eggplant is an unlikely friend.

I have always hated eggplant. It's right up there with zucchini for Things That Make Me Throw Up in My Mouth: mushy, slimy texture, uncertain yet vaguely unpleasant taste and confusingly tough skin. Why, then, does Afghan Eggplant, or Borani Banjan, make me feel so happy?

It's the flavours: a little curry and turmeric, garlic, and  surprising cilantro, all fused together in a rich tomato sauce. The eggplant becomes infused with all this, and its usually icky texture gives way to a pleasant softness. 

It's been a busy week, socially at least. One friend from out of town has just left, and two more are camped in my living room for the next three nights. I'm still catching up with my local friends as well after my 5 months of being away. So many wonderful people to see and catch up with, and yet I've been feeling a little needy and wistful the last few days. Partly it's not having work and yet spending a good deal of money because I want to have a good time with my visitors. Partly it's nervousness, because my next job requires more accordion-playing skills than I think I have. Partly it's that little voice that always harangues me when I am not working: You should be creating/practicing/writing/exercising...  It's failing to keep up my good eating habits, and not liking my hair, and feeling as if I failed some kind of Date Audition with the guy I saw a couple of times who has completely faded from my life, and... I know: neurotic enough for ya?

Being able to re-create this eggplant dish, which I've had at East Is East a few times, actually made me feel really good, because it actually tasted almost the same as it did at the restaurant, and that's a confidence-booster. Plus I was able to feed my hungry friends when they arrived after their 9-hour drive. They probably didn't feel as ecstatic as I did about eggplant and tomato, but I noticed that pretty soon their bowls were both empty. And my spirits rose. 

"Felicity" and social awkwardness

Is there anything that can nibble away at your self-confidence like an opening night?
I just got back from one, and let me tell you- these things are harrowing. This business is all about making connections, being seen. Schmoozing, if you will. And I hate it. Which is why I don't work more, because I can't sell myself. On a glass or two of wine when I'm dressed up and feeling pretty good about myself, I can hack it. Sort of:
Actor/director/designer you haven't worked with in a looong time: Hiiii! Great to see you! How's it going? What's new? Working on anything? (Eyes already glazing over, skating through the crowd to the next, more interesting person.)
Me: Um, I'm okay. Yeah, I was doing a show. It just closed. (And I've been living my life in two vastly different places and falling in and out of love and oh- did I tell you I just moved? And I crochet a lot and I'm single but I have these amazing friends and I get tons of compliments on my singing so mostly I'm superhappy but also riddled with self-doubt and yeah I know you probably are too but you've worked so much more than I have in this town and when I go to these things I am reminded of how on-the-fringe-of-things I am, and-)
Yeah.

See, I just came up with a theory- like, just this minute. Small-talk takes a lot of confidence, because you have to believe with all your soul that people are actually interested in what you have to say.

Last night I came home from another play (not an opening night, however) with this guy in tow. We'd gone to another play last month and really clicked, so I invited him to this one. And after, we walked the short distance to my place and I said "I'm not trying to put the moves on you, but do you want to come in?" Because last time we'd hung out we had this amazing talk that lasted about 3 hours and then he'd kissed me and I thought well, this is interesting. So we go upstairs and I make tea and we talk again but something weird is happening because at a certain point I start feeling a bit like wallpaper. He's telling me all about school and theatre and I realize I'm starting to feel as if I could be anyone. Because he's stopped asking me anything, he's just telling. We could be acquaintances on the bus, it's that impersonal. And when he leaves, he kisses me again but this time I'm thinking to myself Who are you kissing here? Because you don't know me at all. 

Last year, browsing the shelves of my local library for a DVD to watch, I found Felicity. Now it may have been because the pickings were slim, unless I was into Vietnamese romantic comedies. Or it may have been the premise: young girl changes future plans on a whim to follow her dream-crush to college in New York (so romantic! so impulsive! so stupid! so what I would do!). But something about it grabbed me, and over the course of the spring and summer I worked my way through season one when I had a free evening or a day off in Barkerville, and it charmed me. Yeah, it's very '90s, right down to the Lilith Fair-type opening credit music. But it has some great stories, and although it can be earnest, it never takes itself too seriously.

I also kept finding these weird little life lessons in there. See, Felicity is book-smart, but she doesn't know much about life, and love? Love keeps teaching her these painful lessons all the damn time. She's always overthinking everything, and she blurts out the truth when a more together person might just smile and flirt her way out of a situation. She hurts the steadfast people who love her and pursues the unattainable ideal. And yeah, it's a total tv-and-movie cliche that women over-analyze everything about romance while guys just breezily let things happen, but let me tell you, it's not always that far from the truth either. And while the man-hungry ladies-who-lunch of Sex & the City never captured me, Felicity's romantic heart and social awkwardness reminds me of all the things I both love and sigh over in myself.

Well look at that. I'm all moved in. *

*Not actually my stuff. Subletting rocks!

The first item on my to-do list was to find and destroy ALL the mothballs that the last subletter had thoughtfully scattered all over the closet at the sight of a couple small moths. I suspect I haven't found them all yet, because the smell is still, um, pervasive. But I quibble. The apartment is gorgeous.

Again, not my stuff. But who cares?

This week I would come home from rehearsals, curl up on the leather couch in the living room, and read. Or crochet. My rented double bass looks great in the corner. Candles flicker merrily. My stuffed Paddington Bear dozes beside me when I go to bed. He's not as lively as some of my former companions, but he doesn't snore, so I'll keep him for now. I also have to say: I wake up every day with a smile on my face because I am living alone! For the first time in manymany years! Sometimes I notice that I talk to myself a little more than I did with roomies, but that's kinda fun. And because I have no tv (not a new thing, I haven't had tv for over 2 years) I have to make sure I have lots of books and crocheting in the place. Hence my renewed love affair with the library. And the local yarn store. (Alpaca wool! It's as if tiny angel-kitties coughed up angelic hairballs of incredible softness and someone spun them into yarn!)

My show opened last night and closes tomorrow. After many summers of 200+ shows, a 2-show run seems bizarre. I'll miss this one. There are some jobs where you walk in and immediately feel at home, and this was one of those for sure. I think we're lucky, I tell a girlfriend, because we have these jobs where we get to meet new people all the time. Imagine being stuck in an office with the same people for 20 years! We laugh together. We know, all-too-well, the downside of what we do: financial instability, connections that seem deep until the contract ends, but there are upsides too. 

I am coming to trust the cyclical nature of things, friendships in particular. The ex-lover of 20 years ago  who now takes time away from his marriage and two young children to help me move house, who plays music and writes songs with me. The childhood BFF who lives in a northern city and comes to Vancouver every few years or so. When we meet and have dinner it's as if all those years apart don't even matter. The crush of 8 years ago who I see a play with and proceed to talk with for over 3 hours. Even my own brother, who can be remarkably cavalier about replying to my texts, but will open his house to me when I need a place to stay (my sublet only lasts 3 months). This cycle of friends, work and adventures feels like a good and healthy one, and I can only hope that it's a long one, too. 

rehearsal.

J, our director, always greets me with a huge smile and uses my full name: "Hi, Alison Jenkins! It's so great to see you." I've known him for about 15 years; he and my mom are friends and we've worked together before but not for a long time. He has a manic laugh and when things are crazy (which is often, given that this is a show with so many elements and many non-professional cast members) he will turn to someone and say "Can you believe we get paid to do this?" It's partly his way of letting off steam but there is also an endearing truth to it. He is truly happy to be doing this show, which would leave many other directors pulling out their hair.
One day we are working with Mila, a busty Ukrainian woman with little english and a big personality. She sings, I follow her with my accordion while she flirts with the men in the cast. She is having difficulty grasping J's direction, even with the help of Helen, who is translating for her, but when J tells her to approach Steve, who is tall and very handsome, she gives a firm thumbs-up and says "Understand!" "Tell her to flirt more with the audience. Or I'll break her neck," says J, but he's smiling as he says it.
Evening, and I crochet a scarf while the Ukrainian dancers warm up. There are adorable 6 year-olds capering and twirling; teen girls with perfect bodies (although they wouldn't think so); young men and women who can spin and kick in the show-off style of slavic dancers everywhere with their red leather boots flashing. They exercise their brains and bodies, we musicians exercise our brains and fingers, racing through the Kolymykas and Hopaks, always getting faster and faster towards the end, as dances should.
This show is a celebration of a place: the Ukrainian Hall itself, which is where we're performing and rehearsing. So although the acoustics are the worst I've ever experienced- speech and music becomes a mushy wash of sound, and extraneous chatter is impossible to tune out or ignore- there could be no better place to be given that this is a hall with 85 years of history, which we are trying to condense into a 2-hour show. Labour unrest, immigration, racism, marriages, parties and perogy-pinching, all smushed together in 2 hours of... whatever this show will turn out to be. And although I'm not Slavic at all, I wouldn't miss it for the world.

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. 

Wow. Back in the big city again. Sunshine and perfect autumn days easing my transition back into urban life, And friends, always my lovely friends, and family too. 
The night I got back, I was staying at Mom's place and her roommate found two dusty but serviceable-looking bikes leaning against their condo's dumpster. Tires flat as pancakes and the amount of dirt on them suggesting that they hadn't been used in a very long time. I took the more modern-looking one, and with a few minor repairs (plus a new lock and helmet- nothing's really free in this life) I now have a great bike! Which I rode for miles today, zipping up to south Main for lunch with a friend, and then cruising home along sunny backstreets. 
Which goes a long way to make up for the uncertainties of this month: having to unpack from being away all summer and yet start packing again in preparation for my upcoming move to a new (yet still temporary) home at the month's end. A new theatre job starting this weekend- excitement and fear always mixed to a certain extent for a new job. Seeing rat (rat! Ugh!) droppings scattered liberally around my apartment when I got home. (Actually there's no uncertainty there. They are rat droppings, and they make me all the more certain, as if I already wasn't, that I'm doing the right thing in getting the hell outta here.)
Yesterday I felt a bit down about everything, as city life threatened to become overwhelming. Today I feel much better, grateful for a sunny bike ride, for my excellent friend Allan, who has been a huge blessing in my life for the last couple of years, for my sweet mom who does so much for me, and for new possibilities and adventures on the horizon. I know that the instability of my life here makes me worried and afraid sometimes, and that will probably continue, but there are many wonders too, and I feel glad to be able to see them today.*

*However if I actually see a rat in my apartment before I am lucky enough to leave, my worldview will become a great deal more pessimistic again, I know it.

in transition

I rode the Dog today all the way from Quesnel to Kelowna. But back up: first I rode in a car out of Wells (watching fog rising off Jack O'Clubs Lake as we sped past, whispering a goodbye in my mind as we left)... and the day before that I stood at the top of the old tailings pile with my two roommates and looked out over the lake and tossed quartz rocks over the edge as we said our collective goodbyes to the season. The last few days were rough: we were all exhausted, and some of us were sick. Our bodies knew that the season was over and they collapsed, even though we still had to clean the house from top to bottom, and pack up our stuff. Cleaning, parties, goodbyes. In a way it gets easier every year to say goodbye, knowing that in all probability I'll be back in 5-7 months anyway, knowing that I've made as much of a life for myself up north as I have in Vancouver... in a way it's harder too. I'm not just leaving a seasonal job, I'm also leaving dear friends, a way of life that satisfies me deeply, a home where I feel most like myself. And I worry that by living in two different places I'll only have half a life in both.

But anyway, goodbyes and traveling were the order of the day and despite my worries I actually felt really happy today. I rode the Greyhound, which meant lots of unhealthy snacks and some strange characters, but mostly it meant reading and staring at All The Scenery. I am resting for a few days with my dad in Kelowna, before heading back to the city and jobs! and friends! and Vietnamese food! And (drumroll please)... moving to a new place! (which I am sub-letting for a few months and so basically my life is in transition again: I am single and sort-of homeless and not in school and not looking as glamorous as I'd like to and yet feeling amazingly optimistic, all told.)