and I kind of liked it. 

But now the New Year is here, with all of its
New! 
Fresh!
Beginnings! 
Jolting me unwillingly out of my comfortable little rut and back into the fast lane.

Jay sent me a link to this lovely little animated video. Go ahead, watch it. It won't take long:

"I feel like that rock," I admitted to him the other day. "All this stuff keeps happening to me and I just want to... sleep." 

I feel a strange kinship with the sleepy little rock in this movie, who just wants to rest, but keeps being yanked into the most extraordinary situations, kind of like an inanimate Forrest Gump. 

Which is making me face an uncomfortable truth about myself:

I am the kind of person who lets things happen to them rather than making things happen. 

Which isn't to say I haven't had an amazing professional life. Let's see, I've

• played live gigs in Istanbul
• spent 5 summers doing historical theatre in a gold rush town
• made my living (kinda) as a freelance musician
• played in all kinds of bands, from Turkish to left-wing folk to Slavic soul
• worked for all kinds of theatre companies in Vancouver and elsewhere, from tiny struggling companies to some of the top professional companies in the city. 

...and all kinds of other good stuff.

But imagine how much more interesting it could be if I made my own plans?

If I said 

• I'm going to write and perform my own 1-woman show.
• I'm going to record an EP or album this year and get some of my talented friends to play on it.
• I'm going to take classes and learn something new this year to make myself more hireable.
• I'm going to actively improve my singing and piano playing.
• I'm going to contact more seniors' homes and get them to book me as an entertainer, rather than waiting for them to call me. 

Wow! I just came up with most of that stuff in 5 minutes! Imagine what could happen if I put some real time into making my life happen. 

But making your life happen instead of letting life happen takes courage.

It means letting go of your (my) fear of rejection and ridicule.

It means working hard, every day. 

It means never getting comfortable, always challenging yourself to try something new, something scary, something hard. 

But there are so many rewards, and my own history proves this. 

When I decided to apply for a music director job on the BC Arts Alliance website, I made a connection that would lead to six years of demanding, rewarding, life-changing work in a northern town.

When I left a stagnant relationship, I opened myself up to new adventures, and it gave myself and my ex-partner a new lease on life.

When I say 'yes' to teaching a class that I don't know much about at the music school where I work, I learn so much, and feel way more relaxed and at ease the next time I am challenged to take on something new.
I decided on a whim to go to Seattle and take a class with a yoga teacher who really inspired me. It was a wonderful weekend.

When I took decided to join a dating website, I met a wonderful man. And yes, I was the one who contacted him! In fact, he'd gone on to the site that day to shut down his profile, as he hadn't had any success, and then he saw my message. So...

When you take action, amazing things can happen. And yeah, I know that I sound like a goddamn motivational speaker on TedTalks right now, but I'm psyching myself up, yo. 

Today I got up, went for a run, did yoga, and worked- actually worked- on some stuff when I found out I had extra time because a meeting got cancelled. It's the first day in this new year that I can actually say that I felt supercharged with energy and purpose. And yeah, I know I'll backslide, but I really do believe that there can be a snowball effect. After all, as that cute little cartoon shows, an object in motion tends to stay in motion. 

The time for being a sleepy little rock is past! 

If I can look back at 2016 next January and honestly say that I took more control of my life, I will be beyond proud, even if I failed at some things. Especially if I failed, because that means that I put myself out on a limb, big-time. 

Because I'd like to say "Oh, torpor? Apathy? That's so 2015!" 

How To Lose Friends & Piss People Off With Social Media!

A couple weeks ago I played an open mic at a local coffee bar. I like to do that every once in a while; it's a great incentive to write new songs, and performing alone or with one other person is a great way to stay sharp and hone my stage skills. That night I played several songs alone, and several more with my friend B, and the crowd loved it. The same night, a group of young men played an acoustic set at the cafe. They were energetic, fairly skilled, and their harmonies were pretty tight. After their set I asked one of them the name of their group and when he told me, I looked them up on Facebook, figuring I'd give them a "like" and stay up-to-date on what they were up to. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that these young men  had more than fifteen thousand "likes" on their Facebook page! (And now they had one more- nice work, Gentle Machine.)

It's something I've been thinking a LOT about lately, given that I'm competing in my 3rd contest in a row, and social media has played a large role in all of them. This is the new reality, folks: life IS a popularity contest, no matter what your mom told you. This winter I applied for a tour-guide job in which a large part of the application consisted in sending in a short video telling the company why you'd be perfect for the job. Well and good- making that video was fun. Posting it to Facebook and getting my friends to vote? Well, that went against the grain a bit, as my very quiet, English, don't-make-waves sensibilities came to the fore. But I posted, and people voted, and although I didn't get the job I was so happy with my friends' endorsements and votes.

Contest #2: CBC's Searchlight competition, with Lone Crow Jubilee. Emboldened by my first social media contest, I plugged this one more strenuously, and I know that several bandmates went all out (and more power to them) to secure us as many votes as possible. Sadly, we lost in the second round. This contest is entirely based on popularity, at least until you get a few echelons higher than we did. Now I'm not being sour-grapes about this. I know there were other reasons why I didn't get that tour guide job (not bilingual, wrong demographic), and why we didn't advance in the Searchlight contest (new band, lack of experience, need better recordings), but sometimes I feel trapped by the social media machine. How can I get better at manipulating it without letting it take over my life and alienating my friends?

May has been an exciting month. My guy and I finished our first collaboration and- at the stroke of midnight, give or take- submitted our entry in the Telus Storyhive music video contest. A month of writing, arguing, laughing, filming, drawing and recording was over... but the hard work was just beginning. Because for the last 2 weeks we've had to throw all our energies into the publicity machine, and the publicity gods are always hungry. Now I had the bit firmly in my teeth: I was shameless. I messaged people. I emailed friends, family, co-workers, ex-lovers... just about anyone I could think of. I have posted daily, on Twitter, Facebook (both on my artist page AND my homepage), Google+, LinkedIn...  We've honestly tried to make it interesting. We've started a production blog on Tumblr, so fans can check out our work-in-progress. We've shot short, funny videos about location scouting and costuming for the video. (How I wish I'd had the forethought to film last month, when I was recording my song... but I didn't.) We link to YouTube, where our videos live.

And still we languish in the bottom 50 percent of contestants. I know this, because I receive encouraging emails from Storyhive every few days, telling me so. So what did we do wrong/what did we do right? Sometimes they're one and the same...

• Posted every day, sometimes more than once. I admit, I probably over-saturated my market. Like I said, I tried to keep it interesting... but I'm sure my friends are probably sick of the very existence of this contest by now. Seeing as we only had 20 days to get votes, we had to hit people hard and often, but it's a fine line, right?
• Bad timing: It was the THIRD contest in a row for me! If my poor friends never see the word 'vote' on my pages again, it'll be too soon. Not much I could do about that... except give everyone a well-deserved break from any kind of online shilling for a good long time after this.
• Had some fun: J and I shot some really fun videos yesterday: a location-scouting one, which I edited into a Bollywood-style 'movie' trailer (thanks, iMovie!), and one where we scoured a funky vintage store for the music video perfect costume... and found it, to boot. The vids are short, snappy, and funny. I've posted them on Youtube, linked to them on Twitter, FB and elsewhere, tagged and hashtagged the @#$% outta them... and still, they are little-viewed. Sigh. 
• Small audience. Most of my "fans" are still also personal friends/coworkers at this point. I am so very grateful to them for everything they've done... but until I start getting other fans- and I mean people who don't know me personally- I will have a very small group of people getting bombarded with too much promotional material. I really want to keep my personal life and my professional life more separate; to post promotional stuff ONLY on my artist page/website/Twitter and keep the personal homepage simply for fun, but right now that's just not possible. 
• Your allies are important: J and I are the project leads for this contest. I value his skills very highly... but he doesn't have a huge network either. I made a half-hearted attempt to find our team a social media strategist, but I didn't try hard enough. If I had the chance again I'd have hired someone before we even finished submitting our pitch- hell, I should really hire someone NOW...for next time. I'm a good writer, J is a wonderful artist, and we're both spending a LOT of time on the internet, plugging our project. But a social media strategist might have had links to newspapers, websites we didn't think of, a fan base we haven't uncovered.
• Too late: Now was NOT the time to start building a fanbase/social media empire. The ideal time would have been a year ago... or more. But honestly, a year ago I didn't think I'd be competing in a music video contest, having my solo material professionally recorded, and reaching out to the music community in search of accordion students. You do what you can, WHEN you can. It's never too late. 

If you were to hold a gun to my head, I'd have to admit that I don't rate our chances of winning this contest very high, based on our popularity out there in the ether. 

However.

The two of us have learned an incredible amount from all this. We learned that we could work together. We solidified our creative vision for this little song of mine, and shared it with as many people as we could. The "popularity contest" aspect of this competition has forced us to work harder than we otherwise would have... and I've had an amazing time learning about publicity, from hastagging to Reddit (okay, still figuring out Reddit. It confuses me).

I've spent time watching our pitch over again, and watching other artists' pitches for this contest, and you know what? We have a damn solid idea, and to be fair to Storyhive, they are judging all of us by other criteria, not just popularity. I see some great lyrics, a unique design concept, a realistic creative treatment and budget. I am honoured and delighted that the person I love wants to make art with me. 

If I pissed you off this spring with all my self-promotion, I'm sorry. These projects all meant a great deal to me, but that doesn't mean that they meant anything to you, and I get that, because I feel exactly the same way about your projects most of the time. When you want something from me and you reach out to me through social media, I promise to be more generous with my attention than I have been in the past, because I've learned the hard way that this stuff takes a lot of work. And I will try not to respond based solely on how YOU supported ME during this terrific, challenging, crazy, creative month. 

Well, I said I'll try. But I'm not making any promises. 

Rats in the Basement

     My love and I are sitting on the sand at Wreck Beach. There are maybe fifteen other people down here and only one of them is naked at this clothing-optional site, so I mischievously suggest that we remove our clothes. The day is surprisingly warm for March and we've just biked here so we're sweaty: seconds later we are naked in the sand, comfortably propped up against a log, gazing out to sea.
     From Wreck Beach you can see water spreading out before your eyes; you can also see planes taking off from the airport. I wave saucily at one. The planes and the beach are uncomfortable reminders on this happy day with my guy: reminders of planes that didn't make it, and of starving sea lions not so far from here.
     "I just want to die happy," I say. "I want to die 20, 30, 40 years from now not trying to remember how life was before some kind of cataclysm." I nuzzle my nose against his cheek, where I go to imprint his smell in my brain. "And I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
     "I just want to live happy," he answers, my guy who is practical and funny and kind and loving and tough and infuriating and stubborn and gentle and smart.
     Are we hurtling towards the end? Guess what: we all are, whether the ice melts or not, whether our water runs out or not. I try to keep a balance between burying my head in the sand and knowing what's going on in the world because too much news is bad news and too much bad news is like opening your basement door and seeing thousands of rat eyes staring back at you. When 9/11 happened I remember literally wanting to stop the world and get off, because nowhere felt safe.
     This is it, this is the world we're stuck with. I scrunch my toes in the sand and send up a silent prayer of thanks that I have the luck to spend a lazy Saturday with someone I love. We brush off the sand and don our clothes again and I challenge him to see how many stairs we can run up on our way back to the bikes. We are alive, we are in love, we are healthy. For now that's plenty, that's enough.

Staining Backward

“Holmes speaks of grief “staining backward” through the pages of life; but Valancy found her happiness had stained backward likewise and flooded with rose-colour her whole previous drab existence. She found it hard to believe that she had ever been lonely and unhappy and afraid.” -L.M. Montgomery, "The Blue Castle" 

Vancouver seduced me this Fall like a guilty lover holding out a brilliant bouquet. The last two years I'd stumbled back into town from the north feeling alienated and a little lost. My moods were dark; so was the weather. Okay, last year the weather was amazing, but I wasn't. So I packed, this time around, feeling apprehensive about this challenging season, and happy to decompress for a few days at my dad's before coming home. 

And I am afraid to tempt fate here, but it's so wonderful to be back! The weather helps a lot, of course, and this October has been literally nothing but gorgeous sunshine and a lot of atmospheric fog. For the first time in the twelve years (!) I've been working at the pumpkin patch, there has been no rain. At all. Now we still have six days to go, so anything could happen. But this is truly incredible, and all of us are very, very grateful. (And yeah, I know: climate change, global warming, blahblah, but...)

That I love my work with all my heart, that I even have work, is also helping. I have paycheques coming in, and the promise of work until mid-December, and it is all 'real' work; that is, work that I am trained for and enjoy doing. I spend sunny/foggy days at the pumpkin patch, or I attend rehearsals for this and am so happy to be doing live theatre again. Or I get together with friends and rent a double bass and play folk music and score us sweet gigs. Or, super-extra-bonus: I get to be on a committee that selects who will be nominated for the Vancouver professional theatre awards (known as the Jessies), so hello! Free theatre tickets to All The Plays.

And lastly, a change of address is coming up. I will miss Hastings Sunrise immensely, but:
Goodbye, loud traffic and incredibly annoying crosswalk beeper!
Farewell, messy roommates!
Sayonara, rat shit in the living room! 

But you know, I've been showered with good fortune before and sometimes it just made me feel tired. And overwhelmed. So I have to think that at least some of the change is coming from me. I am healthy, my spirit is strong, I wake up every morning feeling excited to begin the day. Maybe it's luck, maybe it's circumstance, maybe it's exercise, maybe it's a change in the mysterious chemistry that powers my body (when I think back to the exhaustion and despair I felt at times last year I have to wonder), but whatever it is: long may it last.

Or maybe it's just the coffee. 

Some stream-of-conciousness for your Friday afternoon.

My new roommate says goodbye on his way out the door. It may or may not be worth mentioning that he is wearing stilts made to look like goat legs, horns, a wolf-pelt cape, and carrying a set of bagpipes. With the stilts on he is seven-and-a-half feet tall. Watching people react as he walks across the road and wait for the bus is always fun.  The other night we watched "Django" together in the living room. This is worth mentioning because until I launched a full-on cleaning assault on the living room, it was only barely a room, and didn't fit the definition of "livable".

One roommate is still in the hospital; the new one moves in and now the living room is clean and sports a workstation where the new guy builds MIDI bagpipes, outrageous costumes, flame-shooting metal flowers to mount on his bagpipe drones. If this was a story, you'd accuse me of inventing a household that was too quirky to be believable: the stilt-walking piper, the eternally perky actress, the depressive who lives in his own garbage. And me. Oh, and the mice.

Yeah, the mice. I was watching "Community" in the sitting room the other night when a shadow scuttled by the chair opposite me. No part of me wanted to investigate further. I closed my laptop, turned off the lights and retreated to my bedroom. My mattress lies right on the floor; you can guess how well I slept that night. Hence the cleaning assault. Also the shameful part of me that wishes that the dirty roommate stays in hospital longer. Because when he gets out we have to have A Talk. And I hate confrontation.

"Do you want to go and have a drink?"
The words out of my mouth before I can check myself, made bold by wine and a relaxing evening playing music with friends. He agrees, and we walk towards my place, end up at a hotel bar where we talk and drink until closing times kicks us out a few hours later.
Waiting for the bus in the rain I say hesitantly "I'm glad we can hang out together like this. I know I can never undo what I did to you but I'm so glad we can be friends." He agrees. We begin to talk, for the first time, about how it was to leave each other, how it was good and bad and pain and freedom all mixed together for both of us, how the years have been since it happened. We wave one late-night bus by, then another. Finally we decide to get in out of the rain and continue talking at my place until almost three in the morning. Some serious stuff but a lot of just catching up, too. Two friends, filling each other in on their jobs and their hopes and their lives.

Today I went downtown to the stadium to pick up my running kit for the Sun Run. I signed up before I heard the news from Boston, but it did make me extra-glad to be running this year. I've been working out weekly but not running, so it could be an epic fail on my part, but I shelled out sixty bucks on a sports bra that will keep the girls locked in place and get rid of the dreaded Uniboob, so I'm psyched. If I can still walk afterwards, I'll find my brother and sister-in-law somewhere in the throngs of runners and we'll celebrate by going somewhere where we can pack on all the calories we just burned.

This is Limbo right now: I still have exams but my head's not at school anymore. I have to leave town soon but it hasn't really hit me yet. I have nothing much happening in town before I leave and yet the future is cloudy...

Oh, I got headshots the other day. With all the back-and-forth on the Dove Real Beauty Sketches it was cool to see what the camera made of me. Of course, I see all the usual flaws, but overall I liked what I saw. And I'm eternally grateful to my friend Taylor, who took these shots for free.

I don't know if this is what beauty looks like, but it's what I look like. 

old/new

It was one of those moments that became bigger than it actually was, alive with resonance.
I got taken to a New Year's Eve party last night, like many other people all over the world. And like many people, it was a party I didn't particularly want to go to: I didn't know too many of the other guests, I was tired, and angry with my date, and to top it off I knew there would be language barriers, as most of the other guests were French or South American. In fact, I very ungraciously snarled "If I hate this party, I'm going to leave," to my poor date when he phoned me. But there was no viable alternative: no one I knew had invited me to a party, so I couldn't counter with a better offer. I resentfully showered and made myself look as pretty as I could, given my bad mood and the extra pounds the holidays had left behind.
It was slow going at first. I was unable to shake off the resentments that I was feeling, and although the other guests were gracious, there were language issues and I felt a bit isolated, and unwilling to make the effort to integrate myself into the party. But slowly, things began to change- no, I began to change- and it was all because of the music.
You see, if you put a bunch of Latinos in a room with some good speakers and a huge iTunes playlist, there will be dancing. And so we danced: sexy 20-something women, an older lady in her seventies, our assorted husbands/boyfriends... and eventually, me.
I love to dance. I'm not all that good at it, especially when it involves dancing with someone rather than just hurling myself around a room by myself, but I am very committed. And at this party, that was what counted. And quite quickly, all the anger and negativity and nasty thoughts and insecurities I'd brought with me simply left my mind as I moved my body in time to the music and bonded with the other partygoers despite our age and cultural differences. I couldn't even remember why I'd had those ugly feelings in the first place. It was a beautiful moment of shedding all the bad things with the dying of the old year, and feeling nothing but happy as 2013 was born.
I know there will be plenty of storms this year. My blissful month of rest and laziness is almost over and I have mixed feelings about going back to the whirlwind of school, followed by another superbusy summer up north (probably my last one as it's time to move on). My relationship will probably continue to provide both moments of beauty and moments of supreme frustration as we try to juggle all the demands on our time as well as the challenges of our different ages and cultures. I know I still have to work on subduing some of the sneaky little demons that hold me back in life.
But if I can just hold on to that wonderful, weightless moment when all the bad stuff just rolled off my back, if I can remember that the worst day can be scrubbed away with some exercise or exertion,  if I can make time for the friends and family who hold me up, if I can look past all the ego of ME to the bigger picture, then this year will be truly wondrous.
Happy 2013 to you all.

I want to be as fabulous as THIS girl. Oh wait, that's me!

Biology/Biography

I went to an acupuncturist yesterday and all the while she put needles into my back and feet and arms I felt bubbly, almost euphoric, as I lay face-down on her table. I probably looked like a giggly porcupine. Then she stuck glass jars all over my back (it's called "cupping") and it felt like being attacked by an octopus. I floated home on a cloud of bliss; I was in love with the whole world.
Today, the flipside. I wake up feeling as though an army of dwarves has pummeled me while I slept. I am sore, and sad. I have jar-shaped hickeys all over my back. The acupuncturist, who had a lovely Columbian accent, reminded me that "your issues are in your tissues", a saying which I found delightful yesterday, and all too true today.
So much has happened in less than two years. I had cancer. I had surgery. I had to rush back to work after almost no time to recover from the surgery. I let two men go out of my life. I moved. I started school the DAY AFTER I came back from my summer-long work. I juggled a busy school and work schedule... And now my body is exhausted. My issues- sadness, worry, guilt, frustration, anxiety, ambition, money troubles- are hurting my body... There is so much love and good fortune in my life too but right now I feel subsumed by the bad things and they are working their way out through my body. I don't recommend running for you, she tells me. Slow walks: notice the trees and the sky as you walk. Yoga. Tai Chi. Don't do that cleanse (I was thinking of doing the Master Cleanse for a few days). Eat well. No stress. You need to look after your body. 
I don't always eat well. It's been just over a week since I quit eating desserts and I fantasize about licking the biggest candy cane in the world from time to time. Instead of sugar I eat salty fatty snacks (like Barbara's Jalapeno Cheese Puffs- Look! It says "All Natural" on the bag, so they're healthy, right?) I made lamb stew last night but the dumplings fell apart so now it's Lamb Stew with Thick Flour Paste and I chased it with like a million crackers anyway. When I eat something I love, especially sugar, I have to eat it until it's all gone. I have no self control.
I am impatient. I read books fast. I grind my teeth when people around me are slow, either to move, or to 'get' things. When I DO exercise, I like to be breathless and sweaty at the end of it. Yoga and Tai Chi don't fit the bill, but maybe I have to make them fit. Maybe I also have to let patience fit into my life as well, or the dwarves will keep on pummeling me until I'm really sick.
Today I wanted to be looked after but my sweetheart is looking after his five year-old, who's also sick, and I clenched my teeth and thought Do I have the patience and the selflessness to be with someone who has kids? Can I put myself second, for a little person I haven't even met yet? And the answer is a resounding I don't know. It's another issue right now, the elephant in the room. At times it shrinks to nothing and at times it's so big I can't see round it to all the good things. I don't know how to adapt to a life with someone who has three kids with two exes and needs to grab work when he can and god, you do the math- between all that and me being at school and working when do we spend time together?  And more importantly- because of course we DO find the time- what kind of future can two people build who are so far apart in age and experiences and goals? Always the underlying question: what do you want whatdoyouwant? From love, from life, from work, from school. And again, the resounding I don't know.
 My singing teacher told me to take deep breaths today and I almost started crying. I can't breathe properly, I told her with tears in my eyes. It's been a problem- an issue- ever since I was little. I get stressed and I take these shallow, gaspy breaths and if I breathe 'deeply' I feel panicky and air-deprived.
Yoga
Meditation
Healing

Patience. 
And from my window, as a reminder, this:

*NOT Starbucks, silly. The rainbow.

back in the Cariboo

Meet-and-greet party tonight for all the staff of this crazy historical museum/town/archeological site that I work in. I already said my hellos to most of the people I really like up here, but it was nice to go for a bit. I dunno, I don't really do parties very well. A flaw, really. I had a couple cups of wine, said my hellos and skedaddled. I love the possibility of Spring here: who will I party with, who will I get closer to, who will catch my eye... well, no one that way, hopefully. I have to be good. We are all so busy and insular right now, but I know that as summer winds on, new friendships and alliances will form, and the fun lies ahead.
My sweetheart writes to me and his words are balm to my soul. It's lovely having someone to miss. I look forward to showing him my town, and to feeling his arms around me. I write back: long emails. Some of it is stuff I'd normally say here: description, stories of work; some of it is stuff that's only for him.
I try to find words for you, for the internet, for my memories... I love performing. It's good to be here. I think about where I was this time last year and I shake my head. So lucky, so very, very lucky, I am. I am healthy and doing work that I love and as my sweetheart says, it's great to have someone to miss, even if that sucks sometimes.
Last year I came back up here after my surgery and my breakup and all I could find for a while was poetry and photographs, so maybe that's what I'll do again here. Something different from the what-I-did-this-week emails I send my man. I won't abandon this space, that's for sure. We'll see.

A bunch of stuff.

Well, we actually had a few days of sun and almost-warmth before the Bad Rain Gods caught up with VanCity again. Most notably, the rain was absent for much of my friend Gill's visit last week. Gill was my friend (and awesome roomie) many years ago, when I was fresh-outta-my-mom's-house and hanging out saucer-eyed at Bard on the Beach, falling in luuurve with cute actor boys. For a while, she lived in the basement of a giant house in Kits and I lived in the front half of the top floor. God, I haven't even thought about those times in ages. It was awesome.
We didn't do too much reminiscing this time around, because we were busy enjoying her little girl, Dani. (Who says things like "I'm writing a story. It's called The Lonely Towel" in an incredibly cute British accent.) I am constantly amazed at how we can pick up with old friends as if we've never left off. I just did it again tonight with my friend Andrea, who was my kindred-spirit buddy when we were kids in Toronto. (and another awesome roomie here in Vancouver, years later) I guess it means that I chose my friends wisely as a kid, and that the true cream-of-the-crop friends will stick around through the years and absences and life changes. Lucky me.
So what else has been going on lately, besides winning big money at the races? and seeing my BFFs? Well, I'm auditioning for school in a couple of weeks, so I enlisted my friends Steve and Dave to record some guitar tracks to sing along to. I love those guys and they did a great job. I may not get into school, but the staff will be all: "who were those great guitar players you were warbling along to?"
Also, this is happening. This may seems like a little gig, but this is big for me. Life-list big. Not only reuniting with some of my best buddies (and my ex, in fact) and playing some of our old stuff, but doing an opening set of my own stuff.
And then it's back up to my summer home for 4 months. So of course I am getting the pangs I always get this time of year, the pangs that remind me how much I'll miss VanCity in the summer. Sun. Ocean. Music. Patios. Free time. Not to mention shitty work prospects and boredom and aimlessness, but still. I know that once I get Up There I will snap into work mode and everything will be good. But it IS hard leaving this city for its finest seasons, however much I may bitch about it here from time to time. The rip and tear of having your heart (and work) in two places, I guess.

Women and Wine

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

Seasonal Sum-up

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.

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.

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

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.

idiot week.

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...

thanksgiving

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..

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.

and then...

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.