Word by Word
October 2006
Tuesday, October 3, 2006,
noon
It's October, definitely Fall. The sun has continued to shine mostly, but it's chilly out there. I've been resisting, but today I just may have to put socks on. Such is life.
I have an empty room in my home now. There are still a few things piled in its closet that my son is going to pick up tomorrow, but essentially, that's it. He's gone. The kids are gone.
So that's the sad part.
On the other hand, my children have grown up, and are doing interesting things.
That's a happy part.
So what about me? Well, I have been looking forward to having my own place again; not the same at all obviously as it was when I last lived alone. But after 33 years of always living with someone else ('single' mother for 15 and a half years!) this is quite an adventure. A guilty-happy part I guess; how can I be glad to see my kids go? It's mixed.
Today my handy guy is coming by to do the prep work in the empty room before painting it. Painting shouldn't take too long, just the walls, but there's some peculiar electrical stuff to correct too. Once that's done, I'm going to go see about floors. I planned when I moved in here to get hardwood floors put in, but was overwhelmed by all the stuff that seemed to have moved in here with me. Now it's thinning out, and I'm the only one here, seems an optimum time to get it done, before I move stuff into that room. Then the empty room becomes my office, and my bedroom becomes my bedroom instead of repository of all kinds of paper and clutter. At least that's the plan.
I am amazed how I can lose track of where things are in such a small space. I used to be able to locate stuff back in my house, even though it was crammed with junk. (Or did I?) I'm a funny mix of neurotically organized, and totally scrambled. Like most people I suppose. But my plan is to fight this tendency. I want the cargo that I carry around with me in this apartment to be here on purpose, and not just because it's all accumulated over the years, and I can't get the nerve to clear it out.
I made a stab at it yesterday, by taking a carload of stuff to the Sally Ann. Again. Mostly this was leftovers from my son, and a collection of discards from my middle daughter as well. But I did get rid of a lamp I've been carting around a long time, as well as some other clutter I'm kind of embarrassed about. Just because clutter, well, clutters. But such tiny steps. More will present itself as extraneous as I move things around to get the old-and-getting-shabby carpet out of here. (It was a good carpet originally, and has held up fairly well against the onslaught of my furball friends, but it's as old as the building I think, as I see it's counterparts in other of the suites here, which means a lot of beasts besides my cats have walked on it. Time for a change.)
Paper is the biggest thing to deal with. I dumped out a couple of laundry-baskets-full into the recycling bin the last few days, and imagine that with very little trouble I could fill it up again. My bedroom for one is full of the stuff. So I'm going to get a start on that today, try and make a useable list of things needing doing, and clear my head of clutter. That's probably where the most of my problem lies.
And this afternoon I'll go hike up the Grouse Grind with my brother, also an addict of the trail. Another place I have to wear socks, but I don't mind so much there.
Sunday, October 8, 2006
11 pm
I really am feeling like I'm getting somewhere. Quickly too. For instance, I went up the Grind yesterday, in just under 65 minutes. This astonishes me when it happens (I've broken the 65 minute mark two or three times before). It's harder to do on days that it takes longer; a peculiar thing I've noticed. But I shouldn't go on weekends. It took more than half an hour to get on the gondola, as there was a long lineup. Brrr, sweaty clothes congealing on a rapidly cooling body. All that 'wick moisture away' stuff I wear works a bit better than cotton, but the old bod does seem to know how to generate moisture. But last night I also had a yummy dinner I cooked up for myself, after a much appreciated shower.
There's something about moving quickly that seems to spread to other things. I've been very busy this week. My extra room got itself painted, and I did some computer work as partial exchange, which saved me some bucks. I'd ordered new blinds for this room, and they came this week too, so I got to hang them up, and cleaned the carper the other day. It's just great, because the light comes through the new blinds, and if I leave the office door open (which I will of course) the light actually filters through to the hallway. I can stumble around in the mornings now without having to turn lights on. I appreciate this.
And there's furniture in here now, and me too, working on my computer, on my desk rescued from the storage locker. I have an office! I've missed having a dedicated space, and this one is shaping up to be delightful. I spent a good part of today dragging furniture around my apartment, spreading it out basically. I've started to have a sense of space in here, and dimension. The living room and dining area now both have enough room that I can move around without having to climb over stuff (well, a bit, as there are still some piles of books heaped up, ones that spilled off the shelves I've moved.)
An interesting sidebar to this exercise is that stuff is again piling up by the door on its way out of here. There's simply too much stuff in here! But I'm also enjoying the process of sorting; getting like with like, and noticing how many pens and pencils I actually have. That sort of thing. I also cleaned out the fridge and some kitchen cupboards today. There was quite an assortment of condiments in the fridge that I don't use. Interesting how that happens. I actually shopped for some groceries today, which is why I thought I should do some sorting. I'm in charge of salad and apple pie for tomorrow's dinner, but also broke down and bought some vegies to cook up for some dinner for myself. (I do occasionally remember to feed myself.) Chicken wings with honey/garlic/lemon/soy and a pile of vegies (sugar peas, asparagus, onions, mushrooms, bean sprouts, cilantro, more garlic) all on a heap of shortgrain brown rice (I list this for you, Vaughan), accompanied by a nice white pinot, and enough left over for Tuesday dinner. Tomorrow is turkey, and for the first year in eons, I'm not cooking it.
Which is good, because I have more books and cases and writing materials to move, and I'm getting impatient to sort this stuff out. I wake up at night, with my annoying obsessive brain launching into details right away. Two days in a row I woke around 4 or 5, unable to get back to sleep, so either read or watched a movie before falling back to sleep around 7, and then sleeping another couple hours. Quite an erratic schedule, but who cares?
But tomorrow a break from bookcase moving, and instead some leisurely apple pie-making and lettuce chopping, then dinner with most of my family. Much to be thankful for, though I'll miss my middle daughter, who is away at school. But that falls in the thankful category too, as she's happy doing what she wants.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
noon
So, where've I been? I wonder myself sometimes when more than a week goes by and I've not written anything here. As it turns out I hadn't written in my journal for about a week either. A little slippage and it's a landslide. Have to be careful about these things.
In the interests of making myself a good place to do my writing, I've neglected to do my writing. I think this is a not uncommon pitfall of the writing life. Avoidance, masquerading as something else. But I do have a nice room to work in now, and so thought I better quickly do some, before I find another diversion.
Actually, this entire week is a diversion from my writing, but I'm still involved in the writing life, in my capacity as a reader. It's Writers' Festival, and I'm volunteering as a driver. Yesterday I made four trips to the airport to bring in four writers, from the cold (eastern Canada, in this case), as well as delivering three downtown for a posh dinner at the Vancouver Club, that I'm betting none of them could afford on their own. But such are the rewards of publishing. Today I have two trips lined up; one a pickup, and one a delivery back (short visit). But tonight I get to be an attendee, and actually attend an event, which I shall do, armed with cough candies, as I've timed it rather badly to have a cold this week.
Last weekend I was off on a reader's retreat, with my book club; though mostly we ate and drank, we did discuss the book, A Complicated Kindness, by Miriam Toews. I don't know why, but it's always amazing to me how differently we each receive these books. It's rare to have everyone agree, and this wasn't one of those times. Though I wouldn't say that there was anyone who thought the book bad, not everyone really liked it. (We're not a particularly deep bunch of readers; the discussions don't go much farther than what was good, what was bad, why we liked it, or didn't, whether we believed.) The funny thing is I do find I read differently than I once did, because of my own efforts at writing stories; notice things about language and style that I might have hoovered past before. But this one just swept me up; the book is the sad and cynical voice of a teenager trying to survive a very complex mess of a life. It rang very true for me, the cracking of jokes to cover the emotion cracking underneath. But ultimately it's a hopeful book. Whew. Reading can be a grand experience.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
11:30 am
The past week was a lot of fun. Not least of which was the big highlight of seeing a member of my writing group, Vaughan Chapman, reading on stage at the festival on Sunday afternoon. This was at the launch of Emerge, the anthology of this year's cohort in the Writing Studio at SFU.
What else about my week? I enjoy driving, that's one thing. Picking up people from the airport always gives me a buzz, so that's another. Talking to real live published authors is pretty cool too, and I had quite a few of them in my car last week. But the real treat was what the writers festival always offers, and that's the smorgasbord of stories and poems, and the confirmation that this is a valid way to spend one's time.
Because you see, doubts seem to wander into my mind all the time. Self-doubts of the rather tedious who-are-you-kidding kind, yes, but also the fretfulness about the value of what one does, and how to achieve it, or, does it matter anyway? What is value? And the week of listening to writers talk about writing, in one way or another, reminds me that there is value, and also that it does matter. (And perversely, that I'm not kidding, even though I barely wrote a word last week).
It's all about meaning, and finding it. I think. (Maybe I should study some philosophy? I heard Descartes mentioned more than once this past week.) Stories are how we make sense of it all. Or it's how I make sense of it all. Since I was a little girl. My clearest memories are of the stories I read, or had read to me. Isn't that interesting. As though real life weren't real at all.
Perhaps I'm just crazy. That's a possibility too. One writer last week, Gaetan Soucy, suggested in a panel that there was no way for him to be sure that the person he was talking to was real, or just a figment. I've had that sort of thought before; have you? (He was the mentioner of Descartes.)
So, lots to think about. And do.
And I'm still working on setting up my nest here. Next week I'm getting the carpets pulled out, and wood floors put in. What am I thinking? I wonder to myself. Well, that I wanted a place with wood floors, and so soon I will have that. It's not really that I like living in chaos. Though I think there's some theory that chaos tends toward order. I trust it will be so.
Monday, October 30, 2006
10:30 am
It's a big racket in my place today, and will be for the next few. I spent the weekend moving stuff out of my living room and dining room so that new wood floors can be put in. Now the old floors are being taken out. I feel a bit like my cats, who are hiding under my bed. I'm hiding in my office. I may slip out of here for a while, but it's also interesting to see what transpires here. I like to know how things are put together.
I'm surprised to see that my carpet was on concrete. It had an underlay, but there's no floor. Now there will be, though the bedrooms will still be carpet. One day I will replace them (maybe), but not for now.
I managed to move almost everything into the two bedrooms. The couch is still out there, as is the dining room cabinet. But everything else, including the drawers from the cabinet, and it's other innards, are piled up in here with me, or in my bedroom. It's strangely satisfying to be able to do such things. I know I could have found someone to help, but I enjoy figuring out these things myself. A jigsaw puzzle, stuffing everything in these rooms, and still being able to use them. Nothing terribly heavy; anything that was I took apart.
The walls are going to get fresh paint too. What the heck. I can crawl over things for a few more days.
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