V-Day

I survived it. Barely. I was fine until about 7:30 and then I started to crack. I was almost in tears as I drove across town after going out to supper with my parents, my brother, his girlfriend, and her brother (which I was thankful for as it saved me from eating alone...although my backup plan was to tag along with a girl friend and her co-workers). I kept busy all day (most of which I spent with my parents) and tried to ignore the fact that I am a single girl on one of the most hellish days of the year for single girls. What hit me was that the guy I was seeing last winter who wants to come back into my life (and who I told I am sort of seeing someone but that we can be friends) texted me to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day and asked if I had plans. The guy I am sort of seeing....did not. I told myself it didn't matter. This is just another day. It's lost all meaning for me, anyway, just as Christmas and New Year's and practically everything else has. On the way home, my brain waged war on itself. I reflected on how silly it is that we nominate one day a year to celebrate different things and how it's just a societal thing that creates these pressures and expectations. That they make people run around like mindless robots buying things because they are so commercialized (when did I stop being one of those people? When did I stop caring about all these holidays and occasions? I used to relish each and every one of them...).

But it sort of does matter. Because I felt it. And it bothers me. I kept it together, though. I ran errands and worked out and talked to a couple of girl friends. I didn't take the guy who wants into my life up on his request to get together when he was done hanging out with his buddy because I didn't know if that was a good idea or not, feeling vulnerable. Now I am home. Alone. Disappointed. And lonely. I unhid my profile on the dating site tonight on impulse. It's been private for a while now because I was tired of getting messages and not really responding to them...or advising my would-be pursuers that I was not currently up for meeting anyone new. Ironically enough, one of the first profiles I saw I am pretty sure is a new one belonging to the aforementioned Cheating Bastard (he was on the scene last winter/spring). His face is not clearly visible, but the stats and description match him to a T and I am 99% sure that I recognize his physique and what I can see of his face in shadow.

Anyway, it's a good thing I have so many things coming up to keep me busy and occupied. Choir tomorrow night and possible coffee with the guy who asked me to go out tonight afterwards, and theatre Thursday night...which will bring me to the weekend. Sigh. The weekend. Always the hardest in terms of smoking. It's Day 23 right now and only one slip back on Day 5ish. I can tell you one thing though...with all the upheaval of the past week and then today's upset, I have certainly tested my ability to fight caving in. I drowned my sorrows temporarily in a HUGE ice cream cone at Costco tonight (the frozen colada I had with supper had run it's course as a void-filler at that point) to avoid buying a pack and lighting up after watching everyone filing through the checkouts with Valentine's goodies in hand (I am thankful that my mother still gets us a little something for each occasion. It sort of helped today). The reliance on food has to stop too, though, because my clothes are getting more than a tad uncomfortable and my wardrobe is shrinking. Which is why I asked my brother's girlfriend to check into some classes we can try together at the gym. Yep, busy will be my new armour. And it will be good for me, too.

Live Each Day Like It's Your Last

I had some sad news today...a close friend of my family died of a heart attack at work. I didn't really know him well...but he was my father's best friend and has been a friend of my mother's for the past 40 years, as well as several of my other family members and they are all shocked and upset by his sudden passing. His daughters used to babysit my brother and me when we were younger. And I had always meant to have a sit down with him and talk about my father (who died when I was really young). I figured who else to get some insight from than his former best friend? A couple of years ago I ran into him during the holidays and the thought crossed my mind that I should do it then - but the timing and the setting were not right. I thought I'd wait for a better time. I waited too long.

Living on the Fly

So midway through my last post (which I actually finished today) I was interrupted by a phone call from my brother's girlfriend. They were heading out to La Manche to go camping and wondered if I'd like to go with. My only alternative at the time was to stay home glued to the TV and computer, so I told them to drop by and give me a sec to get ready and I'd follow them out and stay for supper. Before I knew it, I had a bunch of gear packed (just in case) and was heading out the door. This is nothing short of amazing, as I really don't do spur of the moment well when preparation is needed. We stopped at a convenience store and a liquor store en route and I got other things (just in case). By the time we got there and got the tent set up, I was put on supper duty and my brother was shoving booze at me...that combined with the fog made the decision that I was going to have to stay and tough it out (I can be a bit of a princess at times). Anyway, the rain came down all night and we got soaked, but we did get lots of funny pics in my car during our intermittent escapes from the waterworks, and we did manage to make use of the fire pit to roast wieners and make s'mores. All in all, a good night. I did wimp out on the hike the next day, though...there is a limit to my ability to do things unprepared and the black flies were driving me insane while we were getting packed up to leave the campsite so I headed home to clean up and re-group.

Last night I went to watch the Canada Day fireworks with my three closest friends in town. We all arrived separately and in the nick of time, which made for stories in themselves. It was really good to be together and having a laugh. I'm so thankful to be able to do that. It was a little anti-climactic for me, though, as my worries got the better of me and I ended up leaving early to come home rather than become a party pooper.

Today I was up bright and early and getting geared up for a hike...which was initially cancelled but will now probably be happening in about a half an hour or so. Let's hope the sunshine is good to me...At the very least, it should help me put my anxiety about my current situation in check. Better to be doing something than dwelling on doing nothing.

I'm lucky to have friends and family who notice when I'm not me and rally to support me and bring me back to myself.

Mr. Furley Lives

This post is a little late in coming, but I feel the need to write today and remembered that I'd meant to write about this...

Spring has sprung. I know this not because the snow has melted and the plants are sprouting. Nope. I know it because my stepfather is preparing for the return of 'his' swallows. According to him, they show up about the same time every year: May 24th weekend. SO, in preparation for this, he stocks up on bird feed (which he has anyway because there are bird feeders out front that he keeps topped up year round...he has actually been known to get out the binoculars and crouch in the window to get a close up of the colourful avians that visit...hence my mother's affectionately dubbing him Mr. Furley from time to time), cleans the birdhouse, and whatever else it entails...I have to admit, I don't keep close tabs on him but he does seem rather busy getting things ready for them. Last year, he tried to put me on birdwatching duty while he and my mother went to Florida for a couple of weeks to visit family. I shook my head and rolled my eyes heavenward, but humoured him a little. How I was supposed to stop sparrows and others from taking up residence before the arrival of his beloved swallows I have no clue. But whatever makes him happy...They showed up and moved in without any interference or encouragement from me so I guess that worked out alright.

This year things were a little different. My stepfather had just started a new job that requires him flying to and from the job site and he was scheduled to be away for May 24th weekend. He didn't let that stop him from securing the swallows for the season, though. No, he went through his habitual birdhouse prepping earlier than normal and rigged up something that made me question why, exactly, he has not been featured on The Red Green Show. What was it, you ask? Well...I really wish I had thought to take a picture. I suppose it wasn't anything too special, but I happen to think it was rather ingenious and hilarious. My stepfather actually put elastics around a rag to fashion a plug for the entrance to the birdhouse. This was also attached to a rope that was secured around the pole atop which the birdhouse sits. He left my mother with the instructions to untie the rope and use it to pull the plug upon the first swallow sighting. There were a tense few days after I had spotted them and she had failed to pull the plug when I teased that she would be fired since the swallows had booked another place when they discovered the hotel was closed...however, they came back and are, happily, now residing in the birdhouse out back...much to 'Mr. Furley's' delight ;-)

Another Rough Month

It has been yet another rough month so far. My grandfather passed away three days after my last post. I am glad he didn't suffer for an extended period of time, but it is still difficult to lose someone you love and it's a little hard to wrap your head around when it happens quickly. I had more of a part to play in the days afterwards than I've had in the aftermath of the deaths of other friends and family, and I have to say it is a whole new experience to have to take part in tying up the loose ends of someone's life and the arrangements that have to be made to finalize (for lack of a better word) their time on Earth instead of having to contend solely with thoughts and grief. Specifically, I was put in charge of proof reading the obituary, doing the "write up" for the church bulletin to be used at his funeral, reading a passage from the Bible at the funeral, helping to fill out the necessary financial paperwork for my grandmother, and writing the note of thanks to go in the newspaper. It was difficult, it was stressful, and it also gave me something to focus on to get through this time and feel useful.

I spent the weekend in St. John's apartment hunting again. I called/emailed about upwards of thirty apartments and ended up viewing only six. Of those six, two were what I would consider "dives," three were decent, and one was absolutely gorgeous. Although my heart was set on the "gorgeous" spot, I decided on one of the "decent" places (which was cheaper and therefore more practical), and the landlady said she would get back to me in a couple of days. I am keeping my fingers crossed and hoping it pans out...

Of course, I still don't have a job either which is becoming somewhat frustrating. I am, however, lucky enough to have awesome parents who (although it is incredibly embarrassing to have to ask for at this age) are willing to back me up until I can stand on my own two feet again. There are those who are of the opinion that it is stupid of me to look for a place to live before I have a job to pay for it, but I happen to think that once I am in town things will fall into place. I will have more time to look for employment and I will be in there already when it comes time to start...and as an added bonus I will have my own space once more and feel somewhat like an adult again. Besides, according to everyone I've talked to, apartments are scarce these days and the competition for them is fierce. Hence, wouldn't it make sense to focus my efforts there for the time being to make sure I have a place to live before everything is scooped up by the new group of students moving in for the fall semseter at MUN?

Anyway, I will stop babbling and trying to rationalize. I have a touch of cabin fever again today and it is only Monday yet so that is not a good sign...but the wind in the trees and the fresh air coming through my bedroom window sure are nice...

Perceptions and Time

So...in the smaller picture, the job and apartment hunting continue. I have to say, it feels rather a daunting task some days...and wow has rent ever gone up in St. John's in the past 5 years! I am trying to stay optimistic and am hoping to have something by July, so wish me luck!

In the bigger picture resides other, more serious and saddening, news: mortality has once again come knocking on my family's door. I know everyone has to go at some point, so to speak, and we all have to experience our times of difficulty as those left behind, but it never makes it any easier to face, does it? A dear friend of mine recently lost his uncle and my heart ached for him as he is away from home...I know how that feels, having gone through it myself a couple of years ago. However, little did I know I would be preparing for the same thing myself again so soon afterwards...

My stepfather's father - my last living grandfather (I have been blessed enough to have enjoyed three sets of living grandparents plus a couple of great-grandmothers in my life) - got sick shortly after I moved home. When his wife was finally able to convince him to go to the doctor (he is a very cranky, stubborn - yet lovable - old man), they were told it was pneumonia and he was prescribed medication for it. After three sets of antibiotics, things still were not improving much, and so he underwent more testing during a hospital stay to receive further treatment for his illness. A couple of weeks ago, we were told that he actually has cancer in both lungs. It was my understanding through conversations with family that the doctors predicted that he would have a few months to live, at the very least. That assessment has been changing rather rapidly and drastically...it was shortened to weeks, and now appears to be most likely a matter of only days.

Given that my grandfather was a heavy smoker (for somewhere in the neighbourhood of 60 years) and a diabetic (and never ever really took care of himself or altered his diet much), it didn't really come as a surprise that one day it would catch up with him. He himself took the news with a nonchalant, "well at least I got 77 years out of it," and I think he lived those 77 years the way he wanted to and enjoyed them. Which is kind of good, despite the not so good decisions he made for his health...but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go from a robust, crotchety, teasing, lively sort of man who wouldn't slow down or give in, to the man I saw before me when I visited his bedside yesterday evening inside a couple of weeks..or to see the toll it is taking on his wife of 51 years and their children - including my stepfather...and it doesn't make it any easier to realize that - very soon - we will all be saying goodbye...a fact which is only now starting to hit me as I am writing this. Odd how seeing it written in my own words on the screen makes it more real, somehow.

It's also strange how time plays such a huge role in our lives. Hours, days, weeks, months...they take on a whole new perspective and a whole new relevance depending on the matter at hand. A length of time can seem interminable or impossibly brief in relation to the events and emotions being experienced. Funny how that works.

I am glad that I am home right now - both to offer support and to be supported, but also so that I was able to spend some last moments with my grandfather while he was still his regular old self.

It's funny how when things unfold you can look back and see that they all fell into place a certain way for a reason and they start to make more sense. Not to say that I am only here because this was going to happen, but in retrospect, the events of the past year seem to have been part of a grand design - my move home being just a minuscule piece of the puzzle.

And thinking of all of these things makes the turmoil I've been experiencing trying to put my life back together seem so small and insignificant in comparison.

Yes, the imminence of death certainly has a way of putting everything back into perspective...

A Change is Coming

....well more than one to be precise, some of which have already cropped up, blindsided me, and taken effect on their own.

I realized after I posted the last entry mere seconds ago that I had neglected to write about the more exciting things taking place in favour of the more routine everyday annoyances.

I will attempt to remedy that without being too incredibly long-winded...which, incidentally, will probably take me much longer than if I were to just ramble freely. Go figure.

OK, so here are the highlights of my week so far....

There was an unfortunate incident involving keys and a late night text composed of the word "help" that ended in a 3am trip to the front door in order to stare like a sleep-deprived deer into unfamiliar halogen headlights and hand over my own set so that my partner could regain our mode of transportation.

My mother and the man I have been referring to as my "step-father" for the past few years have, after 22 years, made it official. They quietly went and got married on Monday and didn't tell anyone (except their parents, who practically found out on the way to church to serve as witnesses....luckily, no heart attacks were sustained) until after the deed was done. Shocking and unexpected much? Still trying to wrap my head around that one...you would think nothing much would change except on paper - and you'd be right - but there is still something a little unsettling about being taken by surprise like that. Anyway, good for them. They seem rather happy about it, and I'm happy for them too.

We are moving. Down the hall. It seems a little stupid and pointless when you say it like that. Especially since we don't know how long we will be here still. However, we have had enough of this apartment and some well lit and mold free digs with complimentary balcony were too enticing to pass up.

I have started working on an "Action Plan" to find a new career path. It sounds more exciting than it is, trust me. I'm just glad to finally have some wheels in motion to get me out of this confused indecision I seem to be mired in, however slowly they may be turning. Oh, and I also finally got a nibble on one of the resumes I threw out to the general workforce and almost caught an interview, which was encouraging.

I am beginning to re-emerge from my latest stint as a hermit and regain some semblance of a social life. Which is good. Still working on that one, but it's a start that I have been out of my apartment on a non-work or errand related venture this week with someone other than my partner and have plans to do so again over the next little while. Anyway, better not jinx myself by saying too much on that score. Suffice it to say that it is one more thing that makes me happy.

And that's it for now, in a nutshell. You are officially up to date.

Generation Gap

While I was home this summer, I convinced my parents to get new cell phones. Previously, they had shared an old cast off from my brother and it had long since had its day. My mother and I went and picked them out and got them signed up for a new plan, which included texting. They are now the owners of cells that will easily make them the envy of all the teens in town. After a brief tutorial for each of them, I left them to it to play with their new toys and once in a while I even get a text from one of them.

Such was the case a few days ago when they were out of town and my mother chose texting as an avenue to touch base with me. I read her message and was a little surprised to see it signed "lol Mom." Hmmm, I thought, God love her for trying but I don't think she thinks that means what I think it means. When I talked to them on the phone the following day, I asked my mother what lol means. Her response: Lots of love. I broke the news that I have always known those three letters to signify "laugh out loud," but I guess that explains why my aunt always signs her emails to me that way. And here I thought she was just easily amused...

Still Kicking

After a whole lot of burning and freezing this week, I am happy to report that I have been fever free for 2 days now and both my arms are once again fully functional with only a scatter twinge of soreness left. The coughing, aching, headache, and fatigue are taking a little longer to go away, but I think I am definitely on the mend. Yippee!

I have to admit, I am quite the sook when I am sick. I blame it on some seriously intense spoiling when I was younger.

My grandmother's routine when one of us was under the weather was to come around and check on us at least once a day and at least once during the illness she would bring a "lunch" of store-bought treats with her. I loved to hear her coming. Nan laid her hand on our foreheads to check our temperatures, stroked our hair and doled out all kinds of sympathy. She always had recommendations for whatever ailed us, and if we were suffering from respiratory issues, that included rubbing Vick's Vaporub on our chests and backs and covering it with swatches of flannel.

It also sometimes meant that she would make us homemade molasses candy....I can't remember the exact ingredients or proportions, but I know that the process involved butter and molasses in a "dipper" on the stove top and it was a very sticky, messy business. I know that when she was done, she would grease her hands and roll the concoction into little balls, put them on a plate and stick them in the fridge to harden. I know that I loved them dearly and attempted to make them on my own a couple of times when I got sick at university and was particularly sooky (just not the same)....I also know that she mixed in a dollop of Vick's and/or Minard's liniment...both of which I'm pretty sure you are not supposed to ingest. In any case, they made me feel better and I never had any run-ins with poison control, so it's all good.

I was telling my beau about this and he was quite amused. God love him, he does bear up well to the tall order of taking care of me when I'm sick. My Mom (who I usually talk to on a daily basis anyway since I landed myself in BC) has been checking in from Newfoundland a couple of times a day to make sure I'm still breathing, and a few of my friends have let me know they are thinking of me, so I'm definitely raking in the attention and feeling loved...I still miss Nan's molasses candy and flannel though.

Bonfire Night

November 5th in Newfoundland (a.k.a. Bonfire Night) was always a big deal when I was younger. Us youngsters would spend weeks preparing; roaming the ridge in our rubber boots with tomahawks in hand, cutting up boughs that we dragged home and piled high, continually scouting the woods for the treasured "blassy" ones that would add some pizazz to our fires. It was a fierce competition with a huge team effort and we never missed an opportunity to brag to our friends about our stash.

There was always a community bonfire held in town, but up until my late teenage years, I always attended the cozier family bonfire that took place in the rocky, gravelly, no man's land between our yard and the bog. Since several generations of my extended family lived close by, there was always a crowd composed of aunts, uncles, and cousins, along with my grandmother, my immediate family, and sometimes a various assortment of great aunts and uncles as well as the neighbours who stopped by from time to time.

Our excitement would build for days until we could barely contain ourselves, counting the hours until we could bundle up in our winter gear and head out after supper at some point. There was usually a big fire for warmth, which the adults generally sat around, closely watching and helping us while having a few beers, and then there was a smaller one for us to take turns roasting wieners and marshmallows in, using spears cut from alder branches that one of my uncles would carve for us each year.

Invariably, as we talked and laughed, sang, and looked around at the smoke and flames of our neighbours' fires licking at the night sky, we all gradually ended up with a gooey mess of melted goodies and soot all over our faces and hands (adults included). Most often someone ate so much they got sick. But it was a grand ole time, nonetheless.

When I got older, it became a time to celebrate with my friends in different locations around town more-so than hanging out with my family, but the premise was still largely the same (minus the little kids and the grown-ups who would spoil our fun).

I first started to miss Bonfire Night during my university years, because often I stayed in St. John's, where you can't just light a fire wherever you want. However, I missed it more terribly the first couple of years I was away from The Rock and realized that it doesn't exist here or anywhere else in Canada or the rest of the world, for the most part.

Why would anyone still care enough to celebrate the downfall of some guy who tried to blow up the Parliament buildings in London back in the 1600's anyway, right? Well...no one, if you ask me. But it really has nothing to do with Guy Fawkes anymore. It is just another deep-rooted Newfoundland tradition, leftover from our days as a British colony, that gives us one more excuse to have a good time and enjoy our freedom with the people in our lives (and I have always found myself entranced by the dancing flames of a burning fire regardless - no matter where I am or who I am with). God, how I miss the Island sometimes.

Grey Foggy Days

We are at the midpoint of fall, and it's no trouble to tell. Not because of the changing and falling leaves, the cooler weather or the warmer clothing, but because of the drop off in communication that always occurs at this time of year. Summers are full of fun in the sun with friends - road trips, boat trips, barbecues and general get togethers...then comes fall. People settle back into the work groove instead of rebelling against it, teachers and students head back to school, families work on their nesting skills for the oncoming winter (and try to repair the holes in their bank accounts depending on how good a time was had), and friends generally don't have as much to talk about now that the excitement of the past season has ground to a halt. That is my theory at least. How else can I explain the disappearance of a vibrant social life?

Perhaps it is because I (like many other Newfoundlanders and Labradorians living away) usually head home in the summertime to catch up with all my relations and have a great time. There is a resounding shock to my system that occurs when I come back to the west and what feels like, in comparison, social isolation - and it seems to be amplified in the fall. Maybe it is not the same for those people who actually live and work in familiar surroundings and circulate amongst their social network year round. Perhaps they don't experience the same feeling of withdrawal or disconnection from the outside world at this time of year. However, being an outsider does not make it easy. Sure, I have lots of acquaintances here, and even a few I would venture so far as to call friends...but I never get to see them or spend time with them much. And I do still have my friends and family back on The Rock (as well as those who have dispersed themselves to the four corners of the earth much like myself)...but they are busy getting back into their own routines as well and our topics of conversation have become limited now that we are not residing in the same place and interacting with the same people on a daily basis.

Then again, maybe it is because of the particular spot in which I have landed. After all, I do know of plenty of Newfoundlanders and Labradorians who have made a go of it in their new locations, surrounding themselves with new friends and immersing themselves in the local social scene (of course it also helps that many of them network through other ex-pats in the same locale. I have heard that some exist here, but so far as I can determine those stories are the stuff of urban legends and old wives tales, so it has been a tad difficult, to say the least, for me to accomplish the same feat).

Whether it is that people just don't operate the same way here or that it is very much a place that is reliant upon becoming part of a clique to obtain true social interaction I haven't been able to figure out yet. However, much of a fish out of water as I find myself at times, the uniqueness inherent to being a Newf doesn't seem to be the driving force behind the circumstances in which I find myself, either way...I have talked to others who have moved here and almost all of them have gone through the same thing and come to a point where they simply accepted that that's the way it is. Personally, I find it very strange and more than a little lonely at times to be confined to such an existence.

I don't know, perhaps I am just a victim of Seasonal Affective Disorder or suffering from the boredom that ensues after the bottom drops out of living the life of a social butterfly. Whatever the case may be, I suppose I should just haul myself up by my bootstraps and trudge on through til the holiday season arrives and things pick back up again (which for me will be limited to the single invite out we have gotten for the past 3 years, due to the previously mentioned stunted network, in addition, perhaps, to another trip to see the extended fam 6 hours away for a couple of days)...ah, well...I suppose I can dream and live vicariously anyway...

Thankfulness

I have been at a loss recently as to what to write on here, but it seems almost obligatory to write something in relation to Thanksgiving. So, following, naturally, is a list of some of the things I am thankful for...

First of all, the usuals - which are too often taken for granted:

A roof over my head, food to eat, clothes to wear, people who love me...and the fact that I am lucky/blessed enough to live in a society where freedom is a fact of life.

You see, when I began writing this post (it's been on hold for a couple of days and it is now currently the 14th...shhhhhh.....) I had just finished watching Afghan Star, a documentary detailing the experiences of a group of Afghans who attempted to create their own version of the popular Idol series that airs in many different countries. This film drove home for me yet again the circumstances in which so many people are forced to exist and I cannot imagine what it must be like to be unable to express yourself freely and display your talents without risking your life by doing so - literally. The contestants, and even the host, of Afghan Star were subjected to a wealth of repercussions for their behaviour, which was deemed by their fellow countrymen to be inappropriate and sinful. These negative consequences included death threats, eviction, stigmatization for their families, and the inability to return to their hometowns, amongst others. Some of the people involved in the TV production were actually forced to flee the country once religious leaders had determined that their actions were in violation of Islamic laws.

However, apparently self expression through various forms of art are not equally repulsive. According to random citizens polled in the streets, song and dance are judged separately...while some are of the opinion that they are both taboo, others say that "singing is fine - anyone can sing, " but for a contestant to dance or "move" on the stage is scandalous. It also lets the public know that they are "loose" and deserving of scorn.

Silly and pointless as many reality TV/contests are, I find it unfathomable that there are people in the world who have to live in fear for displaying their artistic talents. I mean, obviously I am aware of this alternate reality, but just thinking of the opposite ends of the spectrum from all the outrageous ways our society encourages (or at least tolerates/allows) self expression, in comparison to the restrictiveness of the current Afghan culture, which prohibits such - generally demure, in contrast (unless you include some of the more pornographic music videos aired daily) - actions as public singing and dancing, is hard for me to wrap my head around. Yes...I have lived a relatively sheltered life, and prior to my move out west, even more so...

So, I reiterate: in addition to being incredibly thankful that I live close enough to some extended family to have been able to visit them and sit down to Thanksgiving dinner together, I am also infinitely grateful that I have the freedom to express myself any way I choose and to practice any art form my little heart desires.