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.

Fear of Success, there you are my old friend

... peaking round the corner. Saying Hey! in order to win this TV Pitch competition at PitchMarket 2010 Vancouver you have to beat two people who are sort of friends. Okay not really, bosum buddy friends, but guys I like alot. Jeepers. And so very many opportunities between now and then to share my love all over the place while neglecting my preparations.

Nope. Friends and family give me a 14 day by please. I can do this. I really can.

Ah, Resistance ...

... did you really think you fooled me? Alright. I can understand why. But you haven't you know not really. While you parade the bright and shiny accomplishments of friends, family, and, lately, Olympians. I am still here. Still dreaming. Still working away. Knowing that I'm only a head fake away from beating you to the basket.

It is so very easy to get caught up in other people's stuff. Yet so crucial to push for one's own. That horrifying B word - BALANCE.

More Random Thoughts

“There are so many great things to do with the human mouth, why waste them on talking?” Not sure what writer of “How I Met Your Mother” to credit for that, but great, great! Right up there with my own response to the question, “Do you smoke?” my answer? “No, I have better things to do with my mouth.”

So excited by the NBC news coverage of the Vancouver Olympic Winter Games and the child-like joy of the journalists and broadcasters to discover the magnificence of Vancouver and the far north of the Pacific Northwest. What, did you think we were kidding? We live in heaven. Thanks for joining us.

Hallelujah and Me - Via Leonard Cohen

What is the deal with this song? First of all, how could I have been Canadian for my entire life and not have been aware of this song until I heard the Canadian Tenors version of the song not quite a year ago. Then it starts to get weird.

I announce to my guitar teacher that, “I must learn this song.” And HE’D never heard I before. And he is a real deal composer and serious been around the block guitar player. That was last August. So we’ve been working on the song on and off ever since.

Last guitar lesson, he wants to get serious about working on the song. I have the somewhat predictable Fminor block witch means nothing at all to you who’ve not attempted mastery of the guitar. It isn’t’ the easiest song for a beginner suffice it to say.

Weirdly, though his inspiration to push on the song came from KD Lang’s performance of the piece at the Olympic Games Opening Ceremony. The last major composing project my teacher worked on was with someone who had produced more than half of KD Lang’s recordings. So that gave him a push, not to mention that I had been torturing the piece for six month in lessons.

Even weirder. I was feeling melancholy watching the 2010 Olympic Games Opening Ceremonies as I was just beginning to realize that the Canadian Tenors, had most likely performed the non-televised pre-show. So I’m sitting on my couch playing “Hallelujah” and suddenly KD Lang arises on top a big white drum and starts givin’ er.

It was strange. And quite frankly, unpleasant. Nothing against KD’s performance which was as dig down deep and heartfelt as it comes. But I wasn’t my boys version and, truth to tell, it wasn’t my version. I don’t mean that to be prideful. Especially since I discover that Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah is one of the most covered songs. Reason for that has nothing to do with Leonard Cohen’s celeb. Sorry Leonard. It has to do with the brilliance of the song as a piece of music and poetry.

It’s a great song, no doubt. But why is so suddenly mine? And why does it seem to spring up on me everywhere? That I don’t know. It appears in the movie The Watchman and tonight, as I was channel surfing in the movie St. Ralph. Which really hit me in the head and heart hard as I’d been practicing the blessed thing all day.

Seriously I have played and practiced this song nearly every day for months. I can't go to sleep at night till I've heard it.

So what is it with me and this song?

Hydrogen Hydroxide Please

Okay, note to self. Hydrate better when working at home. I went to the gym with much less HOH in the tank than usual and thought I was gonna throw up at the end there a minute. Definitely one of those workouts where the endorphin train never got out of the station. Ooofff.

Alright, now, as I was such a good girl and telecommuted properly today, I missed the men’s downhill quals(my very favorite event) so now must navigate a minefield of info to try and find a channel playing the finals without tipping me as to the outcome.

Then I will work on my Rain Girls beat sheet and seriously get that script moving along. Kind of a relief not to have to work on the rom com for a few weeks. A high-school love triangle a kidnapping and assorted alien skullduggery is much more what the post-v-day-blues require for the snapping out of a totally useless and indeed harmful self-pity.

But first will pound some serious hydrogen hydroxide.

7 chances for love

So. Tonight this just about turned into a big rant about Valentine's day and love and all kinds of horrifying stats spewed out by National Geographic channel.

Instead I stopped. Saved the rant into the "not posted" folder and reconsidered.

I have a new toothbrush. It makes me hopeful it is a Crest spin brush and sounds oddly like a didgeridoo, but boy after you use it you sure know your teeth and gums have been well loved.

One of the stats the NG threw out tonight was that we would each experience love an average of seven times. Good news for me, that's for sure. I am certain it has been once, confident that it has been 4 ... Hah! and if you asked me about today. Like this very single day? I would confirm that there are at least three lovely men I would go out of my way for and at least 3 more waiting in the wings. So that was seven at one time, right?

I didn't write today. Other than this. I was afraid. I was afraid to face the day. I was afraid to face love. When I write, love comes to me, whether I will it or no. So I spent the day sorting receipts, cheering atheletes, reading the book club book, going to the gym. Anything and everything to not write.

Writing you see, is the only place that I experience love as opposed to observing it. So for today, I will say goodnight. Tomorrow, I will write.