Every day, I will share something that makes me think 'Wish You Were Here.'

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

September 4/13

So much aching.

I'm exhausted.

Can barely bend over anymore.

Last night, I was in the office for a few hours, just trying to pack the books, but damn if my progress got stopped by an assessment of my box stock.  You see, when I moved here to Ottawa, I packed all of my stuff and labeled my boxes (mostly so as not to confuse my things with my ex's).  And when I moved from my apartment in the building next door to our current place, my packing was almost completely contained.

Etienne's...not so much.  He didn't move with boxes.  He moved with bags.  And suitcases.  And tupperware storage containers.  And bags.  And bags.  He didn't have as much stuff as I did, but it was not fun trying to move him out of his place because of the lack of boxes.  Last night, I was coming to the realization that I probably needed an additional 10-15 boxes to properly pack his stuff.  I abandoned my efforts and decided to re-group and finish today.

You might be wondering why I'm packing so early, given that the move is still three weeks away, so I refer you back to posts from the last week of August for an explanation.  Basically, it goes like this: we painted our walls, and in order to avoid some stupid, way over-priced charges, we're priming the walls ourselves myself.  So I need to pack up each room just to get the stuff out of the way so I can prime the walls, and I decided in order to preserve some sense of sanity, I'd do a room per week. 

Bathroom?  Check!
Kitchen?  Check!
Closets?  Check!

I slave away because I'm cheap and poor, I hope that my labour will reduce the bill for moving out.

So, tonight was Part II.  And it kicked my ass.

I went downstairs and pulled all the unmarked boxes I could find, and brought them upstairs.  Then I went to the Pub.  Hey, a Hypoglycemic Girl's gotta eat.

As soon as we came home, I headed in.  I'm still estimating the need for another 5-6 boxes, but I know where to find those.  The only ones I'm not in charge of are the ones Etienne will use to transport the vinyl collection. 

The office is approximately 95% complete.  After a poorly scheduled viewing appointment tomorrow evening, I will put Etienne to work moving furniture, and then bust out the primer.  A second coat if needed on Thursday, and the Office?  (Will be) Check!

I'd love to pay a professional company to do this, but I'm so broke!

I need a massage...


...Wish you were here.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

September 3/13

I didn't have a solid sleep last night, so when 7 am rolled around and I had to get up and go to work, I wasn't the most alert camper.  In fact, I'd say on a scale between alert/aware and state of R.E.M. sleep, I'd say I was somewhere around the state of a three year old fighting off a much-needed nap.

This was the state I was in as I sat there in my cubby, trying hard to concentrate on finishing a big project that I've been nerding out on for a few weeks now, when at 10:35 or so, the power suddenly went out.  It's almost as if the universe was telling me I had no business being at work when I was operating like a cranky toddler.

This isn't the first time the power has gone out at work, but when I went to the windows to scope out the situation, I noted that the other buildings in the complex also didn't have power.  This meant that there was a problem with the whole grid, and not just an isolated incident, as has been the case in the past.  The outage lasted for almost an hour and a half, and in that time, we all did what we do best in a power outage.  Chat and wait for news on whether we'll be sent home.  It's not like we could do much work; the computers were out, and the lighting wasn't exactly conducive to studying, reading, or doing boring stuff like filing and sorting. 

I think that senior management was getting close to sending us home, because in a massive complex like that, it's not just the lack of computers that affects our ability to work; there's also the loss of the air circulation system, which makes the air quite warm and stale, and lunch starts to become a real concern, whether brought or bought.  If the whole grid was indeed out, there'd be nowhere to go get food, except across the river in Ottawa, and packed lunches made of perishable items stored in the fridges would be imperiled if the outage is lengthy.

But damn if the power didn't come back on just at noon, and after lunch, it was back to work.

I just couldn't catch a break today...

...Wish you were here.

Monday, September 2, 2013

September 2/13

This afternoon, we fled the apartment briefly and headed for the Market, the only place where things would be open today. 

As an aside, I really miss being out west where a lot of places are open on holidays.  I know the arguments, about hourly staff having to work, etc. and I've worked my share of holidays in retail, and I know it sucks, but at least I was raking in the time and a half (or on some occasions, double time), so I put aside the suckiness and enjoyed having the extra cash on hand when needed (and it's always needed!).

Anyway, before we even left, we were both aware, courtesy of the Weather Network App, that storms were heading our way.  Hell, the app even told us that we should expect the show to start after 3 pm.  So when we walked out into the darkening skies, we both had our umbrellas.  I'm from Vancouver...if the weather forecast tells you there's a high probability of rain, you bring the umbrella or a rain jacket. 

Well, we were among the only smarty-pants in the Market apparently.  At 4 pm, when we were in Road Trip, and the sales girl was talking to me and another customer about how scared she is of storms and that she didn't bring an umbrella.  She gestured at mine and told me I was smart.  Excuse me for sounding arrogant, but duh.  We were just about to walk out the door when the sky opened up and all meteorological hell broke loose.  Nature turned on the fire hose, and for good measure, put on a hell of a light and sound show too.  At that moment an enormous flash of lightning and booming crack of thunder let us know the storm was directly over head.  It made a family of four walking by actually jump and they bolted into the store, but not before the youngest girl freaked out and ran elsewhere, causing the parents to have to run after her and bring her in, already soaked after 10 seconds in the rain.

Etienne and I just looked at each other, said, "We have umbrellas", and walked out into the chaos.  While our feet and legs got wet, the rest of us was quite dry and comfortable, and seriously, only hip-waders would have protected our legs at that point.

Storms amuse me, not just because of the awe they inspire, but also because I just can't believe how many people I see unprepared who then seem so surprised when these storms actually happen.  As predicted.

You silly, soaking wet souls...

...Wish you were here.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

September 1/13

Happy First Anniversary, The Daily Wish You Were Here! 

And to celebrate, I've dumped my heavy-ass, stupid filing cabinet!

Several years ago, my ex and I purchased this filing cabinet because, while I'm somewhat more organized, he was a clutter-bug, and his papers lying about were getting to me.  We selected one based on looks and how it would fit into our apartment at the time.  When we went to buy it, we learned that we were buying the heaviest fucking filing cabinet known to mankind.  While this shouldn't have been a problem for us given my ex's unusually large stature, it turned out to be an enormous pain in my ass (and shoulders and legs and arms and all over) because I was dumped off at the lobby with it, and had to struggle hard to get the large, awkward box upstairs and its contents put together.

When we divorced, I guess I "won" the damn thing because I was the more organized of the two of us, and so it got on the truck with me and wandered across the country to Ottawa when I moved here.  Since then, it's been a heavy fucking reminder of how much I hate moving.

Well, this time, I decided the big bastard wasn't coming with us.  So very early this morning, I got up, reserved a Vrtucar, and by 10:30 am, I had purchased file boxes and binder, ready to sort and pack the contents of the cabinet, and kick the beast to the curb (literally).  The emptying part wasn't even easy.  The beast only locks at the top drawer, and the position of it slopes slighting down in front, so bottom three drawers have been known to slide open.  Almost as its parting revenge, the drawers were in full throttle, and one of them caught my knee in a way that I'm not sure a piece of bone hasn't chipped off in there.

After it was emptied, it sat in the hallway for a while, until we decided to get it over with.  Except we live on the second floor, and if you think hauling that beast up is a bitch, try hauling it down.  With Etienne at the bottom bearing the weight, I tried my best at the top to guide/carry it, but it's enormous size and weight weren't compatible with my slight frame and stance.  I was useless.  We got it to the bottom, and just as I feared getting it down the small stairs and over to the curb, some 15 feet away, one of the downstairs neighbours came out and asked if we needed help.  He's a taller guy, stronger, so of course I took up his offer!  In a matter of seconds, the damn thing was on the curb.

Because of it's size and weight, we wondered how long it would be out there.  For small things we've put out, they've been taken before we even have a chance to blink, but this beast can't simply be picked up and carried off.  Well, within 3 minutes, I noticed a couple out there, examining it with serious intent.  The man tried to pick it up to test the weight, but he found out quickly that it was a challenge, so they walked off.  About an hour later, we looked out the window, and it was gone.  Fair thee well, you big, heavy bastard.

The joys of moving...

...Wish you were here.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

August 31/13

Today was a busy day with plenty of moments to share, but I'll try to narrow it down.

We're taking today in reverse order, and as you go, you'll see why.

This evening, we went to see The World's End with Brent and Cassie.  It was a fun little romp, and I really enjoyed Nick Frost's role in it.  See it, if you haven't already.

This afternoon, we went to the Star Wars: Identities exhibition at the Canadian Space and Aviation Museum.  I have to admit, the exhibition was a hit and a miss.  You get these electronic wrist bands, and as you go through, you stop at each station and answer questions.  At the end, you get a character made for you, based on the decisions at each station. 

While it was fun, and naturally, I chose to go to the dark side, it was also a serious distraction.  Throughout the show, there are replicas of costumes, characters and props from the movies, as well as back-work from the movies such as the conceptual sketches and story lines, which lets you see how different the ideas were at the start to the execution in the final products.  For instance, there were sketches of potential character mock-ups for Yoda, the beloved Jedi Master.  If you aren't a huge Star Wars nerd, you probably don't know how close we came to seeing a Yoda that resembled a kick-ass garden gnome in tall boots.  Sacrilege, I know.  But this detail, and others, almost get totally lost by the urge to get to the next station and answer your questions.  See what I mean?  Hit and Miss.

But our first outing of the day, just me and Etienne, is what I want to really get into.  After a slow start, we got up and moving.  We went to the National Gallery to catch the dying days of the Sakahan exhibition.  We've meant to see it since before it opened, but have pushed it off for a variety of reasons.  Well, we had to do it this weekend...it closes on Monday.

It's a brilliant exhibition.  For those who don't know, it's an International Indigenous Art exhibit, and the pieces cover indigenous artists from around the world.  The First Nations of Canada, the Sami of Northern Europe, the Maori of New Zealand, the Aboriginees of Australia, the Indigenous Hawaiians and so many more groups where represented.  There were several impressive pieces on display, but it was the words of Richar Bell, an artist from here in Canada, that struck a nerve for me. 

His piece, Life on a Mission speaks to the way Indigenous people are represented around the world.  The piece itself is a large canvas with a colourful, swirling image, but interspersed with that image are the worlds "I am not a noble savage."  And therein lies the problem.  This idea that Indigenous peoples are this romantic point of entry into the past because they maintain traditions. 

It's a problem I struggle with personally, and it's one that put me at odds with both sides of my cultural heritage, not to mention a Professor with whom I took personal issue in class while he railed on about the First Nations people adopting the hallmarks of white society instead of pushing to have white society adopt First Nations ways of life instead.  He seemed to be enamored with this ideal of the noble savage, and how we're being lost to the white ways.  I seethed openly (he knew I was half Aboriginal) and challenged him, as did others, but I gave up because he wasn't going to be persuaded that he sounded like an ass.  After class, he conferred with a friend of mine and fellow classmate as they walked across campus, and the Professor did speak with my friend about my reaction to the lecture.  I didn't hold out much hope that this Professor had gotten the message that he was being a white, Marxist, ivory tower intellectual, and talking out of his ass about his high ideal and judgments instead of listening and hearing the words of a member of the very group he was simultaneously idealizing and berating.  Jackass.

Anyway...

The other side of Richard Bell's work is this idea that Indigenous people are only considered "authentic" if they are living in the "traditional" ways, and if they aren't, they are deemed as having lost their culture.  The artist goes on to explain that this condemns Indigenous peoples to live in poverty due to the segregation caused by this way of living, and it frames the people as primitives with no place in contemporary society.  I absolutely take his point.  And I would add to it that it comes from both sides of the divide.

It's a struggle that is familiar to any First Nations person who leaves the reserve or community they grew up in, with no definite plan of returning.  Once we leave those communities, we start to become an outsider.  If we return quickly enough, the adjustments are slight, and it's becomes a period in our lives.  If we don't return quickly, our place in the community isn't that easy to return to.  It's a difficult struggle, walking that line between living our lives outside the community and maintaining the traditions because not all of us are successful at integrating our outside lives with our inside lives.  And it can even lead to charges that we've lost our way.

When you take both sides together, it seems we are damned if we do, and we are damned if we don't. 

I'm glad I saw this piece.  Art can be a powerful tool for provoking thought, but good art is a powerful tool for provoking empathy.

A busy day...

...Wish you were here.

Friday, August 30, 2013

August 30/13

A year ago today, I had an idea.

I was looking over my Now What blog, and I was frustrated.  I knew there were things I needed to write about, but I was too angry, frustrated, lazy, ambivalent, busy, etc. to put the effort in.  Whenever I was writing, it felt like a chore, and I was basically "phoning it in" on some entries.  I knew it was time for a change.

I was also going through a phase where I wanted more privacy then usual, and this led me to a period of introspection.

Then I got this idea...

What if I chose just one thing a day to write about.  Whether it was something happening to me, or in the world, or a piece of media, just...whatever.  And it had to be something that I wanted to share, or even needed to share in order to work through my psychological process of dealing with it.

It would be a way of maintaining my connection to the world while I worked through my privacy issues (an ongoing process, even now), and let those who cared to read know that I wanted to include them in these moments.

And here we are, a year later.  Some of these moments haven't been worth sharing, like when I'm bored, have done nothing, or was too sick to function, but for the most part, these moments have reminded me to stop shutting out the world, and to be a participant in it.

I've wondered about the fruits of my labour over the last year.  September 1st marks the one year anniversary of the first share, and I have learned over the year that I'm writing more for my benefit than for the benefit of others.  I'm sorry if that sounds bad, but I am seeing the google analytics, and I know I'm not writing for a crowd of hundreds.  Or even tens.  So, knowing this, I wondered if I'm just selfishly ranting and need to stop, or whether I should continue.

But then I know that there are people reading these posts daily, and this is a way for them to stay connected to me.  These damn social networks...they appear to keep us connected, but that connection is a front for the fact that actually, we're losing touch because we don't actually speak anymore.  Travel is prohibitively expensive these days, so it's not like trips to see these people are a real possibility most of the time.  Phone conversations have become really awkward for me.  Texting someone how much you miss them just seems...wrong, somehow.  So slowly, I've talked myself into continuing for another year, while I continue to work on being a better friend, sister, daughter, etc.

Here's to an idea...

...Wish you were here.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

August 29/13

We had intended to go see the Sakahan exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada this evening after work, but the students at work in Etienne's branch were being feted after work, and would not hear of Etienne not being there.  So we went.  I hang out with that crowd too, so we stayed for a drink, and then we headed out.  I thought we were going to the Gallery, but what I hadn't realized was that we were leaving because if we had stayed for another drink, we'd have to order food, and Etienne wasn't in the mood for what was available to him on the menu.

We walked for a bit and tried to talk through the confusion, but things weren't getting any clearer, so we stopped at a bus stop in front of the Museum of Civilization to make a choice: either go to the Gallery, or go to the Market for food.  If we do the Gallery, we keep walking across the bridge.  If we do the Market, we get on a bus.  A decision still hadn't been reached before a bus came, but we climbed on anyway.  As we crossed into Ottawa, I turned to him and said we should just go home, since it was too much trouble to do the Gallery, and neither of us wanted to make a decision about a place to eat.  He agreed. 

So naturally, we went to the mall.

Sometimes, we are a special pair...

...Wish you were here.