Archive for June, 2009

Spaces

If I were to choose a movie to watch it would either be a kid’s film, or a romantic comedy.  So last night I surfed the channels for something to watch and picked a sappy chick flick that had obvious plot holes, was not all that interesting, but had attractive actors that I nonetheless hoped would find love in the end (they did, of course).

And as I watched the movie, it occurred to me that when I tried to relate to the movie, I found myself longing to be there, but not for the reasons you might think.  I do not long to be in search of love.  I do not long for a romantic happily ever after any different than my current life.  What I longed for, dear people, was the heroine’s kick a** house.  There was space.  There were glorious windows.  And a porch.  And the gardens were weeded.  And there was no clutter.  I am not even sure what the hero’s house looked like because whenever he was shown in his home he was in a chair with a beer, but I have no doubt it would be a spacious, immaculate, well lit abode as well.

The houses of movies are always dream homes. Heck, even Shrek lived in a house that was clutter free.  That just isn’t my life.  But oh, how I want it to be.  Space, and storage, and light… I long for that.  Almost as I long to be in the position to make that a reality.

People in movies never have rented homes with creepy clay basements.  Any bathroom lineups shown have the purpose of building tension or delivering a punch line.  They never do laundry (though I have no doubt they would have laundry facilities to die for) or clean beyond clearing a dinner table or drying a dish.  And the homes are almost always bigger than a single person living alone needs.

I feel I must clarify that this is not a rant.  I am not at all complaining, for I have a place to live that accommodates the people and critters that are my family.  We have a roof, a working furnace, and a fridge covered in art work.  And those are very big blessings.  But it is not my dream home.  This is about the dream.

My dream house is not a mansion.  It is roomy though, but not so large that I couldn’t clean it easily myself.  It has a modest garden, or window boxes… just enough to make it pretty, but wouldn’t make me feel like I needed a team of gardeners to keep up with or like a failure when I don’t.  It has a washer and dryer that is not in the basement.  It has storage and big closets.  There are at least three bedrooms (though a spare would be a bonus) and there is room to do more than just walk around the furniture.  It has shelves and cupboards and drawers that work, and all our stuff is in those things.  There is room to bake.  And a welcoming place to take off your boots. And lots of windows.  Maybe there is a deck, or a porch, or even just bench outside to read and think and stretch one’s imagination.  It feels like home.  Maybe something like this.

Is your living space your dream house?  If so, what makes it feel that way?  If not, what does your dream space look like?  I’d love to hear from you.

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Life Planning

Rainbow was drawing in her sketch book on the couch while I folded laundry.

Rainbow: Did you ever meet anyone royal?

Me: Yes.  I have seen Princess Diana and Prince Charles, and Prince Edward and Sophie, but I have only met Sophie.  I shook her hand.  She was very nice.

Rainbow: Is she a princess?

Me: A Countess, I think.

Rainbow: Do all the queens in the world have short curly white hair?

Me: Well… Queen Elizabeth certainly does, but there are probably queens of other countries that look different.  Maybe.

Rainbow: So how do you get to be a princess?

Me: You either have to be born one or marry one.

[Long silent pause]

Rainbow: So, if someone else in your family marries a prince can you still live in a castle?

No pressure there Dolittle.  No pressure at all.  🙂

Apparently I’m a Good Liar

1. There is a squirrel in my attic.  And my kids want to keep it.

This is a lie. While I have no doubt that my kids would want to keep pretty much any critter that wanted to occupy our household, I don’t even know if I have an attic.

2. Pot holes on my side-street were fixed within days of asking the city to fix them.

True. And it’s a good thing they got fixed because I could have lost a kid in those things.

3. I recently got an email from the chief of police.

True. Our city’s finest responded via email regarding certain local parking issue I have.  They haven’t yet done what they said they would do, but baby steps people. Baby steps.

4. I was the last person to leave a bar last weekend, and the evening ended with my mother getting a black eye.

True. I waited for my father to lock up his business (a bar).  Later my mother fell and got a black eye.

5. I went out for a special coffee today and one of my companions wore no shoes to the café.  She was not served.

True. And the adorable stockinged feet belonged to beautiful Bon’s baby.

6. I practiced writing my name with my toes today.  Just because.

True.
What can I say… seemed like a good idea at the time.

Five & a Lie

Spot the lie:

  1. There is a squirrel in my attic.  And my kids want to keep it.
  2. Pot holes on my side-street were fixed within days of asking the city to fix them.
  3. I recently got an email from the chief of police.
  4. I was the last person to leave a bar last weekend, and the evening ended with my mother getting a black eye.
  5. I went out for a special coffee today and one of my companions wore no shoes to the café.  She was not served.
  6. I practiced writing my name with my toes today.  Just because.

Wordless Wednesday: Charlottetown Turns 154

charlottetown

On potential (or lack thereof)

Bonnie, over at Crib Chronicles, asked recently about reaching one’s potential.  I am not only a late bloomer, but of late have questioned if I’ll ever bloom at all.

Fact is, my life has followed an almost accidental path.  One thing lead to the next and the next with no real end goal but to be a provider.  It has lead me to some interesting positions and some not so interesting ones. It has given me a breadth of skills and experience and educational opportunities.  And now it seems to lead no where.

I am approaching almost the 6 month mark on unemployment and to date I have found one short-term temp position. One by one, job hopes have crashed and burned.  And as rejections build, I feel more broken and bruised inside. I know the economy is bad right now.  I know Canada’s unemployment rate is at an 11-year high.  But each ‘no’ cuts deeper and deeper into an ever eroding self-confidence.

For me, it is not about what I want to be when I grow up.  It’s about survival.

But shall we play “what if”?  Like, what if survival wasn’t crucial, and I could do (or train to do) almost anything… I have no clue.  You see, the imaginary fictional me in my brain is like a cartoon character.  She has a cape and really cool boots.  She can dance, and figure skate, and probably has an academy award in her closet.  She can even program her own VCR.  (None of which I have or can do). But her job?  I have no clue.  What does she contribute to society?  Again, I have no clue.  But she’s fun and she makes me laugh.

While it is hard to separate self-perceived potential from one’s employment or position in life, I suppose that potential is, in fact, more than that. What exactly could someone say about me?  I fear I may be the most unremarkable person I know.  (Should that add pressure to achieve or take the pressure off??)

Here is what I do know: for all of the crap of the last decade or so… the loss of a business, a house, a son, a job… tomorrow still comes.  We navigate the crap and try to make it to the next moment, we cry and grieve when our soul screams in agony, we forgive ourselves our failings, and we seek out whatever joy and laughter we can, where ever we can, when ever we can.  (And by “we” I probably mean me and my imaginary caped crusader cartoon self, because when I wrote the sentence with “I” it seemed kind of pompous).

What can I say… My life is a work in progress.  Maybe one day I’ll find my path.  Maybe one day I’ll even know what my potential is.  And one day I hope that the world can say:  Sockie survived. And sometimes Sockie even laughed.


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