Thursday, May 3, 2012

Loving The Life

I could get used to being unemployed. So far? It's been fabulous.
My last day was Tuesday May 1. It was quiet in the office, just 3 of us there; and since everyone moved up to the vacated executive 'wing' I was alone in the back - so it was especially quiet.

At 4 pm (roughly) I closed down my computer, grabbed my purse and box of personal items, said goodbye to Denise and left the building with Shannon. (It was entirely fitting that I spend my last day at Arrow with Shannon, as, over the years, she had a number of 'last days', only to be hired back the following summer. She's an expert at how to celebrate/cope with last days.)

We hopped in my truck and headed south to the ocean. Where we walked and talked and ate fishnchips then went to a cheap movie:

And we totally got our money's worth.
Do not pay more than $6 to see this movie. If there was a plot, I missed it because of all the eye candy. And I don't mean Zac's pecs. It was just such a pretty movie to watch. The lighting. The panoramic views. The softness. The color. And yeah, Zac's pecs.

Then? When I got home?
I zipped back into the 80's by finishing off this book that I had started the day before:

Oh my goodness.
By the time I finished reading, at 3 am, I desperately needed a Rob-a-thon; where can I get my hands on The Outsiders, About Last Night, St. Elmo's Fire, Youngblood...?

If the '80's was 'your' decade, then this book will bring back memories. 
And also? It demonstrates how 'location, location, location' has alot to do with opportunities. Sometimes 'proximity' makes all the difference ... in friendships, in education,  in opportunities. 
When Rob's mom moved her sons to California, they randomly lived on the same street as the Sheens. He and his brother Chad hung out with Emilio and Charlie all the time. Also in the neighbourhood? The Penns. 
And Robert Downey Jr.

Who you hang out with has a huge impact on who you become.
Choose your friends wisely.


Today? The first day of my new life?
I slept in. (Told Drew he could take the truck and drive himself to school.)
Then cleaned the kitchen, and baked, and cleaned the kitchen again.
Wrote some letters, answered some emails, did some laundry, washed my hair, and while I did all that? My gardens got weeded.
I seriously hate weeding. So I hired someone to do it for me. It took her exactly 4 hours to do the entire yard.
So while she worked outside, I worked inside. We both did activities that don't suck the life out of us.
Win. Win.


I visited my dad this afternoon. He seemed confused. And he said he had a headache. Plus he kept trying to get out of bed. When we asked him where he was going, he said "I want to go to bed now." (See what I mean about the confusion?)

Oh dad.


Heather invited me to walk around Vancouver with her this afternoon, then go see Chris Botti this evening. I said sure even though I had no idea who Chris Botti was.

I do now.

We ended up driving in with two more of Heather's friends and having dinner at a pub downtown. Kingstons. Seriously great atmosphere and fabulous food.
Then we walked over to the Orpheum.
And as we took our seats (on the main level, right near the front. I will go on dates with this woman whenever she asks) and I saw the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra on stage, warming up.

I was so not expecting this.
When she invited me to see Chris Botti, I had no idea what I was in for. I didn't think to ask what venue we'd be going to, or who else would be preforming. I was stunned and woefully underdressed. The concert hall was sold out and just about every male in the room was wearing a suit. Heather observed that there were probably a lot of doctors in the house.

So anyway.
It was jazz.

Probably my least favorite genre of music.
I just don't get it.
It always sounds like they're warming up... like ... there's no definitive, dance-able beat. No melody. No lyrics. Just SOUND. A hot mess of sound.

Heather assured me that Chris's music would bring me to tears.
I didn't want to disappoint her, but I just couldn't see that happening.

And then.
Then I stopped trying to understand the music, and just let it wash over me. I stopped trying to figure out the tune, and just watched each musician.

And by the time the they were performing their first encore, I DID have tears in my eyes. It was incredible.


1. Watching someone do their 'thing' with excellence and joy is sexy. I've said this before; it doesn't matter if it's carpentry, preaching, pruning hedges or playing the trumpet... if you're passionate about it, and you do it like a pro? Well, golly. Then it's a privilege to watch.

2. There's something about teamwork that is appealing, no? Even if you personally are an 'independent worker' - there is something about watching a group of people (musicians, athletes, framing crew, videographers, any team, really) that is inspiring. And this creates a longing for that kind of confidence in, and respect for, some companions. Like minded, equally gifted, passion-filled folks coming together and being given permission and encouragement to be their best is a beautiful thing to watch.

3. My dad has a new roommate in Room 9. He is originally from India and he has brought with him a ghetto blaster that plays music from his homeland. After ten minutes in the room, my nerves are on edge. This? Is music?

Every morning when I drive Drew to school, he searches his ipod for perfect 'driving to school' music. I listen to it for the 7 minute commute and the second he leaves the truck? I turn it off. That? Was music?

I can remember my dad lying down, flat on his back, with no pillow under his head, on the royal blue carpeted floor in front of our stereo-system-record-player-furniture-piece at the home we lived in on Dawes Hill Road in Coquitlam.  He'd put on a stack of country and western albums, ranging from Johnny Cash to Nancy Sinatra, and fall asleep. By the time the last record dropped onto the turntable, it was turning at less than half speed from all the weight. Mom would be beside herself - El Paso by Marty Robbins was bad enough at full speed, listening to it at half speed made her want to claw her face off. (Or dad's face off.) This? Was music?


Until I was introduced to Chris Botti. Admittedly, I didn't appreciate anything except his smile, until they played Hallelujah (by Leonard Cohen) (which coincidentally I listened to this week on you tube because I felt like it) and after that? The evening was pure magic. 

So. Maybe, if I try hard enough, I'll come to love Drew's music someday too?


valerie said...

You willing to try Les Miserables with me again one day? No sinus infections allowed.

Anonymous said...

lets see:

no job - check
hire a gardener - check
eat out for dinners - check
complain about money - check


Jane said...

Hi Anonymous,
I'm assuming you know me in real life, not just via this blog. I have a feeling I know who you are, because I recognize your 'voice'.

So, for your information only, the gardener is a friend who loves weeding. Yes, I paid her, but it was peanuts.

My dinners out? Are cheap. I don't drink. Nor do I order the King Crab and steak meals. That night at the pub? I ordered a sandwich. And the ticket to the concert? Was a gift.

Re: no job? I have a severance package/holiday pay/income tax return that will see me clear for a couple months.

Please. Stop commenting. If you have a problem with me, just call.

This will probably be the last time I'll publish your anonymous, mean-spirited comments.