Another day is ended

Live as brave men; and if fortune is adverse, front its blows with brave hearts.

We spent the evening vegging and revelling in the joys of Halloween, after Denise had done a sterling job cutting the pumpkin. A truly artistic effort that needs to be seen to be believed. My little camera was no match for the contrasting darkness and light of the night, so thanks to Denise for taking this picture of her creation, which adorned the porch of our house all evening.


The pumpkins along the block were fantastic, and the house about three doors down had roughly thirty of them, large and small, all intricately carved, all lit up, lining the steps and the porch near to the front door. Tens of small children were running up and down the street in excitement, with parents in tow, all dressed in outrageous costumes (I missed the kid dressed as 'garbage', who was apparently hilarously funny, since he basically had to cart around a trash can for the entire night). There was a carnival atmosphere, and I think we were both rueing the fact that we were too old to dress up and take part in the candy-fest.

So it was a good day for relaxing, a bad day for the 'healthy eating' vow (Chinese takeaway for dinner, and considering the size of the portions here, for the next two days at least), and an ok day for morale. I am scared about having my first driving lesson tomorrow, since I dislike driving anyway, and Vancouver motorists are 'bullies' according to my instructor, but I guess we've all got to do it at some point. I thought about people more than usual today, and got kind of down, but am trying to pull myself back out of it, for fear that I drag people down with me! I hope everyone is well, and I miss you all.

xx

Not your usual Saturday night

I realised today what I find most attractive about people. I was going through the photos on my computer, and the ones I love are the ones where people are showing all their emotions in their eyes. The photos can be crap (though often they're not), but give me a pair of deep eyes and nice eyebrows, and I'm yours for life.

On the night before Halloween, we go to an Ann Summers type party. A selection of products appear for our perusal, as demonstrated by "Nurse Davis" - in the shortest nurse's outfit ever, guaranteed to send blokes with dodgy tickers over the edge.



The night was actually very entertaining, and not really sleazy; in fact there were quite a few educational discussions, though I have to say that I did not take part in the "win some prizes for telling us the most unusual place you've had sex" debate. People came out at the end of the night with bags of stuff, and I mean bags. An impromptu shop was set up in the bedroom, and queues developed for private purchasings.

Being good, I remembered the fact that a) I have no boyfriend to buy stuff for and b) I have no job, therefore no money to spend on personal gratification, and hence I only bought one thing, for the minimal price of $5. It wasn't anything exciting, before you ask. However I did take the list of products away, as did everyone else, with 'possible future purchases' marked - on the offchance that I actually get a job/come into some money/find an (available) bloke.

On a more romantic, and somewhat soppy note, the item I most wanted off the list.......was a 'Bed of Roses' kit. Includes a large number of real rose petals, 4 tea lights, and invitations to leave for your chosen man, so that you can spread a trail of petals through the house to wherever you happen to be. Sad. But I still yearn for it.......

Dreaming

Last night I dreamed that I got married to an ex-boyfriend (one of the ones I would least trust enough to marry) and that the girl I suspected he was seeing at the same time as me was there at the wedding to give me her blessing, even though previously I had shoved her over and she'd hurt her hands on gravel. And then, having married, I came into a load of money as a result.

What on earth is going on?!!

The mania begins

And so, Vancouver gears itself up for Halloween. And Kerrisdale community goes mad. Small children are already sporting costumes and masks, the swimming pool attendants were in fancy dress and were having a "Spooktacular", there were random mothers selling toffee apples outside the ice rink, and one of the guys in the bank was dressed as a giant pumpkin and gave me some smarties. Unless you've been to America or Canada around Halloween, you can't imagine what this holiday is like. It's nearly as big as Christmas, and takes just as much preparing for. I remember my mother labouring over a tiger's outfit for weeks in Victoria before the actual day arrived, when I was four or five. In fact there is a fantastic picture of me in this costume somewhere, so I shall try and get it scanned in.

The good side of this is that I like being back in the middle of something that the community and the city gets really excited about. Every shop has their window dressed for Halloween, every worker seems to be trying to dress up, the bus driver was giving out chocolate on Denise's bus, and there are parties galore going on. Downtown you can find everything from gothic nights, to Halloween strip nights (with 'evil' women promised), to kids parties, to haunted house theme rides, it's just manic. Never in a million years would you see this in England!

And whilst walking back from the swimming pool today (prior to it being invaded by millions of small children, paying $1 for face painting, colouring and apple bobbing), Kerrisdale actually felt quite homely. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that it was dusk, or at least getting dark, and everything tends to look better when that's happening. But there was a bit of a holiday atmosphere going on, everyone was in a good mood, and although it was raining I felt good about life. Even if I had just forked out $24.06 to the bank to get a damn cheque book. I guess I got some smarties back in return.

Today I also constructed a resume to send to some film production companies for extras work, and wrote 696 words of a little project that I have started to keep me occupied. I have been meaning to do it for a couple of years, but have only now had the inclination. I expect I shall run out of enthusiasm for it in a couple of days, but for now.... the only other thing was to watch Batman Returns on tv, and that was worse than death.

A note: why is it that England has given up on Halloween? Or are we just too over-exuberant over here?

These ones are the worst

When it's raining, you have no work to do over the entire weekend, your friends seem to all be unhappy and you're powerless to do anything about it, and you're bored stiff in another country. "Apply for jobs" comes the call from my mother - but there is really no point applying for things you don't want to do. And so it goes.

31 years later.....

I follow in my parents' footsteps. This is them on the boat to Victoria in 1973, having just emigrated out to Canada.



Sorry about the quality of the photo, but it's old and didn't take kindly to scanning. My dad's doing some hideous pose and my mother looks like me (or I look like her), but I like it.

PS My driving instructor has just phoned me. His name is Jason and he comes from....Essex. How did I pick him out of all the driving schools here??!!

On morals....and stuff

My last post was described as "cryptic" yesterday. It wasn't meant to be, but sometimes you just feel that analogies work best. Thoughts come up out of the blue that aren't linked to anyone, or anything, in particular, and you have to find some way of putting them into words without the need for specifics. And anyway, if we always wrote simply and logically, there would never be any mystery about anyone. Which would make life very boring.

As an example of this, take last night. I was lying in bed when the issue of morals came into my mind. Now I don't pretend to be the most moral of people, and in the past I have done things that I never thought I would do, but I have certain codes that I would never break. I've never cheated on anyone (though here I invite comments on what your definition of 'cheating' is), I've always kept quiet when people have asked me not to mention something that is really important (I don't mean all those times when you're kids and your friend tells you they fancy Bob from down the road, I mean actual important stuff with ramifications), and I never ever compare past boyfriends or talk about intimate details of our relationships. True, I've done stuff I'm not proud of; I've shoplifted, I've fancied other people's boyfriends, I've lied, I even ran away from home once. But there are some things I think you just can't compromise on.

These points weren't things that I thought about and decided to keep to, they were just things that evolved over the years. The ex-boyfriend thing was brought up by James on messenger the other day, who was making blatently untrue statements about a guy in first year Uni, in an effort to try and get me to dish the dirt on what happened between us one fateful night. Not only is talking about that sort of thing unfair, but who am I to say what was good and what was bad about it? As if I'm the expert! So sorry James, no can do. You'll have to collect your data elsewhere.........

See, this post came from nowhere. It was nothing to do with anything. They just happen.

On other issues, I am slightly freaked by the fact that school kids here don't have a structured day, like they do in England. Here they wander in and out of classes at various times of the day, depending on when lessons start, whether they get cancelled, whether they have workshops, and whether they fancy a fruit smoothie. And you see kids going to school by themselves who you would never even let go down the street by themselves in England, let along travel across a city. They're all very independent.

In a fit of guilt, I bought two stamps to England, to try and make myself actually write to someone there. However, with the advent of the internet, we've all just got so lazy. E-mail is so much easier.

I have no clothes because the woman house-sitting upstairs hasn't unlocked the door so we can get to the washing machine. And we have no post either, since she hasn't put it upstairs. So soon I will be a scruffy, smelly, scabby girl in schlepples (Correct spelling, Greg?) who has overdue bills. And no job. Hoorah!

A late and rather angry note; on going to the bank to sort out why my damn debit card didn't work (more commission charges on my English Visa here we come) I find that cheques are actually charged for. $20 per cheque book!! This country's banks fleece you to hell. On the upside, I downloaded like mad yesterday, mainly Switchfoot songs, since I happened to like one of their videos. Now I am hooked on their song '24'. I have also just been phoned up by the driving school about lessons - so watch out the streets of Vancouver. I mean it. I'm really not that good.....

Truth or dare?

Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and make an ass out of yourself. Occasionally this means that something bad will happen; at other times good comes out of what you've done. I guess the most important thing is to tell the truth. At least then no-one can accuse you of having tricked them, or having tried to fool them into doing something without telling them all the facts.

How many of us used to play truth or dare? And out of those of us, who among us picked a truth when it got to our turn? Did you lie when faced with something that could have caused embarrassment or pain? It's a natural defence mechanism, and one to which we all turn at various times. But there comes a point where you can't be bothered to try and lie any more; it's more exhausting than just putting your hands up and admitting what you really knew all along. Either admitting it to yourself, or to others. Most of the time, this is a relief. Even though inside there is a small part of you that regrets it, and wishes that you had just carried on playing a part.

With truth, comes obligation and responsibility. Realising that by telling the truth you may inadvertently be causing pain to someone else, or may be making them unhappy. Sometimes you have to realise that your well-meaning actions can be less than helpful. You can have all the good intentions in the world, and you can truly believe that your actions and words will help another person; but they don't need it. The soul inside you yearns to hug them, to do everything you can to help them, to be there for them - but whilst to you, this seems like the best course of action, to them, it is cloying and suffocating. And so, you take up the role of non-interfering friend. Knowing that there is more you could do, and knowing that the role is not the one you'd originally auditioned for, but much preferring it to being the understudy in the wings, who is forever waiting for a part that may never be theirs to take.

But then, if you didn't audition in the first place, you'd never have a chance of getting the role.

Darkness Falls

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "The Tempest", Act 4 scene 1

Snow, snow, beautiful snow

So, whilst watching Boston play, the announcer said that there might be snow flurries arriving there. This seems to continue a common theme here at the moment; only the other day roads 100km north and east were closed because of snow falls and resulting accidents. The temperature has dropped a fair bit, though it doesn't look like the snow will get us quite yet. It's actually quite rare in Vancouver, because we're right on the coast as opposed to in the interior.

Basically, this is just an excuse to put this picture in, as I've always liked it. Greg took this in the grounds of Ashburne one night in winter 2002/3. It was about 1am, and there had been a silent and heavy snowfall without many people realising it. I leaned out of my window to see why there were voices, and saw most of the postgrad wing (so much less mature than that year's undergrads, obviously!) emerging out onto the lawn, in gleeful delight. So of course, I threw on trousers and a coat (did I remember socks? Did I buggery) and went out to bang on all my friends' windows. Having roused a large number of people, there ensued a big snowball fight, making of snowmen, and general picture taking. I have to say, I did get more than my share of snowballs in, but Andreas just got me by surprise with this one..... note incoming snowball to top right......

Not only do I like this picture because it's funny (and you can't see my face, always a bonus) but it reminds me of waking up and having that whole childhood excitement of seeing snow, even though I was nearly 24. Even the worst places can look amazing in the snow, and pretty places like Ashburne just look fantastic. The excitement of getting dressed and going out, behaving like kids again and running about with no cares was just great. I miss the snow. And behaving like a kid!

Alone in Company

So maybe I try too hard
But it’s all because of this desire
I just wanna be liked, I just wanna be funny
Looks like the joke's on me
So call me Captain Backfire

I am currently watching the Red Sox fall apart defensively and do their best to throw away a one-game lead over the Cardinals. This has been preceded by dinner, some working on Denise's computer (our combined efforts to make it run faster and more efficiently - we have yet to see whether this has worked), a foray down the street to the postbox and 7/11, and a small amount of work. We have also both entered into a Pepsi draw to win an I-pod every hour, though for the hours that Denise and I have entered, they are currently 'verifying' who has won, so it's probably not us.

I have also applied for a job on outpatients at the hospital, mainly because it pays well ($18.50/hr) and is casual and shift work, so is nice and flexible. I have written a letter to the Vancouver coroner asking for work experience, and perused some jobs online.

However, apart from Denise (who is doing a good job of keeping me sane), I haven't actually talked to anyone today. Messenger has been singularly quiet; people obviously have hangovers from last night. Likewise I have had no e-mails, and no phone calls. It is at times like these that I realise how far away I have come (in distance, not in personal development - if anything I've regressed) from three weeks ago.

I am planning in stages; stage 1 is between now and Dec 28th, when my cousin comes over for a snowboarding holiday and I hope to meet all his friends. Stage 2 then begins, and will hopefully end when I get my arse over to England around Feb/March (still haven't decided whether this is a good idea or not). Then who knows when stage 3 will end, though some people have expressed an interest in maybe getting over here around Easter when it's fairly cheap. Then the parents come over in July, and my friend Liz in August (so I have to cope until then otherwise she'll kill me, she's arranging an itinerary already!). Broken up like that, it's not too bad. But I have bought two more lottery tickets for the English lottery next week, so if I suddenly come into some money, that could all change...

Preparations

Today Denise lugged a pumpkin back to the house so that we can prepare for the coming children-fest that is Halloween. God help us. Hopefully because we are a basement flat, we won't get any kids coming down to us, but we'll have to think of some horrible thing to put on the door to ward them off just in case.

I have noticed that there are a large number of Viagra commercials on the tv here. They involve men in various showers and baths, singing "I did it my way" loudly and untunefully. This just strikes me as bizarre because I haven't seen any Viagra adverts in England.

I have decided to treat my time in Canada not as the rest of my life, but as a provisional year. If I can get through a year here, I can either carry on in Vancouver or go home to England without feeling like I didn't give this a try. That gives me until about September next year to get a damn job....

In other news, Denise and I have decided to try and fly back to England together in February (does she realise what she's letting herself in for with my dislike of flights?) so she can see her friends and I can visit mine - so I need to work like stink until then and get some dosh together.

Or perhaps that isn't a good idea. Who knows.

Psychological musings

English girls are pretty when they play guitar
Crazy like a day just a-breaking I ain't sure what for
Ryan Adams says that "English Girls Are Mean Sometimes" - do we think he's had a bad experience with one?

Resolutions of the day (to be done sometime in the near future):
1. Buy computer speakers to listen to music with (this was prompted by the fact that my favourite song ever, The La's - There She Goes, doesn't get done justice on a laptop)
2. Get rid of crap songs on computer that are clogging the hard drive
3. Remember birthdays before the actual day
4. Do some damn exercise
5. Buy healthy food - no Cheetos!

So today was a day of not very much again - strange how one can become so proficient at wasting time so quickly. I wasn't really wasting it as wishing it away, but it boiled down to the same thing. Some more work, a lot more tv, music, messenger.....and the strange experience of having the house-sitter for our landlady knock on the door at 10pm to say she couldn't find the key to actually get in the house (her competency already in doubt it seems) and having a canary/lovebird hybrid on her shoulder.

Whilst talking to Greg earlier, I realised that my psychologist days seem to be leaving me. Not that I was ever a professional, but there was a time when I was the unofficially appointed counsellor for whatever halls I happened to be in at Uni, and regularly had friends turning up to confess to evil deeds, update me on their tumultous love life, or find a shoulder to cry on. Indeed, a few times during Uni it seemed that there was a constant stream of people coming to my room to tell me their problems; hopefully leaving with a bit of weight relieved, only for the next person in the queue to come in and unload some emotional baggage.

Now whilst saying that I "liked" this would be to use the wrong word, there was some sort of pride taken in the fact that I was of some use to people, and that people would thank me for helping them in some way, even though it felt like all I was doing was listening. I have always thought that people who do psychology (and Maria, feel free to disagree with me here!) do so because they are on a continuum at which there are two ends; those who feel real empathy for people who are screwed up, or those who are screwed up themselves. I have met psychologists at one end of this extreme, and at the other, and a good few who are a combination of both (can I include myself in this category?), but never a psychologist who does not fall onto this line. I suppose someone could be amazingly well balanced and clinically interested in people who have problems, but feel no empathy with them; that is to say they could show a purely detached and scientific interest in their nature and behaviour only, but maybe I have just not yet met psychologists like this.

Anyway, I digress. My very badly made and perhaps inaccurate point is, that I am drawn to people who seem to be in distress, who are vulnerable, in whom I can see signs of suffering, or whom I care deeply for and whose problems I wish to try and solve. And by being over here, away from my friends and those people who know that they can come to me for advice, a tissue and a cup of tea (though maybe not, since I don't drink it), I feel strangely unemployed. Not depressed, just slightly lost. Although the written word can convey a great deal of emotion, and e-mails, letters etc can express some of the obstacles in your life and how you think you should overcome them, there is just no substitute for being in the same room as someone and talking to them about how they feel. You need to see their expressions, their movements, their tone of voice and ultimately their eyes when they talk to you. Which just doesn't happen via the internet. And whilst Greg made the valid, and perhaps realistic, point that maybe none of my friends have any problems worth telling me about at the moment, and that's why I feel slightly under-utilised, you just can't help but wonder......... who else is there making the tea and providing the kleenex?

A day of discussion

What started off as a seemingly productive work day has pretty much not been one. This is not a bad thing, mind you, since I have spent the day having even more productive messenger conversations with old friends, new friends, semi-new friends, etc, etc. Somehow having got up with good intentions and started work by 9am merged into finishing work at 9pm, having only completed 4 hours' worth. The math does not add up.

The only foray out has been to the 7/11 two blocks south of here, for milk and Cheetos (which I have an unhealthy obsession with), and as such, I feel rather unhealthy. My eating patterns seem to have gone to shit, and my trousers are becoming baggier by the day. Note to self; get proper job and proper diet.

However, a thanks goes out to James, who I have known for six years and who continues to surprise me by his impartial advice and support, even whilst trying to woo me at the same time ;o) cheers mate. I appreciate the pep talk. And as for the discussions about what we thought of each other in first year, I have to say that I must go around with my eyes closed half the time. Ah, the days of being a wet-behind-the-ears fresher.

Further messenger discussions with a friend who is preparing to go to California for a month to live with the guy who I did a Chemistry module with last year, and who she thought was fit for a good few months before realising he was actually more than that. Apparently the discussions have gone as far as cat vs dog as a pet, and where the pets will sleep at night. So in a bid to stake her claim for cat, in kitchen (as opposed to dog, in bedroom) she is packing up and moving from Northern Ireland to Downey, CA, as long as the month goes well. I am crossing my fingers for you both....

And now, after further rather cheering forays on messenger, some hideous photos being taken (you know who you are, buster - grrr) and some interesting reading matter, it rains. Again. I really do feel at home here in the evenings when it rains, it's so Manchester-esque. Without the scallies.

And so, to bed. To dream of sunnier climes, and sunnier moments.

Kingsize me

Today was a day filled with domestic-type events, strange food, and lots of sport. Despite my having bought an alarm clock the other day, I seem determined never to set it, and woke up this morning at about 10am, having slept for some obscene number of hours. This of course means that I am unable to communicate with anyone from the company I work for, since they finish at 5:30pm which is 9:30am my time. I might as well just take the alarm clock back.

On dressing after my shower, I find a shocking anomaly in my underwear drawer; Bridget Jones underwear. Not belonging to her, you understand, but a type of knicker so big that a small elephant would fit in them. They must be my mother's. I deliberate over whether to wear them, then decide, in true Bridget Jones spinster style, that my chances of pulling with the knickers ON are..... zero, and the chances of pulling with them NOT on are......also zero. I wear the massive knickers. Which need to be rolled down somewhat in order that they don't show over my jeans.

Having spent some time yesterday battling the powers that be at Sears Department store downtown, in order to get hold of a duvet that is on offer, in the 'Special Offers' flyer, but not actually in the store (this does not seem logical to me), I ring them again this morning to see when they will get some in. And lo and behold, they have magically arrived, through the ether. The bastards. This means that I have to struggle back into town, and make my way back with a damn king size duvet (the offer means that all the sizes are the same price, so I'm buggered if I'm getting the smaller one). This I manage to do, adding a computer keyboard and the largest Raspberry scone I have ever seen to my bags, and fighting a number of school children on the bus who seem determined to box me in as far away from the exit doors as possible. Ok, this scone - it's not a scone. I mean I know everything is bigger here, but it was from Starbucks, at $1.70, and it was the size and shape of a slice of pizza, and as tall as a scone normally is. It has taken me the entire afternoon and evening to eat it. This is not bad, since for $1.70 it seems to be obscenely good value, but it just takes a bit of getting used to.

And of course, the highlight of the day, watching the Yankees get soundly thrashed by the Red Sox in the last game of the series, after pulling their way back from 3-0 down to win 4-3. I'm not a Red Sox fan, or a Yankees fan, but I have to say that watching the comeback was extremely exciting, and I was cheering for the Red Sox all the time. For the last six days, in fact. Sorry to any Yankees fans who are reading this.

And now, time for bed and my new duvet. Kingsize. Am I really that optimistic?!!

So for everyone who's wondering...

Here is my tattoo.



As far as translation goes, it is something like 'ambition' or 'aspiration', or 'of one mind'. I did look this up before I had the thing done - and then checked it with some Chinese girls in Ashburne when I got back from having it, just to make sure the tattooist hadn't cheated and written something rude instead.

I chose it because it comes from the symbols for 'development' (which is phonetic and no longer used),

'scholar' (person who knows all from one to ten) and 'heart'

Somehow, this summed up everything that was important to me, should be important, or that I should remember - ambition, wishes, development, study, and love. So that's what it is.

At this point there should be a picture of me showing you my tattoo - I even took one last night. But I think that there should always be a bit of mystique (not the girl band) surrounding things like this, so I am not going to publish it. Of course people who were around when I got the thing will know where I had it put, but somehow.... I like it that not everyone knows. So Greg, no telling!

Regrets? I've had a few.

Too much time to think is bad.....

Things I regret:
Not getting a job before coming over here, and not organising my time in England well enough beforehand
Not telling the people I love/d that I love/d them before leaving
Spending too much time stuck in a rut and believing it was the rest of my life
My temporary lack of morals in my gap year
Having sent an e-mail to the wrong person, in the midst of the above trauma
Buying frivolous things at Uni which I then had to throw away to move here (mini fridge!)
Being idealistic and perpetually blind (by choice) to reality
Not buying a winning lottery ticket - in either country
Never getting round to doing courses in; sign language, massage, counselling, singing
Coming to Canada

Things I don't regret:
My University choices, both academic and in terms of location
Being reckless in the face of hopelessness
Coming to Canada
Getting a tattoo
Having had the experience(s?) of being in love
Having bought this laptop
Loving chocolate

Hmm, how is it the case that there are more regrets than non-regrets? I guess what I need to do is win the lottery, do all the courses I want to do with the money I've earned, fly all the people I love over here, and buy all the frivolous things back. However, I fear my idealism, job situation and general love of avoiding reality are not that likely to change for some time.

Anyone reading this who wants to offer me a job in forensics in Vancouver, donate a large amount of money to my good cause, teach me sign language or declare their undying love for me, leave a post. No? I thought not....

And after the good....

Comes the bad.

No reason, just got up and felt depressed. I mean it's sunny outside and nothing has happened, so I shouldn't be. But is it ever logical?

Tasks for the day: work (3.5 hours left), write customs list of my belongings.
Temptation of the day: go back to bed and bollocks to the world.

A mellow moment

Ok, so I haven't stopped blogging. But I am e-mailing much more now, having given myself a good kick up the arse.

Have spent the day listening to a lot of John Mayer, and doing work at the computer. Although it is pissing down and my housemate has gone to Whistler, I am strangely mellow and happy, which has been rare over the past couple of weeks. This is mainly due to: a) John Mayer having a song for every occasion, b) receiving e-mails from people I finally got round to talking to, c) reading an old post from someone's blog that I never read and finding myself described as "delightful" (this may well be the only time this happens, and it was some months ago, but it was a nice surprise), d) realising that the future might not be so scary after all, if only I can work on it.

So, nothing much has happened apart from the rain, but it's strange how your mood can be altered by seemingly minor and random things. Plans for next week: appointment at customs office (boo), driving theory test (boo hoo), Ikea (hoorah) and Costco (double hoorah). It is true; I am becoming a domestic bore.

Song for the day

John Mayer - Your Body is a Wonderland

on repeat.

The End is Nigh

I got my signals crossed
It's overwhelming because
I'm all alone and I can't get back
Back with my Wanderlust

I think I am going to stop blogging. I know I have only been on here a few weeks, and that blogging is extremely cathartic, but my blog doesn't really serve much other purpose. It's really only me being self-pitying, since I don't have anything interesting to talk about.

It also means that people come here and read my site, and get the information they want, and then leave again. Which means no-one e-mails me because they don't have to, they just find out about my life on here. Which is kind of lonely.

I am also going to stop reading everyone else's blogs. For much the same reason, in that I don't tend to e-mail them as much, which is sad since they're my friends. And also, I can't tell what the hell is going on in their lives most of the time, since everyone's so damn cryptic when their site is public, so I have to make up my own scenarios from what they say (which in many cases, is actually worse than just knowing what is really happening, such is my fertile imagination!).

In addition I feel that I comment on peoples's blogs too much (well not ON their blog, but by e-mail), because I feel that I need to tell them stuff or respond to what they write, when in fact most of it is not meant to be responded to. So I am sure that I am pissing various people off by sending them e-mails every other day, when they probably have much better things to do than read yet another boring diatribe from me. If I have done this to anyone, then I apologise. It's only because I feel left out of everything over here, and any kind of contact with my friends is so needed.

So in short, I guess I am going to rely on good old-fashioned (in terms of the internet) e-mail and letter to people from now on, and I will try and stop being such a bore. Although if I e-mail you, it means I am thinking about you, so I guess you can take that out of it.

Laters people.

My so-called life

Tonight was a night much like any other. It started off with CSI and dinner (which was Denise baking some bread and then the three of us eating it, followed by chocolate), a documentary on the porn star John Holmes, then Survivor, The Apprentice, Hot Chocolate/Hot water with lemon, an episode of My So Called Life (just the one tonight, as opposed to the normal two - we're working our way through the series) and then bed. Strangely sad though this is, in the sense that I should be hitting the streets of Vancouver and making new friends (and keep getting asked if I am doing this by people on messenger), I frankly don't care! It was a nice evening of slumming, and I'm too old for this going out malarky. I never really liked it when I was a student, and now that I have the chance to stay in and watch crap tv, by god I'm going to take it.

Sadly this also meant that I did a grand total of 4 hours work today, which in terms of net monetary gain, is sod all. But then I have worked seven days in a row, so I guess everyone has to slow down some time. I'll make up for it tomorrow....

Something Scary

A quick note: whilst talking to an ex-boyfriend on messenger just now, I suddenly realised that there are SEVEN people on my messenger that I have been out with in some form or other. SEVEN!!

Now whilst this sounds bad, it actually isn't because a) nearly all of them I went out with for between one and three years, and the notable exceptions (I'm counting 'Fred' here, Greg - don't mention wardrobes) are few, and b) this means that I am on good terms with them all.

So although this is slightly frightening, it is also not too bad for morale. Although it is slightly perturbing that there are that many people who I have been incompatible with!!

Strange Differences

Hey girl
Where in the world
Did you come from
Hey girl
Where in the world
Do you belong

There are a number of subtle, and not subtle, differences between Canada and England. This should not be surprising really. However, what is surprising is that there are now a number of differences between the me of two weeks ago, and the me of now. Many of which I can't verbalise in any intelligent way.

For instance; I am a money-oriented person. I work hard to get it, and I save it so that in the future I have it if I need it. Recently however, I seem to have forgotten about being parsimonious, and am instead not worrying about money. In fact, I frequently look at flights back to England to see everyone, and wonder whether I can pay for people to come over here! This is not like me.

I also keep having people e-mail me/ring me and say how impressed they are with everything I have accomplished during the last week and a half. Although I don't believe them, and it doesn't feel like I've accomplished anything, this seems to be another change in me - being efficient for once. In fact actually getting on the plane at all was an acheivement, since an hour or so before the flight I was slumped on the floor in between gates, on the phone to my friend Estelle and crying, clutching my bags and being stared at by a large number of travellers.

And yet, nothing seems to have changed. I am still the same person, I have just had to adapt to a whole new set of circumstances. This doesn't mean that I am happy with them, that I am comfortable with them, that I can cope with them or that I won't want to change them. But at the moment I have no other choice. And so, I sit at my computer and do my work like a dutiful girl, hoping that somewhere there is a catalyst for good things just waiting to react for me.

Things that are different here: there are millions of scented deodorants. I am currently wearing 'Raspberry Burst' - and it smells good. Sadly no-one is likely to get close enough to me to notice......dammit!

I am going to start writing letters to people soon, I promise. I did actually do some the other day, but they degenerated into a lot of home truths that really couldn't be sent without scaring the recipients into running away screaming, so I had to abandon them. Sorry.

I miss football

The title says it all really. Listening to it on Real Player and thinking that everyone at home is drinking beers and cheering together sucks.

Our house

A thought; I have actually told you, dear reader, nothing whatsoever about where I live. Other than that it is in Vancouver. Which, whilst being fairly specific in the grand scheme that is Canada, tells you nothing about the area or whether I am existing in a cardboard box. I hasten to add that this is not, yet, the case.

As the weather is fab today I am cheered by the appearance of our block. I live in a basement flat on West 36th Ave, about as central as you can get in Greater Vancouver (so getting anywhere by bus is theoretically easy, but lengthy). Although I am halfway down the street, the top of our block is one of the highest points in Vancouver, so the view from the end of our road is fantastic - facing north, over to Grouse Mountain and West and North Vancouver, via the bay. I share my flat with Denise, who hails from Ontario (due to me being slack, I do not yet know where exactly) and the landlady and her husband live upstairs with two cats; one is massive and the other has a kink in its tail (strangely familiar). The flat is relatively small, and quite dark, but well equipped thanks to Denise's love for Ikea, and it is really quite nice. A block to the south is Point Grey high school, which means lots of kids, but luckily they all live the other side of Kerrisdale (the community where I live) and so don't come down our road. Though wait until it is Halloween in a few weeks, god help us.

Today I took a bus downtown, which is becoming rather a habit, and went to Stanley Park, my favourite place in Vancouver. I also took some pictures, which you can see below. I worked out how to get them onto the blog, but have not yet got my head round getting them into the midst of the words, so yes, I am a spack. But it's better than nothing. And bear in mind that my camera is a shoddy little thing with no pixels, so they're not bad pictures considering.

View south to downtown

View of North Vancouver

Lost Lagoon, Stanley Park

Thanksgiving

It's Thanksgiving today, even though I had my dinner yesterday at my friends' house. We were stuffed with chicken and ham, loads of veg, pumpkin pie and lemon meringue. Then I came back to the flat and felt sick. Tonight it's Denise's turn; she's out for dinner while I do work, then she has to come back and write a presentation for 10am the next day. I can tell this is going to be a long night for both of us.....

So at the moment I have the laptop in the sitting room and am watching Nascar, after having watched the baseball, after having watched two episodes of CSI. This multi-channel thing is addictive. I have also done washing and more work today. I really need to do other stuff that's not so damn sad. After tomorrow, however, the weather gets nicer and gets up to 19 degrees, so I shall venture into Vancouver proper and go to the beach. I need to visit my favourite park as well; I am having withdrawal symptoms. I don't think there is anywhere I like so much in the world as Stanley Park, with its wildlife havens, sea life centre, stunning scenery and wonderful trees. My dad has less of a liking for it; he was bitten by a squirrel there a couple of visits ago. But then it was his fault for trying to feed it peanuts and making it run up his leg to get them. And before you ask, he was bitten on the finger, not anywhere worse.

In other news, Denise cunningly has tickets for the REM concert here in a few weeks and has one spare (did I say how much I liked my flatmate?) and we have discovered that we share the same music taste, so there is much downloading and recommending going on. We also share a love of chocolate and movies that mirror our lack of prince charmings; hence we made brownies and watched the Princess Bride the other night. I feel like I am regressing to school age.

Things we do better in England; potatoes, cheese, chocolate.

Things we do better in Canada; cheetos, technical support (it's FREE, dammit!), milk (there were 47 varieties in the Safeway here), pizza (fab, but SO expensive).

Things that are strange here; England only has Savlon in tubes, here it is only in liquid, like TCP. Here there are two types of bed coverings; duvets and 'comforters'.

Things that make me optimistic; coroners jobs here seem to require little technical experience, I have found a good flight centre and can get back to England for £230 return, there are two cats upstairs.

Things that make me pessimistic; I can't get a damn job I want, no-one I want to fly over here has any money to do so, I miss having butterflies in my stomach.

Laters kids.

Ugly/Beautiful

Maybe it scares you and maybe it makes you cry
Maybe it reminds you of all that you deny
To see the good
You never would
Without the ugly there is no beautiful.

I realised a number of things today. Firstly, the time difference here really sucks. It means that I am hearing about people's days when they are over and mine is barely beginning. I have time to talk, and everyone else has none. Frankly, they've got better things to do. And even if they do tell me what they've done with their day, I am invariably jealous. So I can't be great to talk to. I have also realised that at times when I really need to speak to a friendly face, msn messenger will invariably screw me over and refuse to send my messages.

In addition I feel like I am becoming peripheral. I tend to try and cling on to contact with the people I've left behind, which means that every communication from them carries some great significance. Whereas to them, getting an e-mail from me.... is just getting another e-mail. One of the many e-mails they get from friends they see all the time. Does this make any sense? I feel myself fading out of the minds and lives of many.

I sat at my computer today, doing work that I did in England, for the same company, staring out of the window at a garden fence that could have been anywhere in the world, wondering what had changed. Sure, I'm in another country, where life is supposedly better. But I have the same lack of a proper job, the same insecurities, the same money worries and the same responsibilities. I have left friends and family, and I've left things that I would willingly come back to England for if only my pride would let me. No-one said this was going to be easy. But surely it shouldn't be this hard?

I'm sure if I was more self-confident and less of an emotional wreck I could be revelling in this new found freedom. Instead I scour around for the slightest indication that someone out there is thinking about me. And check the cost of flights home.

The Inevitable

I can't take my eyes off you
Nothing ever needs to be said
Send your message right into my head
You fill me up when I'm alone
So soothing is your monotone
Melanie Doane - I can't take my eyes off you

And so it happens. For the first day since I have been here (it's only 5 days, but it feels like a lifetime), I cry. This is due in part to talking with friends in England, to the weather here which won't cease being crap, and to the song that I have been listening to on repeat for most of the afternoon (always a bad idea, but you get stuck in a groove). It's a song that my friend played at her wedding, which until earlier I hadn't had the chance to download. Strange how you don't hear things for a while, but then immediately on hearing them again, you get a visual re-run of how things were when you listened to them for the first time. In this case, watching my friend Alison and her new husband slowly moving together on the dance floor, taking the first dance and looking blissfully happy and peaceful together, and me standing watching them, wishing I could find the same sort of security that they had. Which I have never been, and am still not, confident of acheiving. It's not just that I have never really considered marriage as a logical ending to my relationships, it's also that I have never seen anyone show signs of thinking about settling down with me. I have two sorts of relationships; those where I fall for the person in question and they consider me a friend, mainly to be taken advantage of, and those where the other person falls for me, and I am empty.

I can't see the ending to this story. Answers on a postcard please.

For those of you who think that this has all become rather sombre, a note of ridiculousness; the song in question is wonderful. It's also about the tv. Which, had I known this at the wedding (and perhaps, had Alison known it too), would probably have taken away some of its significance.

PS

A note to the good; Denise has just come in and asked if I wanted anything from the liquor store. Some readers will remember that alcohol, depression and me don't mix. I refused her kind offer. So I'm not that bad yet....

When it rains.... it pours!

I don't mind spending every day
Out on your corner in the pouring rain....
(Maroon 5)

Another day of downpours today. The internet didn't work last night so I have to take the router back tomorrow and get another one. But the laptop is humming away nicely, thank goodness.

Two interesting facts for the day: music downloading from the internet is not illegal in Canada. The government decided that such a drastic change would be needed to the constitution that it wasn't worth outlawing it; so roll on my internet connection working! Interesting fact two: yesterday a bear wandered into the Safeway in North Vancouver, appropos of nothing, and decided to go to sleep in a stockroom. I love this country!

In other news, Ben Affleck starts filming here on Monday, and today I wandered through a film set on my way to the RCMP headquarters. I gave my resume in to the RCMP, and wandered back, soaking myself yet again in the process. Please give me a job, nice mounties!!

The tv has been dominated tonight by presidential debates; out of the 60 channels that we have, it was on about 20 at once. I watched jeopardy.

Money, money, money

Today I spent money that I didn't have. Namely, on a laptop, router, mouse and carry bag. I know this cost a lot less here than it would in England (about 700 quid for the lot, and the laptop is a nice one), but still, I can't help feeling that getting a job would have made a more productive use of my day. In this vein, I did go to the careers fair in downtown, but it was a bit of a non-event, with the only police stall being run by Vancouver police, who don't recruit for civilian posts, and most other stalls being retail and crappy part-time work. Which no doubt I will soon be desperate enough to take.

However, the laptop does mean that I can a) play with a new toy for a bit, b) listen to all my music finally, c) communicate with all my lovely friends, and d)hopefully get some work sent over to me from England, in order to make the debts up. Failing that, I can use it to heat my room in the winter.

Fancy a quickie?

Just a short post this time as my internet time is running out. I have arrived here in one piece, and am now trying to find out how this country works - it's so different to England, even down to the banks (they charge you to take your money!! - cheeky).

I am missing everyone at home already, and my first phone call to my parents made me cry again - but having then gone out and bought a phone card I can see that this state of affairs is not going to change! Am worrying about those I've left at home as I'm sure they're going to be less (more?) sane without me.....

So, in short, I am still apprehensive, but less teary that I was. Mainly because I couldn't have carried on in that state without losing my sanity, becoming dehydrated, and needing to find a salt lick.

take care all xx

The Final Countdown

- When were you most happy?
- Now.
- And when were you least happy?
- Now.
(The English Patient)

And so it has come, the day before I get on a plane to fly out to a "new life" in Vancouver. And with it has come all the usual traumas: trying to get my luggage into bags which Air Canada will actually allow to pass through check-in, recording all my music so I don't go bonkers without it, finding out that a lot of things are still in the wash, and realising why someone I care about recently said that they would never move countries because of all the hassle. Though wishing they were wrong.

People keep saying how brave I am, or how they could never do the same thing I am doing. This works two ways. I can't believe that I have some inner strength not present in others that allows me to do something this drastic and still remain sane. Which could spell disaster for me. But then they may just not yet have found the courage to break away from the rut they are in and try something else. Whilst this is the case, I am also not sure that I am as strong as people think. Booking the tickets was so far away from actually leaving that it seemed like a fairly easy process - anyone could do it. Even the arranging of accommodation, money, jobs etc is not seeming too bad. But where I think I may well let my admirers down is in the human element. I hadn't reckoned with the emotional upheaval of leaving, especially after recent events. It seems impossible to tell anyone I talk to how I really feel about this move, without them saying hollow (but understandably optimistic) things such as "It'll pass" or "You'll soon be enjoying it." Am I really strong enough to cope? We'll soon see.

This page is not going to be full of witty comments, debates on recent events or original thought. It's just going to be me. Sorry. Hopefully I shall soon be telling you how wonderful I am feeling, and how the city is everything I imagined. But be prepared for the odd moment of self-pity.....