Friends, Romans

Just Sayin'

2011-07-31T22:40:00.002-04:00

Kirsten, if you're out there and reading, get in touch. I tried your email and it bounced back. I just wondered how you were doing.

Sometimes the Song Says It Better Than You Can

2011-06-08T00:23:00.002-04:00

A Thousand Beautiful Things
By: Annie Lennox

Every day I write the list
Of reasons why I still believe they do exist
(a thousand beautiful things)
And even though it's hard to see
The glass is full and not half empty
(a thousand beautiful things)
So... light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
Never close my eyes

I thank you for the air to breathe
The heart to beat
The eyes to see again
(a thousand beautiful things)
And all the things that's been and done
The battle's won
The good and bad in everyone
(this is mine to remember)

So ...
Here I go again
Singin' by your window
Pickin' up the pieces of what's left to find

The world was meant for you and me
To figure out our destiny
(a thousand beautiful things)
To live
To die
To breathe
To sleep
To try to make your life complete
(yes yes)
So ...
Light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
never close my eyes ...
That is everything I have to say
(that's all I have to say)

Who Knew Detergent Could Cause So Much Trouble?

2011-01-30T14:27:00.005-05:00

Quite truthfully, the past week and a half has been the most effed up I've been in quite some time.

I've been trying to adjust to unemployment. It's not great, but hardly grim.

But I was feeling really ill and it had been getting worse. I was having horrendous sneezing fits, swollen eyelids and a never ending tiredness of which 12-14 hours of sleep didn't even crack the surface. At first I put it down to stress. Maybe I was feeling more stressed out about my job loss than I consciously realized. Maybe I had caught a virus. Maybe I was adjusting to being in my home environment more often.

On and on my speculation continued until by Friday, with a constantly running nose, a throbbing, painful right ear and a lesion having developed on the outside of my left one, I managed to secure an appointment with the nurse practitioner at my doctor's office.

She checked me out and confirmed my lymph nodes were up like balloons. Then she asked if we had changed detergents or cleaners lately. I had, about a month ago. She speculated I was having an allergic reaction and advised me to go back to my old detergent and rewash everything. It was either that, or the stress of late had made me prone to a virus.

Two days and several loads of laundry later, my symptoms are already improving. Thank God. I was on the verge of completely losing my shit. I was seriously questioning why with having time off and more sleep then I've had in ages, I was feeling so lousy. I saw a couple of jobs I wanted to apply for but just couldn't get my brain in gear to generate resumes and cover letters for them. Why, I was asking myself, was everything getting so bloody difficult to do? Now I know.

Inflammation is a bitch. I just hope I can get back into gear next week.

That being said, I'm feeling somewhat hesitant. There's a part of me that frankly, just doesn't want to apply for anything right now. I'm quite happy to just stay at home and catch up on my life and the things that are important to me. It's been such a shell shocking last year and a bit. There have been moments where I have to stop and survey the changes. The Maritimer, my grandmother, my uncle and three of my pets are gone. Now so is my job. And while all this has been going on, my relationship with the Marine has been ending. No wonder I just feel like hibernating for a while.

The week did, however, end somewhat well. I'd had an appointment with my naturopath booked for ages, and given the week that was, I decided to keep it. I thought it was for iridology but it was actually for live blood cell microscopy. What can I say? Right now my life is one big brain fart.

Anyway, it's pretty freaky seeing your blood cells milling around doing their thing. We don't think about all the activity constantly going on inside our bodies. And the good news was that despite some minor digestive/absorption issues, my blood was looking really good. It was a big change from when I got microscopy done a few years ago. At that time, things were a mess as far as blood goes: thin blood with cells that clumped together with all sorts of extraneous crap floating along for the ride. Now my blood is for the most part, strong and clean.

So here's to a better week next week. Hopefully my ears will stop ringing soon. It's funny how things work out. Given how I've been feeling, it's probably just as well I didn't get that part.

A Call From Grandpa

2011-01-22T22:45:00.003-05:00

My father: And how is school Rosy? I hear you're taking French.

My niece Rosy: Yes I am.

My father: "Est-ce que tu parles français?"

My niece Rosy: [yelling upstairs] Mommy! Grandpa's talking crazy talk!!

My father: I am not talking crazy talk. I am speaking french.

My niece Rosy: [yelling upstairs] Apparently, it's french!

One Door Closes

2011-01-16T22:22:00.005-05:00

I have to admit that I've been on the rebound lately, or at least feeling that way. I've been getting into a good routine with things, feeling a bit more on top of my life in general. I've been feeling like I am catching my breath, that maybe the general inertia that I have been fighting against for months due to events in my personal life is starting to lift and I can really get into things the way I want.

These are the thoughts that have been going through my mind. These are the thoughts I had on Tuesday morning of last week, when I went into work and by 10:30 a.m. was heading back to my car. I no longer had a job.

* * *

I think I made them a little uneasy at the termination. The HR person was going over my package. I nodded occasionally at the various details that were going in one ear and out the other, and took sips of coffee from my Starbucks cup.

"You're handling this very well." she remarked.

"Well," I replied "the writing's been on the wall for quite some time."

It was decided I wouldn't tell my team, along with my boss, what had happened. As the HR person pointed out, I was taking things ok, but there was no way to predict how others would react to it, even with me there. Helluva point. My boss would tell them after I had left.

We headed to the elevator. My boss' eyes were on the verge of tears. I stopped and said "Hey. It's ok." and gave her a hug.

* * *

I feel like I've been rear ended. A major part of my life has been stopped mid-stream. I'm just grateful that things were handled as professionally and as kindly as these things can be. And to be completely honest, as I headed back to my car that morning, I felt like I couldn't believe my luck. The universe has a way of conspiring to help you as Paul Coelho so aptly put it. I finally have what deep down I've been craving for so long: time to catch my breath, rest and sort myself out.

* * *

People have asked me if I'm angry. No I am not. Does this suck? Of course it does, but by God, this could be a helluva lot worse. The last time I was off work for an extended period of time, I was sick, with no money, options, experience or network. This experience is the polar opposite of that.

When I dropped off my signed paperwork, I asked the HR person to please pass on to my former boss that I am just fine and will be ok. I also remarked that she has had a very difficult year having to be the face of so much change and terminations at the company. The HR lady replied that my boss had had a difficult year indeed and that my termination in particular she took very hard. Then she hugged me and said "Zesty, as hard as this is, I sincerely hope this is a blessing for you and a launch pad to something even better."

I think it will be.

* * *

I'm exploring some options right now. I'm going to see how much voice work I can drum up and if I can get an agent. And I'm following up with my contacts. I've decided that I'm going to go for more. I want more money and a more senior role. It took a long time to get to this place mentally.

But more on that later.

In the meantime, I'm taking a well bloody earned vacation.

The Randomness Continues...

2011-01-09T19:13:00.002-05:00

I had a nice rebound last weekend. I was out doing some shopping and decided to try some stuff on. To my delight, all of it fit. Granted some of it was snug, but the point is I now have a lot more options available to me in terms of clothes, which is a great feeling. Plus I'm able to take advantage of really great sales prices, something I couldn't do before.

Another thing I noticed was after hours of walking around, my feet weren't sore and my legs weren't tired. I really felt in that small moment that all my hard work this past year has paid off. Even though I'm not the size I would like to be and losing weight is still a struggle, I'm getting fitter all the time. I can only think that if I keep going and continue to monitor my eating, that things will take care of themselves.

* * *

Last week at work was tough. Just felt bombarded and demoralized. I've found though that I've gotten much better at just ratcheting myself down. I have to work against the neurological ruts in my brain that default me to a state of anxiety. I've found that simple things like just focusing on my breathing for a few moments really helps. I calm down and regain perspective. I think part of it is that I feel like I'm fighting below my weight. I get bored. By the same token, I don't want more responsibility than I have, in that I feel like the demands of something more senior isn't something I want to take on. I'm grateful for a job, particularly the one I have, and at the same time, am constantly negotiating my resentment of the time it takes up in my life because it's not fundamentally what I want to do. I'm still trying to sort all this out.

* * *

I had an audition for a play a few weeks ago. I really wanted the part. I got called back but ultimately didn't get it. The pisser was, they asked if I wanted to come back and read for the part of the mother. That really ticked me off. I was thinking, ok if I'm good enough to play 25 years beyond my age range, why aren't I good enough for the lead you called me back for? I politely declined, and frankly, it was nice to do so. It was just nice to say I don't want to do this, for no other reason than that I didn't want to do it.

Part of it was my own fault as well. Well not really. I ordered a copy of the play in plenty of time, but Theatrebooks didn't get it in prior to my audition. I did try. I could have gotten to the reference library, but I ended up not doing this for various reasons. I do work full time, am training and otherwise have a busy life. So essentially, I went into the call back and held my own doing cold readings. I also got called back with actresses with a lot more experience.

I'll keep at it, but damn, I really wanted that part.

More Randomness

2011-01-03T17:22:00.007-05:00

I just have a bunch of thoughts going through my head lately. I tend to want to write here with a topic in mind, but such is not the case these days, and I'd rather get this stuff out of my head.

* * *

Speaking of which, I bought a "To Do" pad today at Chapters Indigo. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it does have check boxes, which is what I need. I know it sounds strange, but I've realized that I need the visual cue of the box to check off and all my items cordoned off in a specific "To Do" book. I'm wanting to get more disciplined about writing things down, particularly regarding things I have to get done so they don't sit on my brain like an agitated granny. I want to see the whole landscape and prioritize accordingly. That will give me a sense of accomplishment and momentum.

I also got a money tracker book. It's a little notebook of tearaway pages, structured like a match book. All you do is write down at the top what amount of money you have in your wallet, and what you spend on what. That's all I'm doing for now and frankly it's enough. Things seem to move so fast, and next thing you know, 100 dollars has fluttered out of your wallet and you don't know why. I'm tired of having this vague sense of financial blackout. Eventually, I'll transition this approach to my entire budget, starting with my next payday. I can then make a note of everything that comes out, be it bill payments, debit purchases and the like. I'll move on to other more aggressive measures later, but for now this is enough. I've managed to keep my head above water financially speaking despite some very real challenges the last few years. As silly as it sounds, I was so proud of myself when the lease for my new car was approved because my credit rating was still good.

* * *

I suppose the above resonates with me because I always feel like I am living with this general sense of incompetence. The day to day of life has at times, seemed overwhelming. Yet despite everything, I've somehow kept going and kept it together. What I really want for this coming year is the sense of thriving, not just surviving, of feeling that I am on top of things, not just reacting to what is already heading my way.

* * *

I've felt a bit anxious driving around lately. Everyone on the road seems to be in a state of holiday induced rage, or at least impatience. Or it's the opposite; they're driving around in their own little bubble, holding everyone [ok. ME] up. It makes me nuts. The weekend before Christmas, Ragdoll and I went to the mall and were waiting for a parking spot, our signal on. A man pulled up beside us and stole it anyway. What is with people? Why is everyone so self-absorbed?

* * *

I went out with my folks, sis and niece on New Year's Eve to a great Japanese place north of the city. My dad took a picture of my mum and I for his cousin in Australia. He sent it to me this evening. I was delighted to see the re-emergence of my cheek bones. It's nice to see pictures of yourself and like what you see.

* * *

The other day I picked up my usual copy of Oxygen and for the first time, MixMag. I've decided that I'd like to be a DJ, even if it's just part time. It would be a good outlet for me I think as I love music and dancing so much. I get a newsletter from Hay House and they had an article from Joan Borysenko about burn out. She was talking about going back in your mind to the things you loved as a kid as a way to get your energy back. Those neural pathways are still there just waiting to get fired up. I realized that what music does for me is too important for me to not do anything with it. Folks seem to enjoy the mixes I put together, and I think I could really make a go of it. I'm still auditioning for plays and as always, struggling to find time to write any of my books. DJ'ing seems doable.

* * *

I've managed to keep my purse and wallet clean for three weeks and I've realized what the secret is. I throw out receipts. And by throw out I mean put them in the garbage.

I've avoided doing this for years because I feel bad about the environmental impact. I'd put papers and receipts aside for shredding...later. You can see where I'm going with this. Now I'm throwing non-essential receipts out, which other than for warranty purposes, means all of them. It's made all the difference. It's the same with coffee cups. For a while, I had a whole washed out collection of them at the office to take back to Starbucks. You can see where I'm going with this.

So I'll get to the whole paper shredding, recycling bit in due course. I think it's a very very important thing to do. The problem for me is that while I'm trying to do my part for the world's environment, my own has been suffering greatly. This is one key objective for 2011: to get my living environment up to snuff. Paint on the walls, Items organized. Enough already. So for now, to keep my car, purse and wallet functional and clean, all that paper has to go as expeditiously as possible. Next weekend, I'm getting the basement organized. It's the first step to reclaiming my home proper from the clutter I've been in as long as I can remember. It's not healthy, and I don't want to live like this anymore. I want a home that makes me sigh with relief versus exasperation when I walk through the door. I want to have people over, so that I can reciprocate the wonderful hospitality I'm always receiving.

Plus if I generate some garbage, so be it. I'm entitled as much as anyone else to take up a baseline allotment of space and resources in this world.

Randomness

2010-12-28T21:19:00.003-05:00

"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. By God, you learn." ~ C.S. Lewis

A new year is almost upon us. For me, 2010 has been inspiring and utterly heartbreaking all at the same time. I feel like I have learned a lot about myself, that I have grown up in some very meaningful ways and am better prepared for the future. In others I feel very childlike, as if I am ambling like a toddler through a terrain with which others are already well acquainted.

I am trying to sort myself out.

* * *

Since my last posting, I did manage to get back to yoga. The first two weeks after my bad respiratory virus, I did restorative yoga on Tuesday and Thursday nights. The Tuesday night class was more active, with 20 minutes of poses and I was very heartened when my teacher noted that I was a lot stronger since I last saw her. I have to admit, it was a great feeling to barrel through poses I had struggled with in the past, to experience them in a completely different way.

The Thursday night class was more passive in the sense that you have a practitioner working with you to move you through all the poses and stretches. There's atmospheric music, blankets, aromatherapy and comfy padding. It's totally deluxe and I feel like I've had a full body massage by the time I'm done.

I lasted two weeks of doing Tuesday and Thursday yoga as well as weight training and then the pace of things started to get to me. It was tough getting home late five nights a week and I had to ease it back in order to keep going.

Post holiday budget armageddon, I'm hoping I have enough money to book more classes and get into some more active yoga. It's a good counter to my weight training and cardio [such as it is these days.] It balances me out and makes me feel good about myself.

* * *

I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't discouraged by my weight right now. I'm discouraged in the sense that I'm still not at a normal weight and can't wear clothes I want to wear. Plus I'm impatient by nature, so this only compounds things. I've just accepted this and acknowledged it, but at the same time have also focused mental energy on the positive things I have accomplished in the past year. Some of these things include:

Being able to military press 50 lbs. I can't remember my rep count on this, but it was definitely more than five reps and a personal best.

I went from 24 sits up on an exercise ball damn well near killing me to being able to hold myself up in a "V" position [bent knees] while my trainer throws me a 12 lb medicine ball from both sides. I do two sets of 15 reps both sides.

The Return to the Land of Normal - This marked the first year I could shop for clothing in a lot of normal sized stores. Granted, I fit into their large and extra large sizes, but they are not plus size stores. I also bought new winter boots today, boots that I love and that wouldn't have fit over my ankles a year ago. I'm down three full sizes. It's nice to have options.

* * *

I had brunch with Indigo last weekend at Nadege and as always, parted from her company feeling inspired. I went across the street to the Japanese Paper Place and bought myself a couple of pink mole skin note books for me to start using during my training. I'm going to start writing down what I do so I can keep track of it myself. Obviously my trainer does this already, but I find that things just aren't sticking in my brain. I don't have the level of competence yet to be able to say "I'm going to train this, this and this today at these weights..." This is the next logical step for me. Indigo was talking about how she tracks her physical progress in writing and makes notes of her goals, so I decided I would do the same.

* * *

I've stumbled across a theme lately in blogs, articles and the like that I've been reading. They're written by women who are recollecting the power of their youth and beauty in some respect and how they are feeling the loss of these things or a if not an outright loss, at least a transitioning away from these things to another phase in their life in which other things are more important.

I don't remember my youth as a time of power in any real respect. I remember a sort of blind hope and optimistic feeling about my future, a sense that somehow I would be able to stumble along, figure it all out somehow and get to where I wanted to go, that unique giddiness one feels when you know there is more time ahead of you then behind.

But powerful? No. Beautiful? No.

It's the latter in particular that keeps coming up; women noticing they don't get checked out as much as they used to or not having a tummy as effortlessly tight and flat as it was when they were in their twenties. I have to say I just can't relate to this at all, at least not right now, where I am and based on my experiences. It's only in retrospect that I realize there were men in my past that were attracted me. But I certainly didn't think at the time that I had beauty that could get me any thing, any man or get me ahead in any respect. And I certainly didn't feel strong physically.

I suppose if being overweight has any gift, it's that you learn to rely on more internal measures to get what you want out of life. But the price you pay, at least as I see it, is that the full cross section of experience is closed off to you. That's what a big part of my personal training has been about, getting myself back into my whole body, not just living from the collar bone up.

Still, it's all well and good to be able to climb Mt. Kilamanjaro if I want to, but fitting into a size 10 dress would be nice too.

* * *

I got a new car a couple of weeks ago. It's a 2011 Subaru Impreza and I love it. I just couldn't take another winter of worrying about another major repair bill. I'd rather know what I'm paying month to month and have big repairs covered by a warranty. I'm glad I did it and I'll worry about what I'll do with the buyback 3 years from now. Although it's an automatic, and not as engaging to drive as my Forester, I have to admit that overall I'm just physically more comfortable in my new car. I think my legs are perhaps too short to drive manual well in that I always seemed to be so far forward.

It's also amazed me how much joy a purely material and utilitarian possession can give.

* * *

I want to write here about my trips to Scotland this year and about my uncle. But not yet.

* * *

I've been having some strange dreams this week, almost like I have been mentally cleaning house. I have to admit, I've awoken feeling lighter the last couple of days.

In one I saw my maternal Grandfather. He died when I was 17 and I have never dreamed of him. [I do believe I saw his ghost once but that's another story.] Anyway, my grandfather was sitting at a table and smiled when he saw me. I could hear my Granny talking in the background and I was just so happy to be with them both.

In another dream, the first man I ever loved turned to me and kissed me. Afterward, he said that he was sorry for having hurt me.

Back on the Grid

2010-10-31T15:00:00.002-04:00

This past week I was ill, as ill as I've been in quite some time. I thought my bout last year was bad, but whatever it is I caught, left last year's episode in the dust.

The week prior I had been to Scotland. Again! I was able to go with my parents and we stayed in a great apartment in Kelvingrove. It's a funny thing. I hadn't been to Scotland since 1994 and this year I got to go twice. If anything, it's convinced me that regular visits there need to be a part of my life from now on.

So I came back feeling really refreshed, despite jet lag that never entirely resolved itself and then WHAMMO! Congestive Armageddon.

So I've got some catching up to do in terms of my workouts. The nurse practitioner I saw said that I would be out of the contagious phase in three days, but essentially coughing for two weeks. I'm going to ease back into my routine as best I can and I've scheduled two restorative yoga classes to go to in between training days. I've missed my Thursday yoga since our office move and I need to start doing it again.

And for now, well that's about it. Not much to report. I suppose I just wanted to try and get back into a routine here too.

Summer Nights

2010-08-15T13:22:00.003-04:00

There's something about the combination of cigarette smoke and womens' perfume in warm night air that is quintessentially summer. I've been out more in the last two weekends it seems, than I have in the last two summers combined, and on both occasions I've experienced summer nights drenched in smoke, scent and the lush rustle of trees. It's reminded how much of myself I am reclaiming back.

You forget about things. You forget about sitting on patios and how good an ice cold beer goes down around midnight while you listen to the gadget reviews tech geeks are conducting over malt while drunk girls talk to each other in their best aristocratic English accents. You forget about after dinner walking with a friend on closed shopfront streets and marveling over gorgeous shoes, then heading up to Chinatown to play "guess that smell" navigating restaurant garbage.

You forget the joys of afternoon tea and talk with a friend.

You forget. And thankfully, you can remember.

I sometimes shake my head in wonderment that I have gotten here. For so long it seemed impossible. It was impossible. But at some point I just put my head down and kept going, thinking that I'd eventually look up one day and find myself in a different place. What this approach lacks in coordination it makes up for in sheer pragmatism.

I have a lot further to go, destinations I can see off in the distance, places I have been to before as well as the new and unfamiliar. Sometimes I think possibility isn't everything; it's the only thing.

Better Songs to Sing

2010-08-12T16:09:00.004-04:00

Had my first fitness progress check in ages yesterday. I found it heartening, but ultimately anti-climatic.

The good news…

I have lost 16 pounds of fat.
I have gained 5 pounds of muscle
I’ve lost about 5 inches from my waist and that’s with the usual mid month bloat.
I can do 100 squats with flawless form albeit labored breathing by the 60-something mark.
I am almost at the norm for ab strength, quite an accomplishment given 25 crunches on the ball used to damn well near kill me.
I did a push up test and am in the “good” range. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been classified as “good” at anything remotely athletic.

On the frustrating side…

I’m still in the 200s weight wise. I am less than 10 pounds away from being out of “the twos” and it’s immensely annoying to still be there after working so hard for nearly a year.

I am this close to a size 14. Not bad considering I used to be a 20, but again, 14 is decidedly back in the land of normal and I’d like to definitively be there, versus still having a muffin top when I wear size 14 pants.

I’m not comfortable wearing dresses or skirts just yet. I still feel like my legs are too chunky. I would love to wear dresses and skirts and high heels again.

It’s not that I don’t feel I’ve made progress, quite the opposite. The day-to-day of my life feels completely different. So many things are easier and my workouts have been a great source of solace in the past year. At least three times a week, I carve out time for myself and usually I have to be so engaged in what I’m doing that I don’t have time to be concerned about anything other than the next rep. It’s a great mental release from my thoughts about a person or pet that has died, or the next thing at work I need to get completed.

I guess the reason there’s no “ta da!” here is that I’ve made fitness more a part of who I am and what I do versus being a goal to achieve in and of itself. It’s not as if you lose all the weight you want to lose, or get back into that little black dress and then you’re done. There is always the next challenge, the next target to hit.

I’ve been amazed at what my body has been capable of and how it’s improved. I remember when a 3.0 walking pace on the treadmill used to make my lower legs acidic with pain. Now I bang out 4 minutes of running at 5.3 to warm up and think nothing of it. It’s not easy, but it’s not ridiculously hard either.

I guess fundamentally, I’m proud of myself. I’m proud that I’ve gone through what I’ve gone through the past year and didn’t stop trying to improve myself. Other than a week’s illness, a week’s vacation and a couple of really tired days, I have worked out a minimum of three times a week consistently, and that’s with an iron deficiency and trying to get a sleep disorder remedied. That ain’t too shabby.

Still as Willy Russell would say, there are “better songs than this” to sing.

I’d like to continue my training to the point where I don’t need a trainer anymore and can train myself .

I want to walk into a clothing store and not worry about whether anything will fit or not. A couple of weeks ago I experienced the sheer joy of putting something back on the rack because I thought it was too expensive, not because I knew it wouldn’t fit.

I want to get an agent and do voice over work full time.

My first trainer was right. You are always stronger than you think. It hasn’t been easy going to my fitness club looking the way I have and still do. I still feel judged. It’s the essential irony of being overweight. I think people, particularly men, view you as out of control and not really having your shit together or being able to take care of yourself.

I’ve exhausted myself the past decade trying to take care of myself. Having to be in the world as an overweight person has given me reservoirs of emotional endurance and independence of which others can only dream. The only difference between me and an alcoholic, workaholic, whatever-holic is that the toll life is taking is written on my body. Try holding down a job chronically sleep deprived. It’s not exactly the domain of scatterbrained pussies.

If intention and discipline were all it took to lose weight, I’d be anoxeric by now. The difference this time around is that I have continued to make my intention actionable. I kept going no matter what, and that is what has made all the difference. I decided last year to take my life back and I have.

I remember my current trainer telling me at the beginning of our working together, that small dietary changes and the consistency of working out combined with time will always bring results. He was absolutely right.

I’m going to start fine tuning things. I want to see what else I can do.

And Then There Were Three

2010-08-06T22:46:00.006-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about writing here. Obviously I haven't and that's because frankly, the last while has been a bit of a shit storm in my life. Something in my brain buckled, and I couldn't put a keystroke to screen until now.

The last time I wrote here, I had come through a relentless summer and fall. Ragdoll had been deathly ill, I had found out my first boyfriend had died, my grandmother died and Shuggy our cat died.

In February, our cat Neko died. In March, my youngest Uncle on my mother's side passed away suddenly due to a pulmonary embolism. Two weeks ago our cat Chudleigh died.

I'm now left with our three little cats, Lolly, Jerry and Possil. And I say "I'm" because my relationship with the Marine is also coming to an end. Nothing I've ever said about him here has changed. I mention our parting because contextually, I want future blogs to make sense. I'll say no more about it.

Some things are just too precious for the internet.

I'll Be Back

2010-05-02T17:33:00.002-04:00

Hi y'all. Long time, no blog. I know, I know.

It hasn't been on purpose, trust.

I'm off to Glasgow in a week so when I return, I plan to get back into things here.

Chipping Away

2010-02-01T21:00:00.003-05:00

I haven't been here much and haven't been reading much online either. I don't mean for this to happen, but sometimes my schedule allows for work, workouts, a facebook posting and that's about it. Plus, as I've been making my way out of depression and into a different and frankly, more normal way of living, I find I'm more inclined to get out and get groceries, read a good book, or see a friend for brunch or dinner. I feel as if I'm becoming a part of the world again, versus hiding from it or trying to make it smaller and more manageable, and I just want to take time for myself. I need to get my house in order, literally and metaphorically and it's going to take a while to balance things out.

I find it comes down to little things, chipping away at it, maintaining consistency and then adding just a little bit more as time goes by. I'm now working out with my trainer three times plus doing additional cardio at least twice every week. This past week I started following an eating plan and buying groceries in advance so I could bring all my meals to work in a cooler. The money it's saving is ridiculous. I've started doing a little bit of cleaning every night instead of letting things build up and it turning into a massive undertaking. Not that you can see the difference, but I feel it, and that's what counts.

The Marine is about 2 weeks away from finishing the basement. I went down and had a look tonight and it's truly amazing what he's accomplished on his own.

And I'm now a red head.

My Latest Work

2010-01-18T21:52:00.003-05:00

A post is enroute, but in the meantime, I thought I would post my latest voice over work. It was a privilege to be associated with a book of such caliber.

People's Parties

2010-01-09T10:52:00.002-05:00

All the people at this party
They've got a lot of style
They've got stamps of many countries
They've got passport smiles
Some are friendly
Some are cutting
Some are watching it from the wings
Some are standing in the centre
Giving to get something

Photo Beauty gets attention
Then her eye paint's running down
She's got a rose in her teeth
And a lampshade crown
One minute she's so happy
Then she's crying on someone's knee
Saying laughing and crying
You know it's the same release

I told you when I met you
I was crazy
Cry for us all Beauty
Cry for Eddie in the corner
Thinking he's nobody
And Jack behind his joker
And stone-cold Grace behind her fan
And me in my frightened silence
Thinking I don't understand

I feel like I'm sleeping
Can you wake me?
You seem to have a broader sensibility
I'm just living on nerves and feelings
With a weak and a lazy mind
And coming to peoples parties
Fumbling deaf dumb and blind

I wish I had more sense of humor
Keeping the sadness at bay
Throwing the lightness on these things
Laughing it all away
Laughing it alI away
Laughing it all away

~ Joni Mitchell

Books, Reps, Discomfort

2010-01-06T21:14:00.004-05:00

I'm trying to get back into a groove writing here, even though I don't feel I have much to say at the moment. The discipline of regular writing is important to me. In fact it's the reason I even started this blog, with the hope that one day, the random thoughts and musings I post here would morph into the wherewithal to do a book.

I'm beginning to feel that this is the year for that to happen and that I can begin the process of cobbling something together. I have so many ideas swirling around in my head, that I don't really know where to begin, so the second challenge will be focusing my efforts on the actual story to tell.

My workout today went much better for me. I suppose they're mundane to read about, but for me it's important to note them. They do feel monumental at times, getting through a session where my muscles are burning and I don't think I can do one more rep, but then I do it anyway, only to rest a bit so I can do another set all over again.

I remember in the fall driving home after work one night and thinking to myself that this was really my time, that I was actually going to meet my physical goals. I felt mentally prepared for the challenge and after meeting my new trainer, just had a gut feeling that we were sympatico and that he was the person who had the knowledge to get me where I wanted to be, just like my
previous trainer was the right person at the right time as well. She really helped me get my head around the notion that physically, I was a lot stronger than I thought. And when she left my club, it was a real surrender of control for me to trust her judgement and refer me to a new trainer. Usually I'd be setting up a series of interviews.

Now I'm in unfamiliar territory. I'm not fit yet, or even overly strong, but I'm the strongest I've ever been and it feels good, but strange. I can feel parts of my psyche kicking and screaming in protest, making me stop when I probably could go on, making me doubt myself before I even try. It's amazing how patterns of behavior and thought can take you over.

I'm just trying to take pride in my accomplishments thus far and to a great degree, get comfortable with being uncomfortable. I' have a lot further to go, so I better get used to the concept. These biceps ain't curling themselves.

Lurching Into January

2010-01-04T17:21:00.006-05:00

"A long December
and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last." ~ Counting Crows

December was a knuckle down kind of month for me. I found myself tired and a bit melancholy at the end of November, but despite this, some of the Christmas cheer got through to me, and I had a nice holiday.

Work was relentless and so were my workouts, but I kept going as I always do. The Marine made good progress on the basement and we are almost there. I even bought a Christmas tree as I blasted through all my shopping on the 24th, which is the way to go if you know exactly what you want to get and where. I don't think I waited in line more than five minutes anywhere I went and the presents seemed to go down very well with everyone, which always makes me happy.

I even had time to do a CD compilation, something I try to do every year, but don't always get to and certainly didn't last year. [If you want one let me know.] People seemed to have really appreciated this more personal kind of gift in the sense that it's a little more reflective of me. I'd been working on it since October, first choosing about 25 songs, then whittling the list down to CD length and redoing the order once the transitions were what I wanted.

I also discovered in December that my iron stores had gotten too low again, and this time my doctor put me on prescription iron supplements, something no other doctor has done. Two weeks later, I'm starting to feel a big difference and I'm no longer panting at the top of a flight of stairs as if I had just sprinted up them.

All that being said, my work out didn't go too well today. I woke up feeling tired and "buggy", as if I was fighting something off. I ended up cutting my workout short, something I've never done before. I'd just had it and felt as if my pilot light was out. I'm hoping that a couple of good night's sleeps helps rectify the situation.

I also cleaned off the bomb site that was my desk today and feel overall that I'm getting back on top of things. It was a nice feeling after a weekend out with friends at brunches and movies and the like. I hadn't had such a fun weekend in a long time. I was also able to buy jeans that were one size smaller. Progress, however small, is always nice.

And well, that's me then.

Happy New Year

2010-01-03T15:54:00.001-05:00

Well, it's been a while, I know. I'm hoping to get back in the swing of things here shortly.

Hope 2010 is good to ya.

A Warm November

2009-11-25T11:25:00.002-05:00

We've had a better November than most this year. Usually by mid-month, your nose gets singed by cold, but it's been mostly rainy with a enough sunny golden etched days to make up for it. I haven't been writing or reading much. I'm keeping my head above water and feeling on top of things, but that's only because I don't try and do it all. Something has to give, and this past month it's been my writing, both here and in my journals and my reading, both books and other blogs.

It was my grandmother's birthday last Monday and it's now slowly sinking in that I won't see her this Christmas, even though some part deep inside me knew at the time that Christmas 2008 would be our last together. I picked up a box of things she left me on Saturday. I went through it at my folks, brought it home, and put it underneath the hutch. It will be there a while. I don't want to go through its contents again for quite some time.

My workouts continue to go well and I am the strongest I've ever been. Yet I'm looking out right now at the unrelenting rain, and just want to be home sipping a coffee. It seems like all I do is work or workout these days. The Marine is lost to our basement reno. We are both tired. Our house is in chaos. Nothing at work, seems to work these days. There is too much to do, and not enough of my brain to take it all in.

I am fed up.

I Woke Up This Morning

2009-11-10T14:52:00.001-05:00

And I wished summer was coming.

Breaking Foundations

2009-10-29T21:45:00.004-04:00

This week I've had a serious rebound. Despite all the flu talk, I was thinking to myself last night how great it was to feel genuinely well and strong again. My usual aches and stiffness from working out are back, but I can't say I mind. To me it's a sign that things are changing.

Today though, I felt splintered. I didn't eat enough, certainly not enough protein. I got up too late, was too rushed running an errand first thing, and it broke my stride for the rest of the day.

The Marine has been working on our basement for a month and a half. He is exhausted and we really haven't been able to do much together with weekends being spent in and on the house. It will all be worth it in the end, but I miss what used to be our normal life.

But in some ways I don't. That old, soggy basement was much like the other parts of my past that I want no part of, a past where I was too tired and too sad most days. Now I am much more in the moment, instead of feeling like the only house in the neighbourhood that still has Christmas lights up in July. Part of me is terrified at the prospect of change, real change. I think that's the discomfort I'm feeling today, why I feel frantic and leaden at the same time.

But my discomfort is outweighed by my curiosity. I don't know where I'll be this time next year. Despite that, the thought of it makes me smile.

Inneresting....

2009-10-25T17:33:00.002-04:00

Here's some links to a fascinating BBC documentary on near death experiences.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Poetic Interludes

2009-10-22T22:10:00.001-04:00

The world
I see, hear, touch
so beyond me
it may as well be just
a speck of dust.

Working It Out

2009-10-21T21:06:00.004-04:00

Given my illness last week, getting back into the swing of work outs this week has been tough. I'm struggling. I admit it.

If there was one consolation to being sick it was this: last week was the first time in ages I woke up and wasn't sore anywhere. Every workout gives me progress and strength, but it also reasserts the fact that I am still galactically out of shape. I just keep my focus on the longer term. It's taken a decade of depression and inactivity to get to where I am now. I'm not going to remedy that fact in two weeks.

Still, my ego's a little bruised when I'm doing arm pulls and 10 pounds is killing me. KILLING. ME.

I have to admit I've been a bit whiny this week too. Monday I was just so tired. I didn't look much better today. And even though he doesn't let me off the hook, I've never had a good poker face. I think my trainer realized today that I'm having a bad week. I committed to myself that I wouldn't whinge, but even I balked when he gave me the ten pound medicine ball to do squats with.

I basically said to get me the six pounder, cause there was no way. I'm stopping when I need to as well, but I finish all my reps.

My form was terrible with an exercise on Monday, but I said well, my form may not be good, but you will always get the best I have to give that day. My trainer seemed satisfied with that.

I'm having to actively work to not feel despondent even though my stride's been broken temporarily. Trying to get in shape when you've never really been there is tough, I won't lie. But what are my options? Getting older, fatter and weaker? I don't think so. I am making this change happen. I walked out today with the back of my arms and shoulder blades burning and pulsing.

It felt uncomfortable. It felt good too.

Breakage and Repair

2009-10-18T17:54:00.007-04:00

"Walking down the Mercer Street
Been a long hot summer
Rain like daggers
Coming down on me"
~ Road to Somewhere, Goldfrapp

Last week I was the sickest I've been in years. I had hit my usual cycle of working out and getting sick. This time was different though. This time, the doctor I saw wrote me off work for the week. I had a virus, not an infection, and there was nothing for it but to keep drinking lots of fluids and getting plenty of rest.

Rest.

What a foreign term that has seemed for so long. I seem to always be occupied or pre-occupied with something, anxiety right behind me like the exhaust from a tail pipe. It seems impossible for me to slow myself down inside even when there is nothing to do. And yet this week I did nothing but rest and my body took things from there. Six boxes of tissues later, my head and chest are clear of what was, suffice it to say, a very nasty infection indeed.

I got my first bad sinus infection in 1994, the last time I was in Scotland. I was laid up for two weeks and it's as sick as I ever want to be in my life. Physically, I've never been quite the same since that infection and it has reasserted itself every time I have tried to push myself, be it working out, extra curricular activity or a busy workload. Eventually I got things to a point where working out always seemed to be the trigger, but the only one.

Part of me thought that I'd dodged it. I've been doing very well this time around but by Wednesday it was clear that I wasn't going back to work anytime soon. I needed to stop, in every way, and just not think or do anything. I was at the point of sickness, where you quite simply don't care how busy things are at the office or what chores need to be done. All that matters is sleep.

This past summer has taken a toll on many fronts. I needed to acknowledge that for what it was and as a result, I think I've finally defeated whatever it was that got its claws into me 15 years ago. I have hacked and coughed, sniffled and sneezed, cried and shook, without apology. My heart is broken and I can't put it back together unless I acknowledge its in pieces in the first place.

The mornings are quiet now without Shuggy's ritual "mep!" and I cry. Without reading through them, I grabbed a bunch of cards that were on our living room unit because I didn't want to encounter my grandmother's last birthday card to me. As it was, it was a placekeeper in a book that I picked up again yesterday morning and I cried reading its words. It's funny how at some point you expect your parents to start treating you like an adult, but your grandparents can fearlessly and forever buy you cards suitable for a 12 year old and not offend you in the slightest. Never again, will I be a little girl to anyone, the way I was to my grandparents.

I have thought of the Maritimer, re-read his letters and have cried. I've mulled over what I know about his life out east, finally processing all the feelings I cut off and shoved back down inside myself 11 years ago. That pattern of behavior has done as much as anything to make me ill. For a while, it was all I could do not besiege the people I found with relentless emails. People are where they are with this situation, and that's not my neck of the woods for damn sure. I wanted to hop on a plane, find them and shake every last detail about the Maritimer out of them. Tell me what you know. Tell me what you saw. Everything, no matter how trivial, tell me all of it. Show me absolution for my self-imposed blame.

For that's what a lot of this grief has been about: the coulda, woulda, shouldas, the siren call of my own perfectionism inviting me to once again, crash myself upon its rocks.

And then yesterday, some grace.

The book I picked up, the one with my grandmother's birthday card in it is by Elizabeth Lesser. It's called Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow. Ironically, I bought this book on a whim late spring before any of the events of late had happened. I had seen the author on Oprah and she struck me as a pragmatic sort, about as flaky as toffee. I could not have a better book to be reading right now. There is an incredible chapter about September 11th. I won't spoil it for you here, but this is the part that hit me full on:

"Driving home in the warm September night, I found my thoughts returning to the people on the airplanes, and to that moment when they realized they were speeding through space toward their death. I let my grip on life loosen, until I was with those people, sharing the awe, finally understanding the secret - the same secret we will all know when death is just a breath away: In the end, what will matter is how much we loved - our children, our mates, our families, our friends, everyone we knew, everyone who traveled with us during our brief visit to this unbearably lovely place. What will matter is the good we did, not the good we expected others to do."

In its extract, the above may strike you as maudlin. Don't make that mistake. I highly encourage you to get the book and absorb this in the context of the whole chapter.

What I realized after reading the above, is that as much as I can beat myself up regarding my time with the Maritimer and wish I had done some things differently, I also loved him with everything I had and as best I could during our time together. He did likewise. Nothing that has happened changes that. I had forgotten this central fact, omitted it entirely from my remembrance of him, and us.

It was a good reminder to recommit myself to the present, to be thankful and to value what I have now. For though I may feel much has been taken away, I also feel much is to be given in the time ahead of me. Though paths may now be closed to me, new ones are opening up.

This is the price I pay for making the journey to reclaim those parts of my soul I feel are still lost to me. I must show up and be willing to be see things through, to be uncomfortable. I think that's what a lot of the past week has been about. As much as I needed to heal physically, my heart needed to heal too.

R.I.P. Little Shuggy

2009-09-14T17:45:00.002-04:00

My oldest cat Shuggy died today from kidney failure. I was there at the end and able to transition him out of this life and end his suffering humanely at the vet clinic of which he was a favourite client. He was wonderful.

I'll write here at some point in the future. I'm taking a day of work tomorrow to retreat a bit. I've had a lot of loss to contend with lately, and I need to ride out the numbness I feel.

Jeannie

2009-09-06T12:55:00.003-04:00

"You are the music, while the music lasts." T.S. Eliot

It's ironic to me that one of the things I will miss most about my grandmother, is something peripheral to her as a human being. Her apartment had a north view over a park with a white church steeple that peaked up from the middle. In the midst of the fall colours, it was a visual oasis in what is often a soulless landscape in the city's extreme east end. Bordered by the confines of my grandmother's balcony window, you could be overlooking a small Virginia town for all you knew. For years, she had updates for my father and I about the family of foxes that lived there.

I got the call on Thursday morning. My grandmother had passed away in the early hours in hospital. There was a nurse there when it happened, which I was glad of, because I know my grandmother feared dying alone. I'm sure being alone and sick was hard enough and I always felt for her in this regard. I was glad she had the support network of friends, former co-workers and family that she did and that her immense suffering is over.

My relationship with my grandmother was complicated. There were familial and personal dynamics in place that we inherited, but we made the best of things which I am glad of. I've often remarked that it was quite something to have a grandparent still alive at my age, and in a similar vein, it's amazing to have said goodbye to my last grandparent at age 38.

In ways she could not have known, she inspired me. She was smart, very smart, and was still sharp as a tack at 88 years of age. I think often of the story she told me about her school principal begging her parents not to take her out of school. I'm still in awe of this happening in mid-1930's Scotland, when the societal take on education was that it was something you didn't waste on girls.

I'll always remember how much she wanted to be a nurse. She would have been a damn good one too.

I marveled at her knitting ability. My dad spoke often of how she'd knit in front of the television, her eyes never looking down at what she was doing and sweaters magically appearing over the course of a few days. He wore outfits for years as a child that she made all by hand. I still have the scarf she started for me and I'm going to finish it. I remember getting hand knit sweaters for Christmas. One year, she gave me one with a lovely brooch. It was a silver thistle with a topaz centre. It had belonged to my great-grandmother. I've never been able to find it again and I miss it acutely now.

I remember her taking me to what was then called the O'Keefe Centre to see Sugarbabies with, wait for it, Mickey Rooney and Anne Miller. Unbelievable. It was a fantastic show and a fantastic birthday present.

I remember her stories of the Clydebank Blitz during the war. I recall a story she told me about telling off another tenant in her building who had said that the Iraqees should "have the hell bombed out them." She asked them if they actually knew what they were talking about, because she had been bombed, and would never wish it on anybody.

I think about how she lost a child, twice, one as infant and one as an adult, just days before she lost her husband too.

She immigrated to Canada in her 50's, an amazing thing to do at that age I think.

I still have a silver locket she gave me for Christmas when I was twelve. I remember her saying at the time "Well you're twelve now. You're getting to that age." I felt so grown up, getting a piece of jewellery as a gift instead of a toy.

I feel as if I am fumbling for words here and not doing my grandmother justice. I am just overwhelmed with loss to the point of numbness. I am shellshocked with events of late.

Hell, my sister's dog of 14 years died two weeks ago too.

I once read a quote that said "An old person dying, is like a library burning down." How accurate a statement that is. In the end, our accumulation of experience and memory is left in the dust of our bones. What is it all for?

I don't know. All I can do is continue to carry people in my heart. All I can do is to enjoy life as much as I can and make the most of it, fundamentally uncertain, yet hopeful, that there is something beyond our last breath.

I have a great luxury my grandmother and other women of her generation didn't: I can do anything I want. I'm devoting some serious thought over the next while as to what that really is and I know if she can see me, my Granny will be cheering me on.

Love Letter

2009-08-31T12:14:00.001-04:00

My darling, I want to let you know how much I love you. There are a billion reasons why. Here are just some of them.

You healed my heart, and continue to do so.

You convinced me and then proved, that loving someone again was a risk worth taking.

Even the most skitterish and shy of animals will always let you pet them. They sense your inherent kindness.

When I am sad, you let me cry. When I am tired, you let me sleep. You let me be right where I am and let me feel what I feel.

You cook me a lot of dinners and they are delicious.

You love books and art and music.

You are your own person and love me for who I am.

You subject me to various and plentiful acts of compassion a day; making me a cup of tea, taking out the garbage, giving me a hug, giving me solitude.

You raise your eyebrows up and down and it always makes me laugh.

You let me love you too.

Hanging On a String

2009-08-29T13:42:00.015-04:00

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. ~ C. G. Jung

I'd like to thank those of you who have commented, gotten in touch and generally lent a shoulder to cry on, be it a real or digital one. I have appreciated it more than you could know.

The last two weeks have been some of the loneliest of my life and the experience of this grief has been very painful. It's one thing to commiserate about a death and get support from those that love you, but what has really hit me is the lack of people with whom to grieve the loss of the Maritimer as a person in his own right, not just who he was in the context of my life. I've had no one to have any "remember the time" or "I loved his smile" conversations with.

At any rate, it's been immensely healing to just cry, to just let pain out. Who is to say it is all related to the passing of the Maritimer? But I think a great deal of it is.

I have been trying to come to some conclusions., rolling this thing around in my head like a pinball. Yet, no sooner do I conclude something, but a new insight emerges and I am back to the beginning.

I think it's not knowing. Every other experience of the death of someone I've loved has been much tidier in the sense that there were no unknowns. I loved them and they knew it. They loved me and I knew that. The Maritimer and I never had a clean break. Our "break up", if you can call it that, seemed more borne of necessity. He was going back to Halifax. He didn't ask me to come with him and my feeling is that he didn't feel he could. My whole life was here. He'd realized his whole life, except me [I'm assuming], was out east. I don't know if he was just running away. I do know one thing absolutely: if there was a way to go back to Halifax and not hurt me, he would have found it.

Reliving these memories, has been the quintessential experience of "if I only knew then, what I know now." I've had sliding door moments, where I relive events between the Maritimer and I and make different decisions. I see our wedding, our house in Halifax, our dog, our son. I think this is the only way my brain can process his death right now, to fully remember and evaluate things, ask the "what if" questions in order to be finally reconciled to what did happen.

And what did happen? As I look back, I see two people desperately in love with each other trying their best to save their relationship, trying their best to communicate with each other and frankly just not being terribly good at either.

And yet, we never talked again about where things ended up and that was what prompted me yet again to go looking for him. I needed to know he was ok. I needed to let him know I was ok, that we survived losing each other. I take comfort in the fact that unsurprisingly, I've since found out he was well thought of, well loved and surrounded by many friends in his life. He was ok.

He left me 11 years ago...and yesterday. That's the crux of it. Love doesn't have an expiration date. My life has been what it has been. The last decade has been extremely challenging in many respects. I did the best I could and it's netted out where I am now.

The lesson this has all brought home to me is that it's important to go through life with settled accounts. Say what you need to say. Try what you want to try. Dont' hurt or betray your own feelings because you don't want to hurt someone else's. Be reconciled to any outcome by being able to look back knowing you saw it through to the end either way, that you were fully present. It's not about everything being sunshine and lollipops and tied up in neat little packages. It's about living as honestly as you can.

So here's some honesty.

I regret not keeping in touch with the Maritimer even though I had my reasons. I'm sad he didn't keep in touch with me and I'll never know his.

I regret not being honest about my feelings and not having a real conversation with him about the whole damn thing.

I'm fairly certain I can speak for him on this last point. I think we both thought of each other briefly every Halloween [the day we met] and occasionally on our respective birthdays. Through the years, we encountered funny stories, pieces of music or news items and thought for a moment about how each other would react. I think we ultimately always thought of each other fondly, and wanted the other be whole and happy.

I also think the frequency of our thoughts of each other lessened as the years went by. I think our lives went on and the passing of time buried our disappointment with the past and unearthed an ability to more fully appreciate the present.

Selfishly, I have to reckon with the fact that despite our experience together and the love we shared, I may have ultimately ended up as just one woman with whom he had a relationship and that he meant more to me than I did to him. Perhaps his communication didn't stop out of some romantic notion of its being unbearable or his own demons preventing him from fighting for me. It's quite conceivable he just didn't give a shit. I did, after all, find out about his dying by accident. It's not as if anybody knew to tell me. The thought of this hurts me greatly, yet in recognizing it, I don't mean to disparage the Maritimer at all. It's just life and fair enough.

Time may tell the full story on that. It may never do so. In the meantime, I wait to hear more from folks out east. I plan to share my memories with them and hear theirs so that I can move on.

When all is said and done, I have only memories and the certainty of now. As most of the mental and emotional dust settles, I find that the memories I have are pretty damn good. What I have now is damn good too and deserves my full attention and commitment. In the end, after all the bullshit, hurt feelings, miscommunication and lost opportunities, all that's left, is love. And that, I'll never move on from.

Coastal Dispatch

2009-08-25T15:48:00.003-04:00

I finally heard from somebody out east who is getting me some more info. Rightly or wrongly, I just can't shake the feeling that there is more for me to know before this chapter officially closes.

I'll keep you posted.

Dear Diary

2009-08-22T15:55:00.004-04:00

I've been sifting through old papers and cassette tapes, reconciling the loss of the Maritimer. It's been good to look back, to remember the beginning of things, to cry, to learn, to count my blessings past and present. So many aspects of that time have come rushing back to me. I'm still trying to make sense of it all. And I really wish the Marine was home. I've missed him.

As part of this personal archeology, I did come across another item: my diary from my school trip to Quebec City when I was 12 years old.

Ahem...a drum roll please:

1983/05/26

Today was the first day of the trip. The bus ride was very pleasant, and the scenery was beautiful. We stopped for lunch at Mallorytown. We then continued on, and stopped at a brochure office, and information centre. We stopped at Olympic Stadium and went on a tour. Then we went straight to Quebec City, had dinner at the Spagetti house, checked at the hotel, and then went on a tour. The old buildings are beautiful. [I actually did spell Spaghetti that way!]

1983/05/26 [for some reason it's the same date]

We went on a lot of tours today. We had breakfast at the Complex "G" cafeteria and dinner too. We went to the Citadelle. It was really big. It rained most of the day so it wasn't as enjoyable as I thought it would be. We went to a museum.

And after that there is nothing. My muse never struck again apparently. LOL!

Bridges Burned

2009-08-15T22:34:00.033-04:00

Faith, you're driving me away
You do it everyday
You don't mean it
But it hurts like hell

My brain says I'm receiving pain
A lack of oxygen
From my life support
My iron lung ~ Radiohead

Sometimes, you go through periods in your life that you know you'll look back on and say "that's when things really changed for me." I feel as if one of those times has been happening over the last two weeks, as if the changes I've been sensing would come, particularly in the last two years, have combined, amplified and blown up. Now, there is no going back. The way is shut.

If I had to define a starting point, it would be the fall of 2004. It was that point that I knew things needed to start changing in my life. I had nowhere near the clarity I have now, just a sense that I would need to move first, and worry about where I ended up later. I focused on something I could have a reasonable expectation of being able to actually change: my job.

I'd spent the better part of the previous decade being a secretary. For me, the work was mind numbingly boring. But in looking back, I see that with a depression that was at times, untreated, not well managed, or both, this was a job I could easily handle. I needed a way to make a living that I could "phone in" in terms of the mental and physical energy it required.

Eventually however, even that aspect lost any measure of compensation. I realized that I was in a fur lined rut. I wanted more out of life. I wanted more money, more options and a sense that I was going somewhere instead of just doing something to pay the bills until my "big break" [whatever that was] happened and my real life began.

So I began a new career in 2005, and worked my way through that, trying to cope with my weight, sleeping problems, undiagnosed depression, and just learning a whole new way of working. It was tough, and I didn't solve everything, but I made it to the other side.

Then in 2007, I auditioned for a play and got back into acting after a hiatus of over ten years. It was a wonderful experience and I felt as if I had found some lost part of myself.

This time also had its losses. In early 2008, my friendship of over 11 years with The Duke ended. I think I can safely speak for both of us when I say that due to a constellation of events, things had reached a natural end. Time passes, things change. As it is, we both have our viewpoints on the matter and what I suspect are different opinions on why our friendship ended. So be it. None of that changes the fact that we had a lot of good times together. It was what it was and things now are what they are.

So on it goes. I've been slogging away. Trying to take care of myself. Trying to make progress. Trying to let go of the vestiges of the last ten or so years and stop living in the past. Renegotiating my relationships, seeing things for what they really are.

Then in the last couple of weeks we had a major launch which was grueling to say the least. I wasn't sleeping well at all. The Marine was out of town working and I missed him terribly. Ragdoll was very very sick, in and out of hospital and I was very very worried. The battery on my car went. Then my Dad went in for his hip surgery, which fortunately he got through. The late arrival of a heatwave was splitting my brain in two.

Towards the end of last week, I was exhausted. I'd pretty much fucking had it. Then Thursday night, the bomb dropped. An internet search on a whim, lead me to find out that my first serious boyfriend, my first...well...everything, had died on December 29th of last year.

I've referred to him here only once. We were together for about 18 months. I can't begin to summarize what it was here, and I don't know if I would want to. Like any relationship, it had its good and bad points. But the bad unfortunately outweighed the good, for both of us. Long term, assuming things had remained unchanged, we never would have lasted. We were simply incompatible in a lot of meaningful ways. He had a quick anger and a selfish streak. I was too devoid of healthy boundaries, simply too new to relationships and in some respects had the instinct to withdraw when I needed to do him the courtesy of being honest. In my own ways, I too was selfish.

But fundamentally, being away from home was killing the Maritimer's soul. I've never met someone from either coast who liked living here. There's something about growing up by the sea and not surrounded by so many people that gets in the blood. When the Marine and I went to Martha's Vineyard, I got a glimmer of understanding of what had drawn the Maritimer back home, why he found the middle ground of the country intolerable.

I still remember the Maritimer leaving. He was taking the train back, and he joked at the time that it would be a lot more romantic saying goodbye at the train station than at the airport. The night before he left, I wrote him a card and enclosed in it a ring to remember me by. I'd purchased it at the Globe Theatre in London when it was still being built in the mid-1990s. It was a gold plated replica of a ring found in an excavation of the original Rose Theatre site. In old French it said, PENCE POUR MOYE, DV [Think of me, God willing.]

The ring represented to me, something that was an important part of my soul, as well as a beautiful momento of what had been one of the nicest trips I've ever had. The ring meant a lot to me and the Maritimer had meant a lot to me. I wanted to give it to him because despite how much he had hurt me at times, he had also made me incredibly happy. As Alistair MacLeod so aptly put it, "we are all better, for having been loved."

The morning of his depature, the Maritimer opened the card and saw the ring. He teared up a bit as he read the card. Finishing, he put the ring on his pinky finger and declared he'd wear it until the day he died. I drove him to Union Station and we said our goodbye at the platform entrance. I don't remember exactly what was said between us, but I do remember him saying "Please don't cry or I'll lose it too." He walked up the platform entrance, turned at the end, looked back and waved to me, forcing a smile. I never dreamed that would be the last time I would see him.

For a number of years we phoned each other, the frequency relenting as time passed and we settled into our respective lives. I thought at times about just packing up and moving to the east coast, knowing it would end in disaster, but contemplating the thought anyway. Our last phone call wasn't a good one. By then, the Marine and I were together and had bought a house. Any civility the Maritimer had been maintaining dropped.

I still remember the sarcastic hiss of his voice when he said "Congratulations." My Christmas card that year was returned with the words "wrong address" scribbled on the front in what looked like the Maritimer's writing, though I couldn't be sure. Any semblance that we could remain friends was gone. I felt hurt and angry, on the most basic level, as if there was some expectation on his part that my life stop in his absence, when he wasn't exactly living like a monk. He after all, had left me.

To be sure, I called his number. It was out of service. I then called a friend of his and confirmed he had moved. She gave me his new number. I went through the motion of writing it down and after hanging up, discarded it instead of putting it amongst the scraps of paper where I had written down his other numbers and addresses.

I nursed a lot of anger for a while. Petty, silly snippets of thought would enter my mind, stupid self-centered things like "well if I ever visit Halifax I'm not looking him up.", "If I got famous, he'd probably blab about our sex life.", "he probably pawned that ring." I'm ashamed of myself now for being so shallow. Another part of me felt that he perhaps didn't even want to talk to me, given our last exchange and that's why he didn't get in touch again. I feel like a fool.

I suppose I had always maintained a fantasy that the Marine and I would visit Halifax one day, and somehow I'd find the Maritimer. We'd have an awkward moment, then laugh, then hug and catch up on each other's lives over coffee or beers, a new, different friendship beginning, all the old hurts melting away and he and the Marine exchanging quips and cracking each other up.

It was this vision that made me search for him on the internet now and again, but I never found him. He was a Luddite at heart, and I regretted discarding his info. There were always so many phone listings with his name that I was too intimdated to work through them all. Last week, I once again typed in his name and "halifax." The first result to come up was a memorial concert at a local pub to honour the sudden passing of a local bartender with the same name. And in that moment I knew, because the Maritimer had loved music so much. I searched around a bit more for definitive proof, trying not to jump to conclusions. Then I found a web page talking about the concert with his picture.

I am not as unmoved as I initially thought. Since the shock's worn off, I have been incredibly sad, fumbling emotional loose ends, crying wretched deep sobs when I have moments alone. What I have found the most heartbreaking though, was that the web page I found with his picture also linked to a video of him on youtube from 2007. It's from a DVD, and he's reading the rules for a drinking game. On his right pinky finger, is a slim gold ring. He deserved more credit than I gave him. I perhaps meant more to him, than I gave myself credit for.

And so a door is closed. No semblance of the previous era in my life remains, nothing of what I might have been trying to hang onto is here anymore.

Things have really changed for me.

The one consolation I take from all of this, is that had I not had my relationship with the Maritimer, my relationship with the Marine may never have happened. Having not had any experience at a real relationship, and the very great joy it is capable of bringing, I may never have had the courage to take a chance and ask the Marine to dinner. He might have slipped through my fingers. And for that, for having the Marine in my life, I am so immensely grateful to the Maritimer and the fact that at one time, I had him in my life too. What a blessing he gave me, that when love came around again, I knew. By God, I knew.

Takes a Lickin', Keeps on Tickin'

2009-08-12T22:11:00.001-04:00

I'd love to write here more often. I really would. But we're now into our third site relaunch so it may be September before you see me again. Will do my best.

Trying

2009-08-08T22:29:00.003-04:00

I wasn't a great week, wasn't a bad one.

I'm starting to realize that lapses and fatigue are most of the time, a sign that I'm recovering and getting better, versus anything to be really upset about. I just need to take the rest I need, when I need it and keep going.

Still, I'm glad last week is over. We came out of a major site relaunch at work and had what I call a "slow boat to China" week. Everyone was fried, me included. Plus, Ragdoll was in and out of hospital and that was, frankly, very worrisome. She is now on the mend.

I start workouts next Thursday. Feeling up to that again which is great. I'd start Tuesday, but my Pop is going in for his second hip replacement and as my sis is out of the country, yours truly is babysitting Rosy while my Mum is helping Pops at the hospital.

Alone. With my niece.

Pray for me.

This Sums It Up Nicely

2009-07-22T10:44:00.005-04:00

This is getting old and so are you
Everything you know and never knew
Will run through your fingers just like sand
Enjoy it while you can

Like a snake between two stones
It itches, in your bones
Take a deep breath and swallow, your sorrow, tomorrow
Raise the cup and let's propose a toast
To the thing that hurts you most
It's your last cup of sorrow
What can you say?
Finish it today
It's your last cup of sorrow
So think of me
And get on your way

It won't begin until you make it end
Until you know the how the where and the when
With a new face you might surprise yourself
Like a snake between two stones
It itches, in your bones
Take a deeper breath and swallow, your sorrow, tomorrow
Raise the cup and let's propose a toast
To the thing that hurts you most
It's your last cup of sorrow
What can you say?
Finish it today

It's your last cup of sorrow
So think of me
And get on your way
You might surprise yourself

-- Last Cup of Sorrow, Faith No More

In Other Zesty News

2009-07-19T22:01:00.001-04:00

I started my novel today.

That is all.

I Don't Know What To Call This

2009-07-19T18:57:00.006-04:00

Right now, I'm listening to an on air tribute to a Toronto DJ, Martin Streek, who committed suicide recently. It's been hard to listen to, because he was such a mainstay of the airways and of my youth in particular. Though he didn't know it, he was company on many weekend travels or more regularly, a Saturday or Sunday night at home. Other times, particularly when I was older, I was happy to stumble across him on the airways. I had no idea he had been let go in May and was no longer on the air.

Obviously that's not the whole story and Martin had other demons he was wrestling with. Still, I have to wonder what leads anybody to the decision to purposefully end their life, what leads them to a point so devoid of hope. I can't say I've been close to this state, but I do understand the notion of wondering why you're here, particularly when you have a condition that skews your perception of the world towards the negative, that by default makes you see everything that is wrong and demands an active effort to see what's right.

I don't think he realized how much he was loved, which is obvious based on all the tributes coming in.

This caps off what hasn't been that good a weekend. The Marine's been away in Tweed at a music festival with his cousin. I don't grudge him this time at all. I just miss him terribly. I've been tired and anxious, missed my r/x Saturday cause I just forgot basically, and paid the price later with an inability to get to sleep and when I did, I had a night of shallow dreaming. I woke at 8 am, thought I'd snooze, and woke up at 130 feeling like half the day was gone, cause in a way it was.

I feel like I'm getting a cold. I suppose I also exhausted myself gardening all day yesterday, but it was a quintessential gardening day weather wise and I couldn't resist. Plus I'm tired of not enjoying the garden in good weather. I'm tired of being a good gardener whose backyard doesn't reflect that. I wanted to unearth, literally, all the treasure that was back there, including the plants I'd gotten from Ragdoll. I want some aspect of my home to feel completed and it is almost there. I just need to sustain the effort to get it done and see the positive - the columbines and poppies blooming, the roses I can now get close to. It'll do.

Ahem

2009-07-14T22:42:00.003-04:00

Well.

I am back at work after my vacation. I must say that I was glad of the break, even though it's pretty much worn off. LOL.

Work is CRAZAY. But we're almost there on a big project. Almost. There.

Oh I can't wait until it's done.

It's been a strange time for me. I needed a break from here, in as much that doing any kind of blogging requires some introspection and I've had far too much of that as it is lately. I've felt stripped and raw, coming to terms with feelings, people and events, reconciling, trying my best to forgive, forget [or both] and move on. It's not an easy process sometimes.

I'll do my best to get back in a groove here.

Off The Grid

2009-06-26T19:44:00.002-04:00

This week has been very busy, and I'll be in at work over the weekend battening things down before I'm off for two glorious weeks. I'm going to a cottage Monday and won't have access to internet so I should be able to blog when I'm back.

But then again, I may not. I need to catch my breath.

Me Likey

2009-06-17T00:03:00.001-04:00

A video of old Glasgow. I actually recognize some of these places!

Pardon Me

2009-06-16T22:26:00.004-04:00

But are they effing serious? God help us all.

Ok, So It's Been A While

2009-06-13T17:14:00.004-04:00

Well, I honestly didn't mean to be away so long. Work really kicked in and has been beyond busy. I was running a bit ragged for a while too and generally, I was just in a mode of trying to keep up with things.

Hard to believe but in two weeks, I'll be on vacation. It will be my first bonafide summer vacation in years and I'm really looking forward to it.

There's been a lot going on. I'll do my best to get caught up here, particularly with my book reviews. I also need to be catching up on reading blog posts elsewhere.

I beg your indulgence Romanship.

Fromans Folio: Astonishing Splashes of Colour

2009-05-18T10:34:00.016-04:00

Astonishing Splashes of Colour
By: Clare Morrall
Published by: McClelland & Stewart

One of the great joys I've encountered over the past couple of months is that I have been able to start reading books again on a regular basis.

I've been drawn lately to memoirs and books on health, but Astonishing Splashes of Colour by Claire Morrall is a fictional romp through and through and I enjoyed it immensely.

As shallow as it sounds, I was initially taken with the cover of this book. I've shown it here but it's actually not the cover on the current edition. It was also a bargain at $3.99 and given that it was a nominee for the 2003 Man Booker prize, that was all the convincing I needed to pick it up.

I was at this time, however, deluding myself with the notion that if I purchased books they would somehow get read. Heh! This one languished on my shelf for a couple of years before taken with the notion for a good story, I picked it up.

The story centers on Kitty Wellington who has the condition Synaesthesia, which gives her the ability to see emotions as colours. Kitty lives and breathes the artistry of her own life, labelling periods of time as when she was "yellow" or "red". It's the loss of her child that tips her out of reality altogether and into a life of colours and characters that makes sense only to herself.

As breakdown approaches, she valiantly struggles to understand what is happening to her while at the same time trying to grapple with the fact that she is the square peg in the round hole of her family dynamics. It's only towards the end of the book that you find out why.

Astonishing Splashes of Colour is what I refer to as a "breadcrumb book." You get a trail of ideas and incidents, characters and conflict, a little here, a little there, and things gradually come together to create the entire picture. This creates a wonderful sense of momentum. At times, even though I was tired I simply couldn't put the book down until I'd read at least one more chapter.

I so enjoyed the descriptions of Kitty's family [her father in particular is a character custom made for Jim Broadbent if a movie version is ever made] and there are also wonderful interludes between Kitty and her husband James, a couple deeply in love but who live in separate apartments in the same building.

This book accomplishes the impossible: it makes you fall in love with a trainwreck. Even though you know Kitty is ultimately her own worst enemy, you still can't help but root for her and hope that somehow, she'll be saved from herself.

This is Clare Morrall's first published book. She'd actually been submitting for years before this book was picked up by a small publisher in her hometown. I'll definitely be looking forward to reading her other works.

Ruminations on the Blahs and the 80's Amongst Other Things

2009-05-17T13:37:00.005-04:00

We have a long weekend due to the Victoria Day holiday this Monday. It couldn't come soon enough. Last week was, well, kinda hellish. I was extremely tired and had no concentration. I woke up every morning wishing I could sleep another three hours.

Despite this, somehow I managed to get some semblance of work done. I can't say I'm exactly on top of things, but I'm not woefully behind either. I just seem to be making demands on my brain it's unwilling to handle right now, and like an obstinate three year old, it's throwing a tantrum everytime I want it to work because it wants candy instead.

I feel that what I really need right now is rest, just time to be at home and away from the world. But this is not realistic and instead, I'm taking breaks where I can and making an active effort to focus on the good aspects of my work. Even though I'm finding it tiring right now, that feeling won't last forever. I work with very nice and funny people. Work bores me, but currently, it's a rare thing that doesn't.

I have to remember that I am viewing the world through a certain filter, that I've been living with one hand tied behind my back as it were for a long time, and as a result, my perceptions of things are altered. I can't say truthfully that remembering that makes things any easier. Circumstances are what they are, but I am trying not to dwell on negative things and that to me is a key step in changing my life and recovering from this latest depressive bout.

I let my doctor know on Friday how much better I had been feeling. It has truly amazed me how effective medication has been, how despite some remaining fatigue, it's nothing like the previous feeling I had of moving through molasses all the time.

Anyway, I spent yesterday in my pyjamas and the better part of the evening watching VH1's Top One Hit Wonders of the 80's. It was fabulous. The commentary was really funny and it was great to go back to a time when my perceptions of the world were so much more straightforward, and things like my hair and what shoes I was going to buy for the start of school were really major considerations, not to mention having a laugh at videos and songs we all thought were tha sh*t back in the day.

This weekend was just what I needed; nowhere to go, nothing to do and a few laughs here and there. Hope yours is as good.

Um....

2009-05-11T22:16:00.004-04:00

I keep trying to get back in a groove here, but frankly, it's just a little bit tough right now.

My sleep is hit and miss, work is overwhelming and I'm really just trying to keep going.

Life is good. But I guess I just don't have the reserves to write about it.

I know one thing though. If I were rich, I would fly to London to see Sir Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart in Waiting for Godot. Can you imagine how good it is?

Stitches

2009-05-06T20:11:00.003-04:00

I started working out again today for the first time in about three weeks. It went incredibly well and with it being so light in the mornings now, I feel like I'll be able to get my momentum back quickly. Really my main objective is not to stop entirely, even if I pause. It was nice to still feel strong and be able to pick up where I left off. Progress is progress.

I did feel a bit shabby today though. I desperately need to get a haircut and some new clothes. As much as I'm loathe to do so, I think my credit card will need to come out for an emergency intervention of some kind.

But God, how I hate clothes shopping. Hate it!

I must be seriously deficient in a girlie gene somewhere. I'm the only woman I know who hates the entire process of maintaining a wardrobe. It's not the fact that I'm overweight, although I admit that if I had more options clothing wise I'd probably find the process less tedious. But tedious it is to me nonetheless.

Look around. See something you like. Find a size. Get a dressing room. Change. Twirl in front of the mirror.

Repeat as necessary.

Itunes is so much easier.

Reckoning

2009-05-03T18:03:00.004-04:00

"I have no idea what the long-term effects of discussing such issues so openly will be on my personal and professional life, but, whatever the consequences, they are bound to be better than continuing to be silent. I am tired of hiding, tired of misspent and knotted energies, tired of the hypocrisy, and tired of acting as though I have something to hide. One is what one is, and the dishonesty of hiding behind a degree, or a title, or any manner of collection of words, is still exactly that: dishonest. Necessary, perhaps, but dishonest. I continue to have concerns about my decision to be public about my illness, but one of the advantages of having had manic-depressive illness for more than thirty years is that very little seems insurmountably difficult. Much like crossing the Bay Bridge when there is a storm over the Chesapeake, one may be terrified to go forward, but there is no question of going back. I find myself somewhat inevitably taking a certain solace in Robert Lowell's essential queston, Yet why not say what happened?" - Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison, author of An Unquiet Mind

About three weeks ago I sat across from a consulting pyschiatrist at the Sleep Disorder Clinic to get the results of my second sleep test. I had spent the better part of the previous month in a quagmire of little sleep and general agitation and in the immediately previous two weeks, I had developed the unique yet not at all useful talent of being able to cry at the drop of a hat.

I remember my second sleep test vividly. Having had the benefit of the first one, I knew what to expect. Yet, I was uncomfortable and edgy and couldn't wait for it to be over. I had dragged my knuckles through the first week of what is ironically referred to as "springing forward" for Daylights Savings Time. This transition is pretty much hard on everyone. In terms of my sleep, it was apocalyptic. By the time my Friday night test came round, taking sandpaper to my butt cheeks seemed a more appealing alternative to an overnight stay in a strange bed and a bunch of electrodes stuck to my head with gummy ointment.

Only a couple of weeks before, life as I have known it had changed. Suddenly, things became possible for me. I was on top of things. Chores that had languished for months seemed and more importantly were, achievable. Activities I thought would take half a day took an hour to whip through. I woke up feeling like I had slept. I started contemplating things I hadn't thought of in ages, like perhaps getting some new makeup, because I felt I could get up a bit earlier for work to give myself time to deal with it.

Daylight savings combined with the end of my sleep medication brought my uplift to a crashing halt. I lasted two weeks, and not feeling able to wait another two before my check in, I called my specialist's office and asked for enough of the medication to tide me over, which fortunately, they agreed to give me.

But whatever ground I had clawed back was still eluding me and I felt hollow as the pyschiatrist began to review my file.

"So your test was a month ago..."

I was thinking about the doctor's appointment I had already made for two days later,

"...you indicated on your sheet prior to the test that you were irritable...."

that I couldn't take this anymore,

"...you had a headache upon awakening...."

that I couldn't continue to live with the feeling that my nose was continually pressed up against the glass of some knowledge that everyone else except me seemed to possess and that they had some secret I just wasn't in on when it came to enjoying life and living it competently.

"Blah blah blah blah blah blahdee blah."

She paused, sensing I think that the slipstream of her words had gone over my head, not even rustling a hair.

"And so we now feel that with a second set of tests result to review, that you are not dealing with a sleep dysfunction, but are in fact suffering from clinical depression."

And there it was.

My internal knot tying ceased and she now had my full attention.

When I saw my doctor a couple of days later I reported the conclusion.

"You'll get the results and formal write up early next week, but they're saying it's clinical depression."

My doctor smiled slightly and nodded. I got the feeling she wasn't surprised.

"They are recommending an anti-depressant." I said.

"And how do you feel about that?" she looked at me as if she was bracing herself. I suppose she's used to having to do a lot of convincing on this front.

"Bring it on." I said.

She seemed momentarily surprised, then relieved. And with that, we got to work on an initial treatment plan. I walked out, r/x in hand.

And now where am I?

Well, I'm not sure except to say that I feel like a fool, a damned fool.

Now that I've been on my prescription for two weeks I can easily say that I haven't felt such physical relief in years. It's as if life's sharp edges have been blunted back to normal. It's as if I can see myself in a completely different light, and I'm sad for the detours and lost opportunities, the denial of what was really going on.

I can only shake my head at all the money and time I've spent on what turned out to be useless.

On allergy free diets, supplements and Rolfing. Energy therapies of various descriptions, herbs and homeopathies, tinctures and tisanes.

What have I been doing? What the hell was I thinking? It's not that any of the above are bad or ineffectual. I think they're great. But ultimately they haven't been of much use to me in the absence of dealing with the essential issue. I just thank Christ I didn't go back to the guy who recommended drinking my own urine.

Here's the best way I can express how I feel. It's like I've been in a house all these years. I thought that if I could just get the living room in order, that would fix things. That didn't work, so I moved on to the kitchen. But that didn't work either, so I moved on to the upstairs bedrooms. And now, after all that, I've just stepped into the garden and realized that the problem wasn't in the house at all. The problem, has been the locusts eating away at the garden, and now here I am, fully aware of it, and surveying the wreckage.

I have a feeling of minor mourning, of acknowledging what could have been. But it's a nod to it, not a wake. I'm starting to feel more excited by a feeling of possiblity. That finally I can get on with things and make up lost ground, that I can taste again and for the longer term, what it was like a few weeks ago, to barrel through life and be excited by simple achievements and connections.

I'm tired of this short form life I've been living, of declining invitations and not seeing people because I'm just not up to it, of letting my real work suffer while I devote my full measure of energy to my day job. I need a more well rounded existence, one that has its compensations as well as its dues.

I am on a salvage mission for the life I have always wanted. I hope you don't mind my having shared the beginnings of it.

Sorry...

2009-04-27T19:02:00.000-04:00

For the sporadic blogging. There are reasons. I'll explain.

And They Say Romance Is Dead

2009-04-25T19:24:00.001-04:00

The Marine said he had a love song for me. Somehow this wasn't what I had in mind.

Simple Yet Effective

2009-04-20T22:32:00.003-04:00

I love Britain's Got Talent!!!

For Some Reason

2009-04-16T22:51:00.002-04:00

I am completely obsessed with this song at the moment. Every time I hear it I imagine a big blob of cool blue paint falling on my brain and coating it.

Is that weird?

Fromans Folio: The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression

2009-04-14T22:29:00.005-04:00

"Depression is when nothing matters. Sadness is when everything matters." - Gloria Steinem

Every once in a while you encounter a book in which the author seems to capture the thoughts fluttering around in your brain, smack them on the page and give them shape and form. For me, Andrew Solomon's The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression is just such a book.

A tour de force of cultural and anthropological exploration, The Noonday Demon is by Solomon's own admission, the kind of book he wished had been in existence when he encountered his first bought of serious depression. [He also had a major episode while writing the book].

I've been reading a number of books on depression in the last while in order to make some sense of my own experiences with this condition. Life breeds such attempts to understand one's own dabilitations and the victories over them. Is it sadness or depression? How do we reconcile ourselves to life's essential meaninglessness? Why do humans, versus other animals, appear to have a sense of their own emotional existence? Solomon dives in and swims the murky waters of inquiry, giving his own unique take on all these questions and more.

The book is unapologetically huge in scope, as true a cross sectional overview of a subject as I have ever encountered. Solomon examines depression in various contexts such as Breakdowns, Treatments, Populations, Addiction, Suicide, History, Politics and Evolution, just to name a few.

Yet as objective as Noonday Demon is in some respects, it is also a searingly personal work. Solomon spares little detail in examining his own experience of depression and the behaviors it drove and vice versa. Solomon seems so hellbent on driving for empathy and understanding of depression's cruelty, that it is at times difficult to read his extremely intimate level of revelation. Certainly, Solomon's description of his mother's suicide is one of the most touching yet terrifying things I have ever read.

This is a book I would recommend to anyone, without reservation, whether they or anyone in their lives had experienced depression or not. I think that time will eventually consider this a vital volume of work in future, perhaps one of the 21st century's greatest.

Yes it's that good. And Fromans is gettin' on the bandwagon now y'all.

In the Fog

2009-04-13T17:16:00.005-04:00

I've been enjoying a computer free last few days. My sleep has been wonky and I find myself preoccupied with thoughts of the past. These more retrospective leanings have brought me to a conclusion.

I wish I looked forward to the future, but I've realized recently that I don't. By default, I seem to have a fundamentally negative view of things, expecting that the passage of time will bring more loss and disappointment and that the state of my life can't really be improved upon and will probably, in the long term, get worse.

And yet, I can't tell you why I think this way, where this belief originated or what it's based on - aside from the obvious conclusion that I may be a bit depressed or winter weary, especially when I consider my recent inventory of things I have to be glad about.

But for whatever reason, I've simply become aware recently that the long view of my life is not an optimistic one. I'm not as positive as I have thought myself to be.

Logically, it just doesn't make sense. Who is to say that the next ten years won't be the best of my life, that the wreckage of disappointment I may encounter will be well mitigated?

But it looks like I've got some more internal digging to do.

Nudgin' Pudge and Sleeping Well

2009-04-07T20:49:00.004-04:00

Work continues to be intense. I'm trying to remember that circumstances are unique at the moment. The amount of meetings I'm in frustrates me, especially when my brain's so tired I can't remember my name never mind what's on my "to do" list. But we've got several big projects on the go and I have to remind myself that shortly, a lot of the work will be over and things will get back to normal.

On the plus side, two things are helping me immensely right now. One is my exercise program and the second is rest.

My progress is slow but steady and I can now feel some real changes in my body day to day, not just when I work out. I feel real strength starting to build and every day tasks are that less burdensome. Being fat is an essentially ironic experience. It's the ultimate weight bearing exercise, yet it yields no physical benefit whatsoever.

In terms of sleep, my specialist wanted to see how I did without medication. I finished it as per the plan, and lasted about two weeks. By that time, my sleep completely deteriorated back to its original state, so much so that I contacted my specialist's office again and asked if I could start it in advance of my follow up appointment. He agreed and we'll go from there.

I don't think I need to be on it long term, but it made enough of an immediate impact that my life was injected with a sense of possibility again versus a simple state of mere existence. I don't know why my brain doesn't embrace a normal sleep process, but when I manage this deficiency, my world changes. When I'm rested, when I actually sleep, the day to day of life's tasks isn't a Herculean endeavor. I can get on with things, plan, get ahead and catch up.

Still rested or otherwise, when I looked out the window this morning and saw snow, yes SNOW, I nearly lost my mind.

This has been a long and obstinate winter. I'll be glad to see the back of it.

Still Truckin'

2009-04-05T12:59:00.008-04:00

"Can't act. Slightly bald. Dances." - Studio executive's notes on Fred Astaire's screen test.

This past week was tough, an absolute gauntlet run of meetings and documents, phone calls and emails. It was one of those weeks where I just wished I could be left alone. Fortunately I didn't have too much on the schedule this weekend. I had a nice visit with the folks and Rosy yesterday [along with a Little House on the Prairie marathon] and I've been able to decompress a bit.

On the downside, I've been rejected by two agents so far. On the upside, it's not because they aren't taking me seriously. It's been because I'm either not union or they already have someone like me on their roster. It's funny. As an actor, you like to think you're really unique and have something special to offer. Agents don't see you that way. They're always drilling down to "type".

I'm hampered this way in that I really just want to focus on voice work for now. I don't think I'm going to be cast for any TV work given my current weight. That is slowly but surely resolving itself as an issue, but given my head space right now, frankly I just enjoy voice work a helluva lot more. From what I've heard, going union via just voice work is going to be nigh on impossible, so I'm not quite sure what I do at this point or where I go from here.

I'm just trying to focus on what I can control, because if I don't I'll just end up getting discouraged and depressed. I can control when I work out. I can control how many applications I send out to agencies. I can control if I follow up. I can control if I keep trying or just give in to disappointment. I fundamentally believe I'm meant to be doing this, so I'd rather keep trying rather than give up and hold down an office job the next 30 years. I just need to make the best of what I've got to work with.

The Marine told me to keep the rejection emails. He thinks people will find them funny one day.

Here's Hopin'

2009-03-31T19:21:00.003-04:00

These were my horoscopes in the local papers for the coming year. Apparently I'm dodging infamy, attaining the impossible and becoming a swami. Sounds good to me.

If today is your birthday: Thankfully, a much-dreaded disaster never did come to pass. And as a result, you'll find that a certain impossible dream becomes quite possible. With Jupiter providing support you can expect this year to bring you a most favourable and surprising outcome. Happy birthday to Quentin Tarantino, 46.

No matter how turbulent the events that take place around you over the coming 12 months you will find a place of inner peace that makes you immune to the ways of the world. Once you've found it don't ever let it go. If you can, help others find it too.

Ten Years On

2009-03-29T15:20:00.006-04:00

"If I can just get to the kitchen."

These are the words I remember going through my mind ten years ago this past Friday on my 28th birthday.

If I could just get to the kitchen, I reasoned with myself, I could get a glass of water and some codeine down me and get back to bed. If I could get back to bed, I had a hope in hell of riding out the menstrual cramps that were lacing through me with a ferocity I had never encountered before.

At that time in my life, I'd become accustomed to losing my life for a few days to the haze of hormones, painkillers and bone numbing fatigue that was my monthly period. But this day was different. This day, while I sat doubled over on top of the toilet, it felt like someone was running a knife back and forth across my lower stomach.

If I can just get to the kitchen...

The next thing I was aware of was my breathing, the forced, wet, heaving of air that I began to sense ricocheting off the floor and across my cheeks. I was on the floor. My head was on the floor.

I was on the floor and I could taste blood.

"Get up." was my next thought. I have to get up and get to a phone.

I recall blinking my eyes, getting my bearings, having the sense of myself come back into my body the way it only ever does after I've fainted and my brain's rebooted. I somehow managed to sit up and prop myself against the wall. I saw my cat Mojo in the hallway just outside the bathroom staring at me, unblinking and unnerved.

I somehow got myself up, grabbed the phone and got back to bed. I called my folks and let them know what had happened. Despite being a 40 minute drive away, they were the best choice because they had a key to my apartment and that meant I wouldn't have to get out of bed.

And they were my parents. If there was ever a time I needed my parents, this was it.

"It's not pretty." I remember saying on the phone and I was glad I did, that I had prepared them. I woke when I heard my parents at my bedroom door. I felt Mojo's paw on my shoulder and realized I had fallen asleep with him doing the exact same thing.

I turned and looked up, the blood now congealed all over my forehead, my right eye almost swollen shut. I saw my Mum brace herself as she looked at me, physically stifling the urge to react to what she was seeing.

She came up to me and had a closer look, cradling my chin in her hand, settling my spirits with just a look.

"Right." she said, "I'll get a washcloth."

About seven months before this, I had left my previous mind numbing job in the investment industry. I had been giving an electronic day timer as a gift and shortly after starting my new role, I made an entry in the month of April that said "Quit job and pursue acting."

I had started a job in July at a consulting firm and within three days knew I had made a terrible mistake. I worked to make a living and had now moved to a company where peopled lived only to work. I had been seduced by more money and a well tailored interview process that had made the job seem more exciting than it was. I'd ended up in a well paying version of high school, and the cool kids got to decide whether I got a raise or not.

I'd be damned if I'd go cap in hand back to my old job, so one day as I lay in the bath tub, I felt a wave of relief go through me when I finally acknowledged that what I was doing just wasn't my bag. I'd hang in until the end of March, get my RRSP bonus and then quit. My body had other plans and quit for me instead.

For months I'd been working through an escalation of bad sleep, fatigue, sadness and relentless anxiety. Despite everything, I made myself keep going through sheer force of will. What's ironic in retrospect is that I was so hard on myself during this time. I kept telling myself I was a loser, a weakling, and yet it took smacking my head into a bathroom floor to finally make me stop.

The whole experience bestowed on me a fatalism I've never quite shook since. It showed me how easily your whole life could be changed in a heartbeat. I went from auditioning and holding down a full time job to feeling triumphant if I was just able to get out of bed and stay up for more than three hours. The first three months of recovery were hell. After sixteen months of rest, antibiotics and iron supplements, I was able to return to work, but just barely.

After months of trying to get well while being refused benefits by my insurer, I had eventually conceded defeat, decided I would rack up the debt I needed to rack up and just focus on rest and recovery. I had to get my life back.

And I did, but I can honestly say that it's only in the last year that I've felt like I finally lifted my head up right off that bathroom floor. Ragdoll wrote recently about how trauma can undermine your confidence and I think that's very true. I went from an anxiety laden existence of perceived trauma to having the real thing to contend with. Illness and loneliness are the most eviscerating of couples.

For a long time I felt like I had accomplished nothing. More accurately I hadn't accomplished what I had envisioned, but I've realized that doesn't mean I don't deserve some credit. Many things have changed for the better. Ten years ago I didn't own my home, didn't have a loving and stable relationship, didn't have a job that required some creativity, didn't have my brood of cats, didn't have the energy to do theatre, didn't have a healthy body, and didn't have the strength to keep up with a workout plan. There's been inevitable casualties along the way. People I've loved have died or have no longer desired my friendship. Plans didn't work out. Betrayal and disappointment litter my life as they do any other.

But I have still accomplished. I'm still standing and more importantly, I'm starting to climb again. Do I have further to go? Of course I do. The journey to ourselves is ongoing.

This morning, an incident popped into my mind that I hadn't thought about in nearly 30 years. My family and I had gone up north to stay at a lodge for a week. One day we went horseback riding and at one point in the trail, my horse decided she wanted to gallop. It was my first time on a horse and not having any skills in this area, I eventually got thrown right off.

Fortunately I had no broken bones and though shaken up, I was no worse for wear. My mother stopped me as I headed back to the horse. She thought I should walk. She said to me later that she thought I was very brave for getting back on and riding the rest of the trail. I realized this morning that at the time, it simply hadn't occurred to me that not getting back on the horse was an option.

I think I'll always want to have inside of me, that nine year old that's going to get back on and ride the rest of the trail.

Hand Me Down My Walking Cane

2009-03-24T22:24:00.005-04:00

This past Sunday I drove my father over to the city's east end to see my grandmother. She'd been quite ill and my Dad had had his right hip replaced, so they were anxious to see each other. I have to admit that I got a little choked up when I picked my Dad up at the house and saw him walking more normally than he has in over two years. Plus he now has a cane to wave about when he's doing his belligerent old man schtick. It's very funny.

On the way over, we were listening to a program called the Sunday Edition on the CBC. They're currently doing a series on music that changed the world, and this latest show was about rap music. I thought it wouldn't be my thing, but it was actually very interesting and though very high level, hit on a lot of the essential points.

My Dad enjoyed it immensely and said that though he wasn't going to run out and buy a rap CD anytime soon, the show had very much informed his understanding of rap and its sensibilities, and that he had a lot more respect for it as an art form.

When we got to my grandmother's I was happy to see her looking better than I expected. She had a bad bought of viral pneumonia back in October and hasn't quite bounced back since. She was recently in the hospital with congestive heart failure.

I really feel for my grandmother sometimes because she is on her own, is old and has a lot of health problems to contend with. Granted, she has a good network of friends who stay in touch, but there's nothing like the feeling of being ill or not quite up to things and not having anyone around who could provide simple comforts of a cup of tea. I remember the year and a bit I was off ill, and it's those simple hurdles of day-to-day loneliness that I had to get over that I remember the most.

And that being said, at least I had Mojo my cat.

Plus at 80+, my grandmother is still as sharp as a tack. Inevitably, she also has to contend with people treating her like she's senile, particularly hospital staff. It all must get so tiring.

At any rate, we were all able to have a nice chat, sandwiches and coffee. I threaded two needles as my granny's eyesight isn't what it used to be and fixed her humidifier. My father waved his cane around at the appropriate moments.

I find as I get older that it is these little moments that stick to my heart and gain in importance. I can't wave a wand and make my grandmother better, but I can wash some dishes and thread needles and listen to her stories. She won't be here forever and will join the line of others I've already lost as I've travelled through life.

I often think about this and my niece Rosy. One day, God willing, she will be here still but me, my sister and my parents will all be gone. I cannot bear the loneliness of this thought for long because it usually isn't contextualized by the notion that she will be a grown woman with a family and friends of her own by then. I usually quickly shift my mind elsewhere when it crops up, because to me my niece will always be my little Rosy.

I suppose I also enjoyed the visit this weekend because the death of Natasha Richardson had been weighing on my mind quite a lot. Like most people, I can't get over the almost flippant quality the circumstances of her death have taken on. It's hard to fathom that one wrong spill on the bunny hill is all it takes.

I remember when I arrived in New York City in early 1993 that we were all abuzz with the fact that Natasha Richardson and Liam Neeson were starring in Anna Christie. Tickets, particularly for poor students were a complete no hoper and I was disappointed. At the same time, if I'm honest, I was also jealous. I coveted her family connections [which is ironic considering that by all accounts, Ms. Richardson moved to New York to escape them] because I saw them as a ticket to the artistic life I was working so desperately hard to have.

The closest I have ever gotten to a Redgrave was when we got free tickets from school to go see Shakespeare for My Father, Lynn Redgrave's one woman show. It was simply a tour de force, absolutely wonderful and afterwards, a group of us waited in the front lobby to perhaps catch a glimpse of her and wave hello.

Not only did we get to say hello, but she autographed my Playbill. I still have it. I will never forget how gracious Lynn Redgrave was. I'm sure she was exhausted, but still she took time to give us autographs, ask us about school, and generally just let us bask, if just for a moment, in the light she gave off.

I get emotional about this because I've heard in news commentary so many others speaking of Natasha Richardson in this same vein. Many reference her warmth, her great laugh, her fierce love for her husband and children, her love of her craft. I think she was at once relatable and inspiring because she struck me as someone who was genuinely enviable for having made the best of their talents, for being someone who seemed comfortable in their own skin. It was refreshing to encounter this in an era of celebrities famous for being wealthy, attending parties, or in general, just behaving badly. It has seemed unbearably cruel to see someone so competent and exceptional at what they do taken in their prime.

It is whimsy at its worst, so I take in the good moments as much as I can, these moments at my grandmother's, spending time with my parents the rest of the day, hearing more funny stories about my niece, having the Marine and my cats to come home to when the day is done.

No matter what else I may ever want out of my life, I have already been given so much. It's important to remember that.

Da Tribulashuns

2009-03-18T21:01:00.004-04:00

Sometimes I am, like most people, not the most mature person in the world. Sometimes, I lose perspective and really the only remedy for it is to laugh at myself in the end.

Sometimes, however, it also seems as if nothing can go right, as if you are participating in your very own comedy of errors. Such was my morning Romanship.

It all started out very well. I had my first training session in about six weeks and I was in surprisingly fine form. The last time I worked out, I was just about to go on vacation and still recovering from the relentless pace of the last few months. I didn't do very well in the sense that everything was an absolute struggle.

But today, I was back to normal, hitting my target heart range without too much difficulty but still breaking a sweat. My weights portion was tough, but I muddled through.

So I was getting ready for work, feeling good about my workout and looking forward to getting into the office a bit early and getting ahead of the game a bit. It was at this point I realized that I hadn't packed my top for work, just my pants, underwear and pantyhose.

I toyed for a moment with the idea of just wearing my workout t-shirt. It's not ratty, but a little too figure hugging and frankly I'd just been sweating in it for an hour. The idea of wearing it didn't appeal to me.

My next line of defense was to call the Marine. His cell phone was off. I called the house and got voicemail, left a message then just deleted it because I figured he had already left for work.

What to do? I know! Zipcar! I remembered there was a zipcar in the basement of the building my club is in and another one not even a five minute walk away. I'll just call Zipcar. It will be half the price of a cab to home and back.

Except, it seems you can do everything on the phone with Zipcar except talk to a live human being to book a car. Sure I was able to go through a listing of available cars. Problem was, none of them were remotely near me. I just needed to tell somebody "book me this car at this location" but it was next to impossible.

I know! My club has internet access. I'll just log on and book online.

So I go to the front of the club and explain the situation and the fellow at the desk says no problem and that I can use the one of the trainer computers.

Except zipcar is a restricted website that I can't get access to. I then got back on the phone to Zipcar trying to find a live human being to whom I could speak. It was at this point that my trainer walked by and I admit it, I was starting to freak out a bit. She asked the other trainer if she was done on her computer [which apparently was unrestricted] and she said yes.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to freakout." I said "I just need to accomplish something very simple and it's next to impossible."

Thankfully the other computer worked and in less than a minute I had a car booked.

I dash out of my club and across the huge parking lot by the grocery store. I nearly damage the mini parked next to my car because apparently the driver who previously rented has a waist of twelve inches and didn't need space to get out.

I start hurtling home in the car, the hour of 9 am drawing ever nearer.

Ring ring. It's my cell. The Marine is on the other line.

"Did you call earlier? I was in the basement."

"Yes. I was trying to get a hold of you to ask if you could drop a top off at my work. I forgot it."

"I can do that. Where are you."

"In a Zipcar heading home."

"Oh."

"But if you could drive back with me and drive me to the coffee shop by my office that will easily save me ten minutes."

So I drive home, except the garbage truck is blocking my street. I debate backing up, going around my crescent and turning the opposite way up the one way street my driveway is on but decide against it given the garbage truck will have worked it's way down by then and will be blocking my driveway anyway.

I manage to find a spot on the street close to my house. I dash in, change and we are on our way. I vaguely remember muttering something to the Marine about the grocery store, south parking lot.

We turn onto the main north/south street by my house. The Marine is ahead of me until I get trapped behind.......a street cleaner.

I turn at the light, get caught up with the Marine who takes a short cut through a corner parking lot. I follow only to have it come to nothing as the light changes and the opposing traffic starts coming.

I manage to turn right onto the street, then left onto a side route, catching up, then have to come to a near standstill to get around the handicapped patient transfer van that's parked on the street.

It was at this point that I took a cleansing breath, because like I really want to be the asshole the honks at the handicapped patient transfer van that is taking somebody to, oh I dunno, hospital perhaps.

I finally catch up with the Marine. We need to turn left. He's turning right. I'm waving my hands, honking the horn. He turns. I follow, while getting out my cell phone to call him.

At least I thought I was. Instead I was punching in gobbledeegook. It was at this point that I unashamedly screamed

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCC
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK
KKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I get the Marine on the phone.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure. Where are we going?"

I tell him. We get there and at last I get the car parked and hop in to our car. The Marine drops me off, I thank him and then get a desperately needed coffee.

Fortunately the rest of the day did not continue on this theme, my PMS remained in check and I gave everyone at the office a good laugh recounting my travails.

I won't even get into how my pantyhose was riding half way down my butt the whole day. LOL

Where Did the Week Go?

2009-03-16T21:14:00.006-04:00

"Why is it that every f*&ked up cop lives on a boat?" - Ragdoll's commentary on Pride and Glory

Has it really been a week? Really?

Well not sure how that happened but I can only put it down to daylight savings time. I dragged my ass into work all week, essentially negating any sleep catch up I gained from my vacation. Still, I've continued to feel good, if a bit worn out. I'm looking forward to spring, to the tulips that are now just poking up through the soil, to warm breezes.

In other news, the Guru got engaged! I've been hunting high and low for a "congrats on your engagement" card. Do you think I can find this anywhere? Of course not. Call me old school, but some things just warrant a little bit more than a posting on someone's Facebook wall, so I'll need to keep looking.

Had my second sleep test on Friday night. This time my technician was named Vasily. He's from Belarus and has been in Canada for 20 years. I like to chat with the technicians, especially during my Borg assimilation procedure where they paste all the electrodes on my head. I originally had my test scheduled for Thursday, but it got moved to Friday because I was the only one booked. Thank God it did get moved because I had an awful night's sleep and going into work would have been hell. Utter. Hell.

Ahem.

So that basically screwed up my sleep quite a bit, not to mention the fact that I didn't exercise on Friday. I'm not gonna put my trainer's business out there, but suffice it to say she had a family emergency so we weren't working out. Seriously, it's been a gauntlet run for that chick. But this weekend I was able to get some more clutter busting done. We managed to get to Value Village and the Toronto Humane Society, but alas, we were defeated by the St. Patrick's Day parade and couldn't get leftover magazines to Princess Margaret hospital. The Marine gave me props for trying, but I was too tired and just didn't have the killer instincts you need when you're driving in those kind of conditions.

I ended my weekend at Ragdoll's house for dinner. She makes a mean cod and brussel sprouts and it was nice to see each other in the flesh after such a long time.

I'm getting a bit more into the swing of things at work. I'm still fighting the boredom factor, but I'm just focusing my energies on being thankful for a job - period. As for workouts, they start again on Wednesday. It'll be tough, but I just have to keep going at this point.

Here's something else I stumbled across on Daily Beast, an interesting article by John Forté on his stint in prison. What I like even more is his version of Running Up That Hill. I usually consider Kate Bush sacred, but I really loved this.

Progress, At Least It Feels Like It

2009-03-09T22:41:00.005-04:00

"One year isn't ten." - my maternal Grandmother

Today ended up being one of the best days I've had in ages. Granted it didn't start off too well in that my trainer was sick again and slept through her alarm. She felt so bad when she called me to cancel our session. It's so unlike her, but she's been having a rough time of it lately. I said we could easily regroup and we'd both had pretty tough winters so not to worry about it, that we'd get back on track.

She laughed and said I sounded like her.

At any rate, I got some much appreciated extra sleep and went into work a little sleepy headed but overall feeling pretty good. I had a real gauntlet to run meeting wise but I felt today like things were finally starting to sink into my brain in terms of my job and that overall, we're starting to get into a groove as a department. I have to keep reminding myself that our lovely interns leave at the end of April. They just have such great personalities and already feel so much a part of our workplace. I'll be sorry to see them go.

About this time last year, I was doing Act II of my play! I remember that week, how exhausting and exciting it was all at the same time. I'm amazed at how much I've been able to change in my life since then, but at the same time it doesn't feel like a surprise. I remember feeling like that play was a new beginning for me. The whole experience had a special quality to it and I remember thinking at the time that if I could get back on my feet in terms of acting again, I could get back on my feet in other ways. Suddenly, other things just seemed, at their purest level, possible.

And if you had told me last year that I'd be in the situation I am now at work, I don't know if I would have believed you. I've gone from being on my own in the physical outreaches of a building, trying to do the job of two people whilst working with an employee who resented my being there, to being in a skylit pod area, brightly painted and fully staffed with just my job to do.

I've gotten a demo done, and today managed to get in touch with two voice over agents who asked me to pass it on to them via email.

I physically feel better than I have in years.

I'm on a merciless clutter busting purge.

I'm eating and sleeping well and feel better able to take care of myself.

I'm on top of things for the first time in ages.

Normal life. What a concept.

Petty Frustrations

2009-03-09T21:39:00.005-04:00

Today was my first day back. It was a little rough, primarily due to a supreme lack of sleep. We had howling winds and lashing rain. I hate wind like that. It goes right through me and makes me feel wrung out.

And my brain just would not calm down. It's like a default mechanism that flips on, that makes me start anticipating and planning when what I really need to do is get to sleep.

And of course, there was Daylight Savings Time.

I went into work all full of good intentions but as usual, my brain just shut down. I don't know what the problem is exactly. I work with great people. I now have quite a fun job and yet most days, my general feeling is "meh." I just can't garner any enthusiasm.

My boss is amazing, so quick and smart, so engaged. Meanwhile I'm fighting the urge to go read Perez Hilton. I wish I could shake this feeling and feel less detached. I care about my work and want to do well. I just care about other work more I suppose. In many ways, I think I'm subconsciously resisting the recalibration in my department. By no means do I want my boss' responsibilities. I think my brain just doesn't want to learn another new job. Again. I need to get around this somehow.

On the up side, I've been feeling better physically than I have in ages. I think my iron and vitamin D are both finally approaching meaningful levels. It's the only thing that makes sense to me as an explanation, well that and getting a vacation, but this feeling of wellness is more in my bones, not the relaxed veil of detachment a week off the grid can bring. Long may it continue.

For I can only hope it remains as I go back on Wednesday for my first work out in a month. I'm still enjoying my fitness program, but my last workout was tough. It's nice though to feel myself making progress, to have clothes now hanging slack where I used to fill them.

But I still think that elliptical machine's gonna be a killah.

It Is To Swoon

2009-03-08T22:19:00.011-04:00

From Persuasion:

...And, sinking into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding to the very spot where he had leaned and written, her eyes devoured the following words:

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in

F.W.

I must go uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide wither I enter your father's house this evening, or never.

Jane Austen.

Bringin' the OH.MAH.GUH since 1811.

Hopes

2009-03-06T12:52:00.004-05:00

"Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment." - Ellis Peters

"You just got to keep livin' in hopes child." - Ursula, cleaning lady at the 92nd Street Y

I don't remember what spring was like in New York City.

I remember the winter and summer very well, the experience of extreme seasons in an extreme city, but I don't remember spring. For some reason, when I awoke this morning I was thinking about the time I went to New York City the autumn before I was to begin classes. I was looking at Salvation Army residences for women as they were really the only option I could afford - just. I ended up staying at the 92nd Street Y.

The other place I liked, Anthony House I believe it was called, was on 29th Street as I recall and was very close to school. The rooms were large and you shared a bathroom with one other person. I remember vividly the lady who gave me a tour, one of these people you'd describe as "having a nice way about her."

In the end I went with the Y. I wanted to cook my own food and eat in my room if I wanted to. My best [and only] friend in New York at the time was a male high school buddy attending Juilliard, and if I stayed at any Sally Ann residences I couldn't have a man in my room. Plus the Y had a gym, and I for some reason thought I'd be working out. Turns out the 60 + block walk to school and back every day took care of the extra weight I was carrying. And the bathroom situation - for some reason I just knew that if we had to share cleaning duties on the bathroom, I'd be the one that would end up doing it most of the time. The Y had maid service.

Ursula was the house maid on my floor at the Y, a lovely Jamaican woman I would chat with almost daily because her rounds were in the morning and I didn't start school until 1 p.m. I've always remembered her phrase "livin' in hopes." She'd said it one day after asking me what I was doing in New York City and I told her I was studying acting and that theatre and art were all I ever wanted to do with my life. Then we talked about Toronto and Caribana, and how much she loved going every year and how she and her husband had their hopes, a lot of which got fulfilled when they decided to take a chance and immigrate to New York City.

All this was swimming around in my mind this morning. Perhaps it was the spring light, or the first plus ten day in what seems like an eternity, or the fact that I've finally vanguished the laundry blob that was invading my bedroom. I was puzzled that I couldn't remember my stay in New York at this time of year even though my time in that city was on my mind when I woke up.

But I feel lighter today, and given the progress I've made lately, I feel like I'm once again beginning to live in my hopes for the first time in a long time. Maybe it's just spring. I'll take it, either way.

This is the Golden Age? aka Zesty's Folly

2009-03-04T21:40:00.008-05:00

I've been doing stupid shit lately.

Case in point, the week before my vacation I went and got a poster framed. It's from Elizabeth: The Golden Age and I spent $190.00 bucks getting it mounted and framed. Why? Well at the time, it had been sitting rolled up in my office and I really wanted something for the wall directly across from where I sit.

And I suppose I had some stupid law of attraction idea that if I had it in front of my line of sight long enough, if I could look at it and focus on it with the idea in my head that I too may be able to act full time one day, that framing this picture and making it look nice may actually help to make that happen, the way I think that staring at my credit card balance will somehow magically make it shrink.

But I suppose the other reason is that I didn't have to go into debt to do it because I've been saving for an Ipod and part of me just wanted to get something done because I wanted to get it done. Enough said. No weighing the constraints of what's affordable and what's not.

So now the poster hangs in my office. It's a little rough housed which is made more obvious when the light hits the poster surface which is on mounting. But this to me, is part of its charm. But it's also a symbol of folly, of not thinking clearly, of being reactionary. Oh yeah, and back to the drawing board on the Ipod.

And then I do stupid shit like today, when I go to the doctor and hear that absolutely nothing's wrong and everything came back normal and I'm so tired that I don't think to say "but you know when the nurse checked my file to make sure all my blood work was in there were two "abnormals" listed there."

I don't want to be sick, but I just don't understand how I can be as bone tired as I have been this past month but there is nothing wrong. My doctor said that my vitamin D test wasn't back yet and what I was describing was consistent with insufficiency. She also thought it was significant that my sleep quality had improved during the same time I'd lost five inches off my waist and she wants to follow up with me when I'd completed my second sleep test.

I guess I just expected to hear something definitive today given how I've been feeling and I was surprised that I didn't. My doctor was very understanding. She says she has several patients in my predicament with no definitive answers, but she's willing to keep working with me and trying other things as we go. So, the sleep test is up next. Really, it's all I can ask for and I appreciate it.

Having mulled this over the better part of this evening, I've decided to do the following:

I'm going to call my doctor back tomorrow and follow up on those two abnormal results for peace of mind.

I am not going to apologize for being tired anymore. I am not a hypochondriac and my symptoms are real. All I can do is manage them as best I can. The very least I can do, is trust myself.

I will continue my policy of at least one weekend a month where I have no appointments or obligations whatsoever.

I will exercise at least two times a week.

I am substantially cutting crap out of my diet - no more pop, chips, chocolate covered almonds etc. Not that I eat these in abundance, but I have been overdoing it a bit the last month on the chocolate almond front anyway, and I need to make more of an effort to eat healthfully.

I am going to see the nutritionist at my fitness club to get some guidance.

Well So Much For That

2009-03-04T12:55:00.002-05:00

Well, the Marine woke me up at 830 this morning because my trainer was on the phone. She sounded terrible. I mean TERRIBLE. She said her lungs were burning and I told her to get her ass to a doctor toute de freakin' suite, that she probably needed antibiotics.

Because you know, I'm such doctor and all.

So strange. I walked out of my session on Monday completely banjaxed, watching in awe as my trainer was full out running on a treadmill. And then whammo. It's like she was never well. Seriously. I hope she doesn't have pneumonia or something like that. I was relieved to not have a session today because I'm still seriously dragging my butt. But I would have still gone in and done my session. Her being ill is a pretty lousy reason for it to be cancelled.

Well off for a hot bath before my doctor's appointment. Yes I know. Life is rough.

Mid-Vacation Musings

2009-03-03T21:50:00.005-05:00

It's only now that my vacation has sunk in. Sunday night, my brain was still gearing up for work. I've been blissfully disconnected after the work marathon of the past year. I think it's because there are people there to carry on without me, therefore, I'm less likely to have work on my brain.

Still, I'm a bit edgy for no reason at all really and I'm just trying to focus of enjoying the time off. Monday will come soon enough. I have another workout tomorrow [ack! I'm dreading it.] and a visit to the doctor and perhaps a visit to my folks later this week if my energy improves and I feel alert enough to drive on the highway. Really that's about as ambitious as the week is going to get and that suits me just fine. I'm completely wiped and want to take advantage of the time to rest.

My voice over reel is also a wrap and I am incredibly pleased with the results. Next week I'm focusing on preparing packages to send to agents and going from there. I'm feeling very positive and even if nothing comes of the exercise I still feel proud of myself for just getting it done and not letting any lack of confidence get in the way. Ideas and intentions are really nothing. It's the doing that counts. That's what I find anyway, that I can reconcile results [or lack thereof] knowing that at least I've tried.

I expect my doctor's visit tomorrow to yield nothing in the usual way that these visits never really reveal anything of major note - fine by me, by the way. Who the hell wants a major diagnosis? Still, I just wish sometimes that I could make more sense out of the fatigue I've been battling for years, that I had a definitive explanation. Perhaps it's really all the anemia, and given my lack of shots and how hard my work out was on Monday, I think it's come back.

But, I have a really good feeling about my new doctor, and I think if there's anything to find, she'll find it. If she comes back and says it the usual suspects of anemia and low vitamin D, then I just need to stick with managing those effectively and doing whatever I can, whenever I can.

One thing that my trainer pointed out last work out however, was the fact that I've lost five inches off my waist. It's certainly not due to exercise or loss of weight - neither has occurred. I can only surmise that better quality sleep is the explanation. It's really the only thing of note that's changed substantially in the last few weeks.

Why am I even telling you this? I dunno. But I guess now I'll need to tell you what the doctor said. LOL.

Phew! I Made It!

2009-02-27T22:00:00.003-05:00

At last, a week of glorious vacation is upon me. I have no immediate plans, although doing my workouts, sleeping in, going to the museum and seeing some movies courtesy of the gift card I got for Christmas are currently on the agenda.

Last night I didn't get home until 9:30, but it was well worth sucking it up and doing the voice over session. The prospect isn't hanging over my head now and I can truly enjoy my time off. If I'm honest, I did have a genuine case of nerves about the whole thing. It was good to get it out of the way.

The woman I worked with has been in the industry for 20 years, and she was absolutely amazing. I learned more in my session last night than I have in my previous sessions combined. I'm proud of myself. I just went for it and I think I did a good job and the best I could. I'm really happy with how my reel turned out, and I think I've got a good chance at getting an agent this year.

This week was a little bumpy in that my Granny had to go into hospital again. But she's rallied and is going to be home by tomorrow.

Between that, seeing my doctor and finally getting this voice session out of the way, I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in a very long time. It was nice to leave the office by 6:15 instead of my usual 11 pm finish before a vacation. It was nice to know that people were still at the office who could deal with anything that came up.

It was nice to feel all caught up.

I Sty With My Little Eye

2009-02-24T22:56:00.005-05:00

"Some people can be content,
Playin' bingo and payin' rent,
That's ok for some people,
For some, hum drum people I suppose.
But not Rose." ------ Some People, from 'Gypsy'

I don't belong here."
----- Creep, Radiohead

It's been another one of those weeks where it feels like Thursday by Tuesday. I'm in my usual mid-winter haze of too much work, too little daylight, white knuckling it 'til spring essentially. You can sense the fatigue in air, how absolutely fed up everyone is with winter.

I've definitely been in a funk, and I'm just grateful that I'm sleeping well at present, even if it feels like it is never enough. I'm running quite ragged, fighting off a sty in my eye and generally just trying to keep going. I haven't worked out in three weeks, but I've needed the rest, and last time I didn't lose any ground, in fact I benefited from the break and picked up right where I left off. I'm just trying to keep going, and all being well I'll be back in the swing of things next week and on vacation to boot.

Still, I feel a bit ragged and I'm hoping in a way that all my blood work and my 24 hour urine test [Ragdoll, seriously all respect girl] show something, because if everything is normal then essentially it means I'm just weak. LOL. But everything probably will be normal. Twas ever thus.

It's been a strange time lately. I feel stretched like the skin of a drum. I'm angry all the time, but I can't really say at what - the target seems to move. At any given time I'm angry that:

I can't keep up with things.

I have bad [at times painful] acne at the moment.

I can burst into tears at the drop of hat.

Jerry my cat always has to swish the water bowl and spill water everywhere before he'll drink out of it.

That I didn't follow my gut and move out of stocks and into fixed income last March.

That my financial planner doesn't respond on email on the same business day.

That despite gaining a lot of muscle I've lost no weight.

That I'm so tired lately that I'm craving sugar constantly.

That I don't know my job anymore.

The last one is weird because it's mainly due to an inevitable process of recalibration occurring now that my boss has returned from mat leave. She's fabulous. - really smart, fun and all round great to work with. But I've been uploading information to her at the same time I've been trying to learn more about the day to day of what I'll need to be concentrating on. Between my boss and the awesome new coordinator we hired, I'm beginning to wonder what exactly I'll have to do exactly. Still, the last year's been a bitch. A slow down wouldn't hurt, but I'm just back where I started - bored out my tree.

I just can't help but feel when I bump into coworkers at the coffee shop or enroute to a meeting that I just don't belong, that I just fundamentally don't care as much as they do. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Maybe I'm just overtired and need a vacation.

But I always say that. The feeling ultimately never goes away.

I have my demo recording session on Thursday evening. I'm not looking forward to such a long day - in fact I was half tempted to cancel it and try to get a slot next week when I'm off. But I just decided to get the sucker done. Then I can spend the next week focusing on sending my stuff out to agencies with an aim to getting representation, auditions and ultimately some gigs.

I don't have the luxury of being self-conscious. I'm giving this session everything I've got. Props to anyone who does 9-5 and is happy, but I don't want to work in an office anymore. This session on Thursday just may be my ticket out. It may not.

We'll just need to see won't we.

Woot! Woot!

2009-02-22T21:39:00.001-05:00

Props to the Marine who battled the forces of technical evil and got wireless up and running on my ancient laptop. Oh the joys of blogging from the couch!

Sometimes....

2009-02-18T22:24:00.003-05:00

Another writer says it so much better than you could say it yourself.

"I hit walls of past pleasure all the time, and for me past pleasure is much harder to process than past pain. To think of a terrible time that has gone: well, I know that post-traumatic stress is an acute affliction, but for me the traumas of the past are mercifully far away. The pleasures of the past, however, are tough. The memory of the good times with people who are no longer alive or who are no longer the people they were: that is where I find the worst current pain. Don't make me remember I say to the detritus of past pleasures. Depression can as easily be the consequence of too much that was joyful as of too much that was horrible. There is such a thing as post-joy stress too. The worst of depression lies in a present moment that cannot escape the past it idealizes or deplores."

-- Andrew Solomon, The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression

Heh!

2009-02-12T15:44:00.000-05:00

Something to cheer you up on a grey February day. Heh!

Edging Above Zero

2009-02-08T17:00:00.004-05:00

It's been a weekend of brunches. Met Bibi yesterday and had a brunch today with the Maestro. Got a massage in yesterday too. I know, life is rough.

I finally feel like I've caught up with my rest and sleep. Late yesterday I crashed and burned and ended up having a good cry - for no reason of course, other than I think sometimes this is how I vent things physically.

I hate it when it happens. I feel a bit crazy, particularly when I can't say definitively what's wrong. But sometimes it's best just to have it out and release the burden however you need to. It's like Bibi says, sometimes "overwhelmed" is a feeling, not a reality. I think for me it's been both the past while.

I think also it's because I watched this show called Secret Millionaire. It's a show where very wealthy people go work undercover in impoverished communities and then at the end, reveal their identities and give out money to those whom it will really help. The latest episode featured a woman who has made millions helping to retrain workers and after two desperate days of unrelenting negativity in Dagenham in London, she is visited by a neighbour Whin, who welcomes her to the neighbourhood with a box of tea cakes and an invite to come down to the local volounteer centre. There, mentally challenged adults are employed packing boxes for various companies, and Whin is a regular volunteer four days a week.

Whin reminded me a lot of my maternal grandmother. I saw Whin playing cards with her grandkids and it brought back a lot of memories of my sister and I doing the same with our grandparents when they'd babysit us in the summers. Even Whin's home, due for a spruce up by the local council, had similar carpet and decor and her community, [all of them on this show by extension], are like my grandmother's community of Possilpark, which has a history of industrial decline, poverty, drugs and the lost potential of its inhabitants that inevitably results.

I suppose in a way that this is always a shadow on my life, knowing where one side of my family comes from, wanting to make them proud, feeling like I fail when I can''t live up to my own potential, learning to see the opportunity to do so, even if it comes along in a way I didn't foresee.

Walking around after brunch was bliss today, not only because it was above zero, but it was sunny to boot. All weekend there's been that nice hint in the air of the spring that's on the way. It definitely lifted my spirits a great deal and I have a feeling that after a long, hard winter, better things are yet to come, that this will be my year.

A Snowy Day in London Town

2009-02-06T16:20:00.002-05:00

A very interesting commentary from Gill Corkindale, blogger for Harvard Business Publishing.

"Pushing aside all thoughts of recession and misery, we allowed ourselves to enjoy London's transformation into a glorious Dickensian landscape. Even our beleaguered bankers were allowed outside for a snowball fight. What surprised us most was how enjoyable life can be when the grinding machinery of capitalism stops, even for a day. We were suddenly catapulted back to another, gentler era, when people had more time for themselves and others. "

Amen to that sister.

Covergirls, Winter and the Love Boat

2009-02-05T19:06:00.006-05:00

This week has felt eternal.

Everyone I've talked to is hitting the February wall. We are grey, tired and frozen.

My medication is helping me sleep in the sense that I feel for the first time in years that I have actually done so, but I couldn't tell you the last time I was so work tired. I'm white knuckling it until Monday, when my boss returns. We'll go through an inevitable recalibration, but the worst is over.

How I have hung on since October I don't know. But what I have discovered is that the Employee From Hell has fared just fine thanks very much despite everyone's fears that they would fall to pieces, and that having gotten more involved on the content side, it's become abundantly clear how consumately full of shit they were, how much they were puffing up the reality of their contribution. Frankly, I'm still puzzled as to why they went out of their way to create more work and make it fundamentally more difficult than it needed to be.

I suppose this past situation is on my mind because my new employee is so the polar opposite, so funny, so skilled, so wonderful to work with that it's like a completely different department. Or put another way, it's nice to feel somebody has my back, instead of trying to put a knife in it. It's nice to finally get on with things and leave a bad situation to memory.

Speaking of bad situations, my work out this morning was hard. HARD Y'ALL. I had absolutely nothing to give, but somehow I got through it.

Oh what I wouldn't give right now though to leave for a morning work out in 10 degrees and sunrise.

I'm still continuing to tone up, however, any loss of inches around around my waist continues to elude me. I will keep trucking however, and perhaps talk to my new sawbones about this situation next week. In the meantime, my trainer has me doing a food journal. I hate food journals, but I'll do it anyway. I just inevitably forget and then have to remember three days of meals.

I can't remember my middle name most days. I can tell you the dialogue from a Love Boat episode I watched 30 years ago, but the short term stuff, eh not so good.

I was also inspired by my workout by the soundtrack at the club. I went on an old school download binge at Itunes today. The Covergirls. OMG! I remember them!

Enjoy. We goin' all out y'all.

Did You Know...?

2009-02-01T14:35:00.002-05:00

That you can follow this blog?

Yes! It's true. See below on the right hand side just under Idolatries.

Just do the damn thang! Become a Froman y'all!

The Sunday Dreads

2009-02-01T13:51:00.006-05:00

"Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage."
- - Smashing Pumpkins

Warning: Rant forthcoming.

This weekend was one of those blissful weekends where I had a minimal amount to do. I love seeing friends, getting caught up on chores, shopping and the like. But I find I have to be careful. After a weekend filled with the aforementioned, I can easily head back to work Monday morning feeling like I've had no down time at all. I'm a homebody at heart, and I'm quite content to spend a lot of time at home watching TV, reading a book and generally hiding out from the world. I need to occassionally have some time filled with doing nothing more than what I want to do, or filled with just doing nothing period.

Despite having a lot of time on my hands, it's been one of those weekends where all my brain has done has played and replayed the excruitating week that was at work, a week that was immensely challenging because it was one of those situations where people released information they shouldn't have, which meant my area went from being on track to behind deadline.

And I can deal with that, because most people aren't sociopaths and most people don't head into the office thinking "hmmm, how can I royally screw everybody over today and make their lives miserable?" Sometimes, mistakes just happen, and good, bad or indifferently you're the one that has to clean up the mess.

But after the dust had settled by Friday, what really sent me over the edge was opening my email and getting a message from a colleague explaining to me that this turnaround was an exception and that they'd be talking to my supervisors about education around procedures. The message essentially inferred that the whole blusterduck had been a result of my mismanagement, not a rouge announcement by another department.

Yes, as if another department who just went ahead and told everyone something was ready when it wasn't, had anything to do with me whatsoever. The department we were working for on the project was caught just as flat footed. All weekend long, my blood has been boiling, my neck's tense and my sleep has been crappy.

Because I've pretty much had 20 years of this crap, and I'm not sure how much more I can take. I know this colleague had no agenda to belittle me or make me feel bad. They were doing their job and protecting their staff as they saw fit. But Sweet Mary Mother of Pearl, I get so sick and tired of having to continually numb myself to the outright inefficiency and short sightedness I encounter.

I take some consolation in the fact that where I am now is probably the best place I've been and I work with great people. I shouldn't let things like last week get to me, but they do, because I have minimal threshold. Weeks like the one I just had take away what modicum of pleasure I do get from a job well done, and from working with the fun and wonderful people I've met along the way and continue to work with. The resentment I have at having to spend time doing work to make a living instead of the work I was born to do boils over, and I don't know what to do with it, except feel guilty that I feel that way because Lord knows I'm better off than a lot of other people in this world.

That still doesn't make it ok. That still doesn't make me happy. That still doesn't take away this feeling I have that I am spending the majority of my waking hours on being wasteful with my time and talents and my life force in general.

I'm doing everything I feel I can do. I'm getting a demo together. I'm auditioning for community theatre. I'm working hard on my fitness program to improve my life, and let's be honest, my odds at getting cast. I'm trying to get my book done - nigh on impossible the last six months.

I'm doing all this while holding down a full time job. Thank God I don't have kids to worry about.

I just feel trapped and I don't know what else to do. I don't know what God wants me to do. I'm just trying to take a deep breath and get some perspective on this.

Thanks for listening Romanship. I feel better now.

We Can Rebuild Him

2009-01-31T18:24:00.003-05:00

This past Monday my Dad made it through hip replacement surgery. Having seen Ragdoll go through it, I knew it was no walk in the park [no pun intended], but I also knew that the end result would be worth the effort of recovery.

The last two years have not been kind to my family on the health front. There was my mother's leukemia in 2007 and for the most of that year and last, my Dad's been hobbling around like a drunken sailor, pain and diminishing mobility his ever constant companions. Now he's back at home, off intravenous pain killers and with a strong dose of determination and Tylenol 3's, he's ready to start his journey back to normalcy.

My parents don't talk about these things too much. Sure, they have their days, but it's not in their nature to complain about infirmity. They just get on with things. Still, serious illness, both in yourself and others, is a disconcerting thing to experience. As I get older I hear of other friends whose parents have gotten sick or worse, have died and it has caused me to really cherish what time I have with my family because who knows what curve balls life has planned, how much longer any of us will be here.

As my maternal Granny used to say "You never know the minute, and it's probably just as well."

It's probably a case of "scared straight" but my parents' illnesses coincided with my anemia beginning to resolve, which meant I had a hope in hell of sticking with an exercise program without getting ill. Seeing what my parents have gone through has only strengthened my resolve to get fit and lose weight once and for all. I think I'll need this determination next week especially. Circuit training starts. Oy vey.

Still, I like the feeling of getting stronger even if my clothes aren't that much baggier yet. I actually look forward to my work outs now, which given the fact I'm the worst morning person I know, is a minor miracle.

I think it's the utilitarian nature of a workout that lets me unapologetically carve out one hour a day that is solely for myself. "I can take this time" the reasoning goes "because it serves a useful and healthful purpose." Working out and getting my heart rate up to 160 bpm's doesn't feel indulgent the way a pedicure does. I suppose this is a hurdle I need to get better at leaping, being kinder to myself I mean. It can't all be free weights and elipticals all the time.

Current Workout Song Obsession: She's a Beauty, The Tubes
[Yeah I KNOW. But we all got singing this one morning when it came on at the club and we had such a laugh that just hearing it just puts a smile on my face. ]
15 min mile pace: 3.8
Jar Opening Propensity: Hot water no longer required.

I Got 99 Problems but an Eliptical Machine Ain't One

2009-01-25T11:39:00.005-05:00

Ah January.

How thouest hast kickest my ass.

My mood this past month has basically been either

Bored
Cold
Sad
Tired
All of the above.

Writing here has been next to impossible given the demands at work, but slowly things are easing off. I have an awesome new hire to replace the Employee From Hell, my boss gets back early February and mid-month we have a couple of new interns starting for ten weeks. I shall shortly be experiencing the joys of actually being on a team and not doing the work of three people.

I also am no longer on contract and have my role permanently. I also got a raise. Given the state of this economy, I'm very happy about and grateful for both.

In the meantime, I went and got a sleep test in early December. This week I got the results and they show that there is nothing physiology wrong [i.e. restless legs syndrome or sleep apnea - thank God!] but when they measured my brain waves it showed that have something called Sleep Fragmentation. I get next to nowhere near the required amount of deep sleep and as I move from one phase of sleep to the next, my brain essentially "reboots" and goes back to the beginning as it were.

So I have a medication to take every night for eight weeks and the hope is that this is all I have to do. Essentially the medication will help retrain my brain to transition through the sleep phases normally. A few years ago I never would have countenanced such a step, as the idea of taking a presriptive medication for sleep would have struck me as a bit extreme. I wasn't someone who saw myself as having sleep problems per se. But after nearly 8 years of not having had a solid night's sleep, and having tried everything else, I was more open to it.

The result is that since taking the medication for five nights now, for five nights I have slept right through until morning and have woke up feeling like I've actually slept. Frankly, it's a revelation.

Workouts also continue to go well and I am now in the "burn" phase where the intensity is seriously picking up. I got measured on Friday. I havent' lost any weight, in fact I've gained four pounds and my waist size has increased, But ALL my other measurements have come down, which proves that I am building muscle with my weight training. My clothes are also more slack, and I'll getting a cool indent at the top of my arm as muscles develop.

My trainer thinks my work stress and lack of good sleep is contributing to my lack of weight loss overall and it's still early days yet. She's not worried since I am generally on track. Now that my sleep is better, the results I hope, will be better next month when we check in again.

I have to admit though, there was a part of me that early on, thought I just couldn't do this. It was a needling little fear that I decided to ignore and I concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other, just doing something however little, on a consistent basis, day by day. I promised myself that if nothing else, I would show up, that baby steps were enough.

But now suddenly, all the sweating and aches and shoe horned rises out of bed early in a winter morning seem to be paying off. All of a sudden, walking into a regular sized clothing store and buying off the rack one day seems a distinct possibility for my future. So does running a 10K and dancing in a musical and biking in France.

Current Workout Song Obsession: I Didn't Mean to Turn You On, Mariah Carey, Glitter
15 min mile pace: 3.8
Jar Opening Propensity: Pretty damn good.

PS. Her producer/boyfriend at the beginning cracks me up every time.

Inaugaration

2009-01-20T16:29:00.003-05:00

I managed to watch Obama's inaugaration live today. It seemed so silly to be in meetings after such a momentous event.

Life is ridiculous.

By the way....

2009-01-09T06:23:00.000-05:00

I'll be back at some point. Just a lot going on right now...

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T07:15:00.001-05:00

Hope yours was a good one.

Merry Christmas To You!

2008-12-24T11:26:00.000-05:00

Thank You Very Much

2008-12-22T11:48:00.003-05:00

Caught some good holiday movies over the weekend and came across this little gem I was unaware of: Scrooge: The Musical.

I have to admit that the prospect of a musical version of A Christmas Carol sent shivers down my spine. What a pleasant surprise this movie was. It's absolutely delightful with a then 34 year old Albert Finney playing both the young and old versions of Scrooge. Made in 1970, the production value is such that it could have been shot yesterday.

A song that's stuck in my head from this movie [and they're all rather good] is one called Thank You Very Much. It's a show stopping ensemble piece that I'd put on a par with Oom Pah Pah from Oliver! The song takes place during Scrooge's visitation by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Unbeknownst to him, what the crowd is extremely thankful for is the death of Ebenezer and therefore, the payment of their debts to him. I defy you to hear this and not have it in your head for days.

Thankful

2008-12-17T19:33:00.007-05:00

Starting to feel better now that the antibiotics are kicking in. Was reading in the paper today though about two things that haunted me throughout the day.

The first was an article in the Toronto Star about how the situation in The Congo continues to deteriorate.

The second was about Adam Walsh and how the police feel they can now make a definitive determination about who killed and decapitated him. Adam Walsh was six years old when he was taken and killed by Ottis Toole. Adam was the son of John Walsh, host of America's Most Wanted.

I looked at both the video of John Walsh talking about his son, and a picture of two Congolese boys sobbing as they searched for their parents. [According to the article, of the six million people who have died in the Congo since 1996, half of them have been children 5 or under.]

I would really like to say something profound and insightful here, but frankly I can't. I can't even begin to imagine how John Walsh or those Congolese boys feel contending with their respective circumstances, and frankly, I hope to Christ I never do.

I'm just thankful that there are organizations that are trying to help in these awful situations, and I'm going to do my best to help them. I am very blessed, in too many respects to count.

Sigh

2008-12-13T14:36:00.001-05:00

Well now I know why I've felt like total ass for one and a half weeks. My bladder infection is back. Went to the walk in sawbones this morning and the doctor I saw this time said that he doesn't give out three day prescriptions, but seven day ones, otherwise folks inevitably are back in his office.

Ahem. Case in point.

The sleep clinic was weird, but went ok. I'll write more when I'm feeling better.

To Sleep, Perchance to Fuhreek Out

2008-12-11T17:06:00.003-05:00

Well I'm off to the sleep disorder clinic tonight. I am so not looking forward to this it's not funny. It's like going to a hotel with none of the benefits. And people will be watching me. So weird.

Oh and I'll let you know how my scheduled naps go on Friday too. LOL!

Workout Song Obsession: Peg, Steely Dan
15 min mile pace: 3.2
Jar Opening Propensity: Gettin' there

I'm Pretending It's July

2008-12-10T03:03:00.004-05:00

The rain is falling steadily outside. It's just after 3 a.m. and I am pretending that it's the middle of summer and that if I wanted to, I could go outside and sit in the warm night air in nothing but my housecoat. It feels like it's been raining for a week, though realistically it's more like a day and a half. I couldn't tell you however, the last full day of sun we had.

I have felt wretchedly tired this week. Between workouts and work, Christmas is sneaking up on me like a bad cold. How did I get to this point? How did any of us? It just seems every year at this time I'm insanely busy and Christmas becomes one more thing to get done. It's awful and we've completely lost the meaning of the season. Every year I feel this way and I don't know how to shake it.

I have absolutely no idea given my current workload and energy levels how I'm going to get anything done and how I can do anything to appreciate the season. That's what I think is so sad. Christmas isn't about running a gauntlet. It's about taking time to celebrate the birth of Christ [if you're a Christian] and to reflect and be thankful for what you have.

I've been trying to focus my mental efforts on the latter, because I do have much to be thankful for. It's amazing how much a bad work situation can suck the life out of, well your life. My work situation isn't bad in terms of the people or the company, or even the job. It's just the job "right now."

"Right now", I have too much work and not enough resources or time to get everything done. It's been like this for months, so I need to allow for that fact and realize that it's impacting my perspective. Plus I haven't had full time support in nearly two months. The irony is that as difficult as that has been, it been far less difficult than working with the person we let go.

Plus the new year brings an influx of interns, the return of my boss from mat leave and hopefully the conversion of my contract role to full time, assuming things get approved as planned and a job offer shows up in writing. I have to admit, there is a part of me that wishes I could just finish my contract, gracefully bow out and take some vacation, but you have to trust that things work out the way they do for a reason.

Still, I wish I was awake enough to read books and write more than "I did this" and "I did that" for blog entries.

On the upswing, I'm making good progress on the voice over front and should have a demo reel pulled together in the new year. By the summer, I plan to have an agent.

A facebook friend posted that it's only 11 more days before the sunlight starts to return and our days get longer. Thank goodness.

Progress

2008-12-05T16:29:00.003-05:00

"Everyday is a winding road,
I get a little bit closer." ---- Sheryl Crow

What a strange week it was.

On Tuesday, I ended up getting a last minute appointment to go see the sleep specialist my dentist had referred me to and three hours later I was leaving the hospital. I had to fill in a 20+ page questionnaire and answer all this questions on the part of the intake physician as it was a training hospital. There were a lot of questions related to my emotional state, which ironically enough, made me a bit depressed.

At the end of it all, I then had to meet with the sleep specialist himself. He struck me as one of those English eccentrics. His office looks like a bomb hit it and yet you know the man is fundamentally brilliant. He basically called my sitch in one.

“It would seem that versus a full blown depression or fatigue issue, that you have these issues on a much smaller scale and that they would vastly improve as your sleep improved.”

WORD to that La Medicin.

So next Thursday night, I have to get hooked up with all this equipment and they’ll monitor my sleep. Needless to say, I am absolutely mortified at the prospect of complete strangers observing my nocturnal wailings and nashings. But if it helps me sleep better, so be it. Then I have to take Friday off work to do a day sleep test, where they actually schedule – wait for it – naps, to see if I’m able to sleep. This apparently tests my levels of sleep deprivation as well. So I try to take 4 naps during the day, and then go to my workout to that evening. Yeah I know, life is rough.

The work gauntlet continues. I’ll finally be able to interview replacements for my former employee next week sometime. I had to delay it this week to interview some interns. I remember being an early twenty something. But these young’uns seem so much more sure of themselves and their direction. I love their enthusiasm. Perhaps I’m too hard on myself. Still, I remember those years and I’m a bit nostalgic for them in some respects. But I like where I am in my life, with a lot more well earned self knowledge to call upon. I hope I can give them a good opportunity here.

Workouts continue unabated. My relentlessness has surprised even me. I actually look forward to my workouts now, something I thought would never happen. I am a living testimony to the addictive power of endorphins. And the good news is that I’ve hit the magical three week mark, and not only am I not sick, I actually feel better than I usually do.

Working out is giving me a sense of purpose right now. I know I’ll always feel better for having worked out and I like going through my week and finding that things that used to be physically difficult aren’t as hard to do anymore. I have a sense that every workout is getting me that much closer to my goals and I'm beginning to feel more at home in my own body.

Workout Song Obsession: Superstar, Jamelia
15 min mile pace: 3.5
Jar Opening Propensity: A doddle by the way.

Is It March Yet?

2008-12-02T03:18:00.004-05:00

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That opresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us--
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the meanings are--

None may teach it--Any--
'Tis the Seal Despair--
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air--

When it comes, the Landscape listens--
Shadows--hold their breath--
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death--

-- Emily Dickinson

"Over the winter glaciers I see the summer glow;
And through the wild-piled snowdrift the warm rosebuds below"

-- Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Up early.

I'm beginning to wonder how I'm going to get through the next month. The lack of light is really getting to me this year and it seems these days at work that I barely get an eighth, if anything, done of what I'd like to.

I get some television in, but I'm too exhausted to read anything which is vexing. Right now, the highlights of my weeks are my workouts and being at home with the Marine. It's during times like this I'm most grateful for friends, family and home comforts.

I'm also trying to get into the holiday spirit a bit more this year and perhaps go to some events around the city. I was hoping Ragdoll and I could go to the Swedish Christmas Festival at Harbourfront, but it's over already. At any rate, I'm going to do some research and find some things to do because I always feel as if the season sneaks up on me. I don't like that.

My workouts continue to go well. I'm definitely getting stronger, but there's still no real shift in weight after a first week loss of a few pounds. I know for sure I'm getting stronger and I feel better. Still, dropping a few dress sizes would be nice too. I just need to be patient.

My Darling Clementine

2008-11-28T14:46:00.004-05:00

They said stay at home boy, you gotta tend the farm.
Living in the city boy, is going to break your heart.
But how can you stay, when your heart says no?
How can you stop when your feet say go?
– Honky Cat, Elton John

“You ok?” The Marine was rubbing my back. “You getting up?”

“Five more minutes.” I mumbled.

Ten minutes later I wrenched myself out of bed having once again failed to get up at 6 a.m. which meant that once again, I had not eaten enough nor far enough in advance of my workout this morning.

I wolfed down two Clementine oranges on the way out the door.

Sabotage dude.

The only thing that’s felt thoroughly sabotaged this week is my heart.

I at least got to my workout in time this morning. I was five minutes late on Wednesday. I just couldn’t get going. I had a busy weekend, a working Monday then a Monday night of tax prep. Tuesday I worked, when to a launch party afterwards and then headed up to Brampton to see our accountant to pick up our tax returns. It wasn’t until after my Wednesday workout that things started getting back to normal but with my monthly visitor arriving soon it was too little too late.

Cardio on my off day yesterday was out of the question. Hell. It was all I could do to stay upright in my chair at the office. I didn’t even hit my target heart rate this morning. It was like I had nothing left. My trainer was very understanding. Debbie strikes a nice balance between pushing me, but not too much. She’s not some gun ho asshole who wants me to drop and give her twenty no matter what the cost.

Everything was hard this morning. Everything hurt.

I got to the change room, grabbed my items from my locker and when to one of the individual change rooms with a door. I do this every time because I don’t particularly want to get undressed in front of other women. This is for two reasons. One, I’m not that comfortable with my body. Two, I’m an unrepentant princess. I want my privacy dammit.

And this morning I needed it. I need five minutes of pure self indulgence. I sat down on the bench and cried.

Everything was hard this morning. Everything hurt.

I think it was Wednesday that set me off. I’d been feeling really good about my workouts. My clothes were feeling loser and I was feeling strong. I felt, of all things, “skinny”. And then I saw pictures of myself from the launch party. I’m still always shocked by this because frankly I don’t feel as fat as I look. I simply can’t make the mental connection to the person I see in the photos and the person I am in my body. I still don’t know whether this is a good or bad thing.

But it is what it is, and I can’t lie and say the pictures didn’t affect me, that I didn’t feel somewhat demoralized by the fact that I seem so far away from where I want to be. And what I find so disheartening is the sheer feeling of incompetence exercise imparts. I’ve yet to read a weight loss memoir that really talks about this, the sheer bloody, grunting difficulty of real and effectual exercise. Maybe the prospect of losing weight is so daunting that the authors don’t want to discourage anyone who may read their books.

I work really hard to be good at what I do no matter what it is. This is a strange experience. I’m working very hard, but I’m not very good. Not yet anyway. My trainer says that everyone, even the most seasoned atheletes have bad days, have weak days where their stamina just isn’t there the way it normally is. She said I did really well. She calls me her “little soldier” because she says I always give my best.

To be honest, right now I’m just focusing on showing up. I’ve been reminded the last couple of weeks of something an old boss of mine said when he was working about six years ago to get an internet channel on its feet. “If it was easy, everyone would do it.”

This isn’t easy and everyone is not at the club at 7:15 a.m. three times a week. I am. For right now, that needs to be enough.

My fives minutes were up. I used my club towel to wipe away my tears. Once I got it together I got ready and spritzed on some Chanel No. 5. If luxury has a scent, Chanel No. 5 is it. I always look forward to that first post exercise spritz. It’s my reward for working out.

I left the club, hobbled over to the coffee shop for my multigrain toast with tomato and cheddar. The radio was playing Honky Cat. Elton was singing “Oooooohhhhh change is gonna do me good.”

I have to believe that.

Workout Song Obsession: Cobrastyle, Robyn
15 min mile pace: 3.2
Jar Opening Propensity: Damn the vacuum seal to hell.

Taxes, Vampires - I Sense A Theme Emerging

2008-11-25T16:36:00.003-05:00

"Sabotage dude! " - Ragdoll

Sabotage dude.

This has become my new mantra.

Hard day at work? Sabotage dude.

Not sure I can do that last bicep curl? Sabotage dude.

This nugget of wisdom was offered by Ragdoll as we exited from watching Twilight on Sunday. [There's no point in my reviewing it given that Ragdoll already did it here.] But as we were leaving we were talking a bit more about the "convenient" plot twists, some of which bordered on the ridiculous.

There was this one part where the main character Bella returns to her ballet school because the vampire that is after her has threatened to kill her mother. So she goes. Alone. Telling no one. Of course.

Which is when Ragdoll noted its pure ridiculousness and said that basically Bella needed to get on the phone to her vampire paramour Edward and...you know the rest. LOL

In other Zesty news, my 2007 taxes are finally done. As usual the government has been sitting on a hefty refund to us. I don't know why I have this mental block with taxes. I'm such an organized person generally speaking. It's not like it's that complicated to gather my receipts and get them to my accountant. Maybe I'm just a sub-conscious neo-con.

Workouts continue to go well. Sore, but well. I've decided that I'm not auditioning for anything for the next while and I'm just focusing my extra time and energy on fitness this winter. Things are also looking up on the job front. Is that a once again fully staffed department I see looming in the distance?

Alive and Kicking

2008-11-21T17:08:00.006-05:00

I have to admit it. I hit the wall this morning.

The decline started yesterday. I just felt completely demoralized and frankly, over worked. My mind is a runaway train these days. Too much to do and not enough time to get it done. Every day I cut bait. Every day I settle for a substandard outcome. Right now, I simply aim for what is accomplishable. It won’t last forever. It never does. And perspective is everything. I could be in Haiti.

But ah yesterday. Yesterday was a nag. I was tired and strung out. At one point I thought a major project had gone off the rails and then a new minor one landed on my plate. There was too much pressing on my brain.

So I arrived for my work out this morning coming out of my second night of sleeping badly. I hadn’t done cardio the day before. I think it would have damn near killed me.

In the midst of trying to get everything done, I had spent the better part of yesterday morning at the dentist. I was getting evaluated for orthodontics of some kind because the hygienist at my previous check up had noticed I had ridges on the outside of my tongue. Apparently, this is typically a sign that the tongue doesn’t have enough room to sit properly and that it is pressing too hard against the sides of the teeth. The evaluation yesterday showed that not only are there are a number of issues with the structure of my jaw, and that I may also have sleep apnea.

So Monday I go back to the dentist for about an hour and a half of additional in depth tests. Then I’m back in two weeks to get the definitive recommendation on what could be done. And this means I have to do my workout with Debbie after work, which won’t be too bad.

This morning was tough but I had some great moments too. For example, I hit the treadmill and was able to get to my target heart rate much more quickly. I also noticed that my calf muscles didn’t hurt anywhere near as much. For nearly full on 15 minutes I kept up the pace.

Then we went to do weights. Today was going to be a legs and core day. After my first two sets, I suddenly felt a wave of nausea. Any strength I had just left me. Debbie stopped me and got me walking around slowly and drinking water.

“Have you been eating?”

“Yes.”

“How’s your sleep been lately?”

“Terrible.”

“Ah. Ok.”

So Debbie recalibrated my routine so it was less intense. I walked out feeling like I’d still gotten some benefit, but I was glad to be done.

Clearly I’d had enough this week, but here’s the thing. I’ve made more progress in a week than I typically would make on my own. I feel tired, but better. I feel strength starting to creep back into my bones and frankly, it's been a long time since I felt that way. I’m not necessarily interested in treating myself with kit gloves. I want to get going. I’ve had to wait too long for this.

So here’s to an easy weekend of good food, good rest, a massage and Twilight with Ragdoll on Sunday. Woot! Woot!

Weekly Progress:

Workout song obsession: Black Sweat – Prince
15 min mile pace: 3.5
Jar Opening Propensity: Easier

prince - black sweat
by eikichi

Musings

2008-11-20T04:21:00.003-05:00

Early morning. Woke up as usual. I wish I could stop doing this. I wish I could sleep through an entire night.

Yesterday we had our first official snow fall of, well, the fall. I love the quiet of falling snow, the way it imposes itself on sound and muffles the city's harsher noises. I just really wish the snow hadn't come the day before I have to head uptown for a dentist's appointment this morning.

I'm just tired. I've spent most of this week in a fog, really tired of all the work I have to do in my current resource vacuum. I find myself in my usual holding the fort mode. Twas ever thus and frankly I'm sick of it, but in this current economy, I'm happy just to have a job.

Additionally, I had a great meeting last week. I got a referral to one of the top voice over shops in the city and the prospects are very good that I can transition my career within the next two years.

Ironically my only saving grace this week has been my workouts. Despite how tired and achy I have been, I am feeling a lot better and I like carving out that time just for me, even if I am spending most of it sweating and making my muscles beg for mercy.

Workin' It

2008-11-18T10:09:00.004-05:00

Well he thought he was gonna die and he didn't.
And she thought she just couldn't cope and she did.
And we thought it would be so hard and it wasn't.
It wasn't easy though.

-- Kate Bush, "Walk Straight Down the Middle"

Well I had my first "offishal" workout yesterday and it went very well. I felt good afterwards, like I'd worked hard, but at the same time I wasn't ready to keel over. This morning I'm sore, but again, not too bad. Debbie my trainer is awesome. I really like her a lot and she has such a lovely spirit.

At one point I was doing my second round of bicep curls and she said "Well. Looks like I've got a little soldier on my hands here." Heh!

The only drawback is that I currently look like this in my workout gear:

Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays

2008-11-15T11:08:00.011-05:00

"The road will be long. The climb will be steep." - President Elect Barack Obama

"My ass will be throbbing." - Zesty

Buy up stocks in Epsom salts companies y'all. This week I did something I had always wanted to do. I hired a personal trainer.

For the next seven months I'll be working out regularly with "Debbie", three times a week the first eight weeks, twice a week the remaining weeks after that with another cycle through the program and another bought of 3 and 2 times a week intervals.

My muscles hurt just thinking about it.

But here's the thing; I'm not getting any younger and despite not wanting to spend my thirties overweight, that's exactly what has happened so far. I seemed to have conquered my weight as an issue in my life by my late twenties, but looking back now, I see that wasn't the case really. I still had some fundamental health problems and just wasn't dealing with other things as constructively as I could have.

Collapsing when I was 28 and not getting back to work for over a year didn't help either. It's been a long slog back the last decade, but now that both my iron and vitamin D levels are in the low normal range, I've been feeling a lot better generally. I've still been feeling worn down with work, but there's a minor consolation in feeling tired because your pace is ballistic, versus just being tired, period. It's occurred to me lately how much better I could be handling all of this if I were more fit.

My physicality is still the one remaining "issue" in my life. I'm tired of having a body I can't count on, and given that I don't have any major chronic ailments to contend with, there's no reason I should feel that way. The only person holding me back is me.

And I suppose that's what I'm ready to deal with. Yes, I've had compelling deficiencies to deal with [most of my life if you ask me. My doctor thinks I just have a body that doesn't uptake iron or most other nutrients "well"], but the time has now come to move forward. Despite all the grand ambitions I've ever had for myself, there is still a part of me that thinks I can't.

That's what I really need to deal with. It's a difficult thing for me to admit, but the results speak for themselves. Despite how competent and intelligent I am in most other areas of my life, my body says otherwise and I need to reckon with the choices that have got me to this point. It isn't all my fault, but I'm not blameless either.

When I first looked into personal training, my inner critic inevitably started chatting. All the reasons not to do it were mentally indexed and readily available. But there was another part of me that was stronger this time, another voice I rarely hear, a part of myself saying this is not who you are. You can change this. You need to change this.

When I met with "Linda" one of the head trainers at my club, she put me through some testing and asked me about my goals.

Goals seemed a bit redundant after the BMI machine spat out a reciept saying I was 44% body fat.

44. That is the number that cancer, heart attacks, stroke, arthritis and diabetes are made of. It's the number assigned to never being able to wear clothes I like or feeling good in a bathing suit.

"What about running a 5K?"

"What?"

Linda looked me in the eye. "Well you just said you'd always wanted to run. Why don't we make running a 5K by next summer one of your goals?"

I must have had the same look my cats have when I've placed a substandard brand of wet food before them.

"A 5K. By next summer."

"Sure." Linda replied. "It's totally doable. It isn't some pipe dream." She wrote it down on my list of goals, then paused. "Is there some other goal you'd like to attain?"

A voice that was not mine said "I want to take hip hop dance classes."

"Yup. What else." Linda kept writing.

The voice continued

"I want to look hot."
"I want to sleep right through the night." and in my head it just kept going.

I want to garden early mornings in the summer before work. I want to take flamenco dance classes too. Screw the 5K. I want to run a marathon. I want to learn how to surf. I want to hike the Southern Upland Way in Scotland. "

I walked out of the club on Monday floating. Everything seemed possible, but there was the not so minor consideration of cost. The Marine and I talked, and we decided we could do it, but by Wednesday morning, I'd spent a sleepless Tuesday night worrying about it. It just seemed a bridge too far.

I sent Linda an email. Then I lamented with Ragdoll on G-chat. [Thanks for that chicka.]

Then Linda sent an email back. The club has a policy of always planning to goals initially, but there were some other options. Would I meet with her again?

So I did, and I walked out of the club Thursday night having signed on for a package that was workable and completely affordable. It means I have a Level 1 trainer instead of a Level 4, but Linda will be supervising my program and more importantly I can get started now.

Debbie called me yesterday to get things set up. For the next eight weeks at 7:15 am, I'll be training with her Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

"Where should I meet you." I asked, "At the front?"

"Sure." Debbie replied. "I'm a tall black girl about 5'7" with short hair."

"Cool." I said. "I'm a short chubby white girl about 5"4' with brown hair."

Debbie laughed. "Oh Zesty," she said "I like you already."

The Holidays Are Coming

2008-11-14T09:31:00.001-05:00

OH. MAH. GUH.

Remembrance

2008-11-11T12:38:00.005-05:00

Alright I admit it. I kinda had a bit of a meltdown the other day.

I honestly didn't feel at the time that I could keep writing here. But some things have happened and I'm beginning to think that maybe that isn't the case.

I've felt very raw lately. A lot of emotions are surfacing and I'm going through a time of immense personal change where I'm really seriously thinking about my future and reconciling myself to the losses of the past. I know this process is for the better, but we've all been through it and we all know that change, however good for us, isn't easy.

I was immensely grateful to my employer today for two reasons. We are closed for Remembrance Day [very rare for a private sector company in Canada] which gave me an extra day of rest that I sorely needed. It also let me watch the national Remembrance Day ceremony from Ottawa, always so wonderfully done.

This year's ceremony was particularly poignant in that it marked the 90th anniversary of the end of WWI. While watching it, I suddenly remembered something I had not thought of in ages. I thought about my first year at the University of Toronto and how my class schedule would often allow me a mid-morning break at Diablo's coffee bar at University College. It's situated in a room where the names of U of T students killed in WWI are scrolled on the walls.

At the time, I always had mixed feelings about this. On one hand it seemed ridiculous for me to enjoy something as frivolous as a coffee surrounded by the names of students my age lost to the meat grinder that was The Great War. But another part of me was resentful. I also saw these names as emblematic of an era in which as a woman, my chances of joining them at U of T would have been slim to none.

But mostly what I remembered this morning was the sense of respite and of connection and continium I experienced in that little coffee shop. That I was at U of T, getting an education in country that was still a democracy because of the sacrifice of those names on the wall and those that loved them. I remembered the peace this time of year brings, as the earth settles in and reconciles itself to the approach of winter and the simple joy of a cup of coffee when the air starts to have a nip to it. I am not as far away from those names on the wall as I would like to think. None of us are.

So on this Remembrance Day, I look to my own future, a future hard won by those I never knew and I remember the members of my own family who served and suffered, my grandfathers who were in the military and home guard, my grandmothers who raised children through the relentless bombings of Glasgow and Clydebank.

I'm thankful to them for the luxury I have of making future plans.

Taking a Break

2008-11-09T15:26:00.007-05:00

I'm taking a break from writing this blog and I'm not sure when I'll be back. I'm finding that I have a lot going on these days and my instinct when I come here is to want to write about things that I have a code about not writing about here. I don't want to be one of those bloggers who put their private life on display then worry about who's reading. It's not why I started this blog.

I started it because I wanted to get into the habit of writing regularly. That's getting harder these days and I'd rather devote my efforts to remedying that situation than using this blog for a purpose for which it wasn't intended.

I'll still be online and reading the rest of y'all.