My friend called me the other night to make a request. She had plans of lying low for the evening and watching chic flicks to relax from a crazy week. It was with those plans in mind that she called me before heading to the video store thinking I would be able to provide a selection of appropriate chic flick choices. And her thinking was correct...I confess that I do have a large selection of such movies, as I have a tendancy to watch movies repeatedly (read: more than 1/2 a dozen times), so I have developed a bit of a girlie movie library. So, why, thought my friend, go to Pic-a-Flic when I can borrow from the Elise library? Unfortunately all movies have been packed, with the exception of three standards: Meet Joe Black, Sense and Sensibility, and Pride and Prejudice. I had to keep some out...in case of movie-watching emergencies.
So far there have been no movie-watching emergencies, as my cable has been providing appropriate movies for my mood. For example, I found myself taking tonight off to relax before venturing into the upcoming craziness that will be the week o'moving, and settled down to watch "Little Women" with my tea, and latest knitting project (oh, I am so 28 going on 70!). Blame it on the under 5 hours of sleep that I got post-night shift, but I found myself a little more sensitive than usual to the emotional moments of the story (I was a bit of mess by the time Jo came back to see Beth before she...well...you know the story). Anyways, I couldn't help but remember how when I had first seen the movie, and I must have been 14 or 15, and being completely incensed when Jo turned Laurie's marriage proposal down, and then she went and married the old, German philosophy professor. I didn't get it at all!! All I remember about that first viewing, was being terribly dissappointed with the ending.
I had a similar reaction to Sense and Sensibility when Marianne ended up with Colonel Brandon. "Colonel Brandon. Seriously?" I thought. "Oh but he's old, and talks weird and creepy-like!! Not nearly as dreamy as Willoughby, scandalous as he may be."
And now, with twice as much life experience under my belt and it's accompanying perspective and insight, my heart swells at the endings of these two great stories. And I can recognize, maybe like Jo did, that the easiest or most obvious choice isn't always the best choice. And sometimes love surprises us in unexpected places, and from unexpected people.
I look forward to the day when I am surprised by love. And maybe that's what keeps me watching these stories repeatedly...the hope for that day.
I just let out a contented sigh. I'm pretty sure this designates me as your classic, hopeless romantic...or more correctly a hopeful romantic. And I'm okay with that.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
The End of an Era
There are about a million other things I should be doing right now. Things like laundry, and sorting my kitchen utensils, packing the various and sundry things that fill my closets to overflowing, and filling out my change of address forms, just to name a few...but yet I'm here. I'm here writing. I think I'm going through paper-writing withdrawl, and my fingers don't know what to do with themselves...that, and I'm feeling especially reflective as the end of an era approaches: the Era of the Apartment of Greatness.
I had an apartment in Calgary for almost three years that I shared with Andrea. It was my first apartment, and so even with it's lack of style, stark white apartment walls, tiny kitchen, and possibly the ugliest bathroom I've ever known, I loved it. It was a sign of growing independence, and it was mine...in all it's ghetto glory. We neighboured an adult video store, and across the street was a liquor store, and our "recycling program" was leaving bottles out for the homeless guy we heard coming as his grocery cart rattled down the alley-way. It was great...but a little awkward when giving directions to our place to friends after church "You'll approach the liquor store on the right, and then just turn left at the XXX video store and we're right there". And when Andrea and left our little 900sq foot pad of memories, I knew it was the end of an era, and that there would many stories that started with "This one time in our apartment..."
When I moved back to Victoria, my only criteria in finding a place to live was that it be a quirky apartment, with a coffee shop close by, and within walking distance of the ocean. If you look over my patio wall you will see 3 coffee shops, all within a block, and just 4 more blocks down there is the beach, and I'm not sure if you can get much quirkier than the little apartment above the dry cleaners. I've started to pack up my things, and find myself packing up memories, and patterns of life, as Kendal and I wonder who we will come home to and say "You'll never guess what happened?!?!"
If I was a poetic soul, I would write an Ode To The Apartment of Greatness. It would include a few lines about the patio that was almost as big as the apartment itself. Maybe a quick mention of spiderman themed patio-pool with "swim-up bar" (also known as the 2 ft patio table). There would be a whole verse about the breakfast nook, with it's retro cushions (thank you, Tricia). There would have to be mention of the smell of cinnamon buns baking that would waft up from the bakery next door. And definitely a line or two about how most days you could smell the ocean upon walking out the door. There would be a lamenting verse or two about the tribulations of sugar-ant infestation, and about the ridiculous levels of heat experienced in the summer as the steam floated upward from the cleaners. And finally it would end with a verse celebrating all the gatherings of friends and family that the little apartment had seen; the friends from far and wide; the impromptu dance parties; the sleep overs under the Christmas tree; the meals big and small; the laughter heard...
It would be a lovely Ode...if only I was a bit more poetic...
I had an apartment in Calgary for almost three years that I shared with Andrea. It was my first apartment, and so even with it's lack of style, stark white apartment walls, tiny kitchen, and possibly the ugliest bathroom I've ever known, I loved it. It was a sign of growing independence, and it was mine...in all it's ghetto glory. We neighboured an adult video store, and across the street was a liquor store, and our "recycling program" was leaving bottles out for the homeless guy we heard coming as his grocery cart rattled down the alley-way. It was great...but a little awkward when giving directions to our place to friends after church "You'll approach the liquor store on the right, and then just turn left at the XXX video store and we're right there". And when Andrea and left our little 900sq foot pad of memories, I knew it was the end of an era, and that there would many stories that started with "This one time in our apartment..."
When I moved back to Victoria, my only criteria in finding a place to live was that it be a quirky apartment, with a coffee shop close by, and within walking distance of the ocean. If you look over my patio wall you will see 3 coffee shops, all within a block, and just 4 more blocks down there is the beach, and I'm not sure if you can get much quirkier than the little apartment above the dry cleaners. I've started to pack up my things, and find myself packing up memories, and patterns of life, as Kendal and I wonder who we will come home to and say "You'll never guess what happened?!?!"
If I was a poetic soul, I would write an Ode To The Apartment of Greatness. It would include a few lines about the patio that was almost as big as the apartment itself. Maybe a quick mention of spiderman themed patio-pool with "swim-up bar" (also known as the 2 ft patio table). There would be a whole verse about the breakfast nook, with it's retro cushions (thank you, Tricia). There would have to be mention of the smell of cinnamon buns baking that would waft up from the bakery next door. And definitely a line or two about how most days you could smell the ocean upon walking out the door. There would be a lamenting verse or two about the tribulations of sugar-ant infestation, and about the ridiculous levels of heat experienced in the summer as the steam floated upward from the cleaners. And finally it would end with a verse celebrating all the gatherings of friends and family that the little apartment had seen; the friends from far and wide; the impromptu dance parties; the sleep overs under the Christmas tree; the meals big and small; the laughter heard...
It would be a lovely Ode...if only I was a bit more poetic...
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Where is Chaka Khan when you need her?
After a beautiful and wonderful holiday time spent with family, dear friends...and patients, I have been able to have a few days off before venturing to the ICU as a full fledged Critical Care Nurse (which means I passed my course...woo hoo! Insert a bowing me here). Last evening after a day spent with some of my favorite people, I had a night all to myself. By 9 o'clock I was in my christmas penguin flannel pj's and threw on a cardigan to stay warm in our very chilly apartment. As I was putting on my cardigan, I had a sudden realization that I looked quite similar to a brunette version of Bridget Jones in one of the scenes from the movie, and laughed to myself as I turned on the tv only to find Bridget Jones was on! Brilliant - How perfect!! (Just so you know, I said that last line with a British accent!)
As I watched, I found a few more similarities with myself and Bridge last night, beyond our unfortunate yet comfy outfits. There is a scene in the movie where Bridget is picking herself up from the disappointment of the devastingly handsome yet cheating Daniel, and she puts on the song "I'm Every Woman" sung by none other than Chaka Khan, and proceeds to start changing her life for the better.
I am having one of those Chaka Khan moments...without the vodka...and without the reason of a horrible cheating boyfriend...so maybe the parallels between me and Bridge are limited...but I'm okay with that.
I keep waiting for the song to break out overhead as I look at the exciting things this new year holds. Tomorrow I start my new job. A position I have just finished almost a year a half preparing for. Later this month I will move into my own place, sans le roommate. It must be noted, that I do LOVE my roommate - she is fabulous, as most of my 13 roommates have been, but it's just time to venture on my own. And of course there are the New Year's Commitments I have made (please note, I did not say "resolution"...semantics, I'm sure...but New Year's Resolutions have such a non-commital connotation to them) that include healthier living and a more purposeful and positive existence (note to reader: vagueness intended. I can't be telling everyone this kind of stuff!).
So here's to 2008...as corny as it sounds, I really do believe it's going to be great! And if you see me smiling and bobbing my head to music that isn't there...I'm probably "hearing" Chaka Khan, so feel free to sing along!
Happy New Year, Friends!
As I watched, I found a few more similarities with myself and Bridge last night, beyond our unfortunate yet comfy outfits. There is a scene in the movie where Bridget is picking herself up from the disappointment of the devastingly handsome yet cheating Daniel, and she puts on the song "I'm Every Woman" sung by none other than Chaka Khan, and proceeds to start changing her life for the better.
I am having one of those Chaka Khan moments...without the vodka...and without the reason of a horrible cheating boyfriend...so maybe the parallels between me and Bridge are limited...but I'm okay with that.
I keep waiting for the song to break out overhead as I look at the exciting things this new year holds. Tomorrow I start my new job. A position I have just finished almost a year a half preparing for. Later this month I will move into my own place, sans le roommate. It must be noted, that I do LOVE my roommate - she is fabulous, as most of my 13 roommates have been, but it's just time to venture on my own. And of course there are the New Year's Commitments I have made (please note, I did not say "resolution"...semantics, I'm sure...but New Year's Resolutions have such a non-commital connotation to them) that include healthier living and a more purposeful and positive existence (note to reader: vagueness intended. I can't be telling everyone this kind of stuff!).
So here's to 2008...as corny as it sounds, I really do believe it's going to be great! And if you see me smiling and bobbing my head to music that isn't there...I'm probably "hearing" Chaka Khan, so feel free to sing along!
Happy New Year, Friends!
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