Word by Word
September 2004
Thursday, September 2, 2004.
3:30 pm
It's been a social week, with my half-sister and half her family on Monday, a friend's 50th birthday on Tuesday, my younger daughter yesterday.
Last night I slept well. This is becoming something to get excited about, it's been happening so rarely. And twice this week I've been out for a long walk in the woods, so, no more whining about my ankle. Feeling in a good mood this week, I feel silly for having felt so sorry for myself lately. I think I suffer from selective memory, and so now I can't quite remember what was so bad. It's a survival tactic, selective memory. It's how I managed to have three children too, not really remembering from time to time what goes into that day of getting them out.
I won't be doing the 3-day novel, though I still think it's a good idea. My weekend is filling with other things I want to do as well, and so I will shelve the idea for now (very punny). We'll see what I'm up to next September.
I have been working on stuff of the writing kind, though, so am pleased with myself about that. I've begun meeting with the plums every week now, and we'll keep that up for a while. We've all felt the need for greater frequency. This way we don't lose time to the socializing that naturally happens when we haven't seen each other for a while. Which is fun too, of course.
And so exciting: I got rid of six boxes of stuff yesterday. Lots more where it came from, but feels good.
Tuesday, September 7, 2004.
9:30 am
Put my warm quilt back on my bed last night. I like to leave windows wide open, and I finally realized that all that shivering I was doing in the middle of the night was because I had the summer blanket on, and it's not very summerlike anymore. So last night I slept with windows wide, with myself warm and cozy. Sleep is quite a theme with me these days; I fear it grows boring, but so essential.
I slogged up the Grind yesterday, with my daughter and about half the city I think. It has been almost two months since I went up, but we managed in a decent time (my daughter was kind and kept pace with me). I was very pleased with myself, but I certainly felt it. Had to lie down for a nap when I got home, and deal with a headache too. Not enough water, though I guzzled a litre, so I had to save my rejuvenated self for today. Next time will be much better; I prefer to be able to function after hiking, not find myself prostrate on the couch.
My son came home from his road trip, went up through Kamloops, Jasper, to Edmonton, down to Calgary to hang out with friends living there, and then home on Sunday. He's buzzing with plans, which is a lovely change; he wants to move to Calgary, has a place to stay arranged, find work, and then go to a college there in January, get his feet wet in the post-secondary world. Sounds good to me, though the logistics have been swirling in my brain since he told me this.
His plans affect mine; I am going to sell my house, and was thinking to time it with his original plan to go to Langara, not wanting to move while he was at school. But if he's not here, then the only thing stopping me is a lot of sprucing up, which is going to be my focus for the fall now. This next couple of weeks will be busy; I've got a magazine to lay out, as I see in my e-mail most of the files have arrived. When that's done, I'll help my son get himself moved (he's thinking beginning of October), so I may take a short road trip myself with him, to get his stuff to Calgary. Then I'll come home and make the place sparkle. I'd like to manage a move for myself in the early spring next year. Get settled, and maybe do some travelling myself next summer.
I feel very disorganized in the midst of all this, but think I can sort it out. I am going to try not to forget to keep writing. Turns out I saved myself frustration in not trying to write a novel on this what was to be free and clear weekend. Timing. I think it's going to be a theme for me this next while.
Sunday, September 12, 2004.
7:50 am
Up early today. I reversed the trend of not falling asleep till late, to sleeping fine but waking early. I think if this were to be a pattern it might work better. The mornings are peaceful, and a better time to get things started. I did resist getting up though; it's pretty cozy back in my bed under that quilt, but the head buzzing began around 6:30, and I finally gave up the attempt to clock another hour of zzzs.
I'm always greeted in the morning by two cats outside my door, who leap up and race down stairs as soon as I open my door (Food! Food!). The old black cat sleeps in my room; she's on the decline so I coddle her. She starts the night out cuddled up and purring, but in the morning she's on the floor staring at the wall. I must toss around too much for her. She used to disappear out the window during the night, but has stopped using that route out of the house; I think the jump off the roof is too much for her now. Old age gets us all.
I still have twinges in my foot, but went up the Grind again with my younger daughter, on Friday. We took and hour and a half, which she thinks is slow, but I reminded her that she was lagging along at my speed. I'm really pleased myself, that I can get up the mountain in a reasonable time after a two month hiatus. We got rained on, but not hard; the trees are a pretty good filter, but also our timing was just right, as the rest of the day was pretty much a deluge.
Went through the deluge to a concert that night at Capilano College (a lot of to and froing to N. Van) with a friend. Really enjoyed myself; David Francey is a folk singer my friend and I heard first at the Mission Folk Festival. He was accompanied by three Nashville guys who were just great too, Kieran Kane, Kevin Welch and Fats Kaplin (the thinnest one was Fats). I'd never heard of them, but that's no big deal as I'm way off the radar with music. Quite out-of-it, or so my kids will occasionally assure me. I first slipped away from currency in the 80s. Somehow that whole decade of music might never have happened as far as I was concerned, except for Sharon, Lois & Bram, Raffi, Charlotte Diamond…
I never quite got it back, the habit of keeping track of current music, except for what my ex used to bring home (he didn't seem to develop the same familiarity with SL&B). So for quite a few years I didn't really pay attention much to what I liked; just fell into whatever was going by. It's been only recently that what's out there has started to impinge on my awareness. I asked at the video store what they were playing one day a while back—Jack Johnson—and have a couple of his CDs now. My kids had heard of him of course.
I read an article in the paper one day saying that being out was the new in, and I was relieved to know it. They gave as an example that some people actually just now were reading The Da Vinci Code, or listening to Norah Jones, but that was a sign of their outness-turning-in. I happened to be reading the 'Code' at the time, and had just discovered Norah Jones, thanks to one of my writer-friends. So now my outness is supposed to be in, but that was a few weeks ago, so probably I'm back to my normal out-of-it state. Really, this is of little concern to me, except that I am rather sorry to have missed a lot of good music while I was lost in other tasks.
It's true that there are some benefits to getting older. (Really.) You can listen to anything you damn well please, and who cares?. (Probably no one notices, because the urge to turn the sound up to hearing-destructive levels seems to fade with age too.) My kids (the younger two have this tendency the strongest) tend to classify things as out or in (although those terms are probably really dated) and behave accordingly. It's very restrictive, to have to check the way the wind's blowing before you act. But maybe I'm missing the point; it might be them setting the trends. After all, being young has always been in.
Friday, September 17, 2004.
2:45 pm
Busy week. I've been working on the magazine, just about ready for the printer. I am back to waiting for feedback on the draft I've sent, so have a breather again. I was going to hike today with my daughter, but we've postponed until tomorrow afternoon. Just as well, because turned out I had too much to do on this thing.
Book club was at my house last night, so I spent a day cleaning, shopping and chopping up fruits and vegies. I seem to have a standard menu, which is fine, as it seemed to go down well. Makes for a nice pile of munchy leftovers too, though I will break down and make an actual dinner tonight.
We discussed The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. There were as always a variety of responses to this whopping great novel (yes, I really liked it). It's a very full story of all the members of a family, told in chunks from each one's point of view. Incredible amount of detail, and incredible insight. Lots of funny in with the sad. I'd certainly recommend it to anyone. But others in the group were irritated by the amount of detail, and the jumping around from character to character. It generated quite a lively discussion too, always the sign of a good one.
I realize I've only a few weeks until my little guy moves out for the first time. So that will occupy a fair bit of time in the next while, moving stuff around, but also psychological time. I'm quite excited by the changes in the air, if not a bit jumpy.
My mind is not sticking to writing much these days, because of all these other distractions, but I stay ever determined to get back on track.
Sunday, September 19, 2004.
1:55 pm
Friday night went to a Fringe play, Job II, a hip-hop musical, I guess you could call it. It was absolutely excellent, although it pointed out to me my lack of knowledge about biblical stories and Nietzsche.I got some of the pop culture references. Makes me think I should go back to school.
Saturday was writing morning, at the Grind coffee shop. Only Vaughan came this week, as Wenda wasn't feeling well. We hummed about thinking what to write, and then just got our pens going, to see what happened. I've read often enough that free-writing, just keeping the pen going will eventually get you somewhere. And it worked, about an hour in I came to an idea I want to work on. Imagine that, just like the books say.
Yesterday was also hiking day, so after writing I picked up my younger daughter for a hike up the other Grind; we had a good time I think, yakking away on the way up. My daughter pointed out that we didn't go fast enough, as we weren't gasping while we talked. Somehow I don't mind that. After I brought her home and then took her and my son out for dinner. Oldest daughter was off at a wedding shower, so couldn't join us. I could plan these things, but spur of the moment has a good feel. I like getting the chance to see my kids together, which doesn't happen as often as before. They are all lovely.
Today is a beautiful day; I've already been for a walk, down to visit my Dad, about 45 minutes away. We watched a bit of football, it's a new NFL season again, so I'm finding myself dredging my memory for what I learned last year: first downs, tight ends and all. If it were raining today he'd likely have stayed in, but I think he gets pretty restless on days like that. Dad doesn't like me to walk home, so I accepted a ride, even though I meant to walk back. He was pulling out the limo (a Mercury, not really a limo, but pretty posh) which he does on sunny days, and I've only ridden in it once before. I decided I'd make it up with a walk in the woods this afternoon, and get the extra bit of visit with him as he pretends to look after me by driving me home. He lavishes a lot of affection on this car; it is cradled in a garage that is just barely large enough, and he only brings it out when it won't be rained on. On Sundays I don't think he goes far; just down to the beach for a stroll, other days I think he'll cover a lot of miles in the lower mainland.
Friday, September 24, 2004.
10:50 am
I'm a bit scrambled these days. It's a mix of too much to do, but waiting for the time to start doing it. I did get the magazine off to the printer, on Wednesday. This was a day earlier than I thought it would go, which is quite something, as usually there are things outside my control that delay it. Maybe I'm finally getting efficient. Certainly, there were fewer problems in squashing the stories into the space available.
My son's going over to the island this weekend, and when he gets back, we will start packing him up. Next week sometime we'll load his stuff into a van, and I'll drive him to Calgary, where he'll start in on his adventure of supporting himself in a houseful of friends. I will keep my fingers crossed, but have faith that he can do this. After all, I did, at his age. I have to keep remembering that of course. Things look so different from this perspective.
Once I get back, there's nothing to stop me from shovelling out the house, and making it look spacious and lovely, so I can sell it. My neighbour to the east, my neighbour across the street, and one down the block have all sold their houses in the last month or two. So I guess it's my turn. I've wandered through a few open houses recently, and am getting the bug for sure. It's a bit dicey though, the juggling act of selling a place and then finding one to move to. But I will stick to that resolve, so that I know what I have to spend, before I go spending it.
It's a glorious sunny day today, and I'm waiting for a blueline from the printer. The last task of each issue for me is to ensure that the files translate to the printer's computer without any stupid jumping around of text. It happens. Once that's done, I'm really free to do the next thing.
Writing is spotty these days because of all these other things going on. I just can't seem to sit down, which is part of why this blog gets ignored for days and days. I have managed to get myself into my journal though (where I talk to myself about all the private stuff), so all is not lost. And I have been back to the mountain one day this week, on my own. Tomorrow my daughter and I make the slog one more time. It's a funny obsessive kind of behaviour, hiking the Grind, which I guess is what the writing is too, which makes it all fit together quite nicely in the weird obsessive sort of person I am.
I read an article this week, about journal writing, not hiking. Diary-keeping actually, which implies something different in people's minds than journal writing. Less serious somehow, so let me assure you right away, that I keep a journal. Anyway, apparently diary-keepers are more likely to be unhappy. The study seems to suggest that unhappy people were made more unhappy by writing about their problems, but didn't compare them to people who were also unhappy, but didn't write about it. They just figured out that the people writing were more likely to be unhappy. What I mean is there was no control group; they just found that in a group of students, the ones writing were unhappier, and the longer they'd been writing, the unhappier they were.
I think it's a bit of a which came first story, chicken or egg, but interesting that they are studying it. The story in the Sun was a reprint from the Ottawa Citizen, so I looked online to find an account from a British paper, the study being British and all. I found a couple of other accounts, one that went into a bit more detail. I find it interesting, because the study is set up to compare apples and oranges, and then make assumptions about the results. I don't know how you do a scientific study, and control all the variables in people in order to find out whether keeping a diary helps or hinders mental health. So I expect there will be lots of conflicting results as psychologists figure out ways to fund more studies to figure out whether people get worse or better by ruminating over their problems.
They could check out anecdotal evidence, such as this right here. I have kept a journal on and off for most of my life, but with many gaps of many years. Many of those years were my unhappiest. So was I made unhappy by not writing? Could be, but how do we control the experiment? Roll my life back thirty years and make sure I have time to write daily? Now, hmm, having time daily in the last thirty years to give some thought to my life, rather than running to keep up with it, who knows what that would have done to the happiness quotient in myself?
But for now, I know that writing helps me get clear in my thinking, and that's a good thing, however you measure it.
Reading the study, it also struck me that most writers keep journals, which suggests, extrapolating from the study that most writers are miserable, depressed creatures, which further suggests that all of great literature has been produced from the minds of unhappy, miserable, socially inept individuals. Imagine that!
Thursday, September 30, 2004.
11 am
Plans changed somewhat; we hit a bit of a roadblock (appropriate metaphor considering). But we're on track again, my son is going to go the week after Thanksgiving. There was a glitch because the house he's moving into is leased by the parents of the guys living there, and not by the kids themselves (going to school, their rent is covered by the folks). One of the parent's wasn't convinced that adding another to the mix was a good idea, but she decided it was okay. Hearing that my guy had quit his job and was ready to go was part of it, but we had a talk about the arrangements the other parents had made, and I accepted what she was worried about re: lease and costs.
So as it's working out, this will be a pseudo independence, given the parent connections to the house, but that's fine with me; I can pretend with the best of them. I think the parents have pseudo influence too, given the 975 kilometres separating Calgary and Vancouver.
So we're back to figuring out how to get him there. I realized that renting a van would be ridiculously expensive, so we're going to stuff what we can into the car, and then buy what he needs there, as it'll cost less that way. I hope. Anyway, I have to help him get going. He's quite stalled here, in the basement. Ideally he'd do this all on his own, but what the hell. He's miserable here, and I'm pretty sure he'll be happy there, and that should make a huge difference to motivation etc. That's the theory.
Anyway, it's been up and down but the sun is shining today, and there's lots to do. My head is jammed with details about what to do in the next month, around clearing out and packing, painting and cleaning. Having made the decision, I want to move now. Gotta fix a few things still in the house too.
It's been up and down the mountain too again, which is great. My sprained ankle has become just a faint memory, and my daughter and I have resumed our routine. (Well, she never stopped, but is kind enough to fit me back in.) On the weekend we may slog up the Stawamis Chief (the back, not scale the cliff!) as an alternate, as the Grouse Grind run is happening this weekend, and the trial will be jammed. The Chief may end up with a gondola to the top should some developers wishes come true, so it'd be nice to get up there while it still has bragging rights. Last time I went up the Chief I was fifteen, so we'll see how I do.
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