It's come and almost gone, the weekend I was dreading. Three gigs, all of them challenging in their own way, and all of them were fantastic. Not, always, technically the best playing or the purest singing. But at every one of them I found things to delight in, whether it was the joy of trying something new (playing accordion in a leather mask, anyone?), reviving an old band with a bunch of friends (Flying Folk Army!) or winning over a crowd of jazz fans on a sunny deck (Pender Harbour Jazz Fest)... it was busy, and exciting, and exhausting too (I got about 2 hours' sleep last Friday night).
So once again I feared something because it seemed too challenging, too scary, too much work... and it became pure fun, from beginning to end. You'd think I'd learn by now, right? Nope.
I have another hectic bunch of weeks coming up: a project that I should have done more work on over the summer is finally here, and I need to buckle down hard to get it done. Plus, there's school, which is a whole 'nother thing. I want to keep my head above water. I really want to not fail any of my courses. And then there's my social life- I'd like to still have a few friends in four years when this academic craziness is all over.
Do you know what I do? Some people cook to relieve stress, some people make things or take long baths... I eat, certainly (and damn you, Capilano U, why do you have to have a Tim Horton's lurking so that I want to buy donuts all day long?), but mostly I come home and grab the electronic bug zapper. You know, it looks like a tennis racket, but when you press a red button it becomes electrified and kills bugs on contact.
What can I say? The summer heat is still upon us, fruit flies are breeding like mad in our kitchen, and the zap! spark! crack! of the Bug Racket fills me with inner peace after a long day.
*I may not be around too much in the next few months as school is really kicking my ass. However, I will try and check in once a month at least, and as a personal challenge, I am going to try and add a photo every time, to make this blog more interesting on the eyes. Wish me luck...
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Being Schooled.
They are like deer, these girls, like long-legged does.
I see them on the bus in the mornings, loping around campus in the afternoons. They are giggling with their friends, they are wearing short shorts, so that their perfect brown legs go on forever. They all have long, shiny hair, looped casually back from their perfect pure faces, or hanging straight down past their shoulders. They are impossibly young. Today in Jazz History we were talking about the best places in town to see live jazz gigs and one of them asked Is that a 19-plus bar? and I realized that I am taking classes with people who cannot legally drink yet.
If ever there was an incentive for me to want a drink, that was it.
The boys-and they mostly are boys, not yet men- aren't so bad, somehow. They're so far from perfect, with their skinny jeans and their fashionably awful goatees and their pimples. They're brash, some of them, and the rest are awkward and silent. Most of them, boys and girls alike, avoid looking at me. In my more paranoid moments, I believe it is because they believe they will catch my oldness like a disease. I know that really, they are mostly shy, or socially inept. Some of them are barely out of high school, after all. But some of them have so much more confidence than I had at that age. Than I still have.
On top of that, most of them know more about jazz than I do.
Okay, so there are many, many good things: the campus nestles in the north shore trees and is small and warm in the sun. I think that most of my classes will be interesting, and also my teachers, although I mistrust the one who memorizes all of our names right off and (mostly) correctly guesses what instrument we play. He is a little too pleased with himself. I see the boys and girls giggle at his barb-tongued remarks and think Either you're going to grow on me, or you're an arrogant prick. We'll see. I get to challenge two of my classes; Class Piano and Sight Singing/Ear Training which basically means I can do the homework and not have to show up, because I already know a lot of the material. That's cool. I like learning again, although my fingers stray too often to email and Facebook as I do my reading and writing. I must learn to be more disciplined.
I will go to sleep early tonight, so that more wrinkles won't form, so the Beauty and Fashion Police who surely roam the campus won't eject me for being too old, too plain, too out-of-place.
I will bide my time, and remember the old bumper sticker that reads Old Age & Treachery Will Beat Youth & Skill Every Time.
I see them on the bus in the mornings, loping around campus in the afternoons. They are giggling with their friends, they are wearing short shorts, so that their perfect brown legs go on forever. They all have long, shiny hair, looped casually back from their perfect pure faces, or hanging straight down past their shoulders. They are impossibly young. Today in Jazz History we were talking about the best places in town to see live jazz gigs and one of them asked Is that a 19-plus bar? and I realized that I am taking classes with people who cannot legally drink yet.
If ever there was an incentive for me to want a drink, that was it.
The boys-and they mostly are boys, not yet men- aren't so bad, somehow. They're so far from perfect, with their skinny jeans and their fashionably awful goatees and their pimples. They're brash, some of them, and the rest are awkward and silent. Most of them, boys and girls alike, avoid looking at me. In my more paranoid moments, I believe it is because they believe they will catch my oldness like a disease. I know that really, they are mostly shy, or socially inept. Some of them are barely out of high school, after all. But some of them have so much more confidence than I had at that age. Than I still have.
On top of that, most of them know more about jazz than I do.
Okay, so there are many, many good things: the campus nestles in the north shore trees and is small and warm in the sun. I think that most of my classes will be interesting, and also my teachers, although I mistrust the one who memorizes all of our names right off and (mostly) correctly guesses what instrument we play. He is a little too pleased with himself. I see the boys and girls giggle at his barb-tongued remarks and think Either you're going to grow on me, or you're an arrogant prick. We'll see. I get to challenge two of my classes; Class Piano and Sight Singing/Ear Training which basically means I can do the homework and not have to show up, because I already know a lot of the material. That's cool. I like learning again, although my fingers stray too often to email and Facebook as I do my reading and writing. I must learn to be more disciplined.
I will go to sleep early tonight, so that more wrinkles won't form, so the Beauty and Fashion Police who surely roam the campus won't eject me for being too old, too plain, too out-of-place.
I will bide my time, and remember the old bumper sticker that reads Old Age & Treachery Will Beat Youth & Skill Every Time.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Four Things.
1. The heat is on. Finally. I am trying not to let a word of complaint pass my lips, even as I swelter in my 15-pound, made-of-curtain-material costume (I'm not kidding.) Because the sun is glorious. Amazing! We went to the lake yesterday and swam for the first time this summer. The tiny lake which was also the first place I swam last year after my surgery. And the site of many a lovely evening swim/BBQ. And the place where my sweetheart recently told me that he loves me. A perfect place to make new summer memories every year.
2. On a hot day, nothing tastes more refreshing than a Raspberry Vinegar drink from Strouss, conveniently located right across the road from the theatre where I work. If you're like me and don't like your drinks too sweet, try this: pour yourself some raspberry juice, and add a dash of apple cider vinegar. It'll quench your thirst like nothing else.
3. I think the sun has already read my blog and is feeling self-conscious, because it's hiding behind some clouds at the moment. Summer in a high mountain town is an exercise in seizing moments
4. Here's my schedule today: I got up, ran 5km, biked 6.5km to work, did a super high-energy show at 1pm, have another show at 4pm, have a rehearsal after that, and then will bike another 6.5km home tonight. I think I'm turning into a bit of an athlete. And I love it.
2. On a hot day, nothing tastes more refreshing than a Raspberry Vinegar drink from Strouss, conveniently located right across the road from the theatre where I work. If you're like me and don't like your drinks too sweet, try this: pour yourself some raspberry juice, and add a dash of apple cider vinegar. It'll quench your thirst like nothing else.
3. I think the sun has already read my blog and is feeling self-conscious, because it's hiding behind some clouds at the moment. Summer in a high mountain town is an exercise in seizing moments
4. Here's my schedule today: I got up, ran 5km, biked 6.5km to work, did a super high-energy show at 1pm, have another show at 4pm, have a rehearsal after that, and then will bike another 6.5km home tonight. I think I'm turning into a bit of an athlete. And I love it.
Friday, June 22, 2012
How to Enjoy a Cariboo Summer Day
Sun. Summer.
Try not to look over your shoulder at the lurking rain clouds the wind is blowing in...
Hot days here are fleeting and should be savoured.
Smile at the audience as sweat runs down the inside of your costume-
enjoy the fact that there IS an audience, a large one for a change.
Put an extra bit of bounce in your step, more gleam in your smile.
Sing loudly.
Make a dramatic curtsey at the curtain call.
Hug some kids and your best friend outside the theatre while the audience takes photos.
Get outside for lunch-
Go and sit near the creek and listen to the wind ruffle the firs.
Talk to someone else in costume and love the fact that yours is off and the breeze can reach your legs.
Summer is
an apple's cold crunch against your teeth
a new bicycle waiting for you in the parking lot
rehearsalsrehearsalsrehearsals
Being here is knowing joy, from time to time.
Try not to look over your shoulder at the lurking rain clouds the wind is blowing in...
Hot days here are fleeting and should be savoured.
Smile at the audience as sweat runs down the inside of your costume-
enjoy the fact that there IS an audience, a large one for a change.
Put an extra bit of bounce in your step, more gleam in your smile.
Sing loudly.
Make a dramatic curtsey at the curtain call.
Hug some kids and your best friend outside the theatre while the audience takes photos.
Get outside for lunch-
Go and sit near the creek and listen to the wind ruffle the firs.
Talk to someone else in costume and love the fact that yours is off and the breeze can reach your legs.
Summer is
an apple's cold crunch against your teeth
a new bicycle waiting for you in the parking lot
rehearsalsrehearsalsrehearsals
Being here is knowing joy, from time to time.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I have a cold. A cold is such an insignificant virus, and yet it makes life so hard. I want to sleep all the time. I've hardly been on my bicycle in a week. I snuffle and glower and lurch through the day. I save any energy I have for the 2 shows we do daily.
I am thoroughly grateful that this is happening now, and that I should be getting better by the time we have our gala opening in 5 days. And fully mended by the time my sweetheart arrives in 2 weeks. I am covering myself in oils and ointments from Barkerville's Chinatown, until I smell like a Chinese herbalist's shop; of camphor and mint and eucalyptus. The town cat actually dry-heaved when I petted her today; she hates my smell. I like it, or rather, I would if I could smell it.
There are moments of grace though. We had the day off Sunday and I probably should have slept all day, but instead I went to Barkerville with a co-worker and we did tourist-y things for a few hours. Oh, and I played the church organ for morning service, a ritual I enjoy even if I don't believe in all of it. I bought plants at the town garage sale and went to the place I work even though it was a day off and then we came home and made pasta noodles, from scratch, and ate them- four of us- and there was a lot of laughter and modest amounts of red wine and it was so great to enjoy eating and living with the same people I have to work with all day. It's such a blessing.
I am realizing that I can be a VERY impatient person, and that it can choke me with frustration and rage from time to time, so I am trying to learn to breathe and exercise through this and find some equilibrium. Alone-time helps. Also running and biking (and the occasional glass of red wine).
I am also learning as I get older how much can change in a year and how often I want to say to my year-ago self: Just relax. Focus on all the good things. This too shall pass. One year ago I was newly single and recovering from an operation and I was spinning. Spinning dizzily through change and heartache and freedom and obsession and joy. I don't think I would change too much of that, because it was all useful, but I wish I had been more joyful and less certain that the world would end if someone didn't look at me the right way.
So one year later, I write a letter to my sweetheart and I say: This is new to me. I'm still learning, but I like it, this romance and writing. I feel like the Victorian miners who 'waited on the mail' and sent letters home to distant lands. Vancouver is my distant land now; we have emails and phone calls to sustain us until this month's end and then we will learn each other all over again.
And I look at the person who caused me so much heart-searching over the past year and smile politely and try not to plot scenarios where he realizes how wonderful I am and feels like a
Monday, May 28, 2012
I am supposed to be researching right now.
Tiredness pulls me away from should and supposed-to and must
into surfing and blogging and short sweet sexy notes to someone
I rode my bike home today after the perfect end-of-week show
through growling thunder and sunshine both
Went running with friends, baby, dog
into grey skies and ominous rumbles
the lake steely and flat
and then
full-tilt spring storm unleashing itself
wind brushing water, clouds dropping
HAIL!
So hard we had to crouch behind the stroller to protect ourselves
from the icy stones
Running, biking, performing, rehearsing- I am tired all the time, but
it's a good tired, mostly
Today I wrote: Another day at the office
and that's what it feels like. The new normal: job, room-mates, exercise
Same small town, same faces you smile at as they drive by you
This morning, in the room off the kitchen
where we keep the plastic bags
I see one labelled Personal Belongings and my eyes widen
They gave me that bag last year at the hospital. One year ago yesterday.
Along with disposable underpants, a gown and a few scars
Mostly I don't think about it, about how much changed this time last year
About how it changed so fast
that I brought that hospital bag back to up here with me
and here it still is
And here I am, again. Luckily.
Tiredness pulls me away from should and supposed-to and must
into surfing and blogging and short sweet sexy notes to someone
I rode my bike home today after the perfect end-of-week show
through growling thunder and sunshine both
Went running with friends, baby, dog
into grey skies and ominous rumbles
the lake steely and flat
and then
full-tilt spring storm unleashing itself
wind brushing water, clouds dropping
HAIL!
So hard we had to crouch behind the stroller to protect ourselves
from the icy stones
Running, biking, performing, rehearsing- I am tired all the time, but
it's a good tired, mostly
Today I wrote: Another day at the office
and that's what it feels like. The new normal: job, room-mates, exercise
Same small town, same faces you smile at as they drive by you
This morning, in the room off the kitchen
where we keep the plastic bags
I see one labelled Personal Belongings and my eyes widen
They gave me that bag last year at the hospital. One year ago yesterday.
Along with disposable underpants, a gown and a few scars
Mostly I don't think about it, about how much changed this time last year
About how it changed so fast
that I brought that hospital bag back to up here with me
and here it still is
And here I am, again. Luckily.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
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.
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.
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