I think I have come to a strange place in the small history of my blog writing.

The writers write and write, and fill up their electronic lungs with vibrations from their egos and spirits, and spill syntax and hype and self-revelations into this glowing space.

Then comes the realization that the space we are spilling into is in fact, endless. Or as endless as the human mind is able to conceive of. I can never fill up this space. This 'book' will never be finished. And that depresses me a little. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe I should be glad to have such an unfurling, endless, open forum for my ramblings. But the orderly side of me is annoyed that there are no clean boundaries. It won't end until I am dead, or until I say 'The End'. The first option is too uncontrollable. The second is too final.

And so I post only occasionally, and often (I feel) pointlessly.

I post to fulfill the need of my ego to be heard. Why? The ego is a selfish noisemaker.

I post to fulfill the demands of others. Why? They aren't paying me for my words.

I post because it has become a fading habit, a small echo of the grand times when I was living and working abroad. I guess that's the main reason why I continue this charade. Because I am hoping that my life still has as much meaning and colour and vibrance as it did when I was living in Japan. I am thinking that if I still talk about myself, about what I am learning, about my daily (monthly) struggles, that perhaps I can imbue these mundane behaviours with some sort of meaning.

It's all so existential. I want it to have a purpose, a point.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy my life. I have some pretty great things going on right now. I have a really fantastic condo that I share with a really fantastic girl. I have a fantastic job, a fantastic boyfriend, fantastic friends, and I occasionally have some fantastic fun. But I don't have a whole lot of passion, or discovery, or sparky-sparky-ness going on in my day-to-day grind. I feel like there are significant portions of joy that are stunningly absent from my life. And I don't know where to find them. And I'm not sure that talking about it here is going to help, you know?

When I think back to October last year, I feel like I am looking over the terrain of a foreign landscape. How-- in the space of a year-- can I have had five jobs, had a stint back in school, lived in five homes in four different cities, struggled through a failed engagement and found a new love?

I know how. I just did it. I just followed my heart and did it.

I still have my doubts from time to time; it seems to be an essential sort of suffering for me. But basically, I am happy. And that’s what I was after. That’s all I will always be after.

I don’t chase happiness; I inhabit it. And I inhabit it best by being true to myself, by being honest and brutal, by destroying and rebuilding, by (in the words of my fabulous new room-mate) firing off rockets of desire. By choosing only to attract that which serves me best. By knowing myself well, and by treating myself in the way that I wish to be treated. By sharing my time and energy only with those who are able to reciprocate in a positive manner.

I am learning. The learning busts my (figurative) balls half the time, but it is so, SO worth it.

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

Next weekend I will be heading to Kamloops to celebrate Halloween (and my little brother’s 28^th birthday) WITH my little brother. I haven’t ever partied with my brother on his Halloween birthday; not unless you count the days when ‘partying’ meant a pumpkin-shaped cake and extra candy for the clever boy who declared “and it’s my birthday, too!” when we went trick-or-treating. I bought him a sweet toy submarine for his hot-tub. Hopefully he’s not reading my blog these days…

My job is super, I love my students. I just signed up four more today; it has been pretty quiet (classes of only two to six students typically), but now that the major apple-picking season is coming to an end, we can expect to see more of the agricultural workers filtering in. The students are from all over the planet; the only doubling-up I’ve had is with two Punjabi ladies… I had to give them different partners, they kept on giggling and whispering in Punjabi! It was pretty cute, but a bit distracting for the more ‘serious’ students.

I hope to get a sort of newsletter made up so that I can show all of the former students (who are not currently attending classes) what a blast we are having and entice them to come back. ELSA (English Language Services for Adults) provides free ESL to immigrants, so if I’m offering some cost-free educational fun, who is going to turn me down?

Moving is going all right as well. Dad, Dave and I made a run down to Chilliwack to attack the storage container this past Saturday. It was a long haul—dad saw it as just a ‘day’s work’ – four hours there, four hours back. I typically don’t like travelling anywhere without getting a chance to BE where I am, and I was a little resentful of Dave, who slept for most of the trip. I can’t blame him, seeing as he was pulling through the final stages of H1N1… awfully generous of him to come and spend his nominal amount of energy on sorting through the dross of my previous life, while dealing with the flu that is casually knocking off members of our generation. Anyway, we packed the two vehicles full (and I was sick with disgust that I own SO MUCH STUFF) and left the rest in the storage unit, which I will continue to pay for until… well, until I can figure out what to do with random kitchen items and art history books and other bewildering items that have no current relevance.

This evening I will empty the vehicles with dad and try to cram the stuff into the tiny condo and my tinier bedroom… despite my apprehension, I am deliriously happy to be out on my own (so to speak) again. The condo is within walking distance of work, and I will finally be living in town; no more morning commute. I will be good for the environment! Or better for it, anyway.

I just discovered this morning that my best friend Corrin had her baby, a little girl named Talia. She really is just gorgeous—from what I’ve seen from facebook photos, anyway! I can’t believe that another tiny life has entered the world. I am in awe of the amazing people who procreate. I guess I’m just not there yet. I’m OK with that. Everyone else seems to be doing a fine job of keeping the population levels steady! Way to go, baby-makers! (And I mean all of this sincerely; if you’re reading any sarcasm into it, that’s YOUR mind, not mine!) Anyway, welcome baby Talia of Corrin and Mike! Welcome baby Benjamin of Tamara and Brad! Welcome baby Arlo of Maggie Ann and Josh! Welcome, welcome babies everywhere!

Hello, world. Is it September already?

What an amazing summer. I have been through so many changes and I have been engaged in the processes of change so thoroughly, that my usual perception of time seemed to simply... switch off.

When last I wrote, I scored a sweet job that ended up being a beautiful launching pad for an even sweeter job. I am now doing what I really wanted to do (teaching ESL) and more besides. I am teaching ESL in my own hometown in about the only place in town that has such a job available. Amazing, this is utterly amazing to me! That I could have fired off my rockets of desire and have so completely hit my targets!

Now, (as I do every September) I am working to re-balance my life; for most of the spring and early summer 'playtime' took precedence, then as I started working again, 'worktime' started to tip the scales. I want to work enough that I still have energy to play, and play enough that I still have energy to work. Actually, scrap that. I want my playtime to invigorate my worktime and vice-versa. Especially now that I am teaching (often) disheartened immigrants who believe that there is nothing fun in Penticton to do... I must prove them wrong! There is SO much to do, there really is. Tonight, for example, I will be at a networking event from 5-7pm, and then off to the opening of an art show my work is in from 7-9pm, and then from 9pm onwards I will be at the Legion, rocking out to some live music. Things are happening in this town, baby!

I am happening in this town!

I am a magnet! I am a fountain! I am a shooting star!

Positivity and optimism are wonderful seeds, and the rewards are excellent. Big juicy fruits of wonder and joy and abundance! I get good things, because I think good things. Because no matter what you think, you're going to be right. So wouldn't you rather be right about some good stuff?

I got the job. I do mean THE job, the one I wanted, the one that will serve me well in all of the wonderful ways I need. I'll be working as an employment facilitator (helping folks find work). This is ideal for me because of the opportunities I will have to connect with, and to help others in a meaningful way. Additionally, the staff are lovely people, empowered and full of hope and zest for service. I am excited. I start Monday. (The pay, the hours, and the benefits are nothing to scoff at either.)

Life continues to be sweet and full in the Okanagan Valley. I've had my fill of cherries; I do mean the real cherries, each one a mouthful, plump and full of black nectar. I went to the beach Blanket Film Festival last night; I watched the sunset on Okanagan lake as Ari Neufeld stunned the audience with his gorgeous music, and then settled with my friends into a bed of blankets and sand to watch some great Canadian cinematography. The air is hot, and the lake is warm. The air conditioning in the house is cool, and the invitations for fun and adventure stream forth.

And hey, that root canal I need isn't going to hurt too much, is it?

Oh, mother of god, I have a toothache... I had forgotten about pain, physical pain. I am lucky to be able to say that; to claim a nagging mouthy aching as my only present trouble. Well, that, and my inability to pay to have this trouble fixed.

There's that saying about the straw, the camel, and the broken back. I'm not saying that this toothache is the straw, but it is a straw, and the camel's back is broken. Fun is fun, and done is done, and this camel here is ready for some serious financial upgrades. So! Bring it on, Universe! All of your most dazzling and compelling and exciting jobs are speeding their ways to this here camel, who will peruse and choose, and be renewed; in body, mind, wallet, and mouth!

I have a good feeling about my work. I feel like I have been meeting the 'right' people, and that my razzle-dazzle has been shining appropriately in the right company. Hey, I am an excellent employee, and I know it. I am enthusiastic, punctual, and smart to boot. Who wouldn't want to hire me? The theatre work is alright, I like it, but it's just not paying the bills. A few more art gigs and another part-time (or THE full-time job of my dreams) and I should be set.

Did you get that, Universe? Bring it ON! I'm ready for all of the abundance that you are so willing to generously spill over me! I am here, and I am ready for YOU!

I had The. Best. Canada Day. EVER.

I went to Osoyoos with Dave, and soaked up the sun, ate an orange, swam in the lake and became coated in sparkling lake dust. Listened to live music, saw old friends, made new ones, ate prime rib, and watched fireworks. Goodness gracious, life is sweet, sweet, sweet.

I feel pretty good about where life is taking me right now; I am enjoying the ride, at least. God knows where I'll end up, but I feel good, and I think that THAT is 98% of the battle.

My art is blooming beautifully, and I am meeting all sorts of great people. I'm on the committee for a Street Art Festival that Penticton will be putting on in the autumn. I've joined a book club, I've tried Dragon Boating, I've seen lots of jazz shows, and mostly I've just been enjoying every juicy moment. I'm pretty sure that life can be like this all the time. Hey, not to say that it doesn't have bad and unpleasant bits (i.e. lost my mom's credit card- found it again, but still- almost missed a day of work due to miscommunication, smashed my toe and broke a plate)... but really, these are minor bumpy parts, strategically placed to remind me how good all the rest of it truly is.

I get a little jealous sometimes, of the women my age who have families, and are having babies of their own (at last count, seven of my friends are currently pregnant)... but all the rest of the time, I realize that I am exactly where I need to be, for me. I mean-- what would I do if I had a baby right now? Raise it in my parents' basement?! Don't think so. Nope, life is good, life is right. Here's to that! Cheers, my life!

Time has been flashing by in a most delightful fashion. I love, love, LOVE being back in the Okanagan Valley, particularly now that two things have sorted themselves out:

ONE) The weather... good god, the days are warm and luscious and the air is sweet and heady, and the lake is clean and refreshing. Mmmmm! Love it!

And TWO) I have a social life! A real one! I have been astounded by the way Penticton has grown over the years into an actual arts community. Ten years ago, I never would have guessed that there would be such an abundance of creative people enthusiastically shaping the community. Suddenly I am surrounded by musicians and artists and people that sing just for fun, and old friends who are newly joyful about developments in their own lives (marriages, babies, good jobs). The energy is electric.

All of this joyful enthusiasm is infecting my life in the most delightful manner. All of a sudden, I am painting again, drawing, THINKING about art; I am particularly excited about the way that one art can infiltrate another (influence? or INFILTRATE?). I painted a little canvas (see attached image- the first time I have added an image to my blog! I am so proud of myself!), and there is a bit of sheet music in the background of the image. (I can't read music, by the way; but I like the way the language of music looks). The new owner of the painting wrote a song based on the subject of the painting, and even used some of the music from the painting... and I, in my great gratitude and joy, spent hours last night drawing a portrait of the owner of the painting. There is a beautiful organic feeding, and sharing, and rhizomatic growth that occurs when creative individuals are well-met.

I am working in the local theatre-- I may have mentioned that. I'm not working enough or making enough money to cover my most basic expenses, so I am well aware that I've got to find some new sources of income post-haste. But I'm not worried... I feel like the world is working itself out in my favour. I may become the famous artist I've always wanted to be. Hey, let's be cocky about it, why not? I WILL achieve creative success in my lifetime. Why not?

:)

Ah, family. Setting - Fancy winery for mother's day breakfast.

Grandad: Endrené, you've got some food on your chin.

Endrené: (wipes chin vigourously with both hands) Did I get it?

Grandad: Nope, it's right-- there (points to own chin).

Endrené: (wipes again) Now? Is it gone?

Grandad: No-- ahh... I think it's just a big pimple.

Endrené: (affronted) What? (touches chin again) Ah, I think that's just my mole.

Grandad: What mole?

Endrené: Umm, well, it's been there for at least twenty years...

Grandad: Are you sure it's not a pimple?

I AM the Phantom of the Opera!

Well, I got the job. My techie/security part-time position at the Cleland theatre. Now I just have to learn the ropes and keep my job. Let's face it... electronic equipment? Microphones, wires, 'snakes', splitters, uh.... things I call 'thingers'? These things are not a natural part of my mind-set. I have a lot of lingo to learn. And some black clothing to buy.

I like the 'being in the theatre' part of the job. I like that I get to drift through the wings in the dark, spying and assessing. I like the feel of the theatre; the smell of it, the grandeur of the space, the sacredness of it. It's like a church, with swearing allowed.

Friday night was the Miss Penticton talent show. That was me, thirteen years ago. Strange to be on the other side of the experience, both in terms of my new job, and in that I have all those years behind me now. Would I do it again? Hard to say. But the girls really do get a lot out of the experience, in terms of an education not offered at school-- etiquette training, public speaking, some modelling training-- there are little things you learn about being a 'lady' that just aren't so important to the general populace anymore. Things like the correct way to get in and out of a car in a dress and high-heels, and how to go up and down stairs in a way that is most becoming. Sometimes when I think of these things, the feminist side of me scoffs. But the other (perhaps more powerful) non-feminist side of me is glad that I know these tricks of the trade. I mean, knowing the proper way to politely eat a whole artichoke... that is priceless.

Anyway. Today we're setting up a big screen. I'll be taking notes. I wonder what the show will be tonight?

So, I'm lost out here in the wilderness of my childhood. I don't know what I want to be when I 'grow up', and saying that lost its novelty years ago.

A friend of mine suggested that I look at all of the things I enjoy doing in my spare time, and have a look at those activities, and figure out what I could do with them that would be profitable and... actually I forget what the other part was. Profitable and... fun? ...worthwhile? ...feasible? Hard to say, really. I've been getting so much advice lately (the majority of it unsolicited), that most of it dribbles down the side of my face like so much egg yolk.

(Minor complaints aside, I warrant that most of it has been good advice, and positively motivated.)

Anyway, here is a list of things I like to do:

Read
Research
Write
Correspond (mail, email)
Paint
Draw
Sit in the hot-tub
Swim
Canoe
Camp
Explore
Take photographs
Visit
Travel
Snorkel
Cook
Eat

Seriously... don't you think this could be just about anyone's list? I guess the glaring omissions include "talking on the phone" and "partying"... I'm not a natural socializer like my mother. I love animals, but not in the way I used to; these days, I can't imagine having a dirty, smelly zoo of pets, like I used to fervently wish for when I was seven years old. As much as I love animals, I don't like to have to feed them, take them to the vet, clean their hair from my clothes... or pick up their poo.

Anyway-- I'm getting off track, and I had said that I was only going to write this blog if I had something worthwhile to say. So-- I'm actually soliciting advice today. If you look at my list, and you think, "I know what she should do!", by all means, tell me.

In the meantime-- while I'm still waiting desperately to hear if I have the contract for the mural I want to paint or not-- I'm doing acrylic portraits of children and pets and what-have-you. I also (maybe) scored a Phantom of the Opera style job at a local theatre. I would be there like a ghost, opening and closing doors, and coming over the sound system to spook the renters into keeping the exits clear, and sweeping up the stage after all the performers have gone home. I wonder if I have to check the seats for spills and stains too?

I have an interview on Tuesday with a school in Vietnam. I have mixed feelings about teaching abroad again. On one hand, it's something that I think I really, really want to do, and on the other hand, I'm curious about what life would be like if I stayed in B.C. and really, really applied myself. You know, if I actually USED my god-given talents, rather than sitting on them as though they could be stolen or used up. It's funny-- I may have pointed this out before-- but I think there are a lot of creative people that feel that way. That if we use our talents, we may be spending non-renewable resources. Pure foolishness. Where did I ever get this idea, this fear of my own potential?

I wonder if I can do it all? Teach, create, travel, write, make a difference... I'm sure I can. But how?

Self-centered ramblings aside, my dad's birthday is coming up, and my mom and I don't really know what we should do for him. It strikes me as funny (and sad) that I don't even know what my dad's favorite restaurant is, or what his favorite food is. I know he'll probably say that it doesn't matter what we do, but I think it does. He's going to be sixty-one this year, and I wasn't there when my parents turned sixty last year. I do wish I had the money to fly him to Truk for his dream scuba trip, but the last time I mentioned that, he was saying that he was getting too old to scuba dive. "But dad," I said, "look at Jaques Cousteau! How old was he when he was making his scuba-movies?". Dad grudgingly agreed that maybe he did still have a few good scuba years left in him. But I can't send him to Truk Lagoon this year. Maybe we can take him for fish and chips instead?

For the first time in the nearly two years that we have been (were) together, Nate read my blog. Not all of it, I don't think. I don't even know if he'll continue, and read this.

This disconcerts me.

Why didn't he ever read it before?
Would it have made any difference?
Who am I writing this for, anyway?

I started this blog to chronicle my adventures when I was living in Japan. These days, I don't really feel like I have anything that is worth public perusal, so I've reverted to writing my private (paper) journals. I'll write again when I feel like I have something worthwhile to say.

In the meantime, Namaste.

P.S. Nate was OK... nothing broken. Just shaken up, scared. Lonely.

Nathan called me on his way to the hospital. He was in a gnarly crash apparently, out on his speedboard in the gathering dark. His friends had loaded him onto the mini-bus, were driving him to Nanaimo General. His voice sounded small and far away, and I felt pity and uncertainty... but I knew that my being there wouldn't have made him not crash. Wouldn't have made things better.

I feel strange here in Kaleden. Like-- I haven't found my space yet. Certainly it must be strange for mom and dad too... no kids at home since Sandy graduated in 2000. And in those intervening years, we've all changed, developed new habits. I'm softer (I hope) towards my mother, kinder, (occasionally teasingly cheekier) and better-humoured in general. Dad has a sense of humour that I never fathomed as a child, and can appreciate now. Mom and dad each have a TV-- one upstairs and one downstairs, so they can each watch their own shows. This strikes me as kind of sad.

I wander around the house, like an elderly dog, looking for something I can't remember. Looking for something to do, a way to be myself in the presence of the people who have defined me for so much of my life. I cleaned mom's kitchen this evening, sewed buttons on my new cheap pink dress.

I'm thinking. A lot. But I think-- the thing that will be best for me is less thinking, and more doing.

Tomorrow is 'moving day'. Mom and dad will be swinging through Nanaimo to grab me and cart me and my belongings back up to Kaleden. For a month? For the summer? Uncertainty reigns. Funny how the last time I said "I WILL NEVER LIVE WITH MY PARENTS AGAIN" I had a sinking feeling that I might be telling myself a lie.

There are certainly positive aspects to the move; I haven't had a real Okanagan summer since 2002, and it will be nice to swim in the lake and eat fresh cherries and peaches, to float down the river channel and mock the tourists (quietly, and from a distance, of course). I'm also looking forward to painting the dry and gorgeous Okanagan landscape. I've really been getting into landscape paintings lately-- it certainly doesn't hurt that most of the general population likes to buy them as well.

But as I prepare to make my exit, I am reflecting on a lot of good things I will be leaving behind as well. Wonderful relationships and delicious new connections, sea sounds and smells... ahh, I'll be back.

I'm just feeling a little conflicted about it all right now.

I'm still living in a basement room in Nathan's friend's house, in Nanaimo. We don't pay rent, and we don't contribute much, aside from whatever household cleaning I pitch in with, and I buy groceries and cook once in a while as well. I qualify this behaviour as freeloading, and I'm not entirely comfortable with it, although I am very very grateful for Jenny and Aaron's hospitality and generosity. I want to find a way to pay them back (It will probably have to be with art.) Am I technically homeless, since I don't have a real home or my own address? I don't think so. I don't think this compares to sleeping under an overpass or anything. But I still feel bad when I meet homeless people, and they ask for help... because I still want to help.

I met a homeless guy today in the parking lot of the Shopper's Drugmart-- and actually I met him yesterday, too. He asked for spare change, and I pretty much don't carry cash anymore... using my debit card is just too easy. Anyway, I felt bad for not having anything to give him (giving him the 13cents in my pocket probably would have just been insulting), so I picked up some groceries while I was in the store-- soup, granola bars, and a fancy iced tea (because everyone likes fancy iced tea, right?)-- and when I went out to the lot to give him the groceries, he had moved on. So. I didn't quite know what to do... keep the groceries? Find an alternative homeless person? Foodbank? But I really just want to help this guy. I left the groceries in the car, in case I bump into him again.

Easter Sunday started gray, rainy, and disgusting. Check that-- it was ME who was gray, runny and disgusting, as Aaron & Jenny's wee ones (the kids upstairs in the house that I am currently freeloading in) have been wiping their noses on me for the past few days. I am disappointed to be sick again, because (even though I didn't write about it) I had a pretty nasty cold in Hawaii, less than a month ago. Come ON. I don't get sick. Unless I'm not dealing with emotions very well... which might be... is the case.

I'm not happy here in Nanaimo. There. I said it. And I said it last night to Nathan, amongst a bunch of other wailings and moanings and complainings. And Nathan, in all of his calm, unruffled glory, said exactly the right thing: "Go to the Okanagan." One thing I love (and hate) about Nathan is that he never gets very emotional-- he always stays calm, sets me straight, sends me on my way. I think that in the two years we have been together, he has perhaps been outwardly angry with me once. At worst, he might simmer a little over bad drivers on the road, but otherwise-- he's a windless pond. He truly is a fine human being.

Anyway, I don't think I'll be back to Nanaimo. I think this is exodus. My mom and dad will be up through Nanaimo in about 2 weeks, as they make their slow (retired) way home from Victoria-- I'll probably catch a ride with them. I'm going to give Nathan my car... he can drive it 'til it dies, or sell it, or do whatever he thinks will get him ahead the most. We've already talked about what I'm going to do with my engagement ring (Nate said I can keep it) and the wedding rings we had purchased for the wedding that never happened (we both want to keep our respective rings for sentimental value-- they are silver and gold, with native killer whale designs on them, as that's Nathan's clan). I'll plan to stay with mom and dad for the summer anyway... it's been a long time since I've had an Okanagan summer. I don't really know what's going on with my life, and embarrassed to admit it. But at least I'm admitting it.

"And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should." (from the Desiderata by Max Ehrmann)

Do you recall what I was saying about cyclical unhappiness? Yeah, well it's called PMS. Go figure. How'd I manage to forget about that?

The days are warming and floating by me like blossom petals; the grass is thick and long, dandelions are popping up in the lawn, trees are bursting into frothy clouds of pink and white.... and I am served my seasonal reminder about what is good in life, here, now.

As for the floating days... well, out of fear of making a misstep, I often don't make any at all. Like a rock-climber frozen on a ledge. If forward looks too difficult, impassable, and back is unthinkable, then one just stays put. But what I found out from my recent actual experience rock climbing (yes, I did it, it was awesome!) is, if I just grip on to one spot and don't move forward or back, if I overthink, I wear myself out just clinging, and I end up falling anyway. Better to make that lunge towards the next hold, tenuous though it may seem. Ahhh, rock climbing euphemisms.

So-- about taking that lunge. I have an application in at a local bubble-tea shop, though the waitress looked at my experience suspiciously (ESL teacher, art supply store clerk, research & development/ office assistant... doesn't add up to "Winning Bubble Tea Barista" applicant, I guess.) I have another application in at the local university for a position that may be wayyyy over my head... but maybe shooting high is better than shooting low? And my resume is in the hands of an ESL teacher recruiting company, and I got an email today that they had submitted on application on my behalf to a school in Vietnam. Oh, and I'm still waiting to hear about that mural that I want to do in Kaleden... that will be a perfect summer gig, so that's the one I'm really holding my breath for right now.

I miss my mom and dad... I haven't seen them since... early December? Holy smokes! Time flies! But they'll be coming to Vancouver Island shortly for a surprise birthday for my twin cousins, who will be turning 50 this year. I'll travel down to Victoria to meet them, and hopefully join up with some old friends in the area as well. We'll see how it goes. I say 'friends' lightly, because as much as we're in touch on Facebook... well, we all know what a bunch of hooey Facebook is in terms of propelling actual human interaction. I think my brother might come too-- I sure hope so! I can't remember the last time I saw him... oh, mom and dad's party last summer. That's too long. I can't wait to hear what stories he's brought home from Africa!

I suppose I ought to get back to working away on those calligraphy projects... one down, three to go. It's nice out, so I'm working outside, sitting at Jenny's beautiful new outdoor patio set, with the grass sliding around my ankles, and insects landing in my fruit punch. It's the best.

Take your vitamin D, folks.

x

Endrene

Make that my fourth year of writing this blog. Just like, how when you turn one, you begin your second year of life. And how when you turn thirty, you begin your fourth decade. Numbers are weird.

My 200th post, and my 3rd year of writing this blog. Yaaaay, me.

I am bored, but not rightfully so. I am in a town that is still new to me; there is exploring to be done, gardens and homes to be aesthetically inspected as I wander, new people to meet. But... well... meh. I'm sure I must just be in a cyclical rut.

I am in one of those gray moods that make me reconsider the benefits of being on some sort of mood-boosting medication, the kind that makes me actually want to get up in the morning. Then again... I know well that some exercise, a triple dose of vitamin D, and actually DOING something (whether or not I feel like doing something) will probably be just as helpful, easier on the pocketbook, and more beneficial to my overall being in the long term.

I have been helping Nathan (albeit enviously) as he shows off his beautiful carvings, and pursues his new art form with a fervour I have seldom-to-never felt about my own artwork. As I type, he is sitting in the cool spring sunshine, whittling away. I thought about painting, but let the idea pass with little more than a sigh. I instead lay wrapped up in my winter jacket, face up on the kids trampoline for a while. I got cold, and wandered in to write this.

I am in the middle of a calligraphy project that I am loathe to finish; yet I can't allow myself to start anything else until that job is done. I had expected it to be fun-- I thought my client had a good idea of what I like to do (foolish assumption), and instead found myself with a very boring project of repeating the same verses four times over, in plain black ink on plain cream paper. I had envisioned swirls of colour and creeping foliage intertwined with the text. No such luck. I haven't yet fully completed even ONE of the four, and my deadline draws near. I can't forfeit the project either; my client's money is already in my bank. I am in his debt, quite literally.

There are several niggling problems that have been knocking at the back door of my mind... but I have been pretending to be a teenager on summer vacation, imagining that every little thing will take care of itself. I haven't a job, or a home. I have to re-file my taxes. I have bills to pay, but find it difficult with little income, and multitudes of outcomes. I am tired of being a grownup who isn't.

I really would like to make my family proud of me, in the way that they were proud of me when I was 17 and in Youth Group and Jazz Choir and running for Miss Penticton and volunteering with whatever project came my way, and dressing up and using my best manners for dinners with family members and the mayor, etcetera, etcetera. And I really would like to make my own self proud of me, in the way I was proud of myself when I was living in Japan, paying my bills, and forging friendships, and telling a taxicab driver where to go in Japanese. Everyday (or most of them, especially in the beginning) were flavoured with adventure, novelty, and possibility.

I guess I do know what I want. I want to get in deep again, in the thick of life. This surface game is killing me- the act of shopping for basics and getting the daily coffee and flipping through the "Help Wanted" ads-- none of it feels genuine, or desirable. The boredom may in fact, be warranted.

I am back in Nanaimo... I had only been living here for a week before I left and went off on my adventure in Maui. As a result, Maui feels more like 'home' than Nanaimo. I'm having difficulty adjusting to the cold, the gray weather, the wet, the dark clothing and scowling drug addicts. Did I mention that the house is a block up from where the local hookers display their wares? The promise of spring (cherry blossoms, baby lambs, et al.) is about all that keeps me interested in my environment. Still, I can't help feeling annoyed that the sky isn't consistently blue, and there are no palm trees rattling merrily in the sea breeze...

I ought to be grateful for what is, while what is, is. And I can certainly do everything I can to make a more tropical place my 'home'. A few factors hold me back from this: a desire to please my family, and stay near(ish) to them; the feeling that it might be more 'grown-up' to tough it out and settle down on my home soil; the wanting to be close to my calming and solid partner, Nathan. Then again...

I'm done with winter. It used to be my favorite season, back when winter meant playing in the snow and skiing all season long. Who can afford to ski these days? And I would love a job, a regular job with regular income, and regular time off. Living somewhere far away (if it meant having a job) might actually mean that I had more time (and money) to be with my family when I wasn't working. I'm fully trained and experienced as an ESL instructor now, and worldwide, times are tough. That means there aren't whacks of eager ESL travellers pouring into BC to get an English experience abroad. They stay home, and spend the money there. So... shouldn't I go where they are? And (those of you familiar with my posts here) know that Nate and I are simultaneously compatible and diametrically opposed. I love him to bits... but. There's a but. He is so grounded, a home-soil, settle-down kind of guy. Is that something I should be, or is just something I am not?

Oh yeah... I forgot. I don't believe in 'should'.

The pluses now (after my outpouring of angst):
+ I am listening to CBC radio 3! I <3 it so...
+ It's Earth Hour tonight! Turn out your lights at 8:30PM!
+ I can do anything. I am taking steps to be ready for anything (read: work abroad).
+ I might get a mural contract for Kaleden... we're celebrating my hometown's 100th anniversary this year!
+ I am healthy. I have good friends, a place to live, food to eat, and nature all around (cold and soggy, but beautiful nonetheless)
+ I might finally be able to learn how to scuba dive! Whoooo Hoooo! Fingers crossed for that mural contract so I can shell out the cash for the lessons!
+ I'll say it again: I have good friends and family. Some of them only email me, some of them are almost never in any kind of touch at all. But I can feel the web of support and love they offer me-- I am so very blessed in this aspect.

Namaste...

Love, and love, and more love to you.

~Endrene

Sometimes you just have to take the leap and build your wings on the way down. - Kobi Yamada

I found this quote on a friend's blog and couldn't resist it. Thank you, Maggie-Ann.

Oh, what a byooootiful morrrrninggggg... oh, what a beautiful day! I love it when I get in these moods. These chipper, gosh-golly-gee, ain't life grand, dorky, unabashedly optomistic moods. The fact that we are going whale watching on a sail boat this afternoon might have a lot to do with it.

The plein aire session last Wednesday was lovely. After strolling around the take a good look at my surroundings, I parked myself in the lot across from the Keawa'ali church and painted for a good three hours. Most of the other artists stopped by to say hello and see what I was up to, and when I was done, I strolled down to the beach to see what they were up to. Watercolour, pen-and-ink, pastel, studies for acrylics and oils. Everyone was so enthusiastic about my little study (which was undeniably uplifting), and they all wished me 'Aloha' as they filtered away. I stayed a little longer at the beach, painting a couple sitting serenely under a rainbow-coloured beach umbrella... pale cerulean sky, turquoise water, rusty sand... before packing up (all the other artists had called it a day by this point), I went over to the couple in the painting to share what I had done and offer them my web address-- in case they wanted to see the work possibly downloaded in the future. They were so thrilled to be part of an artwork that they offered to buy it from me. Of course, I couldn't say no! The painting will no doubt be hanging on the walls of their Wisconsin home, years from now. It gives me a warm feeling to think of the connection to people that my art has allowed me to have over the years.

The days between then and now have been spent in agony over my difficult project (I have 3 days left in Maui, and not a one of the four calligraphy projects are complete), and ecstasy over my surroundings. I have snorkeled nearly to my heart's content (there have been a few rainy days and days with high surf), I have walked and taken photos of every little plant and insect, I have coated myself in sticky masses of sunscreen and smiled nonstop at the world around me. Mary and Maile have been amazing-- both of them becoming good friends to me. I'm sorry to be missing Maile's 14th birthday this coming Friday.

Friday night I went to a stranger's birthday party, the invite coming from a friend of a friend-- and none of said friends in attendance at the party. But any apprehension I might have felt prior to my arrival was dashed away as I crossed the threshold; people in bandanas and dreadlocks warmly invited me in, and offered me glasses of sweet wine and pillows to sit on as I contemplated the enormous floorcloth that was to become Maya's birthday mural. An ART PARTY?! An art BIRTHDAY party?! Why have I never thought of this before? Damn, it was fun! The best part was definitely the people there... what a lovely mish-mash of eclectic world travelers and artistic spirits. I formed a connection with a sprite of a girl named Cori, and promised to return in December to help paint her VW van for her birthday. Daisies and peace signs and rainbows-- oh my! Can we say "dreams coming true" here, please?

Speaking of which, I have plans to see the sunrise from Haleakela crater tomorrow morning. This is one of those 'must do' things on my list of life's goals. And I'm going to do it.

Life is good. So good.

Mary's just gone to drop Maile off at school, then she'll come back to pick me up so that I can have her truck for the afternoon. I'm going to join a group of local Maui painters/artists that meet every Wednesday morning for plein aire sessions.

I'm a little anxious. I've only met one of the women who will be there once, and it's been a while since I've been creative in a group setting. I'm sure I'll get comfortable soon enough. If all else fails, I have my snorkel and a beach towel in my bag; I can always ditch and drive out to Makena beach.

The project isn't going as well as I'd like-- too many other fun things to do, and the math of the measurements has confounded me to the point that I am down to my final four precious pieces of paper. I'd really like to get this calligraphy done here, instead of having to complete it on the mainland. Then again, I haven't received any money for the work yet either. Ah, that's just an excuse not to do it. I better buckle down, nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, etc. etc. yada yada.

Time to go! Aloha!

Dear gods, I'm back. A variety of things kept me away for more than a month; dial-up internet, packing, moving, no internet, etc. But now-- ahhh, now. Now I am in Maui, enjoying the over-the-top hospitality of Mary and Maile, enjoying the scented air and the rattle of palm trees, enjoying the fact that even the weeds that grow up in the cracks of the sidewalks are different from the sidewalk crack weeds back home. And there's no snow here. Ahhhhhhhh. No snow.

This evening we walked down the road a bit as the sun was stalking the lower half of the sky, and met up with Pat, Mary's friend, and a designer of exquisite wedding cakes. The four of us dined at Kihei's best Japanese restaurant, Sansei. Ooh! Rainbow roll! The Yellow Submarine, and the Pink Cadillac! All signature Sansai sushi rolls. Good stuff. Pat was delightful-- one of those people you can have REAL conversation with-- once we were past the "what's your name, where you from, what do you do?" stage, we talked of self-exploration, growth, and yes... the habit of happiness.

Actually, I've met a lot of neat people so far. It's one of those special things about traveling alone-- it's a lot easier to connect with others when you aren't cocooning yourself in an existing relationship. I talked at length about family (both hers and mine) with a Philapina girl in the Crazy Shirts store in Wailea, and about what the culture shock was like for a girl named Janine who moved out here from Portland, Oregon. I talked with a retired NY State couple at the bus stop, and with a local guy walking his pit bull-black lab cross.

*** computer crashed at this point last night... thank you very much, auto-save...

Today was a little less frenetic-- I think a cold that has been stalking me for months has finally taken up residence in my chest. No snorkelling today... just nursing the sunburn I got on my back from the day before, drinking Coors lite, making a pot of chicken curry for Maile and Mary and Randy (Mary's boyfriend), and enjoying the cooler wetter weather from the relative safety of the lanai. Eventually I'll get to the project that brought me here-- I'm to do a set of four calligraphic copies of the Desiderata for a friend of Mary's. I suppose I could have just as easily done them and mailed them from Nanaimo... but then, I wouldn't be in Maui, would I?

Here's the Desiderata, first copyrighted by Max Ehrmann in 1927:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

"If we were to include natural services and the environmental costs of our waste and pollution in our economic accounting, we’d have a more realistic economic system. And we’d see that the environment and economy are intertwined. Caring for one is the solution to problems facing the other."

-David Suzuki

The truth is, I think that the economy is failing simply because it is not a sustainable system, in the same way that any unmitigated growth is not sustainable. The way the economy is now-- or the way we expect it to be-- it is more like a cancer than a reliable indicator of a country's 'health'.

I'm certain that environmental raping and pillaging would not be such a problem if we all had to deal with the effects in our own backyards. For example-- if everything you used-- your fork, your laptop, your pillow, your clothing, your car-- was made in your own hometown, what would be the positives and negatives of that? OK-- so your pillow is made from local cotton and local sheep's wool. Great, nice, good for the farmers, the local economy. Your car is made from iron ripped from your beautiful hills, in a factory emmiting a foul stench in your air, powered by oil sucked from beneath your coastline... would you drive as much? Would you buy a new car every year? I don't think so.

If we are going to have a global economy, we have to think about global impact. If we think about global impact, non-stop cancerous expansion is not an option. Come on people-- this isn't capitalism anymore-- it's consumerism! It's destructive, and it's gearing down, grinding to a halt, forcing change. Change hurts. Jobs are lost, people suffer. So what? You'd rather put off the suffering until the world is a toxic bubbling mass of waste?

P.S. My boob is fine. Hooray!

Two unrelated things that have come to mind recently:

1)

When I was very young—about four or five years old, I think—I used to have a recurring dream about our living room couch catching fire spontaneously. It was the chocolate corduroy couch that had its’ back to the windows that overlooked Hope St.

The brown corduroy was my favorite couch for several reasons. Boy, our fat brown tabby, would curl up on one end. I would lean up next to him and he would purr while I petted him with my left hand and sucked the thumb on my right hand. The couch was also in the living room, as opposed to the family room—the living room being the more genteel space that my parents reserved for adult friends and glasses of adult beverages and fires in the fireplace. Kids and toys belonged in the family room. So the brown couch represented a clean, comfortable, restricted world.

The couch would always be burning on the right hand corner, opposite the cat’s corner. No-one would be nearby to help. I don’t know if I ever cried for help—I just ran my little self into the kitchen, and got the orange plastic mixing bowl, and then I dashed to the kitchen sink—I could just reach the tap on tippy-toe—and I filled the bowl up and ran back to the couch to splash the water on it. I ran back and forth, but the fire was more than little orange bowls of water could extinguish.

I always woke up feeling frustrated, angry. Abandoned. Where was everybody? Why was I doing this terrifying grown-up thing all by myself?


2)

In second year Fine Arts, I had a little solo show in a Summerland café. I had titled one of the mixed-media paintings “The Magistrate’s Daughter”. It was a head and shoulders drawing of a dark nude—her eyes black and far away, her expression mournful and exposed. A young couple bought it. The husband asked me about it—why did I name it that? I thought—I don’t know—that I couldn’t come up with anything clever to say. So I blustered and smiled around the truth, thinking that the truth would be lame and mundane. I told him “I don’t know… she just sort of suited that title. Don’t you think?”. I could tell that they were unfulfilled by my response.

The truth is this:

I have two European prints from my maternal grandparent’s house—they have both long since passed away. But I remember looking at the prints as a child, and wondering about them. One is a watery picture of a bridge over a city canal. It is called “Malines-Belgium”. The other is of a European townhouse, called “A French Magistrate’s House”. The etching is stark and straight, the front of the building ornate and imposing. I acquired the prints in my early twenties, around the time I started working on my BFA. I hung the prints in my Kelowna kitchen, and I would spend minutes at a time looking at the picture of the Magistrate’s house. Who was he? What was his family like? I built them lives, personalities. The daughter grew up, she never married… her oppressive and important father had something to do with this. She turned to secret night-time affairs to try to claim some piece of her life as her own… but she never became who she really wanted to become. She never got to become herself. And I held her back even more, because I didn't let her become real for that couple, either. I horded her story, kept her secret.

Summerland couple… do you remember my name? Have you ever googled me? I hope you do. I hope you find this story, and connect it to the portrait hanging in your living room or den. This is who she is. She is a somebody. One day, I will show you the print of the Magistrate’s house, where she still lives.

Don't tell me.

I’m almost totally disconnected right now. I haven’t been phoning anyone. Not many people have been phoning me. My mom, maybe? She phones. She’s worried about me. Nate’s been phoning. He’s all moved out now, living on Vancouver Island, as per his dream. He already sounds happier… friends to play with, things to do. He has the sound of hope in his voice. A portion of that hope is pointed at me. Hoping I’ll move out there.

Nate moved out on Saturday. After he left, I moved furniture around the basement suite. The couch angled here, the computer table swivels to the corner, the easel treks across the room with the unfinished painting onboard. I’m still moving things around. Inspecting piles of papers, bills, photographs… I even found a misplaced GST rebate cheque. Bonus. I’ve been wiping up dust with lemon-scented wipes, washing my sheets, my clothes. I haven’t settled in yet. I haven’t found a rhythm, a comfortable way to be without Nathan here. I’m not unhappy. I’m not bored. I’m not lonely. I’m… unsettled.

People want to know what’s next. I have nothing to tell them. That’s why I’m not calling anyone, not seeing anyone outside of work. I don’t really know what I want; the unknowing baffles me, muffles me. Home? Family? Career? Lifestyle? Money? Travel? Simplicity? Domesticity? Obligation? Reparation?

I make no move to contact people who are displeased with me. I make no move to contact people who are waiting on me to wake up, or whatever it is they are waiting for. I do not want to disappoint anyone, so best just to stay out of everyone’s life altogether.

In my heart, all the answers are there. I can’t hear my heart, my brain is so loud. I need this quiet time now. I need this resonance. This dark aisle leading to a personal Renaissance.

I don't know what I am doing, staying up late. I have an amazingly long day ahead of me tomorrow. I am going for an ultrasound on my left boobie... found a lump a while back. I'm not worried about it, though, because my GP said that breast cancer pretty much never hurts, and this little sucker goes through a startling monthly cycle of pain. She figures it's a cyst. Here's hoping. Also, tomorrow is garbage day, and I have to finish my lesson plan for class tomorrow, and I have to get the suite tidy and ready for showing... I talked to my landlord about decreasing the rent, possibly, maybe? But he figured he could get the price he wanted from someone else. So I'm moving at the end of February... don't ask me where to. I don't know. I'm OK with not knowing. I hope you are, too.

Sweet, meaningful, abundant, restful dreams...

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 20 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 16 people to be tagged.

Alright. I got 'tagged' on facebook by my friend Laura. Since I don't write 'notes' on facebook, I figure I'd launch into this project here. I think it's kind of funny because this is my blog. All I do is write random things about myself. But it is my birthday, my thirtieth birthday, and I'm going to indulge myself. I'll see if I can come up with stuff that I don't think most people know.

A Random 20 Things Note

1. I want to go to the Burning Man Festival at some point in my life.

2. If I won the lottery, the first thing I would do is learn how to scuba dive so that I could take my Dad to Truk lagoon. I want to learn how to scuba dive regardless of whether or not I win any money in my life. Wait... I have a scratch ticket that I got for my birthday-- I'm going to scratch it right now... Oh damn. No winners.

3. I can bend my big toes at 90 degree angles.

4. I don't like dry dust touching my feet.

5. I like live bugs, but not dead ones. I can't touch dead bugs. If I do, I squeal. I think it has to do with that time when I was reeeeally little, and Dad was giving me a bath, and a dead fly fell out of my hair into the bath tub. I was so mortified and grossed out.

6 and 7. I have great balance, but poor flexibility. I don't ever wish to win any kind of award for any sort of physical activity. I just have zero interest in physical competition.

8. I sometimes wish I wasn't white.

9. I don't have any mentors or heroes. There is noone I want to be like when I 'grow up'. I have always just wanted to be the best me I can be-- no-one else can be a guide or model for that.

10. But I do admire the following people: Mr. Dress-Up for bringing me joy; The Dalai Lama for bringing me back to my spiritual self; David Suzuki for bringing me awareness and practical steps for saving the planet; Robert Bateman for inspiring me artistically as a kid (and again now that I am mostly over my art-school snobbiness); Gabrielle Lacelle for being an independant, amazing adult female in my life; Stirling Alexander for just plain being wicked, and a destroyer of adversity.

11. I am not very romantic.

12. I don't like naked animals-- pigs, elephants, naked vole-rats-- but I think those hairless cats are pretty neat. I like pretty much every other animal. Except for maybe porcupines and honey badgers.

13. I talk to myself. I answer. I argue. I don't care.

14. I used to chew my toenails when I was a kid.

15. If I have any enemies, I don't know about it. I believe in peace, nonviolence, and altruism as a way of life.

16. I want to become a Buddhist, but I don't know how. Am I one if I say I am? Also (even though I feel foolish for it) I am kind of worried about what Jesus will think.

17. I try to say nice, friendly things to myself (in my head) in the morning, like "Good morning honey! You had a goooood sleep! Don't you feel great? You are going to have such a wonderful day today!" I do this, because if I wake up thinking crabby thoughts (like "Ohhhh I DON'T WANT TO GET UP! WHY DO I HAVE TO GO TO WORK?"), I tend to be clumsier and crabbier throughout the rest of the day.

18. I like being by myself more than I like being with people, but I feel guilty for feeling this way. I want to get over the guilt so that I can more thoroughly enjoy myself, both when I'm by myself, and when I am with people. As it stands now, I'm wishing to be alone when I'm hanging out with people, and feeling guilty for not socializing when I'm alone! Not productive! Not healthy! And I really doooo love people. I'm just not getting enough time alone so that I can actually enjoy them when I'm with them...

19. I want to live in a house furnished with only plants and pillows. (But I know I couldn't stop there!!)

20. I really love being who I am, in the end. I want to make the most of my life, my talents and circumstances. I don't want to wait for my life to happen. I do want to share my experiences with good people. I want to take responsibility for who I am, and where I'm at in life, every day, for the rest of my life.

If you read this, consider yourself 'tagged'.

Namaste,

Endrene

You've heard that saying, "That which you resist, persists"?

I must be resisting a lot of things right now. I feel very boxed in, curled up tight in my strange eggshell world... as though everything I do takes management, manouvering. There is no flow, no freedom, no stretching room.

I don't know what I need, and I feel selfish in thinking that there is something missing when I already have so much. Maybe it's not that there's something missing. Maybe it just IS that there is TOO MUCH. Too much of some stuff, not enough of others.

OK, that's enough of this. Send me good vibes, if you have some to spare.

x

e

I have been working diligently (with only occasional procrastinatory breaks) on my lesson plans and preparations for the classes I will begin to teach this coming Monday. Truth be told, I haven’t gotten as far as I would have liked. By now, I feel as though I should have the entire first week mapped out, and instead I have only a blurry outline of the first two days. But haven’t I said that I don’t believe in ‘should haves’? I have. I don’t. If there is a reason behind my snail’s pace, I am slow to reveal it to myself.

Let’s think. It could be that my mind is playing the ego-based game of ‘scramble’—the ego loves when chaos reigns, because the ego thrives in chaotic environments. It’s easy to ignore our true selves when we are immersed in the frantic panic of deadlines and ‘should-haves’ and ‘ought-tos’.

It could be that I’m thinking about turning 30. I guess I thought I should have (Doh!) been ready for kids by now. I’m not. I don’t feel much remorse about not wanting to have kids, about not wanting to get married, about not being able to give anyone a clear answer when they ask me “What’s next, Endrené?” I just feel good, mostly. I don’t feel sad to be leaving my twenties… not in the slightest. I am thrilled, in fact, to be entering this new decade of self-assurance, strength, and challenge. If there is any kind of disappointment attached to this birthday, it is that I do not have the dough or the time to celebrate it the way I REALLY want to—by myself, on a beach, somewhere warm. However, I can look at this YEAR as MY YEAR, and accumulate the needed dough and allot the necessary time so that at some point this year, I can celebrate myself exactly the way I have envisioned. I had wanted badly to go to the Burning Man Festival this year… but I find myself asking… why? I’m not particularly social, not on a mass scale like that. I like my interactions to be tight and intense- and brief. I don’t like crowds. I’ll revisit that one later.

It could be that I have been reflecting on my ‘resolutions’, or perhaps—‘realizations’ is more like it. Winter is always a reflective time, due largely to the inclement weather and the pervasive darkness—but that’s beside the point. The points are: I am tired of taking advice. I take a lot of it. I look for clues, answers, outside help, public opinion. I craft my response to the world in the way that will make the world happiness. I say that I like movies that I don’t. I try to like everything, in fact, for fear of offending someone. In that spirit, instead of listing things I think I would like to try or learn about in the next year, here are a list of ‘don’t likes’ that I am not willing to waffle about. Not this year, anyway:

I don’t like LED Christmas lights. DON’T DON’T DON’T!
I will not try skateboarding or snowboarding.
I don’t like romantic movies with predictable plots.
I don’t like ANY movie with a predictable plot.
I LIKE weird, unhappy movies.
I like to watch most movies once, and only once, with few exceptions.
I don’t want to teach art. TO ANYBODY. I want to teach English!
I don't want to own property. Not this year. Maybe never.
I don't want more STUFFffffff!

OK, the list isn’t that long. Complaining isn’t healthy anyway. I just want it made clear to the universe that I plan to take my own opinions seriously from now on, so any universal influence has to come from nearer to my own heart. No more billboard prophets.

I have been isolating myself quite a bit lately—I’m not sure if it’s out of habit, disposition, or by choice. All I know is that I don’t get out very much, and I’m totally fine with it. I’ve been incubating. I sometimes wish that I could have a warmer social life… but even in my isolation, I find that I don’t get as much alone time as I would like. Enough nurturing, creative, alone time. Good lord, I sound like Oprah.

Did I ever reach any sort of point? I just vented. Anyway… good things are coming. For me, for you, for the world. Listen closely to your true self. Don’t pass judgment on others; remember that the only person you have any control over is yourself. Use that control to do good, to be good goodness and light unto this world. Speak peaceful words, thankful words; let all words of judgment curl and dry and blow away like brown leaves before they reach your lips. Covet nothing, no-one. Move forward gently, soundlessly, with showers of multicoloured petals falling in your wake. Let your goodness speak for you. The air you breathe is enough. Your smile is enough. Your warm small hands, doing warm small things; this is enough.

Namaste,

Endrené