universal truths

as most folks know, i believe the universe gives us what we need. maybe not right away, maybe not in the way we’d prefer, and maybe we don’t even recognize or welcome it when it happens, but the universe does deliver.

i like to think there’s some kind of cosmic, karmic set of checks and balances, and that somehow, in some way, at some time, things will work out the way they’re meant to – even if it might not always be what we envisioned.

the universe and i have a complicated relationship but, despite any friction, i believe it looks out for me and (on occasion) actually rewards me for my efforts.

if you recall, i've been working through The Artist’s Way over the past several months, and i’ve now finished the book. in the final few chapters, the reader is reminded about the importance of having faith that you will get what you need when you need it. meaning: believe in yourself, take the risk and have faith that the reward will come.

so, cut to last week: i booked my iceland trip and tried to keep that faith.

having earned almost nothing, income-wise, over the past two years, i knew i really needed to make some money in the coming months (and the rest of 2011) in order to justify the price tag of this vacation i’d just purchased. i didn’t know how it would happen or from where the sudden influx of cash might come, but i decided to simply believe that it would, and then i set a mental (financial) goal.

i picked a figure i thought would be enough to cover the reykjavik trip, and the one to chicago, and still leave me enough left over for things like rent and food and the like.

i decided to test the universe a little and aim high. what would be a reasonable-yet-lofty income goal for the next four months?

i set a number, and then began revisiting/focusing on it every day thereafter, writing it in my daily pages and even saying it out loud on walks.

and then, yesterday morning, completely out of the blue, one of my editors emailed me and offered me a five-week, full-time assignment starting in the last week of april and running all the way through to the end of may.

this gig (which is essentially associate-editor-esque in nature and which i, of course, accepted) will pay for my two trips, and puts a tidy dent into that income figure i’d been thinking about (and continue to think about) with faith that the universe would somehow get it to me. this wasn’t a job for which i’d applied or even knew existed – it just landed in my lap without me having to do anything.

except, of course, that i had done something.

i’d changed my mindset.

instead of focusing on the “omgicantaffordthosethingswhatwasithinking?!” of it all, i shifted it to, “okay, i made these choices, and now the work has to come in.” not “will it come in?” or “where will it come from?”, but simply: “it has to come in.”

i put it out there that i wanted many assignments, that i wanted to earn money, and that i wanted those things to happen before august.

and, yesterday morning, the universe got me off to a good start.

an update on the creep and the weirdo

unfortunately, they "won" their court hearing. they are not being evicted.

or, perhaps, not being evicted *yet*.

i spoke with super2 the other day and asked for the update. i'd seen a bunch of cardboard boxes in the hallway outside the creep and the weirdo's apartment, and wondered if they'd been moving more stuff in (recall: the weirdo is a hoarder) or, perhaps, finally moving stuff out.

dunno which it is, but they're not going anywhere anytime soon.

super2 said the management company lost the request to evict, but that they've been granted a mandatory inspection of the apartment this coming monday. that explains all the noise i've been hearing from next door over the past several days -- obviously, they're attempting to clean their unit enough to pass.

i'm not sure what happens if they fail the inspection, but i'm interested to find out how it all goes. the creep has, oddly enough, been much more difficult than the weirdo when it comes to having the place inspected, and he's the one i find weirdly scary. i sure wouldn't want to be the one knocking on their door and asking to come in, let alone the person who actually does have to step inside.

windy city woman

it’s been almost ten years since i last visited the windy city. we (mom and i, or trixie and i, or all three of us) used to go once a year, back when amtrak had direct toronto-to-chicago service. but they axed that route in 2002 and i haven’t been back since – largely because hotel prices in chicago climbed dramatically and that, combined with airfares, made it a cost-prohibitive undertaking.

but, less than two weeks from today, i’ll be going back! i've so missed the city, so i'm thrilled to be returning. mom and i found a great seat sale, snagged a kick-ass (fancy!) hotel for super-cheap and will be staying in town for six days. right now, we're both in that pre-trip phase of figuring out what we might need to pack, buying travel insurance and looking up places to check out while there.

here are a few of things i’m looking forward to seeing, doing and eating:

* the art institute of chicago. on my first and only visit to the AIC, i actually teared up when i found my favourite painting. i couldn’t believe how big and beautiful it was.

* the the WGN morning news. i LOVE this show! we saw it for the first time on our very first visit to chicago, sometime in the mid-1990s, and always watch whenever we’re in town. most of the news team members are still the same – larry, robin and paul! – and it’s always fun to tune in as we get up, get dressed and get ready for the day.

* a sundae (or two) at ghirardelli. they’re huge and expensive and basically a meal, but so worth it. just look at the menu! mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

* a serious walk north along the lakeshore to lincoln park, the conservatory and the lincoln park zoo, which is free!

* photo ops at millennium park because, really, when you have an installation like “cloud gate” (that giant silver bean), you just know i’m going to spend at least an hour under and around it snapping pictures of myself in its reflection.

* a meal at CPK. don’t judge. when you can’t get it anywhere in canada or within a reasonable driving distance, you CRAVE IT. so there.

* though i’m very sad that marshall field’s has disappeared (it still existed last time i was in chicago), i still love its state street store space and, as such, will be stopping in there, if for no other reason than to ride the ancient escalators to the top floor and peer down at the gorgeous atrium. if there’s a good sale happening at the time, well, that’s just a bonus.

fingers crossed for great weather so we can enjoy all these things – and much more! – without soggy shoes and frozen hands.

and this is how i know it's spring

the light from the setting sun once again begins to creep around the western corners of the building and into my north-facing windows, just before it sinks into the horizon for the night.

slowly, as spring turns to summer, the sun will set farther and farther north. its light will then come into my windows earlier and earlier in the afternoon, shining stronger and warmer with each passing day, and lingering longer before disappearing.

as beautiful as it can be, this annual reappearance of that light through my windows is always bittersweet for me because it means winter is over.

and because, soon, that light will bake this apartment like a pizza pop.

done and done (omgholycrap)

i swallowed the cost and just booked my plane ticket to reykjavik.

i'm going to iceland.

holy crap.

::: thud :::

caveat scribus?

every now and again, i regret what i’ve written.

or, more to the point, i regret what i’ve written and then shared.

it can happen with an email, a story, a blog post, whatever. but i’ll hit “send” or “publish” and, sometime thereafter, think, “oh. i shouldn’t have done that.”

usually, these regrets come after some kind of emotion-driven, or simply emotional, writing. and they often emerge because, once the emotion has distilled and settled a little (or a lot), i realize that the feelings reflected in the writing are/were actually more transient than i thought when i sat down to write. powerful at the time, faded later.

sometimes, the regrets creep in because i get an unexpected reaction... in a negative way. “oh, i guess i shouldn’t have shared that,” i think. “crap.”

and, on occasion, the regrets gnaw at me just because i feel like i didn’t express myself properly, or accurately convey the emotions i wanted to get across. i feel misunderstood (whether i am or whether i'm simply imagining it), and then i get caught in a tangle of “should i try to explain so everything’s clear?” vs. “feh, what is written has been written. forget about it.” it’s something i know is not unique to me, and is probably experienced by most writers in some way, in some context. as writers, most of us constantly want to edit and revise. i have not yet mastered the art of detachment.

for me, it’s hard to let it go or forget about it when it’s right there, in ink on paper or in black and white text on the screen in front of you. there it is. written. recorded. published. shared. too late to take it back or change your mind now, it’s done. what seemed like a snapshot of a moment in my life becomes, for better or worse, a permanent record.

i know the idea is to not only write, but live life, without any regrets. “regret nothing!” totally needs to be my new mantra. (oh how i wish i could do that with ease.) i’m trying, but still learning. i know i shouldn’t care one way or another whether people like what i write, or whether they can relate to it, or whether they hate it and hate me and want to smash my laptop into a hundred pieces. it shouldn’t bother me if people think less of me, or judge me, or criticize me, or shake their head in disbelief at what i’ve said. i know this, i really do. and i’m getting a tiny bit better at incorporating those ideas.

there’s a lot to be said for capturing raw emotion when it strikes, and for the often visceral writing that can result. it’s completely authentic and in-the-moment, and there’s a certain excitement in reading that sort of thing. so, as much as i can occasionally regret what i’ve written, i also don’t want to become the kind of person who filters everything she writes two dozen times, so that the end result is a “safe” but ultimately watery, flavourless, colourless bore.

maybe instituting some kind of post-writing grace period for myself, wherein i wait for a bit to see if the thoughts or feelings intensify or subside or change completely, might help. raw writing is wonderful but not always fit for mass consumption. or perhaps i should have some kind of disclaimer that the thoughts and feelings expressed in whatever i’ve written do not necessarily reflect a permanent emotional and/or psychological state. i hope most readers know this inherently already, but, you know, just in case.

or maybe i should just inhale a deep breath of gemma teller morrow, write whatever i want, and say, “f**k it. who cares?!”

i kind of like that, actually.

please hold the handrail... OMG, where's the handrail?!?!?!

every once in a while, i get lost in an anxiety vortex.

different things trigger it, but it’s almost always anticipatory panic about something unknown.

it starts small enough, usually with a low-grade sense of dread or fear, probably akin to what some people might feel as they wait for their appointment at the dentist. (strangely enough, i have absolutely zero anxiety about dentist visits, having had so much dental work done that it’s become a completely non-stressful proposition.)

but then, that psychological rumbling gets louder and more pronounced. the nervous, anxious feelings expand, and what was once just sitting like a lump in my gut begins to charge through my brain like a steam engine. one by one, questions pop up. worries emerge. and fears race in between them by the dozens.

soon, i’m up to my furrowed brow in worst-case scenarios and doubt and, eventually, outright panic. flight mode kicks into overdrive, and it feels as though i’ve been cornered by some enormous beast, with no way to escape.

“oh no, what have i gotten myself into?” i wonder. “and how can i get myself OUT?!”

it’s a problem i’ve had for as long as i can remember. i’m not sure how it started or when – perhaps separation anxiety as a young child? – but, over the years, it’s morphed and changed. growing more intense in some scenarios and becoming less problematic in others.

i’ve talked to my therapist about it, because it can sometimes be almost paralyzing. almost. it’s not so bad that i need medication or scramble under my bed and refuse to come out or anything, and i inevitably do soldier on and get through whatever it is causing the emotional angst. but i often wonder what my life would be like if i just, you know, didn't have this problem. or if i could figure out a way to better handle it, eliminate it more quickly and vanquish it before it takes hold.

the anxiety vortex.

i’m working on it, little by little, but it still pounces. sometimes without warning, but usually fully expected. i mention this all because, yesterday, it spun me into a whirling tizzy of discontent and full-on anxiety. i’m in the process of arranging my travel plans for iceland, and travel is one of my biggest vortextual (vortextastic?) triggers. i wish it wasn't, but it is. and don't even get me started on the flop-sweat-inducing issue of bed bugs.

anyway...

i finally booked my reykjavik accommodations yesterday afternoon. it’s been a months-long process of repeatedly and obsessively checking hotels, comparing prices, looking up ratings, reading reviews, mapping locations, trying to coordinate flight dates, and the like. it was becoming a chore, but i finally found a place that’s reasonable, and seems nice, and – after a couple of other friends booked the same place – i made my reservation.

“reservation” being the operative word, i think.

no sooner had i hit “send” on the booking email than i felt the vortex begin to spin. a million questions soon began whipping around me like leaves on a windy day, and i could feel anxiety taking over my body. i suddenly felt completely unprepared. like i’d made a huge mistake. like i shouldn’t have booked. like i shouldn’t go at all. like staying home would be so much easier and far less costly and, certainly, much less stressful.

now, keep in mind that, intellectually, i fully recognize these feelings and fears are, for the most part, irrational, and that avoiding things you're afraid of doesn't actually make the fear go away. but, emotionally and physiologically, the thoughts and worries and fears feel valid and can, on occasion, become overwhelming. so, it follows that avoiding them feels like the right thing to do.

back to yesterday: after hitting "send," i instantly began worrying about everything under the midnight sun, from transport from the reykjavik airport, to how i was going to read icelandic grocery-store signs, to what might happen if i arrive at my rental apartment (yep, a studio apartment, not a hotel) in the wee hours of the morning on my first day and can’t actually get in. how would i call anyone? (i have no cell phone.) what if i get sick? what if i’ve actually booked myself into some kind of weird scam? who would help me all the way in the middle of iceland at six in the morning on a quiet residential street?

it went on...

good grief, what am i thinking booking a vacation that will cost more than my gross income* for 2010?!?!

(*keep in mind, my gross income for 2010 was just a hair above $0.00, but still.)

how will i pay for outings and tours? can i do anything for free? am i staying too long? should i have booked a shorter stay as a way of saving some money? when will i find a flight that doesn’t cost $1000 or more???

and, OMG, what if that volcano erupts again and i’m stuck in iceland for weeks?!

again, i know these spiraling, all-consuming thoughts are over-the-top. unfortunately, that alone doesn’t make them go away. and, so, they persisted for the remainder of the day. i didn’t get any work done, didn’t run any errands and wound up googling myself into oblivion in a bid to quiet them down.

and, when i can get the vortex to pause for a second so i can catch my breath, i actually am able to realize the irrationality of the thoughts and fears. i can usually talk myself off the proverbial ledge and into some semblance of less-frenzied calm(ishness). yesterday, i tried to remind myself that, though i’ll be visiting a foreign country for the first time and don’t read or speak the language and will be traveling thousands of miles from home on my own, i will have people i know staying in the same city. i’ll have friends with whom to go exploring. i won’t be alone. and, if something does go wrong, i’ll have help if i need it.

inhale. exhale. hold the handrail.

the sense of anxiety was still with me this morning, but not quite as extreme. i wish i was one of those people who didn’t launch the vortex as the go-to response to fear. or, at the very least, one of those people who can happily and easily head off into the unknown with an immediate and natural (instead of delayed and forced) sense of curiosity and adventure.

yeah, that’s not yet me and, realistically, it might never be.

for now, and as a first line of defense, developing healthier coping strategies is key.

to that end, i’m trying to become someone who works on problem solving in addition to simply problem spotting. being prepared is something that helps me slow the vortex, and i’ve learned that planning hypothetical solutions is much more productive and proactive than being consumed by hypothetical disasters.

acknowledging the vortex, stepping back and letting it spin on by instead of being totally swept up in its chaos.

a fistful of random scraps

* i spent the weekend chez YB and, for the most part, offline. we had homemade pizza, went shopping, watched movies and goofed off.

* when i left to head to YB’s on friday afternoon, i noticed that the (glass) front door of my building had been kicked in and was shattered, held together by three long strips of duct tape. i wonder what happened – the door was fine as of about 9pm on thursday evening – and i can tell from the impact point and the direction of the ensuing bulge that it had been kicked in from the outside. i kind of hope it was the creep next door, or the crazy girl at the end of the hall, because something like kicking in the door would definitely be grounds for eviction. i just feel bad for super2. she’d only been on the job two days before chaos obviously ensued.

* in related news, the creep and the weirdo are due back in court this wednesday. we’ll see what happens.

* mom and i will be in chicago in a few weeks. i’m very much looking forward to doing lots of walking and taking tons of photos. unfortunately, mom’s somehow pulled a muscle in her leg, and is limping at present, so i’m hoping she recoups quickly and completely before we fly down.

* airfares and hotel prices for reykjavik spiked again over the past couple of days. i'm currently exploring  my options.

* i had an eye twitch for five days last week.

this just in

there's another dead skunk out in the road.

windows shall remain closed again tonight.

ew, what stinks? SKUNKS!

last saturday, i was sitting in my living room when i smelled something. it was faint, but distinct.

SKUNK.

my window was open a crack, so i checked to see if perhaps a skunk had been hit by a car on the street below. nope.

as the minutes passed, the smell became much stronger. i went to my bedroom window to see if i could spot the source of the pungent aroma, and there, in the middle of the road a little farther down, was a dead skunk. aha. i closed all my windows because the smell was getting too strong, even though the corpse was two house-lengths away and several storeys below me.

a few hours later, i checked again (because i wanted to open my windows) and the body had been removed, obviously cleaned up by the city. the smell had dissipated. done and done.

the next morning, however, i left my building and noticed the skunk smell was still quite prominent outside. like, unusually prominent, as though the sidewalk and street (which are around the corner and a couple of houses away from the site of the previous day’s skunk death) had been freshly sprayed. ew.

and every day since, the smell outside my building has become stronger. each time i head out, i’m hit with it almost as soon as i open the lobby door.

but last night it was the worst i’ve ever smelled it.

i came home from a screening around 10pm and, a good block away from my building, i could already smell it. i suddenly remembered that skunks spray when startled, and i didn’t want to accidentally scare any, so i made an inordinate amount of noise as i walked towards the front doors lest any skunks be loitering in the shrubs. hopefully, they'd hear me approaching and scurry back to wherever they lived.

it had been a mild day yesterday, so (before heading to the film) i’d left my windows open a little, and when i went into my bedroom to change when i got home i immediately noticed the powerful stink of skunk wafting in. i quickly closed the window but it was too late – the smell had come inside in a very pronounced way. i turned on my ceiling fan, but it made little difference, and the smell was still seeping in through the closed window.

i’m well-above street level, but this stink was so intense it was like someone had hoisted a skunk 70 feet into the air and let it spray directly onto my windows.

and it didn’t go away. in fact, what i assume were fresh sprays were unleashed throughout  the night because, every couple of hours (with the windows still closed!), i was awakened with the smack of a ripe, new onslaught of stink.

what the hell?!

each time it happened, i’d go to the window to see if i could spot a skunk waddling away from the building or lying dead in the road, but there was nothing out there. NOTHING. when i went back to sleep, all my dreams were skunk-related. it was stink stink stink stink all night long.

i have no idea where these skunks are coming from or where they’re hiding or why they're spraying this much but, man, can i ever smell them. 

when i got up this morning, i opened my bedroom window a tiny crack and inhaled the outside air: the skunk smell still lingered, though it was no longer eye-wateringly awful. i closed it again, at least until later in the day when the wind direction hopefully changes.

still. it makes me a bit nervous that all this spraying is going on. usually, it’s only a couple of times a summer that a skunk stink floats along a night breeze. but it’s only march, this has been going on for a week, and i’m wondering if there’s a band of really angry skunks skulking around, seeking vengeance for their fallen comrade.

when someone else's art imitates your life

for two weeks in a row, i've been unexpectedly moved by, of all things, Glee.

last week, elements of, and emotions within, both kurt's and santana's storylines felt like they'd been plucked directly from my life. it was uncanny, and the episode therefore resonated strongly.

and tonight, the ballad ("get it right") rachel sang at regionals was something i could have written, word for word. in fact, some of the lyrics she performed were phrases i actually have used, word for word.

i know those words. i know those feelings. not just from when i was a teenager, but even as an adult.

sometimes, i'm amazed at how something as universal as an episode of a TV show can simultaneously seem so specific and precise as to speak directly to each individual viewer and his or her personal journey.

well done, ryan murphy and company.

please hold the line

change, for me, always feels scary. there's been a fair bit of change in my life over the past week, and i'm still in the process of getting everything squared away and sorted. but i notice i'm much better at it now than i would have been, say, last year at this time.

as such, blog content hasn't really been a priority, though the changes have spawned a couple of ideas. one about storytelling, one about goodbyes. i don't know that i'll actually write either, but there you go. they're being mulled.

in the meantime, here's a quick story about a goodbye: earlier today, i went downstairs to say goodbye to my super. i'd bought her a small gift and wrote her a card, thanking her for everything she's done and wishing her all the best for the future. all day, i'd worried that i might actually start to cry when i said goodbye. goodbyes, for me, are often hard, and i really didn't want to weird her out by getting teary in her living room.

when i arrived at her door, she ushered me in. she was chatting with the new super, henceforth to be known as super2, and she introduced me. then she invited me to sit down, and we all wound up talking for an hour and a half. it was exactly what i needed.

it allowed me to sit and spend some time with my super before she leaves, and to really bask in the immeasurable joy she was very clearly feeling. she is THRILLED to be saying goodbye to her job and to tenants like the creep and the weirdo. she was practically giddy, and it was nice to hear stories about her late husband, and the years they ran the building together. (again, i was worried i'd get choked up when she started talking about him but, thankfully, i did not.)

it also gave me a chance to suss out, and get to know, super2. she's very nice, and chatting with her about tenants (and noise and smoking and all the things that make someone a bad neighbour) was very comforting and reassuring. i'm the kind of tenant who needs to know the person(s) running the show can handle the job, and i now know she can. even through the chaos at hell house, i had a tight bond with the super at that building, and we were allies in the same battle. despite the nightmare i was leaving when i finally moved out, when i turned in my keys to him on my last day i totally started crying.

anyway...

super2 really seems like she'll run a tight, if cordial, ship. good.

by the time i stood up, gave my super a big hug goodbye and headed back to my apartment, i felt so much better. though i'll miss her presence in the building, i waited for the elevator with the sense that everything will work out just fine, and that the transition from old guard to new will be a smooth one.

and i didn't cry.

this time.

musical interlude

aw, F-WORD

my super just came to see me.

she's decided to leave the building. and, obviously, her job.

she leaves on tuesday (in four days!), and wanted to let me know personally before she goes.

damn.

reflecting on a rainy walk

code blue

tonight, i was reminded three times in less than half an hour that life is short and that it can end, quite literally, in a heartbeat.

i was at my meditation group, which meets at a hospital, when it happened.

when i first arrived, i was in the process of taking off my jacket when a code-blue announcement came over the P.A. system. the hospital has a colour coding system that looks like a rainbow, and a code blue is cardiac arrest.

the code is always announced in an appropriately urgent tone by whomever is manning the microphone, and it always contains information about the wing, the floor and the room number. then it’s repeated. sometimes more than once.

a few minutes later, another announcement was made, asking that the family of (insert patient name) please return “immediately” to a room in the I.C.U.

that announcement was also repeated, and i wondered if the two incidents were related. either way, it was sad and my mind imagined all sorts of scenarios that might be taking place bedside.

then, perhaps 15 minutes later and during the hear-a-pin-drop silence of our first meditation, another code blue sliced through the quiet. another wing, another floor, another room. it, too, was broadcast with urgency and repeated three times.

it’s always a strange thing when a code, especially a blue one, comes over the loudspeaker while we're meditating. it very rarely happens but, on those occasions when it does occur, my nurse friend (who leads the group) usually asks that the group silently send compassion and good thoughts to the room where the emergency is unfolding. a few times, a follow-up announcement has been made, declaring the code cancelled, which means all was made well again.

tonight, there were three emergencies in under 30 minutes.

and none were cancelled.

and, each time the ceiling speakers exhaled the distinct click-and-hum of the P.A. system being turned on, i was reminded in a tangible, audible way that, in that very instant, lives were changing. in those seconds, someone might be losing a parent or a child or a spouse or a sibling or a friend. right then, a final goodbye was perhaps being whispered, or a life was maybe ending in isolation... without goodbyes because the tide had suddenly turned while the family had quickly stepped out for coffee.

it was very weird and i found myself feeling momentarily overwhelmed in that “make sure you hug your mom every chance you get” kind of way. the subtle but profound message of life’s ephemeralness had been delivered, quite clearly, three times in a row.

click-and-hum.

code blue.

eyes closed, sitting in silence, i almost started to cry.

in life, as in travel...

for the past three days, pretty much all day every day, i’ve been researching travel.

i have googled and tripadvised and bedbugregistered and expedia-ed and hotwired and pricelined and airlined and everything in between. and it's been something of an unexpected eye-opener... not about travel, but about myself.

to begin: the annual jaunt to florida is now, sadly, officially off. after careful consideration, mom and i realized it was just too costly an undertaking – everything would be more expensive (condo, flights, car), and it would be a big chunk of change we’d be dropping.

then, last friday, mom called me to say she’d been thinking of other possible destinations. at first she floated ottawa, but i explained that, while fun and interesting, ottawa would be more of a four-day-type vacation. anything more than that there and we’d probably be bored silly.

“well, i was also looking at chicago...”, she said.

chicago?

for years, we went to chicago each spring or fall. there was a train that ran from toronto to the windy city, and a return ticket was something like $140, so we’d hop on, head down and hang out for a week. then, in 2002, that amtrak route was axed and so were our annual chicago trips.

so, the idea of heading back after nine years was appealing.

long story short: i spent much of friday, saturday, sunday and yesterday up to my eyeballs in the hows and whens and how muches... and then, last night, we finally booked the whole thing in about 20 minutes. AND at a really sweet discount, thanks to mom calling the (fancy) hotel directly and playing dumb about discount-travel sites. the hotel actually matched the über-cheap nightly rate ($80 a night less!) we’d found on expedia, and booking directly with the hotel means we can now cancel or change our reservations without any penalty.

while i was doing all this, i was also researching a trip to iceland in august. my friends ericanddan are getting married there, and i’ve been trying to work out how i’ll get myself over to bjork’s homeland to join in the festivities. it’s still a work in progress and nothing has yet been booked, but i’m getting closer. i just wish airfares would drop a smidge, or that there were more direct flights from toronto to reykjavik. and back.

and, here's the thing: over the past several days, i’ve also observed a curious pattern in myself, and one that i notice repeats itself over and over again in all areas of my life: excitement vs. panic.

when pondering chicago, i was excited about the prospect of going back to a city i absolutely love... followed very quickly by my extreme bed-bug panic. (chicago is one of the top five infested cities in the U.S.) i kept squashing my own enthusiasm, imagining all sorts of problems, and even got to the point where i thought about telling my mom i really didn’t want to go, after all.

likewise, when considering reykjavik, there’s been a lot of back and forth, both emotionally and logistically. it was “iceland! how cool!” on one side, and “iceland? that’s far... that’s expensive... you can’t afford that kind of vacation, you haven’t worked in almost two years!” on the other. anticipation about going somewhere completely new and foreign vs. total fear of the unknown, which is really what’s behind the anxiety. (as a side note: fear of the unknown is something i’ve struggled with all my life and, at times, it’s paralyzed me.)

it’s been interesting to observe how readily and easily i was willing to undermine myself and my own sense of adventure, and how prepared i was to just skip it all and stay home because that would be much safer and less stressful and sounded much more logical. it was only after thinking about it further that i realized how small i was making my world.

and i don't want to be my father, living within a 20-foot radius of my recliner, so making my world small -- and doing so out of fear -- is a habit i don't wish to cement.

this recurring theme in my life is something i’ve been examining each time i recognize it happening again. what i’m hoping is that the more i can catch myself walking in that well-worn track, the more quickly i’ll be able to stop, step out and start to focus on the positives instead of the myriad things that might go wrong.

donuts, decisions and gettin' stuff done

∆ i am so sleepy right now. i went for a big walk, came home and ate a giant apple with a pile of cashews, and am presently drowsy enough for a long nap. the skies are dark, it’s raining out and my living room has become very dimly lit and extremely nap-friendly. but i know if i grab the afghan and stretch out on big red, i’ll sleep far too long and be wide awake tonight. so, nap: nixed.

∆ i need to go shopping. living downtown means budget shopping is a challenge, and i’m not really willing to pay the inflated prices that come with “convenience” (nor would it be sensible). for cheap stuff, and lots of it, i need to head to the ‘burbs, so that’s what i’m doing this weekend. i’ve been trying to eat a bit healthier of late, and want to stock up on staples like beans and legumes and grains, butter, frozen fruit for smoothies, maybe even soy milk (for same) if i can find some that tastes good and doesn’t cost a thousand dollars. i also need some cleaning supplies (hello, wal-mart), kleenex, toilet paper and a new notebook for my creativity-recovery workshop’s daily pages. i’ve already filled one completely!

∆ this week, i learned that krispy kreme has opened a downtown toronto location. KRISPY. KREME. apparently, it’s been open since november (?!)... and i had no idea (?!?!?!?!). yes, i know, i just moments ago said i want to try to eat a bit healthier, but the key words there are “a bit.” i will still be eating desserts, and the 40-minute-or-so walk in each direction to and from the krispy kreme should more than burn off the two glazed raspberry filled donuts that are currently sitting there with my name on them. and, since the store is right across the street from a high school, i know the turnover of their inventory will be such that fresh donuts will be on the racks all day long.

∆ i saw The Adjustment Bureau and really enjoyed it.

∆ my new keens are fantastic. i’ve worn them on three walks (one short, one medium, one long) over the past two days, and they’ve performed wonderfully. no blisters, no weird spots that rubbed, no breaking in. right out of the box and onto the feet and out into the world.

∆ i’m way behind in my creativity-recovery workshop homework. there are a number of assignments every week, and i’ve been letting those slide week after week for many weeks. i think the remainder of today will be spent at my dining table, assignments in front of me, so i can at least chip away at some of them. thing is, with each passing week the creative to-do list just got bigger and bigger, and more and more unmanageable. so, i need to start moving some of those pebbles one at a time if i ever hope to get any of the done.

∆ much to my delight, paid work has continued to come in, in various sizes and shapes. much of it is smaller stuff, 100 words here or 300 words there, but it’s work. every trickle adds to the river, and i’m extremely grateful for this professional shift in a positive direction. i feel a bit like i’m on a ropes course, where there are rings suspended in the air by ropes and i have to get across a field by swinging from one to the next. as long as there’s another ring onto which i can grab (so that i can keep moving forward), i’m good to go. so far, the rings keep appearing.

∆ jimmy fallon is now back on at a reasonable hour here in toronto: 10pm on MMM! this discovery has made my week, frankly.

∆ my annual jaunt to florida with mom hit a few snags, but looks like it might be back on track. we found out that the condo we usually rent is booked through july, so we’ve been looking at other options and, after some fruitless weeks, we may have found one. bigger, nicer and on the top floor of the same building. it’s more expensive, but we both agree that the convenience of knowing the area, knowing the building, not needing a map to get around, and the extra bedroom and bathroom and perks, are worth the extra money. and, since neither dad nor trix will be heading down this year, i get my pick of dates and can stay for as long as i’d like (up to the full two weeks). we’ll be deciding for sure by weekend’s end.

∆ there are far too many new TV series premiering this sunday night. catching them all will be challenging.

two down!

i finished another month's worth of daily photos. :-D