I’ve just disconnected my dial-up internet to write this entry in Word, so I have no idea what I said in my last posting, nor do I particularly want to re-connect until after I have finished writing this. Jeez, I remember that dial-up “bee-boop-beep” sound from back at Maggie Junior High, when the only computer in school that had internet was connecting to that mysterious World Wide Web. These days the only thing that keeps me feeling technologically superior is the relative technological ignorance of my mother. (It’s a pretty lame way to feel good about yourself, let me tell you).

Did I mention this? I have a job now. Two, in fact. I rejoined the ranks of Opus Framing and Art Supply for the Christmas Season… turns out I have a flair for retail, and they’ve asked me to stay on part-time. I’ve figured out the keys to being good at retail sales:
1) smile a lot,
2) never, EVER take anything personally (what a waste of emotion and energy!),
3) keep moving (as Nate’s ex-boss at Tim Horton’s said to him, “If you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean!”) and finally,
4) if you don’t have an answer, go get one.
That’s it. Those are the four tricks. Now, go razzle-dazzle ‘em in the retail world.

Yes, I remember. I did already talk about this. So you know I have a job starting on January 5th, teaching English as a second language. Right.

Well, I won’t bore anyone with repetitive details. I would go on and on about Christmas, but I’m already about ready to take the tree down-- which is funny. I’m usually somewhere in mid-January before I hit that point. Anyway, I’ll say this about Christmas; it didn’t go as planned, due to some pretty severe weather, but it was lovely nonetheless. I got a lot of playtime in with my friends’ kids (aged 2 and 5)-- we built a snow fort and a leaping snowman (Morgan stuck the stick ‘legs’ in him at hilarious angles) and I ate a lot of turkey and stuffing and Brussels sprouts, and we made a puzzle and drank egg nog and we all just generally made merry. Which is what you’re supposed to do at Christmas, right? Right. I did miss my family… a little bit. I’m sure they had fun without me.

I’m finding that Christmas doesn’t really hold the same power over me as it used to; it probably has a lot to do with my break from the church. I have a hard time reconciling the birth of the Christ child to the commercial insanity that the unbelieving masses tout… I don’t really know where I stand on it. I don’t ever celebrate Christmas without thinking of baby Jesus, but I feel like an impostor as much in a church as in a mall. There is indeed great joy in giving and receiving… but when is enough too much? And if a custom becomes a habit, stripped of its original motivation and purpose, is there any real value in it?

Whew. Heavy. I just feel very burdened by the excesses and dichotomies of the Western world sometimes.

Regardless. I am grateful for all that I have, and I am ready for what’s next, whatever it is. I wish the same for you.

Namaste,

Endrene

December has been the whirlwind it usually is.
Failing finding an ESL teaching position quickly after my course, I returned to A-1 Pallet for a week, then scrambled to find the next survival job. My ability to find an appropriate ESL position was sabotaged by my own wishy-washiness about WHERE I wanted to teach… I had my nose stuck up in the air over the local teaching positions in Surrey and Coquitlam… but if not local, where?

Anyway, I went into Opus Framing & Art Supplies in Langley (my pre-Japan job) and talked with the manager about joining the team as a Christmas/Boxing Day elf, and have been working there for about three weeks. Honestly, it’s been fun. I love art supplies; I love organizing them and learning about their viscosities and pigment loads and ferrules. Oh, I even love art supply terminology! The customers are great, too. I especially like the Christmas shoppers who come in, saying, “I dunno. She likes to paint…” it’s like a mystery I have to puzzle out.
Me: What kind of paint?
Customer: I dunno.
Me: Does she use solvents?
Customer: No. (OK, not oils)
Me: Does she paint on paper or canvas?
Customer: Canvas.
Me: (OK, not watercolours, must be acrylics…)

Anyway, I just got a (local) job teaching two Korean children for 15 hrs. a week, starting on January 5th. I’m going to the school this coming Tuesday to get more information about the curriculum and expectations there… I’m pretty excited. It’s a foot in the door, and I’m looking forward to meeting the kids.

Oh... and I have the prettiest Christmas tree ever. Nathan and I got it from the same tree farm that he worked at last year. She is all sparkling in reams of tacky tinsel and tonnes of those extremely breakable balls and baubles... some of them quite antique. I love to make my tree look as much like my grandmother Shepherd's as possible. That means lots of colour, and a whole lot of glitter. All is well.

When I was in my final semester of my final year of university, I just about lost it. I had just had enough of the educational system, of being poor and hungry, and of being an extraneous member of society. I was becoming miserable, and letting myself sink into a mire of sticky black badness.

A professor who noticed my decline (and cared) gave me this quote, printed on a card with a photo of light streaming brightly through a window into a dark room:

“The soul is dyed the colour of its thoughts. Day by day, what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny – it is the light that guides your way.”

-Heraclitus

I still keep this quote with me, posted up beside me at any work station I happen to be working at. It helps me to remember that if I want to be a good person, (or a happy person, or a fulfilled person) I have to act like one, everyday. It’s that simple.

Thank you, Byron Johnston. That card has made a world of difference to me.

I've been back at A-1 Pallet for this week... with the slow economy, it looks as though the job won't continue, but really, it's just the boot in the butt I need to keep looking for an ESL teaching job.

It's been nice to come back to my desk and get things done everyday. I really do like working. In my early 20's I never thought I would feel that way.

It's good.

Guess what is not fun at all? Looking for work. I just can’t stand it. I really shouldn’t complain; I’m young and healthy, my skills are polished, and I’m fabulously employable. But there’s something about looking for work that always sends my self-confidence into a tailspin.

Suddenly, I’m out in my little raft, in the middle of the ocean, hoping that an ocean liner is 1) going to see me frantically waving my arms and 2) stop and pick me up and 3) be the RIGHT ocean liner… not some dirty, awful ocean liner that sends me straight to work in the smelly galley, making fish-head soup.

I’m getting freaked out by all this dire talk about the failing economy on the radio. And to make matters more complex, Nate is going to be losing his job by the end of the next week (landscaping is seasonal work, dontcha know). He seems to have all these grand plans for what he’s going to do with his ‘time off’, while I’m busy working myself up into a steaming lather about the car insurance and the unpaid bills and my main dilemma: I don’t live where the work is, but I can’t afford to move. A sickening catch-22. And the unspoken irksome other thing: I don’t like being the main breadwinner. I like it even less that there will soon be no bread at all.

I have some ideas about what to do, though—so Never Fear! My Brain is Here!

Options:

1. I get a “make due” (e.g. making fish-head soup) job until I can find something more desirable.
2. I move to where the jobs are, and charge all the moving costs to Mastercard (not the best choice).
3. I find work abroad… Nate goes wherever his little heart desires, and we part ways, be it for the time being, or permanently…
4. I do a combination of working a “make due” job and volunteering at a schoolthat might be able to offer me a job when the busy season starts up again.
5. Ummmm…
   
   OK. So I’m officially scared. I’m sure that this will all pan out, one way or another; things always work out for me. Back to the grindstone I go: I need to craft a killer resumé!

Well, it turns out that EI won't pay up, because I wasn't 'ready, willing and able' to begin work at any time during my training course. I am irritated of course-- why am I paying into a program that never wants to help me when I need help?-- but I understand the logic behind it. I did leave work to go to school voluntarily. If EI paid out to every person that did the same, the coffers would be empty.

Just wish I had saved up a little more before I got myself into the program.

Anyway, the proverbial fire has been lit under my not-so-proverbial butt, and I am in the midst of a job search. There are some pretty dodgy employers out there; Hanaland comes to mind. If you were coming from halfway around the world to learn English, would you want to study at a place called Pacific Gateway International College of Canada... or would you want to study at Hanaland?

Guess it depends on what you're looking for in an English school. If a cute name is all it takes... well, good for you, Hanaland.

Pat has left me to my job search; I am listening to 'Freebird' in --what is that-- Spanish? Portuguese? It actually gains something in the translation... I'm going to miss Pat's little apartment and the quirky neighborhood around here. I love the quirky old houses with twinklelights on the banisters, and the friendly-looking newer townhouses with Tibetian prayer flags on the porches; the big trees and green yards and the funky people with cool haircuts and second-hand wool coats. This is an urban hippiedom. I like the impression I get of this place: consiousness, coolness, coffee, organic grainy goodness, community, action, interest.

Anyway, I'm heading back to Aldergrove tomorrow... with mixed feelings.

I am listening to mixed tapes from cassettefrommyex.com and mowing my way through a bag of Hallowe’en candy that Pat’s mom brought for him. Sorry Pat… I’ll get you more if you wake up tomorrow and go- “What the hell? No more Caramilks? No more Aeros? Why are there still so many boxes of Smarties?” Speaking of which. I think only little bitty kids like Smarties, for the colours. We get to a certain age and think, “man, Smarties stink. Too much candy coating. Where’s the chocolate?”

By the way, Pat is awesome. I am so grateful to him for letting me sleep in his guestroom for this past month. He even fed me a few times, and invited me to his moustache madness birthday party last night! I drew on a kitty-whisker moustache… it was weird, sitting in a semi-cool bar downtown, at this table full of semi-strangers all clad in fake moustaches… the pretty girls looked the weirdest. Pretty girls in black mustaches, having serious regular everyday conversations, and drinking beer… it was art in action.

I’m not quite ready to look for work yet. I think maybe an entire day off is in order? I say it with a question mark, because I’m not sure I can stand a whole day of just relaxing. I have been reprogrammed to function in the robotic fashion of ultimate productive output. Must. Find. Work.

Oh… my goodness, here I was, thinking that I must be wild and crazy, staying up late and blogging on my first free night… and nope, hey, it’s only 7:49pm. Ten-to-eight, and my ‘wild-and-crazy’ consists of eating expired chocolate and talking to a computer. Sad. Speaking of which, check out http://alice.pandorabots.com/ …I met Alice today. She’s a little boring, but up for a chat anytime. Have you ever spoken to a robot before? There are some interesting ones out there…just google “chat with a robot”. They function using deductionism… it’s a new theory to me. I just learned about these robots today, because you can use them to teach English. They won’t respond to incorrect grammar. Well, some of them won’t.

Well… it’s Saturday night in Vancouver… what am I doing here? I think I’ll go prowl the ‘hood. Yes, I’ll be safe. I always carry my pepper spray and wear my “don’t mess with that girl, she must be crazy” fuzzy hat.

My time with the CELTA course now numbers in hours instead of days. This has been like a year on University crammed into four weeks. My cheeks rae flushed for want of sleep, my eyes crusty, my stomach knotted. I'm not sure what my 'new' life will be like in the next few months.

Small bit of bitching: I have always spelled PRACTICE with a 'c' (the American spelling). During this course, I learned that the UK/Canadian/Australian/et al. spelling of the verb Practice is, in fact, PRACTISE (with an 's'). The noun (like a medical practice) is the 'c' version. So, becoming a grammarian, and an English teacher, I thought it right to ammend my errant 'c'-spelling ways.

I got my paper back. A little red circle was looped around every 's' every time I wrote 'practise'. What the hell?

I am going to stick to practice with a 'c', though it pisses me off, like spelling colour without the 'u'... there are only small things like these that make us Canadian. I am loathe to give them up.

Hmmm.

Very-very tired, I am. Speak and teach the good English, I think I can.

Yesterday I handed in the last version of my re-written paper; if I pass or fail it now, it no longer matters. I will pass the course regardless. Of course, the perfectionist (a.k.a. the 'brown noser') in me wants the pass. And I mean the PASS. But (heave a sigh) the paper is in; the last teaching practise class has been taught; and the cold I have been fighting off for a week and a half is setting up shop in my sinuses and throat booger manufacturing. It's a lucrative business these days.

Hard to say what I'll miss most. I really enjoyed being a student again; prying open my rusty cerebral doors and tossing in knowledge. My hungry feral brain has been feasting. I have enjoyed being among classmates and students of other classes... especially Aki and the gaggle of Korean girls studying the TOEIC in the back classroom. I've really enjoyed being a trial Vancouverite... though I'm not so sure I'll be looking for work in the city. Nate is pretty deadset against it, and I want to give our relationship every opportunity to work out. He's been fabulously supportive to me while I've been away at school, and I've really missed him. Which is good, right?

I haven't enjoyed the fresh smack of poverty. I am broke, broke, broke, and can't wait to get to work. It complicates the moving process... say I get a job in Victoria-- how will I move there to start working? I paid for my coffee this morning with pennies (I now have two pennies left in my wallet), and I have a nice hole dug into my overdraft at the bank... I guess I could always sell my car? Anyway, I'm not too worried about it, because I'm sure everything will work out. It always does. Feeding anxiety to a problem only makes it bigger.

Yeah. I said it, now I just have to believe it.

Two days to go, then I'm off on the job hunt, out in the world. Wish me luck, send me good vibes, and keep loving each other (because it makes the world a nicer place altogether).

~Endrene

I'm sure I've stated several times that time flies whether you're having fun or not. The last three weeks have been a case in point.

The CELTA course has put me through the wringer, and I have loved it and hated it in equal measures. OK, I lie, I've loved it waaaaay more than I've hated it. There's only one week to go, and one more major written assignment, due tomorrow.

Yes. I'm procrastinating… but only a little.

My final assignment has to do with profiling a student, figuring out what they need to do to improve their grammar and fluency, et al. The luck of the draw saw that I got-- get this-- an ENGLISH TEACHER to interview. Seriously. She teaches ESL in Mexico! Needless to say, it has been a little challenging figuring out where she needs help, because she undoubtedly knows her English grammar better than I do. But she's lovely, just a treasure.
Here’s the first part of my assignment (the rest deals with analyses and rationale, and I am sure is not nearly as interesting to read… besides, I haven’t written it yet). Wishe me luck on my final week!

Rocío Garcia is 32 years old. She has an earring collection, a warm, constant smile, and an open, eager nature. She is from a small town called Sierra Blanco, in Mexico; a place that she describes as “the middle of nowhere”. She has been living in Vancouver for just over three months. It was love that brought Rocío to Vancouver.
Rocío was teaching English in her hometown, a career that she chanced upon. Originally a student of architecture, she ran out of money for engineering school, and had to look for other options. A friend of hers told her about an affordable teacher’s training school, and Rocío applied, hoping to become a math teacher. At the time however, the school only had two teacher-training curriculums available: history, and English. Not being a fan of history, Rocío went into the English program, and found employment shortly after graduation.
English has affected Rocío’s life in a variety of unexpected and wonderful ways. Her career brought her an opportunity to study in the UK, and to the love of her life. The day she ‘met’ her Canadian boyfriend online, she was in the only internet café in her hometown. She wasn’t looking for love; she was looking for English grammar exercises to give to her class for the next day. She had her Skype account running so that she could chat with friends, and possibly meet native English speakers who would be willing to give her a hand. “Maybe,” Rocío says, with her characteristic tinkling laugh, “English was my destiny!”

I should clarify. There are also plenty of nutty urbanites, and straight-faced homeless people. Nate and I had a discussion about that tonight. If someone is living in a home that isn't a house, i.e., under a tree, or in a tent-- what gives anyone else the right to say that they are 'homeless'? What if their home just happens to be under a tree?

Because there was a guy, living in the park at the end of the street, who lived under a branchy tree. The parks people came and cut off all of the protective branches, so his home was no more. Nate thinks the guy should've sued.

Still the first to arrive. Not always the last to leave now...

One of the best things about this new phase in my life is the walking. I walk for about 40-45 minutes (it was more like an hour in the first week, when I spent more time poking my head into gaps in the bushes to see what was inside). My walk takes me from the Mt. Pleasant area of Vancouver, down past Science World, along False Creek, and up past B.C. Place to the school. Along the way, I see all kinds of beautiful things, especially in the pink and blue morning light. Patterns are beginning to emerge. When I start out, I make my way through the suburban areas with a mind to take in as much autumn foliage as I can-- I kick through the yellow leaves, and try to make eye contact with the busy walking and biking commuters. I look into people's mossy gardens, and pick out things I like; painted rocks, sunflowers soggy with frost, craggy boulders strategically placed.

There are nutty homeless people, and straight-faced hip urbanites, bustling through exercise routines, all decked out in LuLu Lemon. I see the same guy every other morning with his black dog, rummaging through the Science World garbage bin. There is a guy on a bike that always seems to go by me at the same point on the path. He always wears a red-and-black striped sweater that reminds me of the one that my friend Billy used to wear in high school. There is the same pack of crows along False Creek every morning, preening each other and screaming and searching through discarded McDonald's sacks. When no-one is close by, I try to speak to them in their language. Whenever one looks at me quizzically and fly away, I wonder: did I just say something offensive? Or did I just give her a command, and she is flying off to follow through?

I find this interesting about city people: they will almost never look you full in the face. If you catch them doing so, and toss them a smile, they quickly look away as though it was all a mistake. Only the buskers and the street people will try to catch an eye. Maybe that’s why everyone else looks away; if you make a connection, something will be expected of you. I know it’s not much—but couldn’t a smile be enough? I’m going to start the Vancouver Smile Revolution. I’m going to shine my beautiful fangs at EVERYBODY, whether they like it or not!

Almost time for class.

XXX LOVE and BIG VANCOUVER SMILES TO YOU

Namaste

Endrené

I just roughly calculated how much time I have spent at class or studying in the last five days. About... 70 hours. The janitor actually asked me to turn out the lights when I left one evening, as he got fed up waiting for me to go. I'm the last student here again tonight, which I think is developing into my 'role'... first to arrive, last to leave. Not such a bad role to play.

I suppose.

I cried in class today. This stuff is INTENSE. I didn't know that there was SO MUCH that I didn't know about the English language. I seriously regret not committing all of the verb tenses to memory before starting this course.

Shall I fill you in?

I’m taking the CELTA course at Global Village in Vancouver. It’s a high-speed wham-bam of a course, aimed at getting me certified to teach English as a second language to adult learners. That’s the gist of it. I think I might have already mentioned as much… I had no idea HOW crazy it was going to be. It’s crazy. CRAZY-crazy. And wonderful. I won’t regret a minute of it when I am a teacher, of that I’m certain. Even the crying part will serve its purpose.

There are ten of us taking this course together; most of us are Canadian, though there’s an American guy that we tease every time he says ‘copy’ or ‘roof’ or ‘college’ (I suppose we’re getting back on behalf of all those Canadians out there who have been hassled for their ‘eh’s’), and a girl from… Israel, I believe? and another girl who grew up in India but who lives in Canada now. Should that be ‘whom lives in Canada now’? Good Lord, I’ve got a grammatical conscience. Yikes.

There is a TESOL course being taught simultaneously in our department; this course is for non-native speakers of English who think they might like to teach English in their home countries. The students are all Korean or Japanese. I spend more time talking with them during the breaks than I do with my own classmates. I guess it’s partly because most of my classmates are constantly oozing panicked anxiety, and I keep unintentionally sponging it up. The TESOL students aren’t studying at the same frenetic pace, and therefore seem to be a little more laid-back and cheery. They certainly don’t whine as much as my classmates do. Could be a cultural thing, too.

I’m living in Vancouver now, with my friend’s friend, Pat. Though now I think I can claim him genuinely as my friend as well. Last night I went to FRIGHT NIGHT with him and his four friends, and brought Akihiro (one of the TESOL students) along. It was crazy-busy; today turned out to be a Pro-D day, so every boogermuncher in Vancouver was whooping it up at the PNE last night. We waited nearly two hours in line for one haunted house which turned out to be painfully lame. I felt really bad for Aki, who was a good sport about it. But we soldiered on; after 10:30 pm the crowd began to thin a bit and we managed to get a couple of rides in (one on the Corkscrew coaster and one on the Crazy Beach Party ride) and we went through the Toxic Nightmare haunted house, which was pretty creepy. Sufficiently creepy anyway—Aki just about had a heart attack at one point when some costumed madman leapt out at him! There were some really neat costumed creepers zombie-ing around the park… a ‘dead’ couple, an insane clown posse, spooky stilt-walkers, etc. They would just kind of smoothly saunter up to people who weren’t paying attention and scare the crap out of them; I could usually tell where they were by the screams. Although one of the sinister clowns got me good while I was zoning out in the line-up for the Crazy Beach. He appeared out of nowhere and suddenly yelled “BONJOUR!” in my face in his scary clown voice. Predictably, I shrieked. Aki was disturbed that he didn’t say “Bonsoire,” seeing that it was the evening.

Anyway. That was last night. I paid for my late night of fun with tears in class today… I don’t foresee going out on weeknights for the rest of the duration of this course!

I’ll try to write whenever I can grab a few free moments, though it seems unlikely at this stage in the game. Know this: I love this course. It’s exhausting, but it is SO rewarding. If you think of me, send me some good vibes, I could use them! (Thank you, in advance!)

Namaste

Endrene

I have been lucky to have been pretty healthy for the past year. I caught a wussy little head cold, (probably at the voting venue) and now I feel like crap. Well, high-grade crap, comparatively. I guess it’s good to get sick once in a while, to be humbled by a germ, and to feel a renewed sense of compassion for those who suffer more than I do.

Shouldn’t have done all of that wild naked moondancing last night.

Just kidding.

This makes me remember something from when I was learning how to use the archaic point-of-sale system at Opus. Chakara was explaining everything to me and the other trainee very diligently, and I was absorbing as much as I could. But at one point my brain hit that ‘full’ point, where all the knowledge sort of hits the side of my head, and denied entry to my ears, dribbles down my face like so much egg yolk. I must have looked gappy, because Chakara asked, “you OK?” and I replied, “I’m OK. I think I just need a hug and a nap.” (Chakara obliged me with a hug—so sweet of her!—but the nap had to be put off until a later time.)

Anyway, that’s kind of how I feel now, like all I could really use is a hug and a nap. My brain is full of modal auxiliary verbs and mucus… but I only have three days left at A-1 Pallet, and so much to do. POWER UP, Endrené! Write that manual! Fill out that two-week review form! Revise that training checklist! You can do it! Kachaaaaaa!

Good health and big warm hugs and nice cozy naps are wished for all of you.

Namaste,

Endrené

I almost forgot! Tonight... the moon will be FAB-Yoo-LOus! Do the hippie thang, and give a little moondance a try tonight. You won't be sorry!

Less than a week left at A-1 Pallet now. I’m tying up loose ends as best I can, trying to make things tidy and functional for Juwll and Sarah in the office so that it’s not too hard for them when I go. I don’t think it will be too difficult; if there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that everyone is replaceable. I shouldn’t ever flatter myself that I am the ‘only one’ that can get any particular job done. Besides, if we all thought like, that, we’d all be stuck in jobs we hate, out of twisted loyalty and bitter pride.

(If any of you reading this just thought, “hey, that’s me,” I give you permission to find something you like better and quit your current job. The only thing you ‘owe’ to the world is your happiest, most functional self. Don’t just do what you can do. Do what you love.)

A few people are asking me what I plan to do once I’ve completed the CELTA program, where I plan to go. The truth is, I’m not sure. Right now, it’s just good to be taking the plunge and be going back to school. I’ve been plowing through the pretask, and now have a feeble grasp on verb tenses… did you know that there was such a thing as a perfect progressive past tense? I didn’t either, until last night.

I’m going to live with my friend Pat in Vancouver. I talked to him on the phone last night, and realized that I haven’t heard his voice in two years, and I’ve probably only met him three times… so it’s really openhearted of him to allow a relative stranger to move in to his apartment for a month. He’s warned me about the potential for mice (no big deal) and mess (also no big deal), I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should warn him about… maybe that green peppers make me gassy? Nathan is alright with the arrangement, and Pat has made it clear that Nathan is welcome to stay whenever as well. It’s altogether an astoundingly copasetic arrangement. Thank you, Universe! Buddha! God, or whoever/whatever! Thank you, Pat! Thank you, Global Village Vancouver! Life is good.

The power was out for a few hours at work, and it’s just now come back on. I think there was an accident down the highway involving a power pole… I could continue working, but everyone else in the office has cleared out, and I don’t believe in getting paid for slacking. I’ll hit the trail myself pretty soon. I’ll go vote. It’s election day… hooray! And just remember… if you DON’T vote, you’re not allowed to complain about the government. Sorry, but not voting is not cool.

Oh yeah, and if I was American, I'd be OBAMA all the way, baby.

Carnation brand hot chocolate’s catchphrase is “A Warm Hug on a Cold Day”. Isn’t that a lovely sentiment? Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we could all get our allotted warm hugs on cold days?

And it is COLD in the A-1 Pallet office this morning. I had frost on my car for the first time this season this morning. I’m wearing my A-1 toque, a giant grey hoodie of Nate’s, and my wooly ski-socks, as I sit here typing away. And I’m drinking a ‘poor man’s mocha’ (recipe: add one package of Carnation brand hot chocolate to one cup of crappy coffee.)

The election fast approacheth. I’m voting Green because
a) they don’t use dirty attack ads maligning the other party leaders
b) they want to make Canada a more ecologically happenin’ nation
c) they want to find a balance between ecology and economy…

I don’t know why people get so freaked out when world-saving measures like the Kyoto accord are hashed out. It’s as though if we all suddenly started being kinder to the earth, the global economy would collapse, and… hey, guess what? It’s collapsing anyway!

Bpppplllt. I don’t believe in money. It’s just an abstract concept. And economics is just a bunch of theories made up by frantic guys in gray suits. In times like these, the main thing to do is buy a bunch of veggie seeds, and plow a bunch of compost into your backyard for the winter. That way, by next spring you can plant your garden, the world can collapse, and you can still eat. But seriously… why can’t we have a resurgence of craftsmanship, bartering, and fair-trade? Why can’t we slow down and fill our heads up with useful knowledge, like how to make shoes out of roadkill and how to shit in the woods? Then we can exchange goods and services. You help me prune my apple trees in the spring, I’ll give you some apples in the autumn. You bring me some eggs from your chickens twice a month, and I’ll make you some roadkill boots.

More reasonably, have a look at New Zealand. Quite a number of years ago, it dawned on the country that worldwide, there was a limited amount of fossil fuel, and thus they couldn’t depend on other countries and continents to be shipping them foods and staples forever. They had to find ways to be self-sufficient. And they have done a lot to achieve that end, in terms of food production and focusing on boosting the value of the products being produced in the country.
I’ve never figured out why Canada sells its raw lumber to the USA. The USA turns the lumber into useful items that they sell back to Canada. Is that ridiculous or what? What are we doing?

Anyway. Vote Green. Boost your skill set with useful survival skills. Get or give a Warm Hug on a Cold Day.

Last night I had a sudden burst of energy after watching Grey’s Anatomy and eating dinner at Sarah’s house, and I rushed home to gather Nate up along with shampoo and conditioner and swimsuits and towels. We were going swimming, and that was that! Usually when Nate harasses me to go swimming I opt out for one reason or another. All excuses, usually.

We went to the pool in Walnut Grove, which has an excellent water slide and an adults-only hot-tub (no splashing, no screaming, no pee-pee in the pool), and a steam room. I usually end the evening in the steam room, sweating like a cheese in August. Sometimes people sneak in with a bottle of cold water and pour some over the thermostat to make it pump out extra steam. Last night it wasn’t very steamy, so I was hoping a bottle-smuggler would appear. My wish is my command! In came this smiling chubby Asian man, very Buddha-esque. He dumped the WHOLE bottle on the thermostat, and laughed when I thanked him. The steam quickly got thick and hot. While he plopped himself down on the top shelf to my right, the other two people in there limply made for the door like overcooked broccoli. I sneaked a glance through the fog at the steam-Buddha beside me… he was doing yoga! Breathing slowly and carefully so that I wouldn’t burn my throat, I tried stretching too- it was fabulous, my muscles like melted butter. I imagined the inside of my body as a cool continent, the exterior only slowly warming. But really, it had never been so hot in there— I eventually had to make for the door myself, leaving the guy folded in half like a jackknife. I had little patches of steam burns on my knees and belly. It was totally worth it. Steam rooms are weird little pockets of society.

*****************************************

The Stanley Park miniature railway is all decked out for the yearly Ghost Train… I am so excited! They start the ride on October 10th, I think. This year, the theme is PIRATES! I’ve only been on it once before with my dad, in 2006 I think. The theme was the Mexican Day of the Dead. It was a blast, very festive and colourful (and only a little scary)! Also, the PNE Playland is opening on the 18th for FRIGHT NIGHTS - I’ve never gone to that before. Tamara and Brad were talking about maybe coming down for both of those… that would be a blast. I haven’t been in a good haunted house for years. Although I did have a dream that the Disney Haunted House had ‘Adult’ alternatives of the ride, which involved experimental mind-bending alternate realities… but that’s another story…

Fabulous news! I have a WEBSITE! (distant cheering echoes in my ears...)

www.endrene.com

It's going to be where you can go to check out my artwork. For now, it doesn't showcase any of my paintings, but it has a smattering of works from my sketchbooks from the past three years. Check it out! Major kudos go to my designers and marketers, Amy and Christie of FRESH marketing. www.freshmarketing.ca These ladies do lovely juicy work.

And off on another random tangent... I realized that I have been posting in the Japanese time-zone for the past year and a half. Even though I don't live in Japan anymore. It's 2:13 pm, Monday October 6th. For the record. I'll fix that as soon as I finish this post.

Brought this to work in my pocket today. It is from my “Dalai Lama Quote per Day” Calendar, and it was just so good, I couldn’t leave it sitting on top my dishwasher:
“Merely thinking that compassion and reason and patience are good will not be enough to develop them. We must wait for difficulties to arise and then attempt to practice them.”
That Dalai Lama… you gotta love him and his big smiling heart.

Hard to believe the weekend has already rolled around again! Nathan and I went to an Outlaw race in Britannia Beach (near Squamish, on Hwy 99) last weekend. It was fun; there was enough safety and control involved so that I wasn’t entirely freaked out. I volunteered on one of the corners, and waved the speedboarders through if it was safe to proceed (it always was). Nate’s Switchback team member, Jeremy Banting, came in third in the race. I found this highly amusing, because the name “Banting” has the ring of authority in the Speedboarding circles (at least as far as I know… which isn’t very far)… and Jeremy… well. Jeremy just doesn’t strike me as a figure of authority. More a figure of comedy; the straight-man to Kelsey’s wild card. I didn’t put “Jeremy” and “Banting” together until last weekend. (go to http://www.switchbacklongboards.com/ and click on ‘Team’ to see the guys I am talking about. I don’t think they have many groupies yet, so they’ll gladly accept a few more).

I like it when the events are good clean fun, like last weekend’s race. The longboarders are mostly respectful and informative to curious passerby and interlopers. But then you get the occasional assholic personality, and they ruin it for the other guys (and girls). The big championships in Maryhill WA saw some of those badass people, and now the nearby town no longer wants to have anything to do with speedboaring events. I mean—these smalltown people opened up their hearts, volunteered, let these guys (and girls) camp, provided facilities for them, even fed them all breakfast… and then a few narrow-minded individuals went and spray painted graffiti and broke mirrors and tipped sculptures, and generally caused thousands of dollars of damage, and irreparably damaged the relationship between the townsfolk and the speedboarders. I mean, who wants to open their doors to hoodlums?

I’ll continue to support the speedboarders, but only the nice ones who don’t say the F-word in front of children, and take the time to educate the skeptics. No point in hating the haters… they only hate what they fear. So erase the fear with knowledge, and you erase the hate. Hey speedboarders: listen to the Dalai Lama, yo.

This weekend Nate and I are heading up to see mom in Kaleden. I’m hoping that I’ll have some free time to say—go for breakfast at White Spot with some of my home-town homies. 10 am Saturday morning? See you there!

It's overcast today, cool. Spotlets of rain are starting to pounce into the dust of the yard here and there. It smells like the fibreglass guys next door are busy-- it's a poisonous stench. I won't miss that when I'm gone from here.

I feel a little overwhelmed lately, with emotions that shift like an undertow, invisible to the people around me.

Autumn is like this. Always changing, often unpredictably.

I went for a walk as soon as the lunch bell went. I need more alone time than I have been getting, especially as I am about to launch back into the nonstop social melee of school again. I thought about a few things; about how Nathan is determined to move to Nanaimo, and how I support him on this decision, not really knowing what it means for ‘us’. About the job in Tokushima that Bubu has emailed me about. About the fact that I have been criticized quite a lot in the past few years for ‘being in my head’ too much… when actually, it’s quite a nice place to be. My head is the place that produces my artwork, my dreams and my plans. I like going there, being there.

But I guess I have to come back from it, too. It’s not a place to stay. It’s not a place of actuality and accomplishment. What was that quote I read recently… “We tend to judge ourselves by our intentions, while the world judges us by our actions”. In fact, I think I put that quote in this blog already last month.

I guess it’s pertinent right now.

We're already gearing up for the Christmas party (though I might not be part of it, if I've got a new job by then). Regardless, Sarah got us to fill out 'Wish Lists' of things that we all might like to have at the Christmas Auction. We do an auction every month, with things like gift certificates for the Spaghetti Factory and the movies. But the Christmas auction will be BIG! I wished for a Nintendo Wii and a basket full of wine and cheese and chocolate. But you've got to see this list -(this is from Justin, one of the production workers):

Bottle of Gin
30 Case of Molson
Strippers
Ounce of Kush
Canuck Tickets
HD TV
Hot-tub full of Playboy Bunnies
No Dish Days for a Year

This guy cracks me up. He's not all there, but he's got a wicked sense of humor. He's once asked me, upon hearing hearing that I lived in Japan, whether I had ever "encountered Godzilla".

Excitement of the day: we got a new fax machine in the office (exactly like the old one, in fact) and we played with the plastic bags, putting them on our heads like stupid white flat chef hats. Don’t worry, mom. We were careful. No one suffocated... this time.

Here is a list of several things that I want to do. That I’m going to do. No point in feeling divided about what I should do, what I shouldn’t. No point in shoulds at all. There aren’t even any priorities, not really… I figure everything will happen within the time period that is meant to happen within. Maybe these are those “Autumn New Year’s Resolutions I was talking about...

* Learn more about celebrating Japanese holidays (loved the sense of consistent ongoing and upcoming rituals when I was living there, don’t feel so connected to the Catholic rituals that used to have a lot of meaning for me)

* Find a church/spiritual group that jives with my own whacked sense of values and goodness and compassion…I want to look further into Buddhism. Too many Christians (not all, mind you) don’t walk the talk, and I’m not willing to rejoin that flock.

* Buy a laptop computer with wireless internet.

* Start working on my CELTA pre-task. Ok, this one really is a priority.

* Own a dog! Or—we’ll start with living somewhere that I can own a dog…yeah. Maybe… it’s prissy, but I really like Papillions. And wiener dogs. Big dogs typically have better attitudes, but they eat a lot. And poop a lot… But if I get a little one, I promise I won’t dress it in ridiculous outfits. Except maybe for Halloween.

* Get a new (non-dead) camera. Go on photo-walks. I got this idea from Maggie Ann (http://mostsincerely.squarespace.com) but I realize that I used to do it all the time as a hobby when I lived in Tokushima. It was a way to really get intimate with the shapes and colours of my surroundings, instead of just taking them for granted.

* Move to a place that has an ocean nearby. And a bathtub. I’m sooooo tired of only showering all the time… it feels incomplete.

* Build a Japanese style house and garden, of my own design, from scratch. (With help, of course).

* Go to the Burning Man Festival.

* Put a bid in for painting that huge Centennial mural in my home town. That would be so much fun!

* Actually thoroughly follow all of the advice that my Naturopath has given to me.

* Laugh more. And more! AND MORE! I can do this by hanging out with more funny people. You know who you are, and you know you want to hang out sometime. Call me. (^-~)

* Pay for a haircut the next time instead of doing it myself. Knowing what I want and being able to perform the actions to get what I want – in this case, the two do not jive!

* Live abroad again.

* Buy some new socks and underwear. Get rid of some old socks and underwear, and shoes and books and knick-knacks that clutter up my life as opposed to filling it with happy memories. As much as I like having new things, I like having few things even better.

This… is a good beginning.

I noticed I said 'crunchy' more than once in my previous post. Must have been my buzzword that day.

Tachi has been and gone. What a whirlwind weekend! He arrived Friday, 11am. We checked him in, went for lunch at a Greek restaurant (the FIRST TIME he ate Greek food!), walked along the Beach across from Vanier Park, and then took one of the mini-ferries to Granville Island.

Taichi was amazed by the following: The fact that all the cars drive with their lights on during the day ("for safety," I said). The flashing 'stop' hand signal at the crosswalk (he thought it looked like someone waving and beckoning. In Japan, the 'don't walk' signal is a picture of a figure standing still). Fruit and veggies in the market, loosely and freely piled up (in Japan, everything is wrapped in singles and pairs and threes).

Everything was amazing to him. I was so glad to be a part of someone seeing Vancouver with freah eyes-- enthralled with funny things that I take for granted, like streets with names and gay pride on Davie Street and souvlaki.

It made me miss Japan a bit, too. OK, a LOT. I felt the old inner conflict as to whether or not I had made the right desicion when I came back to Canada. The feeling didn't last, though. Mostly because I am moving forward right now, rather than standing stock-still out of fear of moving in the wrong direction. I'll be in school in less than a month, and following that I'll be teaching English again. That makes me feel SO great.

Additionally, things are finally starting to move with my website. I dropped my camera last month and killed it quite dead, so I decided that instead of waiting until I can afford a new one to take pictures of my artwork with... what can I do? I gave my sketchbooks over to Amy at Fresh Marketing, and she is scanning them in. I am also in touch with Ann at myartspace.com (did I get that right? dunno) and I am going to an info session with them this Saturday. They have capabilities for scanning my larger artworks in. I'm stoked!

I have to look for alternative means of income at this time. Nathan wants to support me while I go to school, but his income doesn't really pack the punch we need. I appreciate his thoughtfullness, but it's clear that I will incur debt. So-- instead of standing still, what can I do? Sell artwork. Find out what the government is doing with my GST cheques. Etc. There's money out there. I just have to attract it. It'll be easy... I feel magnetic!

Back to Taichi. We had fun. Lots of it. Kat joined us on Saturday and we went to the Blodel Conservatory and Queen Elizabeth park, and then out to Aldergrove for Bekka's birthday party. Sunday he and I took the ferry to Victoria and saw the Snowbirds, a bicycle race, the Government buildings, the Empress hotel, and the Butchart Gardens. We utterly exhausted ourselves.

Now, I rest, and gear up for the next big thing. Love to you all, wonderful readers!

Namaste

September, as far as I’m concerned, is the time to make New Year’s Resolutions. Because this IS the REAL New Year. Crayons, crunchy leaves, cool breezes, bright sun. Crunchy apples. I don’t even LIKE apples all the rest of the year, but in September… yummmmmm.

I wan to adhere to a higher quality of interaction with people on a daily basis. I understand that our society frowns upon open displays of enthusiasm (unless you are an actor in a Joe FRESH commercial) but I am not going to allow my enthusiasm to be stymied. I also understand that we are judged by our actions, while we tend to judge ourselves by our intentions. These are New Year’s RESOLUTIONS, not INTENTIONS, so I guarantee ACTION.

I resolve to make the world brighter whenever I can. I resolve to kick pessimism to the curb. I resolve to be open to the shift and growth within, and not crush it out of fear of the unknown.

And now I resolve to get back to work, so that when I leave A-1 Pallet in October, I leave it better for having been here.

It’s HOT in this A-1 Pallet office. Eightch-Oh-Tee, Hawt. It’s been one of those days; everyone’s head has been down. We’ve all been working. There are no blinds on the window behind me; my back is cooking, my shoes are off, my forearms are slipping around in the sweat they have made on the desk.

Then I remember: my brother’s a firefighter. I don’t KNOW what hot IS.

* * * * * * * * * * *

My spot in the CELTA program has been verified, and I started fishing immediately for a couch/corner/closet to crash on/in for a month. I think I may have found a place to stay in downtown Vancouver… I just have to sort out some details. But it looks as though I may be able to pay my rent in drawings and stories with animals as the main characters. Cake-walk!

I’m so stoked… This next chapter of my life is unfolding as perfectly as a giant pink peony.

I did it. I think I'm in. Exhale...

I grossly miscalculated the amount of time it would take to get from Aldergrove to downtown Vancouver for the CELTA interview, and I was a horrifying half-hour late. I was only just embarking upon the Port Mann bridge at the moment the interview was about to begin-- upon hearing the time on the radio (no clock in the car, no watch, no cell phone) I came unhinged and bawled -- and I mean loud hiccupping sobs with snot and tears streaming-- for the entire span of the bridge. I decided to go in anyway. The worst that could happen would be that I would get kicked out before I began. In the grand scheme of things, that's not so bad. Snuffling and strangely cleansed, I drove calmly into Vancouver, parked, found the school, and was accepted as a belated participant into the group interview. And ultimately, accepted into the program (I'm pretty sure).

Nathan is pleased for me, proud, even. I am too. Just a little drained after yesterday. I still have to get ahold of mom and dad to share the news... I wish they'd hook up their answering machine! I think I'll need to find somewhere in Vancouver to stay for the month-long course so that the commute doesn't destroy me (financially and physically/emotionally)!

Interview for the CELTA program today. Wish me luck.

Sarah’s mom Donna is reading Eckhardt Tolle’s book, “The Power of Now”. I read it a few years ago, but I think it might be a good time to revisit it. It’s sticky reading, but it produces excellent personal results. Namely as sense of calm and acceptance for “WHAT IS.” Whatever it is.

We were talking about the book over lunch yesterday. Sarah didn’t come home for lunch yesterday, and I went on my own (usually we go for lunch at Sarah’s mom and dad’s house together—isn’t that cool? Spoiled is what I am). Something she got out of the book had to do with why we are so creative and ‘free’ in school, but find ourselves stymied once we enter the so-called ‘real world’. You know—the world of jobs and bills and relationships and responsibilities and… so on.

In school, the tasks are defined. What we do and don’t do is clear, distinct, simple. Between those spaces, our minds are free to enjoy the creative activities that we are engaged in. We grow easily, unabashedly. Outside of school, we suddenly have a lot more undefined responsibilities. How do you bake a potato and raise a family and pay taxes and balance chequebooks and find satisfaction in your career? There is no teacher telling us how or grading us on these things. We think hard about these things. The harder you think about something, the less likely you are actually be engaged in doing it.

Which is why I don’t talk about my artwork anymore. I don’t like to talk about it. If I’m talking and thinking and puzzling and planning… then I’m definitely not creating. And our egos… they love to plan. And plan, plannity-plan-plan plan. This amounts to the tenant of “Ready, Aim, aaaaiim… aaaaaaaaaaaaim…”

Me, I want the “Fire”.

BANG!

These are exciting times! I called the school I am interested in attending on Friday to see if they had any room left in the October session. A few spots remained; if I got my application in by Monday, there was a chance I could get in to an upcoming interview session. I put my application in yesterday (Monday)—and lo and behold, I have an interview this week!

Money will be tight, close to nonexistent, in fact. Surprisingly, I’m OK with this. It feels good to be going back to school on my own steam (or really, on my own debt). Besides, I can almost double my income with the jobs I can get with the certification I am going for. So debt doesn’t scare me. Much.

I feel like I’ve already got it, like I’m already in.

The weekend was jam-packed and fun. Nate and I travelled down to Everett, WA on Friday evening and spent the evening in a cheap-ass motel that had fleas and a mattress that sagged. We watched ‘Titanic’ on the tiny TV and ate American junk food (spicy Cheetos and Cherry Coke). The next day we went south to Bothell for the Koi show that Nate has been obsessing about for the past two months. He was a little disappointed that we didn’t enter any of our fish. (He had been prepping them for the show, making sure they were nice and shiny and happy and all of that, when one after another of them came down with carp colds and bloody lips and split fins and all of the myriad of koi maladies that I didn’t even know existed.) Anyway, he barely budged from the show tanks for the whole day, and even bought two more fish. Surprise, surprise. I explored the cute little ‘Country Village’ where the koi show was taking place – kind of like a themed outdoor mall/park. A mini steam train would chug through the parking lot, packed full of passive-looking kids and grandmas. I looked at hats and miniature porcelain mice and old-fashioned candy and antique furniture. I ate a gyro and a giant shortbread cookie covered in orange cream icing. I watched a glass blower teaching a little girl how to blow glass. I went back to the car, put the seat back and read my book. It was a nice day. The weather was great, and the drive home was smooth and easy.

Sunday we went to Wreck Beach. Everyone knows what happens at Wreck Beach! Body surfing in the ice-cold Pacific waters, body-watching (hee hee hee), and the covert purchase of a blue freezie with rum in it from a topless redhead. Fun for all!

Ummmm. Rummy freezie. What I want to know is—how did she get the rum inside?

Good weekend. Happy days.

I have been seriously examining my private journal from the time I spent in Japan. What surprises me in retrospect is how rosy I have painted the entire 'Japan' picture since returning to Canada last year.

The truth was/is that I was lonely, conflicted, unbalanced and uncertain for much of the time. I felt like I was living in a patriarchal alien zoo. I drank too much, neglected my health, ignored my creative impulses. Which isn't to say that I'm sorry I did it-- I'm just feeling less yearning to go back to that time now. And that's awesome.

I am so glad that I will be leaving my twenties in a matter of months! I already feel the certainty and empowerment that getting another decade under the belt brings.

Quote of the WEEK:

“Holding two sets of competing beliefs paralyzes them.”

-Martha Beck

I’ve been thinking about this one all week. It has been really relevant to me, as I think I have gone through much of my twenties holding two sets of competing beliefs simultaneously – ever paralyzed in one realm of my life or another. The key to getting past this is to make a choice. Any choice. Choosing is action, and action brings new choices and opportunities—so in essence, there can’t be any such thing as a bad decision. I also see this as a way to end fear about commitment. When you commit to a choice, you move forward – and even commitments have beginnings, middles and ends—so committing isn’t ‘forever’. (Thank you, Barbara Sher!) I can hack that.

Anyway.

I finally booked Taichi’s hotel for him. Wow, are Vancouver accommodations ever expensive! Poor Taichi thought he might get two hotel rooms for $200 a night (he wanted me to stay in the same hotel, as an easily accessible interpreter/tour guide/cultural hostess). Ha! Well, #1 -- I’m not so sure Nathan would have been entirely comfortable situation, and #2 – a cheapie room at the YWCA (with shared washrooms) runs $90 a night, so… I took a chance and booked him into a really beautiful suite with a Jacuzzi tub and a kitchenette and a King-sized bed. I figured if he has to spend around $180 a night for a decent two-star hotel room, he might as well spend the whole allotted $200 on himself and get something SUPERFINE. Right? Four stars for Taichi!

Other news regarding recent successes—I am pretty good at the ‘snake arms’ movement in belly dancing class. Yay for me. I have yet to master undulations. Or even really ‘get’ them, never mind ‘master’.

Oh, and the biggest best thing of all—I finally made a decision about my career. This is enormously satisfying. I had decided a little while ago, but wanted to talk to Sarah (aka my boss/best buddy) before I put it ‘out’ there. My goal is sustainable cultural immersion, therefore teaching English as a second language is a natural choice. I miss teaching, I miss the students, and I have very few ‘cons’ on my pro/con list for instructing ESL. I would love to possibly teach high school in the future, or perhaps be a travel writer— or this or that or the other thing. Any way I toss it, getting back into teaching English is a great first step towards any goal.

I finally feel empowered to want the things I really want, and not feel like I owe it to someone to behave a certain way or walk a particular path. There is no ‘straight line’ for me, and I am damn excited about it! Better than feeling apologetic for not jumping straight out of high school into a career as an art teacher, like many people assumed I would. Hooray!

The hardest thing about all of this so far is my relationship with Nathan – I suppose I did say that commitments have beginnings, middles and ends. Luckily he and I are able to talk about our relationship logically, and it’s beginning to be clear to both of us that while we may love each other, our life paths may take us in entirely separate directions. There’s no point in dragging Nate around the world if his dream is to live in the boonies raising koi and growing bonsai. And he doesn’t want to force me into loving his lifestyle either. We both already know that it won’t work. Right now we’re already living in that suspended state between two conflicting lifestyles. There is a sort generosity of spirit that comes from our being able to discuss these shiftings openly; I feel like now that the changes have been set in motion, we are enjoying each other’s company more than ever before. Now that we have been honest and clear with each other. Now that there is an ‘ending’ on the horizon.

I told you... big changes! Deep breaths, open heart.

Namaste,

Endrene

Last night’s strange dream…

I was flying on a jumbo jet, super-jumbo, like a Passport Services waiting room in the sky. There were rows upon rows of people—this sucker was full. The guy next to me was a Japanese man. He was so small that he had to sit in a booster seat, which he seemed to take in stride.

Suddenly things started to go terribly wrong. I think I first noticed it when turbulence sent somebody not wearing their seat belt straight up in the air, like a popping popcorn kernel. The plane started to shake violently. People started to scream. I was alarmed, but not freaked out—I was just kind of taking it all in. People continued to fly haphazardly around the inside of the plane alongside bags knocked out of storage and dinner trays (which sprayed corn everywhere). People were screaming and screaming.

The worst thing was that people were starting to get abusive with one another, and that was what was truly upsetting to me. A husband and wife turned against to each other, shrieking about how they both wished they’d never married. A scared fat woman with a mustache, big brown eyes, and a lime-green coat, tried to push past us, looking for somewhere safer. People in my aisle hurled insults at her.

At some point I turned to the little Japanese man beside me. He was calmer than everyone else, like me. We looked at each other and I held one of his small hands. I was thinking, “he understands…” but then he began to profess his love for me. I felt annoyed and disgusted with him, and maddened with everyone—like everyone had it wrong. Everyone had this moment of terror to get their lives right, and everyone was wasting their energy on useless emotions—anger, fury, bitterness, regret, fear, even love and passion. In being annoyed, I felt myself losing the grip of ‘rightness’. I let go of the man’s hand and turned to watch the disaster unfold.

It didn’t. The plane righted itself. People began to get up off of the floor, move back to their seats, pick corn out of their hair. Everyone had an air of embarrassment. People began to murmur apologies, make small jokes to pretend that nothing had happened. I was so shocked—it was as though everyone had just sold their collective souls, and now they were in denial of the momentous event.

I woke up, feeling like I was choking on an angry yell.

"Pain is the price you pay for resisting life. "

-Dr. Phil McGraw

Whatever any of us think about good ol' Dr. Pee McGee, this quote makes sense. So stop resisting, already!

Another weekend past—another week closer to September! This is the time of year that we all start to wonder what the heck happened to summer. Particularly if a) you are going back to school (which I am not) or b) you live in a climate which is rapidly cooling (which I do). I am especially annoyed by the waning days, as summer took far too long to get here in the first place. The cool beginnings made for a fantastic and extended blossom season, but the hot-hot days were far too few and far between.

My friend and former student Taichi Nakamura is coming to Vancouver in a couple of weeks. I am his designated tour guide, and I am feeling a little bit panicked as he wants to do the following in the space of three days: Go to Queen Elizabeth Park. See Canada Place. Go hiking. Ride a ferry to Victoria. See Butchart Gardens. Eat smoked salmon and oysters… OK, so it isn’t so bad. I’m just feeling a huge wave of overpowering obligation because I always have this sort of NEED to show Japanese people (any Japanese people, this includes strangers on the Skytrain too) how great BC is. And how nice and polite Canadians are (even if my own experience with my people might illustrate otherwise at times).

Anyway. He also wants me to book his hotel, and pick him up at the airport, and I am anxious because I’m not sure I’ll pick the right hotel. And I’m embarrassed by my junky little red go-cart car with the enormous crack in the windshield and the pervasive smell of wet dog—even though I don’t own a dog.

Why am I panicked? Why does this matter so much?

As long as he has fun, I’ll have fun too. And he’s never been here before, so he can’t have too many expectations—I hope.

I broke through.

I’ve been stuck, frustrated and deeply annoyed with myself, until 6:47pm on Tuesday evening.

I have been reading “I COULD DO ANYTHING, If I Only Knew What it Was” by Barbara Sher. At first, I was elated, because the exercises at the beginning of the book really led me to plow through the junk piles of “what if” and “I should” and “maybe I ought to”. I began to peel away my scabby guilt-gobs, to see what was plugging up the portal of my potential. A whole lot of stuff, it turns out!

I’ve been so afraid. Afraid to commit. Afraid to plunge into the depths of my abilities. Afraid to go for what I really wanted, because it’s always been easier to stay in roles where I knew how to please, how to be the ‘good employee’, the ‘good girl’. Not surprisingly, bringing these things into my complete consciousness unleashed a torrent of anger. I was furious at myself for wasting my own time, for not figuring this out sooner. Thankfully, Barbara Sher continually reminded me to be gentle with myself, to be forgiving—you can’t get angry at a car that doesn’t go, if the problem is that it’s out of gas. And you can’t get angry at yourself for utilizing the coping mechanisms you learned as a kid. All you can do is realize that you’re a grown-up now, and it’s time to find a better way to do things. A more fruitful way.

Regardless, I was still mad. I couldn’t find myself in the second part of the book, the part of the book that breaks down the various types of blockages and tells you what to do about them. I was getting frantic, reading three chapters at once, flipping between them, hoping the next page would be the one with the mirror.

On 6:47pm on Tuesday evening I found it, I found the mirror. I was trying to gulp down the last of the three chapters before my counseling session, so if nothing else, I could at least say to Gerry “I tried to use the book, but it didn’t work for me”. But it did!

I am a ‘Frustrated Diver’. To everyone on the outside, I appear to be a ‘Scanner’ (someone who needs to do and taste and try a little bit of everything). But what I really am is someone who desperately wants to dive, to get really deep into something—but I have allowed my fears to keep me floating on the surface. My fears have turned me into “Odd Job Joe” (as my brother once so kindly put it).

I think I instinctively knew that it was my high-speed scanning that sent me into my high-speed wobble, so I forced myself to try and ‘settle down’—because from the outside, that seemed like the good, normal, sane thing to do. I don’t think I thought very much about whether or not it was what I really wanted for myself. I got the job, the basement suite, the fish tank, the fiancé. Then I sat back and waited for the happiness to come. And it didn’t.

I pushed too hard. I tried to follow rules that were never really there. I tried to be the “good girl”.

Now everything is starting to open up again. I’m starting to feel passion and hope come flooding back in. I’m making plans. I’m dreaming dreams. I realize the next bits of my life might be scary and difficult— I'll have to make some big changes. But I realize that I’ll learn so much more than I ever could sitting still. I also realize that I can make these big changes by taking small steps.

I’ll be doing a lot more for the world by being wholly myself than I ever will by trying to ‘behave’ for the make-believe ‘someone else’.

"Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person."

- Mother Theresa

I hate it when nuts get caught in my teeth. I just mauled one of those Sweet and Salty Mixed Nut bars and a chunk has lodged itself in the small black hole that appeared behind my meat shredding teeth, following the loss of a filling. I don’t like nuts in my teeth, but I don’t like the dentist more. It’s a good thing that I am a habitual flosser.

Why are we all so sad? When did apathy become cool? Long before Emo, long before goth cool, before grunge… I remember how I savoured and coveted my little store of private enthusiasm in high-school. I couldn’t wait until University! Where everyone would be happy! Pep rallies! Football games and sunny days and ponytails and shiny white teeth!

Wow. Was I ever disappointed. My 1950’s Pop-Dream was dashed to pieces on the cold ubiquitous cement walls of SFU, circa 1997.

I have been drifting, searching for enthusiasm. Only recently have I discovered that my pervasive habit of stuffing desire down whenever it peeks up has been responsible for suffocating enthusiasm before it can shriek its announcement of life. It’s time to let desire and passion and gusto breathe freely. Hey, everybody! I’ve decided that I DON’T CARE if you think I’m odd when I blow bubbles on the beach, when I sing out loud in my car, when I start wiggling with joy over good gelato (or these days, over a good rice cracker with antipasto)!

Here’s the thing—being happy in and of yourself is MAGNETIC. It attracts good things to you; good people, prime situations, awesome opportunities. You know this if you’ve read the Secret, if you’ve read A New Earth—hell, you know it if you’ve taken the time to read the back of a box of Froot Loops. We get happiness and satisfaction out of deciding to be happy.

Making the decision, and following through on it isn’t easy, though. Maybe that’s why we all stay stuck and sad. Because there is no purple pill that can infuse us with this understanding. Being happy is work, even HARD work. But I think it’s worth it.

I was looking at some of my posts from when I lived in Japan, and decided to scroll thought them randomly. I ended up selecting December 5th, 2006… which began with my tale of woe about “chronic (something) of the patellae” – knee trouble—and ended with me sobbing into my clean socks in the laundry room of Dia Palace Sakosanbancho, Tokushima. Habit of Happiness? I was slipping there.

The entry previous to that one was a slap-dash list of the events I experienced in Kyoto when I travelled there with Ume and her mom—it brought back glimmers of memories that I had almost forgotten about. Like wandering around the labyrinth of the geisha district, hoping to see one; eating tiny perfectly shaped creamy Kyoto tofu in a restaurant the size of a small bedroom; sitting among the little red-dressed buddhas and slabs of indecipherable carved rocks on Inariyama, watching the yellow leaves drift down. We even experienced a “Fox’s Wedding” on Inariyama—when the sun shines and the rain falls at the same time. It was gorgeous, and perfect, because we were near an Inari shrine at that moment, and Inari is a shape-shifting goddess whose primary messengers are white foxes. Additionally, I sort of took the foxes on as my patron spirits while I lived in Japan, and never passed up an opportunity to stop at a fox shrine if I came across one. (Although most of my male Japanese friends did not think highly of the foxes—they are associated with sneaky devious female wiles—which might conversely be why I liked them so much).

Anyway—back to the sobbing in the socks part. I was lonely. I didn’t know what I was doing, and yet I look back, and I can see that I WAS doing. Doing something. Teaching. Working. Exploring. I think what happened was once the newness and freshness of my adventure wore off, I was once again struck with a crisis of meaning. I knew all the dirty words in Japanese, and a good smattering of clean ones. I had been to an onsen, eaten fugu, dressed up like a geisha. I wanted (and still do want) to have my work, my time on this earth, be of some value and significance—and not just to myself. I want work that engages me fully AND presents opportunities for adventure AND does good things for others. I will find this work! It is my solemn promise to myself. Additionally, a friend of mine reminded me that I had given myself until this coming September to figure out what my next move would be, and she’s going to hold me to it—so if I can’t do it for me, I can always do it for someone else! (^_~)

I’m working on this, I really am. There is nothing I want more than to bring the wholeness of myself—my creativity, empathy, my ability to create beauty, my own particular ‘light’—to the world, and share it as a gift, as I was meant to. Remember this, everyone: in the history of the universe, there will never be another person exactly like you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Endrene wholeheartedly recommends “I Could Do Anything If I Only Knew What It Was” by Barbara Sher… the best first step she has ever come across for finding your true calling!

I got clipped by a truck when I was riding my bike today-- he knocked me right off my bike, and I tumbled to the shoulder of the road. I was unhurt-- but geez! I sat up quickly enough to see him drive away... luckily I got his license plate number. Who DOES that? Who hits a person and drives away? Ha! The cops are after you now, buddy! I might not have called them if you'd actually stopped to see if I was OK! Wienerhead!

Karma gets you every time, and sometimes Karma comes in a police cruiser. Speaking of which, I guess I have to earn up a little more good karma if I'm the one getting smacked by pickup trucks...

Wear your helmet, folks!

Mom and Dad’s party is over and done! Thanks so much to all of those who helped out!

Sarah acted as our photographer, as the one I had booked had a family emergency. We (Sandy, Nathan, Katie, Mom and Dad and I) all met up at the Japanese Garden in Penticton, next to the art gallery… a good location for some arty shots! We went to Earl’s following that to have lunch. We finished eating a little sooner than I expected to, and Mom was pushing to go home for a nap. Luckily the Penticton Pipe Band was there as well, having lunch after the Peach Fest parade… a good temporary distraction for Mom and Dad, which bought us some time. (They both used to be movers and shakers in the Pipe Band back when Sandy was their bass drummer).

We took East Side Road along Skaha Lake to stretch the time out just a little more. When we arrived at mom and dad’s house in Kaleden, I was surprised that there were no cars parked in front of the house, no decorations on the deck… where was everyone? Did they forget to come? When we opened the front door, I saw the “Happy 40th Anniversary” banner strung up on the banister, balloons… but still silence. This was going well! Mom and Dad cautiously moved into the foyer as we hung back. I had butterflies in my stomach for them! As they started up the stairs, I could see that everyone was gathered around the top landing, looking down… and they all shouted SURPRISE! I think the best thing for me was my parent’s reactions when they saw some of the folks I had managed to gather up… Sandy’s and my babysitter from Port Moody, old family friends and co-workers from ‘way back, church friends and family members. Some people couldn’t make it, but as the house was full it all worked out as it was meant to. Sandy and his friends looked after the meat and the alcohol, me and my friends (and Sandy’s girlfriend’s mom, Judy) managed the salads and snacks.

My first surprise party! The first one I have ever been a part of anyway… success! But for the 50th, they had better plan their own party! After this, I’m through with social planning… (^_~)

Here's what everybody needs to know: I don't know what I want. I don't know where I want to live, what I want to do, when, how, I don't KNOW anything. Maybe I want to live in Penticton. Maybe I want to live in Nanaimo. Maybe I want to live in India and become a Buddhist nun. Maybe not.

Please don't hold me accountable to making decisions that suit your vision of who you think I am. Give me space, time, and a forum for expressing what I have learned and what I realize I have NOT learned.

I'll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, don't judge, yo.

I decided at the last minute to go to the island with Nathan. So much for all of the “should haves”. Besides, how am I supposed to know ‘what’s in it for me’ unless I make an effort to find out?

I really liked Nanaimo—at least the part of it where we were, in Harewood or ‘University Town’. Harewood isn’t too far from Nanaimo proper, the notorious downtown with the ancient bastion, cute little harbour and myriads of crackheads. Harewood is low-end, with huge potential. Lots of 40’s era quirky abodes housing students, Hell’s Angels, and stray cats; all sporting yards with dried-out grass lawns. And in the case of Nathan’s friend Aaron’s place, pots full of colourful fake flowers (he and his girl Jennie readily admit to an absence of green thumbs in their household). I think the rent they are paying for their 2-bedroom house-and-yard is roughly equivalent to what Nate and I are dishing out for the one-bedroom basement suite in Aldergrove. I think Aldergrove should pay ME to live here.

Anyway, Nanaimo stuck me as dirty and sweet—ripe for a little cultural revolution. There are some arty-funky shops downtown which always bolsters my spirit. It seemed like the more icky-type shops (Pawn Shops, XXX Video Stores and the Hydroponic Supply) were shut down. That’s since the last time I was there, about a year ago. I found my imagination scrambling to imagine what business I would run if the storefront was mine… a futurizing activity I haven’t partaken of in a while. I guess Nanaimo inspired me a little. I’ve always been a sucker for potential!

When we first arrived, Nate quickly involved us in a hike to some waterfalls with his buddies Jeremy and Griffin, and two other guys. These are the type of guys who are made out of elastic bands. They eat McDonalds. They skateboard and do backflips off of sandpiles. They can climb like monkies and fly like squirrels and recover from a hangover in the space of a couple of hours. In short, they were young, healthy, and fully capable of kicking my ass. I didn’t realize that I had something to prove, until I couldn’t prove anything…

Yeah. So the waterfalls? Lovely. One after another tumbling into each other in a deep, ferny, mossy, cool forest. Getting to them required navigating some goat paths and then rappelling down some steepish dirt paths, and THEN (to get to the bottom two waterfalls) rappelling down a rock face. I use the term “rappelling” in the loosest sense. What I mean is that there was some nasty old plastic rope with knots in it, tied around a tree at the top of the rock face, and I squealed and grunted all the way down, hoping to hell that if I fell that Nate would catch me (or that I wouldn’t kill him if I fell on him). I made it down. I was pumped full of adrenaline! I was awesome! I rewarded myself with a panty-and-bra dip in the frigid second-waterfall pool. The monkey boys scaled a rock face to the bottom pool. I took some pictures, waited and wandered a bit. Admired ferns. Then, slap, bang, time to go! One monkey up the rock face, two monkeys, three… and this little piggy stayed home.

I couldn’t do it. Could not. I tried with shoes and without. I tried to find another path. I tried with Nathan below, trying to hoist my bountiful booty up, up, up… Couldn’t do it. The monkeys were gone, long gone. Just me and Nathan, stuck at Waterfall Two. What if we were stuck there forever? What if a bear could smell my fear and decided to come and eat me?

Thank goodness Nate stayed with me to find a solution. We ended up traversing up the mossy ferny pitch to our immediate right, pulling ourselves nearly on our stomachs through the brambles and snails. I had dirt in my panties. I had spiders in my bra. But I wanted to live, I wanted to escape!

The monkeys came back, hooting “HALOOOoooo” through the woods until the located us from a vantage point above, and directed us the last bit of the way up to the path. They had all gone all the way back to the cars before they realized that we weren’t ahead of them. Or behind them.

Getting back to the cars was satisfying, a victory. I didn’t prove anything to anybody but myself—and that is, that I can survive. Ha! Take that, imaginary bears! You didn’t eat me, after all!

The rest of the weekend was fun, if less death-defying (by my standards). We saw “Dark Knight” and slept on a futon. I visited Jess and Ryan in Courtenay, and built sandcastles (or one big sand mound, really) with Colin and Anna-Maria’s kids. I found a starfish and hermit crabs and a very interesting baby sea-slug. (fluorescent orange boobily-tendril body with neon-blue antennae—like a crawling anemone). I smiled into the sun. I took pictures of the ocean.

It’s weird to me how our ‘long weekends’ are just big party weekends, with no common purpose. You can go camping or hiking, boozing, cruising or snoozing. There’s no real guideline for how a Canadian holiday MUST be celebrated. (Other than Canada Day, which means wearing red and white and having flags painted on your cheeks and watching fireworks). I think it’s nice, the autonomy to choose. I also think it’s sad, as we’re missing that “piece of a bigger pie” feeling that I got at hana-mi or hana-bi festivals in Japan.

Regardless. I had fun. And I survived!

The long weekend is fast approaching, and I still haven’t decided what to do with it. Tamara and Brad have put together a cruise on Okanagan lake on a party barge, Nathan is going to Nanaimo to skate with his buddies, and I’ve been invited to an art show in Vancouver… choices, choices! I actually think that the party barge isn’t really an option for me at this point, as I’ll be up in the Okanagan for the following two weekends—and gas is killer these days, as we are all well aware.

Here are the things I probably ought to do: I’m still woefully behind in the completion of my webpage. I have a weird tax form thing that I got back in February that I don’t understand and haven’t really tried to. I haven’t given my bank information to the institution that has set up an RRSP plan for me—the money won’t start being saved until I do. I still need to get tax information to the Canadian government for the period that I lived in Japan. I haven’t been spending enough time painting or drawing or creating for months now… I still need to clear up some last minute things for my parent’s party—phone a few more people, arrange a few more surprises and reservations et al.

Bleah.

The beach was sweet on monday evening; high tide though, so we plopped on the grass to the side of the pedestrian walkway, next to the sculpture that looks like a giant piece of female anatomy. (I can't resist crawling through it everytime I see it, shouting "I'M BEING BORN! I'M BEING BORN!"... weird, yes. But oddly fun.)

We ate smoked oysters and smoked salmon and a kind of spinach-tofu pate that I dreamed up; Okanagan cherries and peanut butter and banana sandwiches. It was seriously the best dinner I've had in a while. Eating outdoors does that-- makes everything taste better.

White Rock has just enough people to make me feel as though I am SOMEWHERE, and just enough tacky-touristyness to make me wish that I was somewhere else, somewhere a little more cosmopolitan. I know Nate is still pushing hard to move to the island. He'd love to be closer to his Speedboarding team and the good hills that Nanaimo has to offer. Paranoid though I may be, the rising cost of fuel makes a move to any island a little suspect to me. What if we get stuck? What if the mainland decides to stop bringing supplies? Besides-- what's in Nanaimo for me?

Why don't I feel AT HOME anywhere?

If you're a person who talks to my mom, don't tell her what you've read here. PROMISE. I'm still madly planning for her and dad's big surprise 40th anniversary party... it's going all right. Luckily my brother is pretty helpful. Amazing how well we get along, now that we don't have He-Man dolls and Transformer toys to fight over. Or Barbies... did I mention that Sandy had his very own Barbie? Her name was Cindy.

Anyway, if I've forgotten to invite you, don't be sad, just call or email and tell me you'd like to come, and I'll fill you in on the details. As long as you promise to bring some booze, I'm sure I can get you an invite, exclusive though this shindig is. ;) If my mom asks, tell her you don't know what she's talking about. Tell her she's crazy.

Nate and I are going to go have a picnic in White Rock, so I better shake a tail and get outta here. What am I still doing at work anyway?

Namaste

Kid at work shot a nail through his finger about ½ an hour ago, securing his hand to a pallet… Randy had to get the circular saw to cut him free, and off he went in the ambulance, chunk of pallet still attached. Yikes.

Needless to say everything here kind of ground to a halt; I was in the middle of orientation with the new girl when they brought him through the office. Not surprisingly, we had just covered the part of the training that involved safety, and I rattled through the bit about not pulling a nail out of yourself if you got shot. I can be laissez-faire enough when I describe the safety rules, but to actually witness it is another story. Again, Yikes I say.

Yeah, I still work at a pallet factory, in the office. I finally signed my position contracts yesterday, and I am now more clearly defined. Now I am no longer just an ‘Office Worker’—I am an ‘Executive Assistant’/’Research and Development Associate’. Today is my one-year anniversary of working here. It is also my dish-day.

I’ve written manuals, found obscure phone numbers on the magical internet, composed training checklists, developed systems for increased employee retention and better recruitment, and listened to a lot of raunchy stories from Sarah. I have made databases and newspaper ads and technical drawings of pallets. I have fielded calls and drawn up quotes. I have not built a single pallet, and luckily have never shot myself with a nail gun. It has been an interesting year.

I wonder where I’ll be, and what I’ll be learning this time next year?

Last week I went to a counseling session so that I can start figuring out a clear career path.

It was so unbelievably good. I have another one tonight, and I’m stoked! Gerry’s a pretty enthusiastic character, and he pinpointed me immediately as someone who already has the skill-set for anything— but my interests don’t necessarily match up to my skills (or to my job). That’s probably the result of school—I learned how school is designed to make everyone a little bit good at EVERYTHING rather than focusing on the talents and the passions of the students. And I was a great student—great at everything. Which equals success for the schools—they produced a nice, well-rounded, average citizen who can fit in any niche. But for me... I don’t WANT to be average. So what if I can fit in anywhere? Just because I am capable of flipping burgers at McD's doesn't mean it's going to turn my crank.

I just need to be pointed in the direction that will fully utilize my interests, skills, passions, et al. Gerry said, “You’re someone that just needs some winding up, and then you’ll just GO!” Yep.

Another good little example that Gerry gave me about how the school system fails us—say you have a kid. He brings home his report card. He has an A in English, another A in Social Studies, a C in Biology and an F in Algebra… what do you, as a parent, focus on? I said the C in Biology, because at least I can help with that (I’m hopeless at Math)—but I guess that most people would focus on the F, right? That’s the school-system answer. The truth is you want to focus on the A’s, because wherever someone excels is where their interests lie. You look a little bit at the F to get it up to a C, but you leave the C alone—a C is good enough, the kid is getting by, but he’s not showing any desire to be a biologist… no big deal.

I wish I knew this before, years ago. I could have been so much more forgiving towards myself for not getting an A in everything. The nice thing is that I can now take my own interests and values a little more seriously; I can put a little less emphasis on ‘making it work’ and ‘getting by’ and a little more energy into living passionately and truthfully. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

Is it summer yet?

I think so. I've had some good adventures; Corrin and I went back up to Kaleden/Penticton a couple of weekends ago and pretty much just relaxed. That meant: shopping at a fruit stand, lazing on the beach, sitting on the lawn drinking a bottle of wine watching the stars come out and the deer go by... (and the rowdy gang of boys go by too-- gotta do something with that teenage energy!) It was good to reconnect with her and for both of us to remind ourselves why our friendship is so enduring. It's good to have someone you can just say anything to, with the risk of judgement or misunderstanding.

I'm actually quite blessed, in the friend department!

I always want more days like that-- more dreamy dusks and sweetly scented mornings; I love the sound of the lake and the smell of the dry air and wild baby's breath-- hell, I even love the familiar grating sound of those horrible grebes singing their squawking love song (why can't Skaha lake have loons?).

I don't know what this weekend will bring. Nate and I celebrated his 22nd birthday yesterday by going to Midori Sushi in Abbotsford and getting food poisoning, so maybe we can make up for it by going camping or something. I just kind of want to get off of the map for a while...

My weekend? I cleaned. I moved furniture and polished faucets and washed forty-seven-thousand loads of socks; I was a whirling frenzy of airborne dust-fluffs, wearing a crown of dead spiders and a shirt made of stray hair and dryer lint. I bleached and scrubbed and wiped and sanitized. The funny thing is I still don’t feel like I was finished; there are still cluttered closets, manky corners in the fridge, piles of shoes…

Why is there always such disparity between what was accomplished and the feeling of accomplishment? This 21st Century lifestyle seems well-suited to a Type-A Multi-Tasking Madwoman… which very few of us actually are. Thank goodness I don’t have children yet! And what does ‘living simply’ actually entail? I find that now that I’ve cut wheat and dairy (and a lot of meat) from my diet, eating has become a challenge. It’s good; I’m eating more fresh fruits and veggies, thereby creating less waste and less impact on the earth in general. I suppose that living simply doesn’t always equate to living easily. I also propose that the less “stuff” I have, the more easy my so-called simple life will be.

I’ve already changed the way I’m doing things due to the astronomical gas prices. I ride my bike more, walk, take the bus, and don’t go anywhere that I don’t NEED to go to. I am of the opinion that these steepening gas prices are a good thing. In fact, living easily is probably the last thing we need more of. My generation (X/Y) has been challenged very little and has known very little lack; there’s nothing like a recession to shock a society back into reality. Fact: North Americans are (by and large) GREEDY. Self-Obsessed. Shallow. These qualities don’t make us good world citizens. The high gas prices and high food prices might just be the smack across the nose we’ve been asking for.

Whew.

Nathan is off to the races this weekend—that crazy, crazy Vernon DH. Good luck Nate! I hope you don’t come back all broken in little bits! Those insane speedboarders, I tell you…

Me, I have no particular plans, thank goodness. Sarah wants to launch a cleaning attack on her chaotic condo this weekend. Sarah's been living at her parents house since her breakup, and the condo has been pretty much empty. Her ex was going to buy her out, but he's decided that Aldergrove isn't really where he wants to be. Sarah doesn’t really want to leave the housing market if she can avoid it anyway, so she’ll buy him out instead. We went by there last week to pick up Ivy, Sarah’s cat… the cats had pretty much been left to their own devices since her ex moved in with his new girlfriend. From the looks (and the smell) of the place, her ex didn’t really want the place anyway. Ivy sure was happy to get out of there! I carried her out of the condo and held her in my arms for the whole drive; she cried a little, but she never once dug her claws in or freaked out. As for the other cat, the new girlfriend came by to pick her up later that same day, so at least the kitty wasn’t left by herself for too long.

Sunday I’ll don my gas mask and rubber gloves and help Sarah give the place a major disinfecting.

Tomorrow… I’m not even going to say what it is I want to do. I’ll just let the day unfold naturally. Here’s hoping for some sunshine and pleasant times.

This past weekend, Nate and I tripped up to the Okanagan to scope it out, and to enjoy my mom and dad’s empty house. (Supposedly they’ll have moved back into it by the end of the month… but packing seems to be progressing slo—wly).

We drove up after work on Friday, and arrived around 9pm—we were shortly thereafter joined by my brother and our childhood neighbor, Brad Cook. They arrived with beer, rum, and a desire to start a fire in the outdoor pit. Before long, Brad (a self-proclaimed rapper) was laying down the phat tracks—“Yo, yo, yo, I’m Bradley C. and I’m here hangin’ with Sandy and E-- we all be chillin’ ‘round the fi-re and I be laying the lines on the ____” He encouraged us all to freestyle with him—Sandy was pretty sauced and would sit stunned for a few moments too long before spitting out a rhyming word. It was hilarious. Brad puked a few times in mom’s garden, and I don’t remember doing anything but laughing.

The next day, Sandy woke Nate and I shockingly early with demands for breakfast—Brad couldn’t be roused. Sandy is like an angry baby crow when he is hungry—actually, he’s like an angry baby crow most of the time. We headed into Penticton for a White Spot brekkie—usually my favorite, but I keep on forgetting that it has been routinely disappointing lately; crappy coffee, and those dreaded soggy shred-style hash browns that always seem to be lukewarm. Minor grievances aside, it was nice hanging out with my brother and my guy, and having breakfast talk. We went to the farmer’s market and purchased a mish-mash of items; bison sausage, burdock, and fresh honey. The best part was bumping into old friends and neighbors, and recognizing familiar people. I found Greg McLean at the ‘Sacred Sun Body Art’ booth—I worked for him and his wife one summer travelling around to different events and fairs doing henna ‘tattoos’. It was neat seeing him again; he even let me take up my old tools and do a wicked pin-up girl in henna on my brother’s arm. It proved very popular throughout the day, though Sandy did get the seedy eye from a small group of disapproving ladies at the market.

Later, there was to be a big 35th anniversary party at Bob and Kerrel Lincoln’s house—something I would have known about sooner if I hadn’t dropped off of Facebook. (My brother is still disgusted with me for doing so—“what, are you too cool for Facebook?”) Still pooped from the night before, we decided to preface the party with a nap and a visit to Tickleberry’s for an ice-cream cone. I opted for lemon sorbet, and Nate got my fave from last year, a horribly bright ice cream called ‘Play-dough’. Sounds gross, but it’s cherry-banana-blueberry. Yum. The murals I painted still look great; I’m so glad I investigated the colourfastness of all the paints I used, and only bought the best. We inspected the T-Shirts they have put out with my artwork this year—they’re very cute, and are already proving to be big sellers! I felt quite satisfied, and not a little pride for my small-town fame. I’ve had more than my allotted 15 minutes, lucky me! (take that, Andy Warhol!)

We eventually met up with Sandy back at the house and decided to walk up through Kaleden to the Lincoln’s house to bypass any chance of any drunk driving. When we got there I was attacked by a barrage of huggers—great! It was fun to see my old schoolmates and the ‘Kaleden parents’ whooping it up together. The party was neat; it started out sweet and mellow, and progressed to saucy and wild. Bob Lincoln is well-known for the potency of his home-made wine, so I wasn’t surprised to hear about the table-dancing and other highjinx that went on after Nate and I headed home early…

We had breakfast out again the next morning, with Tamara, Brad, Josh, Sonia, Cindy and Cassie. We got to meet Tam and Brad’s new puppy, Ivy… what a cutie! (But seriously—who doesn’t like puppies?) I heard far more about what I missed after Nate and I left the party—I think I’m glad I left! The farther away I stay from trouble, the less of it I get into! Nate and I cruised Penticton after breakfast, and he bombed Carmi on his longboard—that was probably the most scared I’ve been for him while I’ve been following him and spotting for him—how much good am I in a car behind him on a blind hairpin corner? Yikes. He’s crazy. I can’t beat him, but sometimes I don’t know if I want to join him, either. He’ll be up in Vernon next weekend for the DH event there.

It was sunny and breezy and beautiful for the entire weekend—the landscape is relatively unchanged from my childhood, with the exception of more houses being built across the lake from us (more lights on the hillside at night) and the evidence of the pine beetle scourge. Sandy estimates that within the next five years, the majority of the ponderosa pines will be toast.

Anyway, lots of fun was had by all; good to stomp the hometown ground once in a while.