Another Saturday Night

So I’ve been doing it again. Last few days. Thinking around things instead of at them then thru them. Not writing much because I’m afraid that instead of writing what I want I’ll write what I need. Might be better writing, but it hurts more and commands a smaller paycheck.

It is another Saturday night. “Date Night” as one of my friends likes to call it. The night she claims that all plans with girlfriends are instantly cancelable if you get a last minute offer from a guy. Another Saturday night and instead of experiencing love I’m hanging around my over-priced studio apartment trying to write about it.

Mind you given my powers of imagination and legendary memory perhaps writing about it for me is superior to experiencing it in the flesh for many. Still, I just watched a romantic comedy with two charming leads witch left me cold at the end because it still all came down to him loving her because she was fucking gorgeous even though she was a bitchy, neurotic control freak. So there you go beautiful ladies, lesson is that even if your personality sucks ass you’ll still get the guy.

Sorry, just feeling kind of weird today so if you stick with reading this post please do be prepared for anything. I’ve decided to try and write my way out of this mood since exercise, guitar playing, tasty dinner, mindless TV and a martini have done little to distract from the thought that I’m missing something.

It’s like I’m roaming around this big mansion in my head, opening and closing doors. Looking for something. Here picking up a book, reading a couple pages and putting it down. There staring out the window, or rather at the window watching the rain drops skip and slither down the glass. In the kitchen rummaging thru the refrigerator only to end up with a lunch of some stale crackers and brie of questionable vintage. Oh well, at least the last scrap of apricot jam and a couple forgotten slices of proscuttio made it momentarily festive.

The trouble is, the thing that I am looking for is a thought. There is something out there that I should be thinking about and I’m avoiding it. Maybe it is the self-evaluation for my job that I have to do before Monday. Maybe I just don’t have the courage to self evaluate right now. What I really want is a neck rub and someone to take out the garbage and recycling.

Maybe it is early onset of the Olympic hangover. The energy in this city has been truly nutty and mostly euphoric for weeks now and the crash of closing night is just around the corner. Strangely the performers among us are most likely to cope. Closing night blues are a very real phenom they have to deal with all the time. For those of us Vancouverites bumped out of the hum-drum of our safe and prosperous every day, the come down is going to be hard. I wonder how many jobs will be quit in a huff or relationships collapse or if the incidence of bar brawls with increase?

There we go, that would be a bit of my latent Catholicism life-is-a-vale-of-tears thing coming out. Or my bipolar experience. I expect a crash after the high. Maybe though that is just me and something that doesn’t actually happen so much to normal people.

Since I can’t seem to find the big thought that is escaping me maybe I’ll just stick with the small things of the day. Listening to two new Canadians of diverse ethnic origin sharing joyful thoughts in heavily accented English about tomorrow’s gold medal hockey game. It may not be my sport of choice but is certainly is something that helps people identify themselves as Canadian. It made me smile. It is after all is said and done and its many flaws tallied, still the very best country in the world. I feel deeply and profoundly blessed to be Canadian. Lucky, lucky girl.

And my gym? What’s to complain about that? Though as is usual on days when my head refused to stay attached to my shoulders, me actually getting there was pretty touch and go. But go I did. Hey, it is right in my building and it’s just been reno’d! They even put in a proper spongy floor so the noise of the big boys dropping weights doesn’t rattle your fillings loose.

Just so you know, I’m totally not complaining about anything. I have useful work. Safety, security, prosperity and some where in every single day I have love and joy and surprise. Okay well maybe I am complaining lack of neck rub, but if that is seriously the biggest lack in my life then I am maybe not the poster child for perfection, but a serious runner-up. Okay, maybe fifth place.

And look at that. Still lots of time for a hot bath and a bit of reading before bed in the big freshly sheeted chocolate schmoorr bed of healing and good dreams.

Until tomorrow my friends, sleep well and dream of angels.