Tuesday, 7 March 2017

Procrastination Nation

So listen, when I said I’m not great at handling change, I may have been underestimating my ability to avoid dealing with the looming presence of change in my life. I’ve made some strides in getting myself ready, physically, for this move. I’ve sold things, purged my closet, and partially dismantled my cozy little home in this wee downtown apartment. Emotionally, I have no clue what the fuck to do.

I’ve spent the majority of today taking procrastination to new heights. I mean, I made one semi-productive phone call to ensure my casual status at my current job remains, at least for the foreseeable future. I have also, however, made my way through at least two seasons of The Mindy Project, ordered thai food (because the 60 km/h winds outside are deterring me from becoming presentable to the public and venturing outside), and sat here on my couch surveying the remnants of my furniture. I’ve also tried on four pairs of shoes that were on the chopping block, only to strut themselves convincingly right back into my closet (I can’t really part with studded blue suede platform heels, now can I).

I’m supposed to be packing. There are boxes waiting to be assembled and filled in my entryway, and numerous items requiring my attention. Instead, I have spent the day on my couch avoiding emotions. As I fired up my laptop to write and clicked play in iTunes to distract my brain, cheesy songs have made me stop in my typing tracks and commence in a full-on ugly cry. Damn Celine Dion and her ability to pull at my heart strings with such favourites as ‘Because You Loved Me.’

The reality of this whole leave-your-family-and-friends-behind thing is landing heavily on my heart and settling in, and it’s increasingly difficult to reconcile that with the nervous excitement coursing through me. On the one hand, I’m leaving so much behind in Saskatoon. On the other hand, I get my beloved non-lesbian life partner, former roomie (but not so former anymore!) back as I’m squatting in her basement for a while (not sure her boyfriend is quite aware of what he signed up for). I get to explore life in a bigger city and everything it has to offer. I GET TO SNOWBOARD MORE (definitely a positive motivating factor). And then of course, (save the best for last, right?) the prospect of a legit relationship with regular interaction not requiring a six hour drive across provinces…incredibly awesomely thrilling.

Except now there’s only ten days left. Five more shifts at work, and ten days total to pack up, hit the storage facility known as my brother’s basement, and drive caravan-style with my parents to Calgary. Maybe it’s reality sinking in, maybe it’s the first of many farewells I said last night to some friends, and maybe it’s the homemade wine I started drinking as I assembled boxes and stared at their vast emptiness…but this shit is feeling real, and it makes me want to spend all day on my couch avoiding it.

Guess I can knock complete and utter procrastination off the list of things to do. Now, let’s fill those boxes and get down to business. Right after this episode…

A

P.S. - This:

“What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”
- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Friday, 17 February 2017

Going the Distance

I’m trying to find a way to succinctly present the past five days in the life of April to you. This whole long-distance relationship thing reached peak frustration, and prior to arriving in Calgary earlier this week my nerves were on edge. There was a conversation last weekend…dredging up our worst fears about the realities of loving from 600 kilometres away. So much of our ability to move forward together depended on my ability to secure a job, and that fact was weighing heavily on my mind. I had written a post all about it, or at least, a post trying to figure out how one actually sustains a long-distance relationship. Fast-forward a few days, and all the nerves and dread are now entirely mute.

After eight months of constant driving back and forth and four months of applying to nearly every nursing job I could possibly muster the qualifications for, I’m finally moving!! In the span of 48 hours, after sending an email to a contact I acquired from a former co-worker, I had an interview and a job offer and everything changed. The weight of uncertainty lifted, and I walked out of the interview with an ear-to-ear grin I could not erase from my face. Not only did I feel excited for my boyfriend and I - for us to have the chance to see this thing through - but I was elated for myself as well. I have this warm, fuzzy feeling telling me this is good (and that's not just the wine I cracked while making chilli this afternoon - that's right, detox is done!). It’s the right choice, the right place, the right job, and the right man. Finally, right?

You’d think my emotional rollercoaster might stop there, but you’re wrong. I mean, I’m over the moon excited about this - but as I sit here looking at my schedule for the next thirty days, knowing I have a shit ton of packing, kijiji-posting, purging, visits, and tears to look forward to…well the elation is giving way to the very bitter part of this bittersweet transition.

On one hand, I have Lady Gaga singing repeatedly in my head “I’m on the edge of glory” (if you are like me, you’ve just belted this line out at the top of your lungs and likely thrown in some solid dance moves). On the other hand, there is a montage of sad bastard songs, setting the stage for what are sure to be some incredibly difficult ‘see you laters.’ I have decided, in the lead up to this monumental self-change, I will not say goodbye to anyone when I finally make the trek back to Calgary with my shit in tow (after some serious purging, I watched the Netflix documentary Minimalism and its inspiring me to be more conscious of what I choose to hang onto in terms of material possessions; but I still can't part ways with the blue suede, studded, platform pumps I haven't worn in two years). The thing of it is, and I shit you not: Saskatoon is home, in nearly every possible sense of the word. It houses the majority of my favourite humans, and to think I would never return is downright silly. Ludicrous, even.

So there it is. This prairie girl is pulling up her roots and heading west, like so many before her. And given her propensity for dealing with change horribly (i.e. ignoring emotions until they fester enough to be blurted out after a glass or two of wine), this little adventure should be rather interesting.

A

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Amore

Um, about that whole “I’m going to join this daily blogging challenge (in November) and post something every day for the whole month!” (After one week…three months ago).

Oops. Follow-through is not my strong suit.

This may actually be the first time since early December I’ve had the luxury of sitting on my couch and staring at a blank computer screen. For serious. I’ve had three trips to Calgary, one round of introducing my boyfriend to my entire family and many of my friends, and a bloody shit ton of shifts in between. Life, as they say, has gotten in the way. (Do they say that? Am I making shit up right now? I’ve been on a detox for two weeks and I haven’t had wine, maybe you shouldn’t believe me at the moment. I miss wine.)

Specifically, life’s gotten in the way of this whole writing thing. I’m living in long-distance limbo - constantly going back and forth to Calgary, planning visits, and sending resum├ęs into the online abyss of the healthcare field in Alberta (to no avail as of yet, le sigh), and I’ve not thought for a second of writing.

I feel speechless, in every way possible.

My life is full of exciting change right now - a niece on the way, a baby room to paint and decorate (as self-appointed baby room decorator this I take this responsibility very seriously and only once has my mother told me to make sure my one-day sister-in-law has input), a boyfriend to love (and who conveniently loves me back, go figure), and a move to plan. I’m nervous and thrilled for it all, and sometimes all the love overwhelms me and I find myself speechless (weird, I know, since I keep typing and words keep making their way to the page).

On the other hand…there is so much change (say that with a heavy, morose accent) not only in our world, but in our own beautiful country. It’s exhausting and heart-breaking to read the news, and I’m thankful I don’t have cable - I can escape from the bullshit just a little bit easier (but I can’t watch Super Bowl, there is a trade off). Except, I’m feeling as though to escape is to silently acquiesce to this violence and hateful vomitus. And that seems like a wretched option. I have plans and ideas for all of the lovely things in my life mentioned above…I have no clue just yet how to play my part in this fight to uphold morality, justice, and equality. But I do have one teensy idea.

I can, and I will, choose love over hate, every time. That may be all I can muster at this point, it may be minuscule in the face of seemingly overwhelming venomous politicians and political agendas. But I will continue to choose love, I will not let these people shake my belief in humankind and its propensity to overcome hatred and let love reign.

With all my love, especially to the victims and families affected by the horrendous shooting in Quebec...
A

P.S. - I was recently gifted a print by a lovely soul which says "life should have background music," and I couldn't agree more. Because I always have a song playing in my mind, and because this one seems all too appropriate for humankind right now.