My body's in shock today.
It just came back from a weekend at my Dad's, a place where bodies routinely say Is it after 5 o'clock? Then I believe I'll have a glass or 4 of this delicious local wine. And another helping of this wonderful home-cooked meal. And then I'll just flop right here on the enormous couch and watch my annoyingly skinny brother eat a pillowcase-sized bag of caramel corn. What a great idea! Let's have another bowl of cheesecake brownie ice cream!
My Dad's place is not always Gluttony Central, but he does like to relax and indulge when the kids come to stay. And we fall right into line with that, oh yeah. But the pounds piled on, and J & I came back and said well, now's the time. Let's start that low-carb thing we've been talking about for ages. And so we did. And my body is howling for bread and sweet things, waking up tired and sluggish. I wait for the breakthrough day that's supposed to happen, where I will wake up feeling energized and no longer craving something, anything made with flour. J grins and says "I think I can get behind this Atkins thing," and happily devours another bacon slice. (Don't worry, we're eating tons of veggies. But J does love him some bacon.) Meanwhile, if I don't feel better in a day or two I'm gonna make a huge bread-man in the shape of the late Dr. Atkins and devour it all.
After the kids-together vibe of the weekend, where 4 people in their thirties bedded down happily in my dad's basement with the only responsibility being who was going to walk the dogs, I am also feeling very no I don't wanna about buckling down to my various jobs that are coming up fast. I know, it's whiny self-indulgence. I know I'll do it, and hopefully do a good job. But there's always a few days of fear before I get to it.

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My mom left today for the east; starting the tour van at 6 this morning for the long drive to Standard, Alberta. They'll rest there tonight, then keep heading towards Sault Saint Marie for the end of the week. Touring children's theatre is hard work; I should know. She popped in to say goodbye last night, exhaustion already lining her face from weeks of rehearsals. She'll be 63 next month, probably celebrating her birthday by performing 2 shows in some tiny Ontario town. I wish I could give her a bulging savings account and tell her she never has to work again but instead I watched her leave in awe and sadness. She is my mom, my best friend. And I wish she didn't have to work so hard to keep the wolf from the door.

family time

Watching my dad massage olive oil into a beautiful little roast of beef is a lovely sight. So is the Okanagan Lake view from his windows. Spending time with my dad, stepmom, brother, sister-in-law, Jon; all of us under one roof with a pack of three dogs- a convergence of family that doesn't happen as often as it should.

There are many exciting projects on the horizon; not lurking distantly, but crowding closer in a terrible hurry. I'll write about all of those in the future. But for now it's family, and beer, and tasty local wines... and roast beef. A last, lazy weekend before the storm of business and busy-ness descends for at least 2 months.

Of books, Mad Men, and vertigo

I'm working on a list of 100 Facts About Me to post here, but sheesh- it's hard going! Might take awhile. (And then only 4.6 people will ever read it. And of those, maybe 0.7 will care. But it's fun to do anyway.) So in the meantime...

A health update, just 'cause. I felt so awesome yesterday; I was on fire. Went for a killer run; felt energized and invincible. Biked to a Zeellia rehearsal and home; loved it. Drank tons of green tea and water to stay hydrated. As I was heading to bed, noticed that I felt slightly woozy and dizzy, as if I'd had a few too many (I haven't had a drop of alcohol for over a week). Thought: Oh well, I've overdone it a bit. I'll just sleep that off... Woke up this morning with a case of vertigo! That's worn off, thank god, but I'm still feeling kinda crappy. What gives, health gods? Don't make me feel so good one day and then yank me down to earth again the next! 

Watched Mad Men last night with J. We're both loving it- it's a shocking reminder to me of the mind-boggling chauvanism the original Feminists had to fight against; gives me a whole new respect for them. Wouldn't want to live back then, but it's fun to watch. 

Read a funny post from Beck yesterday. I wish I could link you to it, but I've momentarily forgotten the name of her blog. Anyway, it was a post about how she'd written a scathing review of Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, but had taken it down because she was afraid it was too mean-spirited.  I read some of the comments, where people hotly agreed or disagreed with her original post, which I wish I could've read. I have to say, I luuuurved that book, and have read it many times. But I can totally see where the naysayers are coming from: that it can be seen as flaky and self-indulgent and part of the whole navel-gazing, self-centred spirituality that we Westerners are perfecting lately. This review makes some good points, and I really enjoyed Googling other opinions on this hugely popular book. 

I guess where I come from is that I like reading about how a woman my age makes her peace with the fact that she doesn't need children to complete her life, (because- duh- goin' thru the same thing here, folks) and Gilbert was lucky enough to take her child-and-husband-less self off to 3 very interesting places for a year, and concentrate on sensual and spiritual pleasure which sounds delightful. I mean, who wouldn't like a year to focus solely on doing what you feel is right for your mental and spiritual health? And get paid a fat advance for the privilege? And of course you're going to piss off others, who say Well, your flaky-schmaky quest for god is BS, lady and I'd like a year to go stick my head up my ass but there are bills to pay and butts to wipe and how dare you rub your lucky fate in my face and have the cajones to whine about your love life?

Which, ok. But we don't all have to make the same choices. I can see why some folks think that it's part of this whole OprahmagazineEckhartTolleBuddhistLite self-indulgence masquerading as self-help. But I think you can also enjoy this book as a fun piece of travel writing and the story of how one woman had a transformative year. 

Anyway, rant over. 

I neglect my bike for years at a time. Then one day something clicks; I drag it from the balcony to clutter up the "hall" in our apartment, and begin to take it everywhere I go. That's where I'm at these days.
This morning I rode down to the East Van Farmers' Market, a ritual I try to fit into every Saturday, especially as there are only a few markets left this year. It was crowded, as it always is (the best time to go is early, and when it's pouring rain- not too many people to contend with): They let dogs in the market, which I think is great. Also strollers, which is not so great for traffic. Here's one sad doggie whose owner didn't bring him along, for some reason:Fall is the best time to go to the market: there's corn, apples, and many squashes, if that's your thing. I don't much like to eat squash, but they sure take a pretty picture:
Trout Lake looked beautiful through the changing leaves: (I don't know why there's a strip of red at the top- some Photoshop blunder on my part).
And finally, after a ham-and-cheese crepe and a rare Americano (when I do coffee, I go for the hard stuff), I cycled back home again, stopping to take a picture of the Grandview Cut, in all its Autumn glory:
Just another lazy Saturday near the Drive.

Storytime

Ever since I can remember, I had a vivid fantasy life. Get your mind out of the gutter- I don't mean those kind of fantasies (although they pop up from time to time, of course). But the world of my imagination has always been an absorbing place I can escape to when real life is dull. I mean, I was mocked by a little "friend" when I was about 6 for walking down the street telling myself stories out loud. After that, I learned to keep my lips sealed, keep the stories inside. But they never went away, they just changed as I grew up.

"It really bites my ass when you answer me like I just asked the stupidest question in the world," J complains tonight. After a tense few minutes, I apologize, because he's right, after all. Tired and grumpy, feeling pulled in a bunch of different directions, I lash out at J because he's... there. Because he's (gasp) less than perfect. Because inside my head during a long shift at the kite store I was telling myself stories about falling in love (not with anyone specific, you understand. Or at least, not anybody real.) And then I went out for dinner with the real thing, this person who's spent the last 10 years loving me and arguing with me and cheering me on and not replacing the toilet paper; and it was hard, because I just wasn't in the mood for real life today.

Do you spend a lot of time "inside your head"? Do you think that living "with your head in the clouds" sustains you or distracts you from getting things done? Is a vivid fantasy life just a low-tech version of those computer games like "second life" or whatever they're called?

That's me- out there on the fringe...

As I stared at my friendly, helpful bank teller yesterday, I came to the realization that I had no idea if this person was male or female. This is why I love living near Commercial Drive, folks. Even the bank tellers are interesting. Anyway, he/she set me up with an appointment to talk to a very large man about getting a Visa. And I was approved! In 2 weeks or so, I will receive a credit card with my name on it, the first in my 34 years! OK, I scraped in there by the skin of my teeth, but who cares? Now I can join the leagues of people with crushing debt problems! (Actually, I mostly got the card for ID & emergencies, but I'm sure it'll see a teensy bit of use every once in a while.)

It's been a few days of feeling a little... marginalized, I guess the word is. First of all, our Prime Minister, Stephen "Dead-Eyes" Harper, thinks that the funding problems of artists like me, problems his government created, are of no concern to "ordinary people." Listen up, Dead-Eyes. I don't go to fancy galas. I get up every day and try to scrape a decent living together as a musician because it's what I'm good at. To survive, I take on weird little gigs like working in a kite store or being a dancing pumpkin, for god's sake. And I don't really mind because I'd rather have the freedom of my life than be bogged down with a well-paying job that would eat my soul or a mortgage that would eat my savings (savings? ha, what savings?) I chose this lifestyle; I have to make do with the financial hardships that go with it. But don't call me part of the "cultural elite", whoever they are. In this country, I doubt they even exist.

And then this whole thing of getting a Visa: how come it's so easy for an 18 year-old student to get his hands on one but I only get one because I have a few extra bucks padding out my bank account from my grandma's legacy? Of course, I know the answer: the student gets it because credit cards want to get 'em hooked when they're young and broke and foolish; a 34 year-old who's never owed any money is not an appealing customer. That's why it's taken me so long- don't think I haven't tried to get a card before.

Topping it all off, even the theatre companies I work for have no idea what to do with me. I've had to get snarky with the latest one for not budgeting me for their remount rehearsals. Let's look at this: new cast, five songs (most with 2-part harmony) and you're not going to even think of getting a music director in? And then you're going to get super defensive with me when I ask for some respect? I already had this with another company this summer; I'm getting tired of it.

Lastly... I read 2 very good blog entries yesterday about another set of marginalized people: the overweight. Which I am. Gosh, it was hard to complete that last sentence! I often joke that I have the opposite of anorexia, in that I think I'm thin and gorgeous... until I try to squeeze into a pair of jeans at the mall. I have boobs and hips, people. Even if I was at my ideal weight I WOULD HAVE THESE THINGS. Not to mention short legs, at least, if we're going by the average length of jeans these days. Right now I'm in limbo: not big enough for the plus-size section, not comfy in all those narrow clothes.

Sorry. This sounds very complain-y and I don't mean to inflict that on you, dear 2.8 readers of mine. I'm not even in a bad mood today. It's just that I'm surprised, I guess. My life and my job feel so...normal to me. But I guess they are a little "out there". Which I don't mind, as long as I don't start feeling invisible.

Grrrr. Rage. Grump.
That was me, yesterday. Why, I have no idea. Well actually, it was because I didn't get what I wanted and it was my own fault, which is one of the most frustrating positions to be in. Wanted to change my cel phone over to Koodo, since Telus is ripping me off (and I know, Koodo is a subsidiary of Telus which poses the question: why do Koodo users not have to pay the system activation fee while I do?) Couldn't switch over because I have no ID right now because it was stolen waaay back in February and I was too stupid to get it replaced back then and am paying for it now. Also I don't have a credit card, which makes companies nervous. I also need to update the memory on this computer of mine so that I can install the incredibly complex software I need to know my way around for this film scoring course I start next week...! And I couldn't get that done because it's a slightly older Mac (about 3 years, which is practically antique in computer terms) and there were no appropriate chips to be found.
Anyway, I do like my instant gratification, and when I don't get it, I get grumpy. But luckily, J & I made a bizarre impulse buy that was so unexpected that it took away my bad mood.
After all, there's nothing like an antique Chinese wooden arch/headboard to brighten up a gloomy day, is there?
*UPDATED LATER* My marvelous machine is now equipped with a fiery 2 gigabytes of RAM. I can now install the fearsome Logic Studio and begin ruling my home music studio empire. Very slowly. And with much gnashing of teeth, probably.