Well, I've found a studio. Paid for the first month's rent today, got my keys, the code. Twenty-four hour access. A skylight. And as far as I know, Carlie still wants to share... come to think of it, I forgot to ask the landlord if that was acceptable... I was SO FOCUSED on getting the studio that I probably forgot to ask a few important questions!

You know that feeling you get when you are really very busy, and your time just seems to unspool; every moment is used up. And when someone asks you, "what have you been up to?" you have no answer for them. Not that the things you have been doing are pointless, or useless, or even not worth mentioning; it's just that you are so full of the DOING that you don't have time to process what it is that is being ACCOMPLISHED. That's my life right now. I am cooking and cleaning and preparing to move into a new apartment and into the studio; I have been working long days. I have been studying. I have been preparing myself mentally to launch myself into a new realm of serious creativity and playful business. I have been teaching and playing wallyball and watching movies and walking and dreaming and scheming and wishing that I just had a few more hours every day to write letters and keep in touch with people and be the friend I wish I had.

I'm not saying I don't have friends. I have wonderful friends. But I don't seem to have the time to be a really good friend; I still have the 'Welcome, Baby Girl!' card for my oldest friend's baby (born last October) in my closet. I'm not sure that I have my priorities straight. I am in the process of evaluating, rebalancing. Figuring out what it is in life that I REALLY want. I'm being open to opportunities, serendipitous events (to find out more about this, look up Krumboltz's Planned Happenstance Theory). Being curious, flexible, and optimistic. Being ready.

Good things are happening; I won't get into it. In fact, I think I'm really ready to retire this blog. Not because I'm fed up, or because I don't have time to write, or because I don't think I have valuable things to say. But because I'm ready for it to be done, for it to leave my life and to open up new avenues of creativity. It's been wonderful. I suppose if I ever start travelling again, living abroad again, I'll take it up once again. But for now...

It's been a slice.

Namaste.

I asked my students to write about their Christmas vacations or their new year's resolutions... it wouldn't be fair if I didn't do the same. Here I go...

My New Year's Resolutions for 2010

Be patient and secure in the thought that the universe is unfolding as it should.

Find more purpose and passion in my life.

Eat more colourful foods.

Go back to Maui during the summer, and paint, paint, paint.

Paint, pant, paint... all the time.

Find a studio to share with Carlie.

Uphold my creative dreams as sacred and vital.

Respect my need for rest as much as I respect my need to work and my right to play.

Really understand all of the English verb tenses.

Manage my resources (time, money, food, relationships, inspiration) wisely, gratefully, and joyfully.

Finish more than 50% of what I start.

Defend my choices. Even against my own bitterness and doubts. Defend them!

Continue to be grateful for the goodness and gifts in my life.

Move forward.

Yesterday was mom's 62nd birthday. It was snowing like crazy-- big wet flakes that stuck and weighed down branches and became glued in gobs to my heels as I made my treacherous way from my car to the Hooded Merganser to celebrate. Dave wore a black suit jacket and an unpressed white collared shirt; he looked gorgeous. Mom looked great too. She did a lovely job of her makeup and she wore a glittery black top. She's lost quite a bit of weight lately, and finally seems to be finding her feet again after the last few tumultuous years (leaving Port Edward, trying to sell the house up north, health issues, etc.) Dad was wearing a sweater; I couldn't see much of him across the table, as it was crowded with flowers mom had received for her birthday.

The snow fell and fell; it was dark and we couldn't see much of the lake outside the window. From where I was seated I had a view of the park that ends in the pier, so at least I could view the trees, sticky and weighted down with blobs of Betty Crocker's double-thick vanilla icing.

Dinner was nice. Just the four of us. Champagne. Mom ebullient with the attention, the joy of teasing the waiter, with the phone calls she had received over the course of the day from friends far and wide. We told jokes and read the horoscopes that I had printed out at work for all of us.

After dinner, I went home to get out of my heels and into my snow boots, my play clothes. I met Dave and Carlie back at their house. I drove and Dave and Carie took turns skitching-- a new term to me. (It means that they strapped on their snowboards and I towed them behind the car as they skimmed across lawns and driveways and over snow-shovel piles.) Then we built a family of four snow people, a snow bunny named Gobby, and a giant boosh-face snow man shaking his fist at the Wal-Mart parking lot. Then I went to bed.

A snow day. A happy birthday.

Today I have been teaching my students about blogs. One of them already has a blog, written all in her native language, so that she can share the trials and tribulations of her Canadian life with her family and friends back in her home country.

The lesson has brought up a lot of questions about the purpose of blogging. More than 70,000,000 blogs (and this is a 2007 stat) have been created since 2003. Everyone supposedly has their 'unique perspective', a potential audience out there just dying to know exactly what we have all been up to. A community of likeminded people just waiting to connect . I'm sure.

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)