weekend
Greg said the other day that I was on an anti quest for self-awareness?? That I do absolutely everything in my power not to confront the person I am? I know I avoid certain things but its how I get on and getting on is mainly all its about, isn’t it? Had a long talk with my sister on the phone (the one who is going through a divorce). We use to be very close but we drifted slowly apart – well I drifted to Toronto and over the years the communication between us just slowed down to a trickle but I know she has been unhappy for a very long time and although this is a difficult time for her, she can see the clearing finally and I know things will be better for both parties shortly, and hopefully for the children. They are both good people but just not good together. I was her best woman at her wedding and I had only met her husband to be a few times before that but I had mentioned to Greg that I didn’t think this was the greatest match up. I just couldn’t spot the chemistry. So, then you start wondering what is the right equation for a happy marriage?
Greg and I were at our high school reunion last summer and those who didn’t know that we became an item after high school were flabbergasted to see us as a couple. I mean Greg was this well liked, funny, intelligent guy and I was this extremely shy, unpopular, c+ student. But it worked. So far anyway. Sometimes I think it works for me because I use him as my confidence. Greg has enough drive for both of us but I don’t know sometimes what I give back in return? His comment about the anti quest stemmed from an article he read about shyness and he asked why I didn’t want to see someone regarding it because it might help me get out of my shell, become less anxious in situations that involve other people, possiably live better? And I simply laughed at the idea, which triggered a discussion on self-awareness -- I was trying to say that shy people were too aware of self to begin with that sometimes it almost borders on narcissism. (I mean not all shy people)
And he informed me that self-absorption and self-awareness were two entirely different things. I think self absorption is when you take what you perceive people think about you and pile them up inside you. Self-awareness is when you get rid of all that external garbage and go inward and find the person that you truly are. And this is what I avoid. Sorry, this is one convoluted blog entry and its funny because what I started out to write about is the movie The Libertine and how I enjoyed it. Greg and I watched it Thursday night and I am still thinking about it. Maybe I should read up on this Earl of Rochester?
weekend
Late on a Sunday morning. Just thinking about yesterday. We first spent the afternoon in the distillery district for their Partigras. We wandered about enjoying it all. The rain had just stopped and first things always being first, Monica wanted a hot chocolate and so we sat down on wet chairs and watched people walk by as she sipped on her drink. We then just wandered about stopping at each stage to listen to the musicians. For a while one young violinist (he had an electric violin) and his band captivated us. As we use to say on the East Coast growing up, “Man, could he ever give’r. I really enjoyed that. There was a bit of every thing going on including blues and Jazz.
After arriving home, Greg and I decided to head down to harbourfront for the Mexican Festival. We took the Go train to union station just as the sun was going down. The sky was bathed in pink peonies and the tall chrome and steel towers glistened, with splashes from this soft pink. I was left thinking how little I know this city and how sometimes it surprises me with its structured shine.
Once down there by the water we met up with friends and watched this popular Mexican group who blended traditional Mexican music with tech-tronics. I am not sure if you would call them a band since they were surrounded by laptops and other electronic devices but they were making some incredible sounds and the younger people there were into them. I think they were from Tijuana.
Anyway we got home a little late. Both of us happy that we had spent such an enjoyable day and thinking that we should really take more of an effort to take in the events (free events) that are constantly going on around the city during the summer. My summers usually consist of getting excited about going back east, preparing to go back east, going back east, enjoying back east, traveling back from back east, readjusting back to the city, reminiscing about my hometown for about a week or so afterwards, bouts of homesickness, and thus ignoring for a big part the city around me. Which is home and I wish I didn’t always have to convince myself of this.
So far spending the summer in the city has been going quite well. Monica and I finally went to Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and enjoyed it. I think Erin, Monica and I will head to the Zoo tomorrow if the day turns out nice. And I don’t know if I should be sheepish about saying this but I can’t wait to see Miami Vice.
Today it’s raining and I started yet another short story. I can’t even begin to list all my works in progress. It is a summer for getting my rough ideas down – this winter I hope to finish some of them.
back to regular days
Niagra.
My sister is back home now. So is Greg. His cousin is getting married this weekend so he flew down with his brother. This leaves me and Erin and Monica to figure out something to do this weekend. Although at this point I wouldn’t mind just putting my feet up and reading the weekend away.
I think my sister and her kids had a nice time. It meant a great deal to me to spend the past week with her. And a friend of Greg’s also stopped by for a few days with his family. He was in town to see the Crosby, Steels, Nash and Young concert.
It was so hot last night and I am a little restless now that I went from a full house to a quiet one. I wrote quite a bit yesterday and this morning, which after a week and a half without writing anything felt very gratifying. Finished another short story, “The Giant Impasse” and wrote another rough chapter for my book. My working title is “In a Beggar’s Pocket.”
I admire my sister. She is hard working and practical and I felt a little awkward at one point as I tried to explain to her that I spend a great amount of my time just making up stories about dragons and centaurs and stuff. She is a huge reader and I believe she is in the same camp as many out there with her thinking. That there are just so many wonderful writers and fantastic books that as it is you can’t get through them all in one lifetime, so why not spend your energy reading these great works instead of writing and always falling so short of the mark.
But I can’t help myself. I love writing. and really it only takes one story to make it all worthwhile and if I give up with out trying to get to that one story, I'll forever kick myself wondering if I did have it in me. And I'm not talking about commerical success just that one story I can be proud to say I wrote.
I blame this all on my grade six teacher who praised my story writing. I've been chasing that for the last thirty years.
City lights
Having a lot of fun showing my sister and her family around this city.
family
A five a.m. sky
Seven seagulls on silent wings
one grey cloud- fist shaped
Could not sleep. My sister, brother- in-law and nieces are arriving today. In a few hours. She is the third youngest. I am so excited. I hope she likes my home. It is a strange feeling this sense of shyness over my own family. It is hard to explain but I know it will be completely erased after that first cup of tea together. I hope she catches me up on every little detail about back home and she reads more than I do so I know we’ll talk about books. I’ll give her Gilead to take home with her. I want Dad to read Gilead too. I think he would really like it. And shopping – so many stores here and she loves to shop–And they want to see Niagara Falls so we need to plan a day trip. It is going to be lots of fun. Off to walk the dogs.
reading
“I can’t see the Popsicle streaks down your belly, but I know they’re there.”
Marilynne Robinson, Gilead
I have no idea why that line made me catch my breath and hold it for a minute but it did. Most of us are familiar with that image but in one line she made it immensely moving for me. Suddenly, the images of all the children I remember who once had those streaks down their bare bellies came at me. I love how she writes. It’s like free-basing longing.
