At first glance I didn't think I'd be able to figure anything out. My only thought was sheer panic when I discovered that we really didn't bring enough clothes. Not by a long shot. I had organized for five outfits each, consisting of layers because we arrived here in spring. Summer is coming but the mountains are also RIGHT there, so snowy clothes but also things for a hot sunny seaside-walk kind of day.
Good luck.
Ruth has already lost one sweater, and Ben and I discovered that most of our regular wardrobe fell victim to renovating and construction on our previous house and none of it is city-worthy, for when you look closely you can see flecks of paint, some tiny holes and a lot of wear from spending winters up to our earlobes in hardware and tools. All of this stuff is better suited to the aisles of Home Depot and not trendy Hollywood North, oh no, not at all.
(Henry's only issue is that he averages a size a month in growth and is already out of two outfits completely.)
I learned quickly on to eliminate the prairies entirely from conversations when someone would ask me where I am from and talk about Nova Scotia instead. I learned that a cup from Starbucks in hand here doesn't make you stick out like a sore thumb, it makes you fit in. I learned that I can't afford to shop downtown much at all, unless I stick to mass-market chains because I have no use for D&G jeans or anything that cost more than $50, frankly. I mean, look at what I brought! Obviously I can't be trusted with nice things.
I also learned things about Vancouver that really surprise me. There are places that charge a mint to let a family explore and places right next door to those that are free. Both will be equally fun and equally impressive and equally busy.
I learned everyone here smokes.
I learned that everyone is from somewhere else and no one is fond of the real estate prices here. I learned how to walk uphill and how to navigate an elevator with a small perky dog, a coffee, umbrella, handbag, two children, a bag of groceries and the stupid key fob that must be pressed when the floor button is pressed with some sort of coordinated finesse or you'll end up stuck in the lobby for all eternity.
Which has happened so many times I am ashamed.
And people here love dogs and blondes because both are usually undeniably approachable and I learned that men who drive Rolls Royces and Ferraris are somewhat desperate after a certain age. And no one closes their blinds, EVER, but I may have mentioned that before.
I learned I should have packed a printer and fax machine and a third phone for when I'm waiting for callbacks and I learned that cats will shed for weeks after air travel. On everything.
I learned that no one blinks when a celebrity walks by but traffic will come to a standstill when a group of Japanese girls reaches the corner. Especially if they are in plaid skirts and high heels. Most of them seem to be but I don't see any private schools around here. And I would like them to teach me how to walk uphill in high heels because I can't seem to figure it out on my own.
I learned what DTES really looks like. Now that the Olympics are over, the tarnish has returned along with the people under the Shakespeare windows at the Carnegie Centre. When I am driven past them in my expensive new car I see people shooting up, I see people having bad trips, and people buying more bad trips. I see people organizing their belongings for the night on the sidewalk and I see men dressed like women soliciting for sex on the corner and then you blink and you're driving past Gucci, then Hermes, and then Coach.
It's ironic and frightening and sickening and suddenly part of my life as I lament the state of my wardrobe and fret over how long it took to get the money for the sale of my beautiful castle in a far away land. I can't help them. That much I know. I learned that the emotions that play through me when we drive through are not unique but felt by everyone.
I have learned I can't look at the pictures of my old house yet. I can't allow a second to poke around in the dark corners of my head to try on how I feel now that we've been away from it for twenty-three days. I am too busy getting to know this new place. A place where the pizza and donairs taste just like home and the seaweed smells exactly the same but a place where you can walk on the beach at night and not get mugged and mercifully also not get stared at for that tiny hole in the front of your favorite shirt (but only because it's night time and you're on the beach and all of the pretension has fallen away in favor of the awe of sunset over the water. And because you put on that jacket at the last minute. Face it, Bridget, you have a long way to go, style-wise.)
This is a place where you can raise your eyes to the mountaintops and see snow collecting there while down beside the water you collect sweaters from the children because they are sweating. I am learning. Sweaters before lunch, not after.
Tomorrow I have another list of things to get done, and I'll still be amazed by the fashion and the money and the people who smoke with one arm and hug trees with the other. I'll add to the weekend-list of things to see when Ben doesn't have to work and I'll continue to chip away at things like standing out and blending in and enjoying this new alien landscape where everything is beautiful except for the parts that are ugly. Vancouver is a human being. The water is her heart, the DTES is her worst day spent and the endless money is her passion. What a woman. What a place. What a strange and wonderful place.
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Monday, 12 April 2010
Ben says I type too hard and broke it. Hahaha (Wait. Really?)
It was supposed to be a moment of high regard. A brightness that would leave you speechless, a sight that would render you blind. A force that would be remembered for all eternity and eventually a legend.
Instead it's going to be a quiet, miserable non-event. A painful misery no one will ever see. It will be over before anyone has time to say Is anyone there? before they move on to the next leaf, reading the stories with their rapid-fire schizophrenic attention spans, most likely while talking on the phone and perhaps eating something. In a hurry. Distracted. Busy.
Dumb luck is a gift some would pay for and yet it's never available when one goes shopping. Relax is a state we are not worthy enough to consider. Try to read too much into anything and I will horrify you with my efforts to keep you the hell away. I will be behind it in the dark with my apron gathered up tightly, picking up the leaves and stacking them alphabetically in one hand while I wipe away tears with the other.
It was supposed to be instant. Like a cake mix. Like a flash from a bulb.
Ben and I have been very busy rescuing ourselves (long stories, all of them) from all of the hazards and pitfalls lately, left to defend ourselves from life like teenagers the first week out of the nest. I went from having to be in charge twenty-four hours a day to not having enough resolve left to deal with fuck-all and so I turned around and upended the load into his lap and he picked it up and dealt with it and things are better now.
Maybe it's him after all. Ben and daylight and warmth and a whole new jar begun of sea glass just from two short sunset walks on the beach and plans to spend time and have fun and it would be great if Bonham would stop click-clacking all around at night, tap dancing into the bedroom and chasing the cat out, standing up on my side of the bed wanting to cuddle or maybe take a walk outside at some ruthless hour. Argh. The furry baby who doesn't sleep through the night. I really really need sleep. I need a vacation. I need time to get used to this...Pacific Northbest.
Anyway, Lochlan has cobbled my machine together long enough to say hello to you and I am the stubbornnest little thing you will ever meet because I'm not spending money on another goddamned laptop in this lifetime unless it's made of pipe dreams and free-range cheese so take what you can get and know if I must I'll send word via BlackBerry which is the modern day method of princess telegram anyhow. Ask anyone. I've been running a mobile office for weeks with it already and at night I park it in a cold glass of water because it's usually smoking by the time I go to bed.
Wait. Don't take that literally. BlackBerries don't like water. They do like being used and used well. I just wish maybe the screen were a tiny bit bigger and then I could chuck the damn computer right out the window. I might anyway.
PS. I saw a Nissan Pao today and I want one! One painted in shades of lime and tangerine, please, with a stainless steel roof rack for my snowboard. I told Satan (oh, he of the 350Z) that he would soon be outclassed and he laughed and laughed and then forbade me to buy one.
You know what that will bring. Nothing but misery for him.
(Snort.)
Instead it's going to be a quiet, miserable non-event. A painful misery no one will ever see. It will be over before anyone has time to say Is anyone there? before they move on to the next leaf, reading the stories with their rapid-fire schizophrenic attention spans, most likely while talking on the phone and perhaps eating something. In a hurry. Distracted. Busy.
Dumb luck is a gift some would pay for and yet it's never available when one goes shopping. Relax is a state we are not worthy enough to consider. Try to read too much into anything and I will horrify you with my efforts to keep you the hell away. I will be behind it in the dark with my apron gathered up tightly, picking up the leaves and stacking them alphabetically in one hand while I wipe away tears with the other.
It was supposed to be instant. Like a cake mix. Like a flash from a bulb.
Ben and I have been very busy rescuing ourselves (long stories, all of them) from all of the hazards and pitfalls lately, left to defend ourselves from life like teenagers the first week out of the nest. I went from having to be in charge twenty-four hours a day to not having enough resolve left to deal with fuck-all and so I turned around and upended the load into his lap and he picked it up and dealt with it and things are better now.
Maybe it's him after all. Ben and daylight and warmth and a whole new jar begun of sea glass just from two short sunset walks on the beach and plans to spend time and have fun and it would be great if Bonham would stop click-clacking all around at night, tap dancing into the bedroom and chasing the cat out, standing up on my side of the bed wanting to cuddle or maybe take a walk outside at some ruthless hour. Argh. The furry baby who doesn't sleep through the night. I really really need sleep. I need a vacation. I need time to get used to this...Pacific Northbest.
Anyway, Lochlan has cobbled my machine together long enough to say hello to you and I am the stubbornnest little thing you will ever meet because I'm not spending money on another goddamned laptop in this lifetime unless it's made of pipe dreams and free-range cheese so take what you can get and know if I must I'll send word via BlackBerry which is the modern day method of princess telegram anyhow. Ask anyone. I've been running a mobile office for weeks with it already and at night I park it in a cold glass of water because it's usually smoking by the time I go to bed.
Wait. Don't take that literally. BlackBerries don't like water. They do like being used and used well. I just wish maybe the screen were a tiny bit bigger and then I could chuck the damn computer right out the window. I might anyway.
PS. I saw a Nissan Pao today and I want one! One painted in shades of lime and tangerine, please, with a stainless steel roof rack for my snowboard. I told Satan (oh, he of the 350Z) that he would soon be outclassed and he laughed and laughed and then forbade me to buy one.
You know what that will bring. Nothing but misery for him.
(Snort.)
Friday, 9 April 2010
Precedent.
Late into the evenings I would pull on dry jeans and a damp t-shirt over a still-soaked bathing suit and comb my fingers through my wet, tangled hair. I would fetch the stick I had leaning up against a tree, tied with a frayed piece of pink yarn so that none of the boys would steal it and I would seek out Lochlan, throwing myself down beside him at the campfire. He would pass me a hot dog and I would roast it slowly while I listened. That was my space. As the evening grew late I would get tired and rest my head on his shoulder. When he got tired of that he would shrug violently until I woke up and sat up straight, and sometimes he would find a hoodie and wrap it around me and put his arm around my shoulders and hold me close while he nursed a single beer for hours and smile quietly at nothing in particular. Those were some of the best sleeps I ever had. He lives at one hundred and forty degrees.
Like everything with Lochlan, it depended on his mood. Something that hasn't changed much since he was fourteen. Sometimes I think those were the very best days of my life and other times I see how little I have changed, and how I grew to crave that physical intimacy of touch beyond anything else I will ever need. How he will sit back and wait for me but never come to meet me halfway. On anything.
He is still like that. Hot and cold. In the mood or not. You can ask him what's wrong and he'll look at you like you have suddenly sprouted an extra nose or a third arm, or he'll mutter something about being tired to blow you off. The cues leading to that question would be the same. Maddening. So like Lochlan.
Yes, for the past thirty years, he has been the same.
Hey Bridget, here's your hot dog.
What's on it?
Dried mackerel flakes. Just try it, you'll love it.
Really?
Trust me, I know you, princess.
And he smiles at nothing. I still don't understand him at all.
Like everything with Lochlan, it depended on his mood. Something that hasn't changed much since he was fourteen. Sometimes I think those were the very best days of my life and other times I see how little I have changed, and how I grew to crave that physical intimacy of touch beyond anything else I will ever need. How he will sit back and wait for me but never come to meet me halfway. On anything.
He is still like that. Hot and cold. In the mood or not. You can ask him what's wrong and he'll look at you like you have suddenly sprouted an extra nose or a third arm, or he'll mutter something about being tired to blow you off. The cues leading to that question would be the same. Maddening. So like Lochlan.
Yes, for the past thirty years, he has been the same.
Hey Bridget, here's your hot dog.
What's on it?
Dried mackerel flakes. Just try it, you'll love it.
Really?
Trust me, I know you, princess.
And he smiles at nothing. I still don't understand him at all.
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Now everything is easy cause of you.
So.
We bought a house.
A very big house in the forest with a wonderful yard and a veranda (verandah looks so much nicer, and is as proper, according to my sources), a huge kitchen, and more closets and bathrooms than I think I have ever seen in one place at one time. There are many fireplaces and outside you can hear crickets. There are places to hide inside and out. It's not too far from a good school or from the water (frontage for days, all around a point) and the weather here is mild, so ironically, there are big coat closets in each entryway but we will never need our big coats again.
(Unless we go snowboarding, which will be often, let me tell you, though I still currently get hives when I see snow. Think that will pass?)
The house has a time machine also. Ben was quick to point that out. I won't have to wash dishes! A breakfast bar. New construction so no hundred-year old surprises, it was built after Henry was born. Modern character. Good, we were due for a change there.
We finish up our details over the next week or so. Inspection, final banking details, driving past it repeatedly (though we can barely see it from the road) with big smiles if all goes well. I will promise to try to be excited but by nature I tend to be on edge until every last i is dotted and t is crossed and then I am thrilled. Only then. Maybe talk to me after the bank, after the inspection and after the moving truck is gone and I see happens with that. So early May, come back and get your barometer then, when all of it sinks in.
Really I'm still just getting used to this. I've been here just two weeks now and we already have a house. Ben and the children are excited beyond words, so I will just grab their coattails and ride along on their happiness. It is exciting overall. New starts are good for the soul, but new starts in breathtakingly beautiful places are even better. This city is a gift and suddenly every day is my birthday. Even in the rain, even when I can't sleep, I can say that I fell in love again but this time it brings no jealousy.
Maybe this only makes sense if you're here. Like when Ben was trying to describe it and I dismissed his words before. Now that I'm here I totally get it. And I hope that the rest of April goes smoothly, right on through and into May and then I will have another one of those birthday things and will spend it unpacking I bet, unless Ben comes up with a plan to sweep me off my feet for the day. Both would be equally wonderful.
In our new house. With room for EVERYONE.
(Fine, I'm excited. A little.)
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Equivocal rain.
You feed the fire that burned us allWaiting for news sometime in the next hour. Could be good news and sheer panic or it could be relief and resolve. We shall see.
When you lied
To feel the pain that spurs you on
Black inside
Last night I went along and dutifully weighed in on everything that was presented to me by strangers who want to spend my money the way they see fit and in the midst of it Ben and I decided we wanted to be the children and we fired up a lovely argument which made most of the evening unbearable and tense.
I stayed at the penthouse last night only because now when I get angry I tend to just give up and give in. I'll stand behind Caleb for a while and study my own fingerprints because he makes the biggest impact. I'm not sure if I like that or it's the only avenue because I'm exhausted and unsure and ridiculously relieved to be here. I don't know which way is which or which end is up. I'm not sure it matters now what the issue was. We made up. We made out. Case closed. As usual a collective sigh of resigned frustration rises in a chorus. She's not leaving him. Fuck.
(Ben, I mean. Jesus, people.)
In other news, Ben fixed my keyboard. Victory chores. We came out here and some of the goo must have softened and reactivated in the ocean humidity because suddenly all of the major important letters and directional keys were stuck fast and it was so incredibly frustrating. He pulled most of them off and then looked at me. I merely pointed out that I get my money's worth. I buy cheap, disposable laptops and I eat over them, drink over them and cry over them until the words are released in proper order and the letters are stuck down fast. Then a little over a year later I start again. This laptop is worse than the last one though because the old one had nice loud speakers and this one does not.It's been a battle to hear anything from the tinny little speakers and I've been due a new one for a while.
The boys insist it be an Apple product but I resist because I like the threadbare, worn, industrial-type machines, not the sleek hipster ones. I don't want perky bouncing icons and that strange reflective silver. I want something in black, as always and not something new to learn OS-wise, because my brain is completely full up and I am busy learning everything new again. Besides, the old letter placement and temperamental Windows is like a favorite old blanket: it no longer keeps me warm, it's just a comfort thing.
It has to be a magnificently sad day when a sixteen-month-old Acer Aspire is a comfort object. I must be losing my mind.
Wait. Oh, yes. There's one of the posters in the pile from a long time ago:
LOST: One princess mind. Last seen on the East coast, circa 1997.
I can't wait for the day that I get to bitch about my old Macbook Pro, like the boys do. Before they lovingly pet the things and possibly feed them treats. What does a Macbook eat, I wonder? Oh yes, cash. Om nom nom.
Really though, it is inevitable. I do understand that for what I pay in disposable Windows machines I have already paid for the computer I should have purchased, instead of the one that I have.
But the space bar. It works again! And shift. And $, ironically enough.
Not sure for how long, and as I said, I am waiting for news and that news dictates the efforts of the coming days. Cross your fingers or perhaps leave them open if you enjoy seeing me fail. It makes no difference to me at all.
I think I gave up and I gave out and then I gave in and somehow I woke up a state of comfortable flux, snow white duvet hiding the sins of the dark from the bright white of another day, another chance even. I took it. I took the leap. I made the calls and I signed my name and I took the papers I was given and I listened carefully to the instructions and maybe we will land somewhere safe or maybe we'll just keep falling for a bit. Either option is fine tonight, oddly.
Not a good thing, just the state of affairs this evening. It always frightens me most when I am just ambivalent and nothing more.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
.skaerf lortnoC .uoy fo llA
I've seen all of the decadence one person can absorb for one night. Bathrooms that outnumber bedrooms, marble this, that and the other, gas stoves wider than my car, decor that is going to make my belongings look like third-rate castoffs and lovely protected green spaces all around everything so maybe, just maybe, I will be able to sit on my new front veranda and hear the crickets.
If everyone would just shut the hell up, I might.
I'm at the penthouse tonight if anyone needs me. Quiet here, no crickets, only flames.
If everyone would just shut the hell up, I might.
I'm at the penthouse tonight if anyone needs me. Quiet here, no crickets, only flames.
(Princesses should not have to be brave.)
Whatever fire drove me straight out the other end of winter on the high plains has finally gone out and I can't seem to walk out the damn door today. Today of ALL days. And I need to. So I'm going. Jesus, help me or avert your eyes or something. Don't just stand there and watch.
Whatever fire drove me straight out the other end of winter on the high plains has finally gone out and I can't seem to walk out the damn door today. Today of ALL days. And I need to. So I'm going. Jesus, help me or avert your eyes or something. Don't just stand there and watch.
Monday, 5 April 2010
Relish and Catch up.
Mmmmm...listening to all the great covers of Wicked Game that are out there. So far I like Corey's best.
Also found the best color of nail polish in the whole world. Radioactive turquoise, Schuyler called it.
Quiet day, holy.
Also found the best color of nail polish in the whole world. Radioactive turquoise, Schuyler called it.
Quiet day, holy.
Versus best.
It's brighter somehow. I walk along the path now strewn with cherry blossom and magnolia petals, a path colored pink to my delight. The light shines down and everything is soaked, lush and clean. Glorious. It's cool but not bone-chilling, it's vaguely scary without being terrifying anymore.
It's also very hard to turn the wheel that opens the door into the concrete room when it's slick with rain.
He was waiting though, and I got it open because I wouldn't have accepted anything less. I just do it if it needs to be done even though I hurt my hand and pulled that muscle just a little more which means once again when I lie flat on my back and take a deep breath pain roars through my whole body and Ben likes that and presses hard against me. It's alright, I will just sleep on my side afterward, wedged in tightly under Ben's arm, my head pressed underneath his hard chin, his breath warm on my hair, my skin still flush from the agony. I won't move a muscle.
Sleep and heal, sleep and heal. It's the ultimate dragon to chase these days but I'm trying. I bought sleeping pills yesterday because I'm out of ideas. I never get the coffee I want at the right times so I'm not jacked up on caffeine, maybe it's just the adjustment of not being cold, not being alone, not being pushed down under the weight of an unwelcome Prairie sky, perhaps.
I held the magnolia blossom carefully, tucking it into my pocket when I opened the door. Once inside I took it out again, glad that it will still uncrushed, intact. Sort of the way Jacob must feel when he inspects me for further damage than what he has caused, that enables me to utilize his guilt to keep him here.
As if I could let him go.
Is that for me?
Yes. I want you to see what it's like here.
Are you still happy?
Yes. I needed the water back.
I know, princess.
I made a useless motion to touch him and he abruptly stepped back and frowned at me. Dark blue flooded into his pupils and his hair darkened too and he was suddenly closer to me and I dropped my chin accordingly.
Hello, Cole.
Hey, baby. You look beautiful.
Thank you.
Caleb's looking after you.
It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and I nodded in an almost unconscious admittance.
What does Ben say?
Ben's world is ruled by his wants, what do you think?
I think the world is ruled by what you want.
Ha. Then you don't know me so well anymore. maybe you've been gone too long.
I'm right here beside preacher man, and let me tell you he is no less annoying in this state once you get him started.
But it's okay? This arrangement? I know it isn't easy, Cole, but I need things to stay this way just for a little longer.
He desaturated and grew before my eyes and the face I adore beyond words cracked into another soft smile, the kind that melts butter into broth.
Then what, Bridge? What happens next?
I can't tell you that. Because then he will know.
Who? Caleb?
Yes.
He isn't allowed to hurt you. Be careful, princess.
It's far too late for that, Jake.
He frowned and suddenly I was the one bathed in the bright lights, which only served to pinpoint how small and dirty I was, especially on my knees and around my mouth, from keeping up this race in which the only winner is the one who pays the officials to look the other way while the spectators murmur in horror but do nothing. It's a trainwreck and you don't look away, now, do you?
Jacob shook his head and mirrored my gesture from earlier, the one that hurts worse than that muscle inside my body, because he wants to touch me too but for some reason we can't seem to accomplish it, haven't more than once or twice since he spread his wings and they failed him in a way that forever changed everything.
I ignored the failure and I threw myself into his arms and they closed but he wasn't there. He wasn't there and I could hear Cole begin to laugh because that's what he does when he feels pain because he doesn't like knowing that I don't care that he's dead and everything still revolves around Jacob and maybe Ben will never ever get a fair shake unless something changes.
I stepped backwards and stumbled and then I felt him, his huge hand with the nimble thin digits that have traced every millimeter of skin that I wear, closing around my elbow so that I didn't fold to the floor. Ice cold today. Uncharacteristically ice old.
You need to go, princess. This isn't safe for you either.
And then I blinked and he vanished into the rain again. I'm really fucking sick of not being allowed to ever say goodbye. I need to figure out how to leave him on my terms instead of his. He gets everything and it isn't fair.
They get everything and it. isn't. fair.
It's also very hard to turn the wheel that opens the door into the concrete room when it's slick with rain.
He was waiting though, and I got it open because I wouldn't have accepted anything less. I just do it if it needs to be done even though I hurt my hand and pulled that muscle just a little more which means once again when I lie flat on my back and take a deep breath pain roars through my whole body and Ben likes that and presses hard against me. It's alright, I will just sleep on my side afterward, wedged in tightly under Ben's arm, my head pressed underneath his hard chin, his breath warm on my hair, my skin still flush from the agony. I won't move a muscle.
Sleep and heal, sleep and heal. It's the ultimate dragon to chase these days but I'm trying. I bought sleeping pills yesterday because I'm out of ideas. I never get the coffee I want at the right times so I'm not jacked up on caffeine, maybe it's just the adjustment of not being cold, not being alone, not being pushed down under the weight of an unwelcome Prairie sky, perhaps.
I held the magnolia blossom carefully, tucking it into my pocket when I opened the door. Once inside I took it out again, glad that it will still uncrushed, intact. Sort of the way Jacob must feel when he inspects me for further damage than what he has caused, that enables me to utilize his guilt to keep him here.
As if I could let him go.
Is that for me?
Yes. I want you to see what it's like here.
Are you still happy?
Yes. I needed the water back.
I know, princess.
I made a useless motion to touch him and he abruptly stepped back and frowned at me. Dark blue flooded into his pupils and his hair darkened too and he was suddenly closer to me and I dropped my chin accordingly.
Hello, Cole.
Hey, baby. You look beautiful.
Thank you.
Caleb's looking after you.
It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and I nodded in an almost unconscious admittance.
What does Ben say?
Ben's world is ruled by his wants, what do you think?
I think the world is ruled by what you want.
Ha. Then you don't know me so well anymore. maybe you've been gone too long.
I'm right here beside preacher man, and let me tell you he is no less annoying in this state once you get him started.
But it's okay? This arrangement? I know it isn't easy, Cole, but I need things to stay this way just for a little longer.
He desaturated and grew before my eyes and the face I adore beyond words cracked into another soft smile, the kind that melts butter into broth.
Then what, Bridge? What happens next?
I can't tell you that. Because then he will know.
Who? Caleb?
Yes.
He isn't allowed to hurt you. Be careful, princess.
It's far too late for that, Jake.
He frowned and suddenly I was the one bathed in the bright lights, which only served to pinpoint how small and dirty I was, especially on my knees and around my mouth, from keeping up this race in which the only winner is the one who pays the officials to look the other way while the spectators murmur in horror but do nothing. It's a trainwreck and you don't look away, now, do you?
Jacob shook his head and mirrored my gesture from earlier, the one that hurts worse than that muscle inside my body, because he wants to touch me too but for some reason we can't seem to accomplish it, haven't more than once or twice since he spread his wings and they failed him in a way that forever changed everything.
I ignored the failure and I threw myself into his arms and they closed but he wasn't there. He wasn't there and I could hear Cole begin to laugh because that's what he does when he feels pain because he doesn't like knowing that I don't care that he's dead and everything still revolves around Jacob and maybe Ben will never ever get a fair shake unless something changes.
I stepped backwards and stumbled and then I felt him, his huge hand with the nimble thin digits that have traced every millimeter of skin that I wear, closing around my elbow so that I didn't fold to the floor. Ice cold today. Uncharacteristically ice old.
You need to go, princess. This isn't safe for you either.
And then I blinked and he vanished into the rain again. I'm really fucking sick of not being allowed to ever say goodbye. I need to figure out how to leave him on my terms instead of his. He gets everything and it isn't fair.
They get everything and it. isn't. fair.
Sunday, 4 April 2010
I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now
I'll soon be turning, round the corner now
Outside the dawn is breaking
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free
The show must go on
The show must go on
Inside my heart is breaking
My makeup may be flaking
But my smile still stays on
My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies
Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die
I can fly - my friends
The show must go on
The show must go on
I'll face it with a grin
I'm never giving in
On with the show
I'll top the bill, I'll overkill
I have to find the will to carry on
On with the
On with the show.
Church on the water.
Best Easter egg hunt EVER.
On a yacht.
Good morning and happy Easter. Yes, the champagne is still flowing and the children are eating chocolate and we're below deck because it's cool this morning but that's fine. Everything is gold plated so if you stare long enough it's just like looking into the sun.
I was skeptical of the wifi thing even and then Caleb told me that if I wanted something all I had to do is ask for it. The boys find this amusing but I don't run like this. I stay behind. I fall behind, mostly because I can't keep up with this sort of lifestyle. I'm too full of wonderment and innocence.
And so I asked for a Monte Cristo for breakfast and someone was dispatched to get it.
I believe the staff on this boat have their own staff. I believe that I may spend the rest of the weekend here. I believe in fairy tales.
Oh come on.
Shortly I'm going to turn back into a pumpkin and we're going to go to IKEA. Because I adore IKEA and I plan to scope out new dressers for the kids for when we are settled. And coffee. Oddly the coffee here isn't that good but I don't dare say anything because then they'll send someone else out and really I don't think this is reasonable anymore.
*poof*
I wonder if pumpkins talk when no one's there to hear them. I wonder if Sam is mad at us.
I wonder if these pigs are going to eventually block out the sun with their wings? Like Icarus but with bacon. Mmmmmm, crispy clouds .
Okay, enough champagne. We're headed home.
On a yacht.
Good morning and happy Easter. Yes, the champagne is still flowing and the children are eating chocolate and we're below deck because it's cool this morning but that's fine. Everything is gold plated so if you stare long enough it's just like looking into the sun.
I was skeptical of the wifi thing even and then Caleb told me that if I wanted something all I had to do is ask for it. The boys find this amusing but I don't run like this. I stay behind. I fall behind, mostly because I can't keep up with this sort of lifestyle. I'm too full of wonderment and innocence.
And so I asked for a Monte Cristo for breakfast and someone was dispatched to get it.
I believe the staff on this boat have their own staff. I believe that I may spend the rest of the weekend here. I believe in fairy tales.
Oh come on.
Shortly I'm going to turn back into a pumpkin and we're going to go to IKEA. Because I adore IKEA and I plan to scope out new dressers for the kids for when we are settled. And coffee. Oddly the coffee here isn't that good but I don't dare say anything because then they'll send someone else out and really I don't think this is reasonable anymore.
*poof*
I wonder if pumpkins talk when no one's there to hear them. I wonder if Sam is mad at us.
I wonder if these pigs are going to eventually block out the sun with their wings? Like Icarus but with bacon. Mmmmmm, crispy clouds .
Okay, enough champagne. We're headed home.
Saturday, 3 April 2010
The internet needs a breathalizer.
If you're in the mood, please take my place this evening. I'm exhausted. Thank you and goodnight. Enjoy the party. It's on your behalf. Or your bewhole. Something of the sort. Caleb's throwing it. Doesn't he always? He networks more than Telus and knows more people than Jesus. I would totally worry about that except for the fact that I already have proof that he is Satan and he already took my soul.
Rambling. Don't want to go, would much rather sleep. But that would be ungracious of my bewhole.
Haha.
Drinking, yes. Sorry. No other way to find courage for this one.
Rambling. Don't want to go, would much rather sleep. But that would be ungracious of my bewhole.
Haha.
Drinking, yes. Sorry. No other way to find courage for this one.
Home at last.
Yesterday we took the first chance we had to really escape from the city and explore up into the mountains a little. We drove to Whistler, which was so delightful, in spite of the bad storm that seemed to be happening in a bubble around us. To us it didn't seem all that bad, actually but I think we stayed ahead of it somehow.
Last time I drove the sea to sky highway was 1993. It's grown up so much, mostly in part I believe due to the Olympics. However, I'm not bitter, it was nice to have a mostly divided road and lots of places to stop along the way. We saw waterfalls and wildlife and North Face everything, everywhere. What used to be remote is now a tourist mecca and Whistler was awash in dollar bills. Lots of dollar bills.
And it snowed heavily the entire time we were up there. To the point where I turned to Ben and told him I was sure I said I was done with snow now, thank you, may we please go back to the city?
He thought I was joking and we did not go back until it began to get dark and by then I think our explorer urges were sated for one day anyway. Off to drink wine (me) and sit in dimly-lit restaurants eating yummy dinner and oh, wait.
That place.
I fell in love with it to a wicked extent. Like more than that other neighborhood and it seems vaguely more doable. Okay, it's completely doable. I'm not even sure I'm calling it by the right name, I just know that I pointed from the road and Ben nodded and Caleb called someone and really that's pretty much the way I operate when the boys are around. Bridget chooses, Ben confirms and Satan chips off a piece of the princess-soul and smiles his lies and things happen.
There are some islands and some beautiful glass houses chipped into the front of the mountain and it's all ocean and salt and beauty and yeah, it didn't take any sort of wonderment or questioning on my part. I know exactly what I want when I see it and so this part was almost too easy. Like things are when you have no soul left maybe, or because we've been fortunate in so many ways while being so goddamned unlucky in others.
Doesn't matter. The view is going to wrap around what's left of my soul and then I won't notice the huge pieces that are gone, that won't grow back, that can't be replaced.
I would have given the rest for this. I still might.
Last time I drove the sea to sky highway was 1993. It's grown up so much, mostly in part I believe due to the Olympics. However, I'm not bitter, it was nice to have a mostly divided road and lots of places to stop along the way. We saw waterfalls and wildlife and North Face everything, everywhere. What used to be remote is now a tourist mecca and Whistler was awash in dollar bills. Lots of dollar bills.
And it snowed heavily the entire time we were up there. To the point where I turned to Ben and told him I was sure I said I was done with snow now, thank you, may we please go back to the city?
He thought I was joking and we did not go back until it began to get dark and by then I think our explorer urges were sated for one day anyway. Off to drink wine (me) and sit in dimly-lit restaurants eating yummy dinner and oh, wait.
That place.
I fell in love with it to a wicked extent. Like more than that other neighborhood and it seems vaguely more doable. Okay, it's completely doable. I'm not even sure I'm calling it by the right name, I just know that I pointed from the road and Ben nodded and Caleb called someone and really that's pretty much the way I operate when the boys are around. Bridget chooses, Ben confirms and Satan chips off a piece of the princess-soul and smiles his lies and things happen.
There are some islands and some beautiful glass houses chipped into the front of the mountain and it's all ocean and salt and beauty and yeah, it didn't take any sort of wonderment or questioning on my part. I know exactly what I want when I see it and so this part was almost too easy. Like things are when you have no soul left maybe, or because we've been fortunate in so many ways while being so goddamned unlucky in others.
Doesn't matter. The view is going to wrap around what's left of my soul and then I won't notice the huge pieces that are gone, that won't grow back, that can't be replaced.
I would have given the rest for this. I still might.
Friday, 2 April 2010
Delicious dark mornings.
There is rain pouring down the window beside me and it's so dark out this morning. I am currently waiting for Ben to wake up so we can drive up north into the rain and spend time together and maybe nail down which neighborhood we plan to terrorize for the rest of our quiet dark lives.
I noticed on my visitor information that someone searched for REAL FRENCH PRINCESS IN GLASS CASE THATS DEAD late last night while I slept, and was directed to my journal.
Welcome, Missouri. I like you already. But I'm actually not French, if that's something that's going to stand between us.
More tonight, my chickens. Adventure first, words later.
I noticed on my visitor information that someone searched for REAL FRENCH PRINCESS IN GLASS CASE THATS DEAD late last night while I slept, and was directed to my journal.
Welcome, Missouri. I like you already. But I'm actually not French, if that's something that's going to stand between us.
More tonight, my chickens. Adventure first, words later.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Dragon breath.
I have my car!!!!
Yay!
Ben took us for a long drive all around the water. The ocean at night here is just as glorious as back home. Then we stopped for donairs (west coast donairs made Halifax style, no less) and came home because it's late. And it's been a long week. I'm happy that the car is here. I mean, having a driver is fun and all but it's not the same. I can make a mess in my car. You really think I can wait until we get home to sneak a few bites?
You've obviously never had a donair the way I like them: extra meat, sweet sauce, tomato and raw onions only.
My next plan is to kiss everyone in sight. Thank God I'm cute.
Yay!
Ben took us for a long drive all around the water. The ocean at night here is just as glorious as back home. Then we stopped for donairs (west coast donairs made Halifax style, no less) and came home because it's late. And it's been a long week. I'm happy that the car is here. I mean, having a driver is fun and all but it's not the same. I can make a mess in my car. You really think I can wait until we get home to sneak a few bites?
You've obviously never had a donair the way I like them: extra meat, sweet sauce, tomato and raw onions only.
My next plan is to kiss everyone in sight. Thank God I'm cute.
Muscles, metal and beards.
It's Clash day, dear readers, and lord knows, Bridget loves her knight movies. Muck, muscle, bring it, I'm there. It's my happy place.
Okay, it's one of many, but one of the few socially acceptable formats of escape.
I have more, I'm tired though so later. The laptop must be shared these days with a little blonde boy who likes to play warcraft. Who is going to say no to HIM?
Not I, said the spider to the fly.
Okay, it's one of many, but one of the few socially acceptable formats of escape.
I have more, I'm tired though so later. The laptop must be shared these days with a little blonde boy who likes to play warcraft. Who is going to say no to HIM?
Not I, said the spider to the fly.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Off purpose.
And I see them in the streetsI'm tired now. Busy day. Busy week. What can you do? That is life in the middle of a big move, one that is going rather smoothly with only a handful of hiccups along the way. I still have faith that everything will get ironed out and fall into place one way or another because that is life.
And I see them in the field
And I hear them shouting under my feet
And I know it's got to be real
Oh, Lord, deliver me
All the wrong I've done
You can deliver me, Lord
I only wanted to have some fun.
No more champagne. I think I'll switch back to white wine and whiskey for obvious reasons, some that I pour myself for even more obvious reasons because seriously, who trusts Satan? This morning I found my shoes in PJ's jacket pockets and my diamond ring in Ben's shirt pocket and I am still looking for my dignity somewhere but apparently it's on a train, coming to meet me along with my car, which is taking forever and every now and then someone walks into my head and powers up a klieg light which exposes all the worn spots and all the holes and then they shut it down and walk out again and I'm left in the dark with just enough memory to mark and repair all the damned holes and then we do it all over again.
Which is ridiculous but also a necessity, unlike stupid high heels or champagne.
Though if you ask my brother-in-law, champagne is definitely a necessity, as are princesses who run on nerves and little sleep and try to conduct their evenings as if they have oodles of both.
And Ben thinks I am funny.
Nice.
I would be but I am too busy trying to be responsible and so I jumped the gun and it went off and I've been slapped back, mindful of the pace at which this plays out.
Slow. Find me the button and I will crank the fast forward. Show me the door and I may laugh and tell you I wasn't having much fun anyway, pass me another glass and be prepared because I'm going to hand you my shoes, and then four hours later I will wake up and piece it all back together and then head out for meetings and write down every single word because otherwise if I just load them in they fall out of those holes that the light shines through, don't you see? So I write them down. All of them, and it works very well. I am messily organized and mayhemish beauty and uncharted territory and seriously flawed.
Thank God you love me anyway, because sometimes it seems like there is oh so very little to love.
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Ben made all the introductions anyway.
Ben is sleeping.
I am not surprised. I think I wore him out today. We started the day with a sleepy early-morning still-dark epic lovemaking session and ended it at the Coach store downtown, where I bought the Maggie bag I've been coveting for months and was promised earlier this year.
(And a matching wallet, because you have to have a matching wallet.)
I won't even tell you how great it felt to breeze into the store and set up an account and know that none of the pretty things I buy here will ever need to be waterproofed or covered for the snow. Or left to someone else because there was no point, it would become ruined by the cold and the dust anyway. The bag came with a dust cover. I don't think I'll need it. There is no dust.
Oh, I will shop this week, and I will enjoy it.
In other news, I properly introduced myself to the Pacific this morning. We've met in passing several times before, but she had no need to truly remember my face until now. There are palm trees on the beach here. And that's just the beach downtown. We haven't even made it out to the proper ones yet.
We will.
Ben found the first piece of Pacific sea glass as well. I have a huge jar of beach glass in a box somewhere, taped and wrapped in many layers of paper. It's all from the Atlantic, so I suppose I will need another jar for this ocean. I took a deep breath and it didn't hurt to do so and I didn't clench right back up. I stuck my hands in the cold filthy water and I said hello right out loud and I didn't really care who heard.
I said Hello, nice to meet you, and you'll be seeing a lot of me, I hope your sister told you.
I couldn't hear what she said back. The wind, my ears...well, you know how it goes.
We did some poking around and exploring and a lot more walking today just to see things. You don't see things when you drive, and my little car hasn't made it out yet. Against Caleb's perfect suggestions of selling it and buying a new one I shipped it on the train like everyone else does and I've had nothing but regret ever since because it takes forever but again, I don't see things when we drive, I just listen to music and zone out someone far away.
This way I must focus.
Tomorrow I really need to take the children shopping. We're going to try again, because critical mass is being reached on a daily basis and the clothing I packed for each of us is so woefully inadequate all I can do is laugh. Especially for me. It took the bright light of the coast to see the condition my clothing was in because I wasn't paying attention before and now suddenly again I have time to focus on all kinds of things.
It isn't all marble foyers and butlers though, don't be deceived. Caleb pushes things on me and I will pick and choose instead. I can carry my own garbage bag down to the parkade (but gross so Ben has done it so far) and I can figure out the bus routes and walk the puppy in the pouring rain and I can stay up all night watching the city lights and trying to guess where we should live. It's a leap like any other and I wish I had more time to decide. I could take it but it will be difficult either way and I'm pretty sure I won't be exchanging those holey long-sleeved t-shirts for the tiara and the ballgown in any permanent sense. Not yet.
Probably not ever.
Because come on. You know me better than that by now. Give me a champagne flute and odds are I will fill it with chocolate milk.
I am not surprised. I think I wore him out today. We started the day with a sleepy early-morning still-dark epic lovemaking session and ended it at the Coach store downtown, where I bought the Maggie bag I've been coveting for months and was promised earlier this year.
(And a matching wallet, because you have to have a matching wallet.)
I won't even tell you how great it felt to breeze into the store and set up an account and know that none of the pretty things I buy here will ever need to be waterproofed or covered for the snow. Or left to someone else because there was no point, it would become ruined by the cold and the dust anyway. The bag came with a dust cover. I don't think I'll need it. There is no dust.
Oh, I will shop this week, and I will enjoy it.
In other news, I properly introduced myself to the Pacific this morning. We've met in passing several times before, but she had no need to truly remember my face until now. There are palm trees on the beach here. And that's just the beach downtown. We haven't even made it out to the proper ones yet.
We will.
Ben found the first piece of Pacific sea glass as well. I have a huge jar of beach glass in a box somewhere, taped and wrapped in many layers of paper. It's all from the Atlantic, so I suppose I will need another jar for this ocean. I took a deep breath and it didn't hurt to do so and I didn't clench right back up. I stuck my hands in the cold filthy water and I said hello right out loud and I didn't really care who heard.
I said Hello, nice to meet you, and you'll be seeing a lot of me, I hope your sister told you.
I couldn't hear what she said back. The wind, my ears...well, you know how it goes.
We did some poking around and exploring and a lot more walking today just to see things. You don't see things when you drive, and my little car hasn't made it out yet. Against Caleb's perfect suggestions of selling it and buying a new one I shipped it on the train like everyone else does and I've had nothing but regret ever since because it takes forever but again, I don't see things when we drive, I just listen to music and zone out someone far away.
This way I must focus.
Tomorrow I really need to take the children shopping. We're going to try again, because critical mass is being reached on a daily basis and the clothing I packed for each of us is so woefully inadequate all I can do is laugh. Especially for me. It took the bright light of the coast to see the condition my clothing was in because I wasn't paying attention before and now suddenly again I have time to focus on all kinds of things.
It isn't all marble foyers and butlers though, don't be deceived. Caleb pushes things on me and I will pick and choose instead. I can carry my own garbage bag down to the parkade (but gross so Ben has done it so far) and I can figure out the bus routes and walk the puppy in the pouring rain and I can stay up all night watching the city lights and trying to guess where we should live. It's a leap like any other and I wish I had more time to decide. I could take it but it will be difficult either way and I'm pretty sure I won't be exchanging those holey long-sleeved t-shirts for the tiara and the ballgown in any permanent sense. Not yet.
Probably not ever.
Because come on. You know me better than that by now. Give me a champagne flute and odds are I will fill it with chocolate milk.
Friday, 26 March 2010
Rolling with it.
You turn me onWhen I leaned way out over the railing to peek at the starfish, Jacob's head came into the picture and he kissed my cheek and my reflection bumped into a ripple and disappeared.
you lift me up
And like the sweetest cup
I'd share with you
You lift me up,
don't you ever stop
I'm here with you
Now it's all or nothing
Because you say you'll follow through
You follow me and I follow you
You like it, princess. It was a statement, not a question. I nodded and watched his words dissolve against the wooden pilings. I let go of the railing and stood on the dock facing him and there was empty space but it was space I knew as filled because he is this big invisible shadow that walks behind me always, keeping my hair out of my lipgloss and keeping Ben focused on this heart of mine that he carries in the little sterling cage, still shattered into bits and pieces. Jacob watches that, you know. He is my guard.
Ben asked me what I was thinking and I just gave him that half-bitter smile that means I don't actually have an answer. He asks me to make decisions and plans and I still can't seem to here because it's nice to be led again. It's nice to not think. It's nice to load the dishwasher and then walk for a while and breathe in salt and rain and trees and relief, sweet epic relief that I remain surprised by.
I need to sleep tonight. The strange part about this place is that it's never dark and the rain drips a steady beat against the windows and it's loud. So loud I can hear it and it wakes me up and so in two nights in my new city I haven't actually slept yet. It will come. When it comes it will be so sweet. Maybe tonight. Maybe eventually I will come down. Easter means new. Maybe then.
I am plotting a long walk by the ocean for the puppy and a dinner of dumplings and authentic Chinese instead of Prairie-Chinese and maybe some fun this weekend. Maybe planning a date. Maybe planning a little more shopping, but for all of us, not just me because one of the downsides of efficiency is instant boredom with the outfit choices and the inadequacy of all of our things for this beautiful place. Patches and almost-holes have no place in this life.
I can fix it in time. Like everything else.
Henry had his meltdown today. I decided to take the children shopping. We all need things and I figured I could polish off a good list after lunch but instead he just unglued himself in the middle of not one but three different stores and eventually it reached the point where I just put the things down that I had collected to purchase and we left the store to walk outside in the sun and listen to road musicians hawk their tunes for spare change. We made our way back to our sky-house and we sacked out with cookies and juice and video games because it is so incredibly rare that Henry voices any complaints at all that I wasn't about to choose that particular moment to instruct. No way no how. Ruth is slightly older and knows a little better and she lit into Henry for making my day tougher but really there isn't anything we need that cannot wait another day, week or month and some moments I really wish someone would just tell me that it's okay, flake out and we'll deal with the hard parts another time.
The difference is then they loom over you, they shadow you and you don't forget they are present, just like I don't forget about the big Jacob-space that stands behind me with his beautiful white blonde hair and gigantic teeth smiling all the time. Light in person-form. The remainder of my sanity locked into a man that isn't here but he isn't dead because I will not allow it so everyone tiptoes around the harder, rougher patches of Bridget until they reach the smooth, soft parts they much prefer.
Ben is happy. More content than I have seen him in a long time. Maybe almost even at a point where he also yearns to do a little more and can't. Build something, play something. Tinker and change and improve and enjoy. It's inevitable that we would quickly outgrow these walls even though they are glass. Even though Coach and Louis Vuitton are down the street, and even though with the kind of luck I carry and the mindset I end up in every damn time, this dishwasher will be the first and last one I ever see because I seem to be hellbent on making life harder for myself in spite of incredibly obnoxious verbal efforts to ensure that everyone around me is aware that I Intend To Be Spoiled.
Right.
My hand doesn't contain those cards and neither does the deck. I hold no illusions and I have no faith. What I do know is that we will work doggedly to make a good life here because it's a good place. Because it's mild and I am warm and my fingertips are healing nicely now and my hair, oh Jesus you should see it, it's so curly from the damp air and I can live without shoes or socks just like you know who likes to and I can give up my non-faith to him and maybe he can look after it and maybe Sam can file and lock away those memories from that place and just maybe I will be surprised once again, like I always am.
The older I get the more I come to realize that I can't control a damned thing. And I'm no longer sure I want to anyways.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Never. gets. old.
Yes, I made the dishwasher go again! Because firstly we were out of dishes after dinner and secondly because the magic box that it is makes things CLEAN while I get to go shopping and drink coffee.
Uh huh.
Awesome.
(P.S. I am having a hell of a fun time milking the whole My Fair Lady angle, mostly because it pisses off Caleb to no end.)
Uh huh.
Awesome.
(P.S. I am having a hell of a fun time milking the whole My Fair Lady angle, mostly because it pisses off Caleb to no end.)
Doolittle redux.
Seriously? The dishwasher took over an hour and it even dried the dishes but I can't touch them because they're weirdly hot.
Huh.
Next up? Graceful navigation with two small kids, two umbrellas, one tiny wet white puppy and the pouring rain. I won't even bother sharing, just know that we were entertainment for the masses.
No wonder Caleb is so embarrassed by me sometimes. Really I can sit up and look pretty but I'm thinking that about now that seems to be the scope of my talents.
Sitting up, I said.
Snort.
Huh.
Next up? Graceful navigation with two small kids, two umbrellas, one tiny wet white puppy and the pouring rain. I won't even bother sharing, just know that we were entertainment for the masses.
No wonder Caleb is so embarrassed by me sometimes. Really I can sit up and look pretty but I'm thinking that about now that seems to be the scope of my talents.
Sitting up, I said.
Snort.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Let me tell you about this day.
I'm sitting here tonight with bare feet dangling in front of a wide open window, enjoying the lights. Watching people work and make dinner and watch tv. No one seems to close their blinds here. It's entertainment for urban dwellers maybe. It is akin to apartment living for me, since in a strange way you are never alone and suddenly I find myself seeking crowds and strangers to talk to and I'm stopping for conversations with people because it's nice to have the company. The children are much the same way, shouldering a new kind of mature confidence, making their way without a hint of shyness or uncertainty. I wish they could be the sort of naive barefoot hooligan that I was as a child, without the sophistication that they seem to possess now to the point where I find myself chasing after them, reaching out to grab Henry's hood so that he doesn't get so far ahead of me that he'll end up on the wrong side of the skytrain/seabus/elevator doors.
Phew. That's an all-day job.
And...who am I kidding? These are our children. It stands to reason they will not miss a moment, and are introspective and alert and clever to the point of astonishment from those around them who stand seven times as worldly. What am I supposed to do? I can't turn back time. I can't change the life they have led thus far. We just keep going.
Today was the mother of all days off, that's for sure.
When I opened my eyes the city was already coming to life. We left the blinds open the night before. All white bed. So luxurious. A slow morning. No alarms, no concrete plans, just some ideas bantered around in the weeks before. This was the first no work day with no horrendous pressure since possibly last fall. We managed to see and do so much my legs ache like the dickens and I'm just now making us our late afternoon coffee (it's after nine) because once we did get going it was tough to stop.
I found the sky train interesting, as well as the sea bus. Louis Vuitton and the yacht club were quite amazing too. Boats. Incredibly luxurious boats. I could live there quite easily. I sometimes feel like I was two different mixes poured into one princess mold and shaken up so hard every now and then when I find a hard little ball of unblended mix I like to savour the sheer purity of it.
Sometimes those little bits taste like French designers and American yachts. (I'm sorry, I can't help it. The other bits all taste like dust bunnies and bent bobby pins and homemade chicken soup.)
They argue something awful these days too, those two princess-mixes and I can't seem to make peace for everyone. I can't seem to figure out who to side with. I can continue on this path, and the kids grow up city-friendly and capable and worldly and somewhat spoiled but without abandon, or I can choose the other path and raise two perfect humans with wonderful childhood memories and happy animals and a life that defines washing a car as turning on your hose and working for the next hour and getting wet instead of passing someone your keys and a crisp handful of bills and reading the newspaper while they do it instead of you.
Yeah. It is a choose-your-own-adventure novel, princess edition and I'm too tired to read the last part so I'm purposefully going in circles, trying out different actions and alternate endings. It's going to be a big surprise and frankly, Bridget only likes the good surprises and I'm rambling, am I rambling? I have no idea.
I just know that when I was walking along the path this afternoon, a voice very close to my ear (but on the inside of my head, not the outside) said, breathe deeply, princess. You know that smell. That's seaweed and you are home.
I know that voice.
He came with me.
And Ben noticed before I did.
Phew. That's an all-day job.
And...who am I kidding? These are our children. It stands to reason they will not miss a moment, and are introspective and alert and clever to the point of astonishment from those around them who stand seven times as worldly. What am I supposed to do? I can't turn back time. I can't change the life they have led thus far. We just keep going.
Today was the mother of all days off, that's for sure.
When I opened my eyes the city was already coming to life. We left the blinds open the night before. All white bed. So luxurious. A slow morning. No alarms, no concrete plans, just some ideas bantered around in the weeks before. This was the first no work day with no horrendous pressure since possibly last fall. We managed to see and do so much my legs ache like the dickens and I'm just now making us our late afternoon coffee (it's after nine) because once we did get going it was tough to stop.
I found the sky train interesting, as well as the sea bus. Louis Vuitton and the yacht club were quite amazing too. Boats. Incredibly luxurious boats. I could live there quite easily. I sometimes feel like I was two different mixes poured into one princess mold and shaken up so hard every now and then when I find a hard little ball of unblended mix I like to savour the sheer purity of it.
Sometimes those little bits taste like French designers and American yachts. (I'm sorry, I can't help it. The other bits all taste like dust bunnies and bent bobby pins and homemade chicken soup.)
They argue something awful these days too, those two princess-mixes and I can't seem to make peace for everyone. I can't seem to figure out who to side with. I can continue on this path, and the kids grow up city-friendly and capable and worldly and somewhat spoiled but without abandon, or I can choose the other path and raise two perfect humans with wonderful childhood memories and happy animals and a life that defines washing a car as turning on your hose and working for the next hour and getting wet instead of passing someone your keys and a crisp handful of bills and reading the newspaper while they do it instead of you.
Yeah. It is a choose-your-own-adventure novel, princess edition and I'm too tired to read the last part so I'm purposefully going in circles, trying out different actions and alternate endings. It's going to be a big surprise and frankly, Bridget only likes the good surprises and I'm rambling, am I rambling? I have no idea.
I just know that when I was walking along the path this afternoon, a voice very close to my ear (but on the inside of my head, not the outside) said, breathe deeply, princess. You know that smell. That's seaweed and you are home.
I know that voice.
He came with me.
And Ben noticed before I did.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Sea level.
We're here.
At last.
Way up high in the sky in a place that is floor to ceiling windows. All windows everywhere and if I walk in a circle I can look at the ocean and the mountains at the same time and then I can peek out the other way, towards the Coach store, L'Occitane and Tiffany's. I plan to visit all of them tomorrow.
It wasn't as smooth a trip as I had hoped, with more than a few heartbreak-generating bumps in the road and some very close near misses and a whole lot of Oh-my-fuck-what-are-we-doings but we're here and we brought the sun and you can buy milk in glass bottles and I walked through a bamboo forest and Ben already took me to the gigantic Tom Lee music store. Figures.
It's pretty amazing. Here I can dress how I want, as long as I have a sweater for the ocean breeze and an umbrella for the freaking two-minute giant raindrop-carrying rainstorms. Here I can laugh at the weather where we used to live, because it's twenty degrees warmer today.
I've been here before, and still as we were walking this afternoon, I said to Ben, why the heck did we live where we lived when there are places like this out there?
He just smiled.
I think he's happy now that we're here and I know we're happy that we're here and right now my list of things to do just tomorrow is as long as my arm plus my leg plus my other leg and then continued in the memo app on my Blackberry and I'm sure tonight will bring some sort of epic sleep that will revisit the dead and then everything will be complete.
I'm totally wired.
And Ben is a prince, an honest to goodness, card-carrying prince.
At last.
Way up high in the sky in a place that is floor to ceiling windows. All windows everywhere and if I walk in a circle I can look at the ocean and the mountains at the same time and then I can peek out the other way, towards the Coach store, L'Occitane and Tiffany's. I plan to visit all of them tomorrow.
It wasn't as smooth a trip as I had hoped, with more than a few heartbreak-generating bumps in the road and some very close near misses and a whole lot of Oh-my-fuck-what-are-we-doings but we're here and we brought the sun and you can buy milk in glass bottles and I walked through a bamboo forest and Ben already took me to the gigantic Tom Lee music store. Figures.
It's pretty amazing. Here I can dress how I want, as long as I have a sweater for the ocean breeze and an umbrella for the freaking two-minute giant raindrop-carrying rainstorms. Here I can laugh at the weather where we used to live, because it's twenty degrees warmer today.
I've been here before, and still as we were walking this afternoon, I said to Ben, why the heck did we live where we lived when there are places like this out there?
He just smiled.
I think he's happy now that we're here and I know we're happy that we're here and right now my list of things to do just tomorrow is as long as my arm plus my leg plus my other leg and then continued in the memo app on my Blackberry and I'm sure tonight will bring some sort of epic sleep that will revisit the dead and then everything will be complete.
I'm totally wired.
And Ben is a prince, an honest to goodness, card-carrying prince.
Monday, 22 March 2010
Progress
Three-fifths done. Everyone has tattoos and they're singing musicals. It's a bit surreal.
~via BlackBerry.
~via BlackBerry.
Moving day!
It's Monday. Truck is here. Busy bees!! One whole hour sleep. Place your bets to see when I crash. :) xox b
~via BlackBerry.
~via BlackBerry.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Still packing!
Odds are I'm updating via Twitter. Be nice and follow me please. In 12hrs this is all a memory.
~via BlackBerry.
~via BlackBerry.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Saturday update, the boxed chaos edition.
Garage and workshop are all cleaned out. The last of three loads of laundry are in the dryer and then I can fold all of it. I am on my second giant cup of coffee and I have a pounding headache. On the upside? NINE HOURS OF SOLID SLEEP last night, something I haven't seen since around last Halloween.
I packed more dishes, more clothes and more guitars today. Ben did the outdoor, freezing cold and heavy things. The children walked the dog and went to the store for me for bread. For chocolate bars too.
Do you think the headache is from too much sleep? If so, I will embrace the pain. I wish every night was that effective.
No music today. There hasn't been time. Up until now I've been alone and I packed the stereo and I couldn't reach the network (and the music from my computer) because it just wouldn't work properly (Lochlan has since fixed it) so I figured out how to drag the tiny(forty songs) music folder on my laptop into VLC and it would play a loop and then I would have some soothing company for a bit but it's okay now because I have Ben home and he has open arms for me and very long hugs and even longer kisses and he's taking over the hard parts and keeping everyone super calm and instead of rushing around he is pacing us and reminding me to sit down and finish my coffee. To go to sleep already. Not to worry. You don't have to do everything, Bridget. Not anymore.
He's like a giant, bearded Xanax.
It's awesome.
But I am out of coffee now. I ate a granola bar. Now I have to go and fold laundry, put it all away and then start pulling it out again. We're almost through here.
Also awesome.
More than you realize.
I packed more dishes, more clothes and more guitars today. Ben did the outdoor, freezing cold and heavy things. The children walked the dog and went to the store for me for bread. For chocolate bars too.
Do you think the headache is from too much sleep? If so, I will embrace the pain. I wish every night was that effective.
No music today. There hasn't been time. Up until now I've been alone and I packed the stereo and I couldn't reach the network (and the music from my computer) because it just wouldn't work properly (Lochlan has since fixed it) so I figured out how to drag the tiny(forty songs) music folder on my laptop into VLC and it would play a loop and then I would have some soothing company for a bit but it's okay now because I have Ben home and he has open arms for me and very long hugs and even longer kisses and he's taking over the hard parts and keeping everyone super calm and instead of rushing around he is pacing us and reminding me to sit down and finish my coffee. To go to sleep already. Not to worry. You don't have to do everything, Bridget. Not anymore.
He's like a giant, bearded Xanax.
It's awesome.
But I am out of coffee now. I ate a granola bar. Now I have to go and fold laundry, put it all away and then start pulling it out again. We're almost through here.
Also awesome.
More than you realize.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Hallo, Ben.
Show your faceHe's here.
Living in the shadows like you got no name
Enough to make a little girl go insane
Be my guest to let it out tonight
It's okay
I know all about the little games you play
Thank fucking God. I swear I was ready to just curl up and die. Three months was three lifetimes, I'm a cat. I believe I have around two lives left.
That isn't quite right.
I'm actually a book on a shelf and some days I'm a biography and other days horror and sometimes a Harlequin romance. Sometimes I'm an instruction manual in a language you don't understand and other times I'm a page ripped out of the back of a minigolf score book.
Ben says I should say I'm a porkchop sandwich. Boys are weird. That's okay though. This princess is pretty weird too.
Today we ran around like headless chickens. Well, first I woke up and smacked the snooze alarm and then turned over and saw Ben sleeping there. It wasn't a dream. He is real. He's home, even though home is temporary because we move in mere days and home seems to be all boxes and bare walls.
We went and looked all of the important things that required both our presences and we went to McDonald's too. We walked the dog and stopped for coffee and Ben drove and so I didn't have to and I talked and he signed for things and then he lifted things and I told him where to put them down. I made a schedule for the rest of the week and he only added a couple of things.
He is very sad to be leaving this house and I'm being protective of his feelings because he didn't have the past three months here like I did to make his peace with leaving it. If I had any faith that it would hold together I would have had it picked up and moved with us, or rather, we would have still flown out and the house could have traveled slowly down the highway, bookended by signs proclaiming 'caution: wide load'.
But it wouldn't. I could see it shift slightly and crumple onto itself, windows blowing out and porches collapsing.
That cannot happen. Instead we sold someone a lot of colored glass and wood and character and we're going to go look for a new castle and hell, yes, I will write about it because Ben listened and since he is my number one fan I will tell it as it happens because he listened, I said. Are you listening? I asked to leave here. I said I was done. Done with the memories in fingerprints long faded against paint I could never change. Done with walking into rooms and seeing Jacob sitting in chairs we don't even have anymore. Done with very high tiny windows that can't be sufficiently cleaned and done with the endless sparrows that sit on the branches outside my bedroom windows and make so much damn wonderful noise.
Done. Bridget's done. Time to run, plan escape and have some fun.
I can't do it anymore. I'm not a Prairie girl but I gave it eight years and frankly though I love the big open sky and endless flat fields of sunflowers and canola I need that ocean bookend to help me find my way.
Whatever that is.
No, I know what is is. It's having the water to navigate by. It's smelling the salt air constantly to keep alert and awake. It's healing. It's fucking Bridget, baby. All the way.
Things may get sporadic posting-wise, though we have wi-fi the whole way to the west coast, we probably won't have time or energy left to think, let alone post. I said we, didn't I?
I have a helper now. He's home. He's big and he's silly and he's funny and he's hot as a five-alarm fire and he's going to throw in some suggestions and maybe I'll follow them and maybe I'll rebel but maybe we'll share the page every now and then. Maybe we'll start having fun now.
You get to come too. As usual, just don't ask so many questions.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Awake on my airplane.
This is seriously not a day to have Filter songs stuck in my head but as usual I have no choice in the matter. It can always be worse.
The neighborhood looks like hell. This city is second to none in clawing back to a decent summer from a spring that is all mud and garbage. I want to wash my face because my skin feels awful. I want to powerwash the entire property top to bottom but instead I'm going to walk away from it in less than a week, with the rotten leaves still protecting the gardens and mud all over everything.
I still remember the week we moved in and heading outside to dig up the begonias to keep indoors in pots over the winter because I didn't know they were a hardy variety that would survive this zone. I had a ball. Playing in my own garden was cathartic. I could rip out all the plants if I wanted, because it was mine now. While I did that Cole was exploring and he found a stack of glass inserts that go in the screen doors in cold weather. We put them all up and suddenly we were warm.
We learned this house the hard way and I'm leaving one single skeleton key and no instructions whatsoever, because it's fun.
Oh pish tosh. I left the alarm manual. We didn't even get that much. Oh and new appliances, since I'm still a little bitter that the stove stopped working Thanksgiving weekend. It's a chance you take and I'm still glad we took it.
And I had high hopes of coming in here and regaling you with more Jacob-stories because the emails from yesterday show me you're still in love with him too and you like the stories I share about him and frankly, there are millions I never told, but might someday soon. Only not today because today I am hit and miss with tears and over sixty boxes in and today we crossed the threshold of packing around living to living around packing, because I am no longer comfortable with the lack of space and everything being taped shut. It's just not great but in thirty hours the biggest longest nightmare is over, because Ben will be home. And he won't be going back alone this time.
And boy oh boy does Bridget need a hug.
The neighborhood looks like hell. This city is second to none in clawing back to a decent summer from a spring that is all mud and garbage. I want to wash my face because my skin feels awful. I want to powerwash the entire property top to bottom but instead I'm going to walk away from it in less than a week, with the rotten leaves still protecting the gardens and mud all over everything.
I still remember the week we moved in and heading outside to dig up the begonias to keep indoors in pots over the winter because I didn't know they were a hardy variety that would survive this zone. I had a ball. Playing in my own garden was cathartic. I could rip out all the plants if I wanted, because it was mine now. While I did that Cole was exploring and he found a stack of glass inserts that go in the screen doors in cold weather. We put them all up and suddenly we were warm.
We learned this house the hard way and I'm leaving one single skeleton key and no instructions whatsoever, because it's fun.
Oh pish tosh. I left the alarm manual. We didn't even get that much. Oh and new appliances, since I'm still a little bitter that the stove stopped working Thanksgiving weekend. It's a chance you take and I'm still glad we took it.
And I had high hopes of coming in here and regaling you with more Jacob-stories because the emails from yesterday show me you're still in love with him too and you like the stories I share about him and frankly, there are millions I never told, but might someday soon. Only not today because today I am hit and miss with tears and over sixty boxes in and today we crossed the threshold of packing around living to living around packing, because I am no longer comfortable with the lack of space and everything being taped shut. It's just not great but in thirty hours the biggest longest nightmare is over, because Ben will be home. And he won't be going back alone this time.
And boy oh boy does Bridget need a hug.
Monday, 15 March 2010
All that you can't leave behind.
When the doorbell rang I remember feeling that little undercurrent thrill that jolted through me every time Jacob was within reach.
Cole threw open the front door and Jacob was standing there in the porch, smiling. He looked around and then ducked through the doorway and smiled at me.
This your castle, princess?
All teeth, he was. All big smiles and hands and unruly blonde waves and the beard that only served to picture-frame his whole presence in blonde.
Cole laughed in a forced way and offered to show him around. He nodded and they disappeared down the hall to the basement steps first, because all proper men in this house have to verify the existence of the workshop before they'll spend a moment here otherwise. This one had shelves and places drilled to stand rows of screwdrivers and a huge worktable built right in.
I waited outside in the backyard, watching the kids run on their grass, enjoying the fenced-in safety of the yard.
Soon a hand touched my back, completing the circuit of electricity, making me jump. I turned and smiled in the cold sun, for it was October and it seemed warm until you realized you were slowly freezing solid.
Teeth again and those pale blue eyes. Jacob approved.
You going to be happy here?
He said it in a low voice and frowned suddenly.
Yes, like you said, it's my castle. I love this house.
What if nothing changes?
Then it will become my prison.
Cole came outside then, and I watched Jacob's face transform into forced joviality, his expression hard. I'm sure Cole never missed a thing. He would tell me about it later and he did.
Jacob's hand went away but he covered it by rubbing my shoulder. Cole smiled with his wicked cold eyes.
I think she'll be happier here, don't you think, preacherman?
If we all make an effort, yes.
(Oh, tension. Bring me a knife and I'll slice enough for each of us.)
Nothing changed and Cole didn't have much time here after all. He died less than a year after we moved in. And then Jacob moved in and eighteen months later Bridget's unhappy drove him to disappear too and finally Bridget's unhappy led the universe to alter course in order to protect everybody and that's why we are moving west again.
Surprisingly Ben, the dark horse finisher and outside longshot (or longshit, as PJ so lovingly calls him) has lived here the longest.
That's good, don't you think? I think it's good. I think it says a lot for us. I think maybe we'll be okay. Instead of being imprisoned by memories and held captive by long hard winters, extreme weather and total darkness we'll be made lighter. We'll have a chance to live instead of living around and through the memories when given tiny, brief chances to do so.
I remember also the day that I told Ben that Jacob was moving in. That I was moving on with my life because I deserved to be happy, didn't he think?
You're not going to be happier, Bridge. Somehow I just see things getting worse before they get better.
Instead of seeing that as prophetic I instead chose to chalk it up to Ben's jealousy and I dismissed the comment, letting it hang between us, a privacy curtain that would serve to drive a wedge we left in place until years had passed.
I won't make that mistake again.
Ben comes home in two more sleeps and he is nervous about the move, while I become more and more excited. He's a funny guy in that he's moved enough in his life that it triggers a sadness that he works hard to cover with being brusque and difficult but I'm sure it's bringing up everything he's ever felt that makes Ben who he is.
He's mine, that's who he is. And soon we'll be living life on our own terms with the mountains and the sea as a backdrop and the warmth to insulate us from the past. We have all the character we'll ever need to build, we're going to live.
Chapter three. It begins now.
Cole threw open the front door and Jacob was standing there in the porch, smiling. He looked around and then ducked through the doorway and smiled at me.
This your castle, princess?
All teeth, he was. All big smiles and hands and unruly blonde waves and the beard that only served to picture-frame his whole presence in blonde.
Cole laughed in a forced way and offered to show him around. He nodded and they disappeared down the hall to the basement steps first, because all proper men in this house have to verify the existence of the workshop before they'll spend a moment here otherwise. This one had shelves and places drilled to stand rows of screwdrivers and a huge worktable built right in.
I waited outside in the backyard, watching the kids run on their grass, enjoying the fenced-in safety of the yard.
Soon a hand touched my back, completing the circuit of electricity, making me jump. I turned and smiled in the cold sun, for it was October and it seemed warm until you realized you were slowly freezing solid.
Teeth again and those pale blue eyes. Jacob approved.
You going to be happy here?
He said it in a low voice and frowned suddenly.
Yes, like you said, it's my castle. I love this house.
What if nothing changes?
Then it will become my prison.
Cole came outside then, and I watched Jacob's face transform into forced joviality, his expression hard. I'm sure Cole never missed a thing. He would tell me about it later and he did.
Jacob's hand went away but he covered it by rubbing my shoulder. Cole smiled with his wicked cold eyes.
I think she'll be happier here, don't you think, preacherman?
If we all make an effort, yes.
(Oh, tension. Bring me a knife and I'll slice enough for each of us.)
Nothing changed and Cole didn't have much time here after all. He died less than a year after we moved in. And then Jacob moved in and eighteen months later Bridget's unhappy drove him to disappear too and finally Bridget's unhappy led the universe to alter course in order to protect everybody and that's why we are moving west again.
Surprisingly Ben, the dark horse finisher and outside longshot (or longshit, as PJ so lovingly calls him) has lived here the longest.
That's good, don't you think? I think it's good. I think it says a lot for us. I think maybe we'll be okay. Instead of being imprisoned by memories and held captive by long hard winters, extreme weather and total darkness we'll be made lighter. We'll have a chance to live instead of living around and through the memories when given tiny, brief chances to do so.
I remember also the day that I told Ben that Jacob was moving in. That I was moving on with my life because I deserved to be happy, didn't he think?
You're not going to be happier, Bridge. Somehow I just see things getting worse before they get better.
Instead of seeing that as prophetic I instead chose to chalk it up to Ben's jealousy and I dismissed the comment, letting it hang between us, a privacy curtain that would serve to drive a wedge we left in place until years had passed.
I won't make that mistake again.
Ben comes home in two more sleeps and he is nervous about the move, while I become more and more excited. He's a funny guy in that he's moved enough in his life that it triggers a sadness that he works hard to cover with being brusque and difficult but I'm sure it's bringing up everything he's ever felt that makes Ben who he is.
He's mine, that's who he is. And soon we'll be living life on our own terms with the mountains and the sea as a backdrop and the warmth to insulate us from the past. We have all the character we'll ever need to build, we're going to live.
Chapter three. It begins now.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Careful, Scarlett.
Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleepDuncan (non-resident beat poet) sent me his Kings Of Leon CD late last week and told me to give it a chance. I was hooked from the get-go and have had it on the stereo on heavy rotation all weekend as I pack. Now I have stopped for the day, since I'm up to forty boxes done and really have progressed to the large scary wardrobe boxes which is funny, we don't have nearly the amount of clothes needed to fill five of them but I plan to throw in skis, scooters and possibly bicycles and see what happens.
Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat
I hope it's gonna make you notice
I hope it's gonna make you notice
Someone like me
I'm still concerned that some of these boxes are incredibly heavy thanks to all of the hardcover books but really I think maybe that is an issue more to do with tired princesses and hazardous curved wooden staircases than anything else. I now carry stacks of books down to the main level, rather than trying to fill the boxes upstairs and bring them down.
Tonight I'll put the hot water bottle on that spot inside my back where the pain just tears me a new scream if I lie funny and then tomorrow I'll do it all again. I think I'm good at this. I also think when we buy a house in Vancouver I'll just buy paper plates and all new clothes and call it a life and unpack nothing.
Right now I've got turkey and potatoes in the oven because I need some comfort food and this was from some plan to cook a big dinner and not doing it. I have no idea but it smells good.
I just wish someone else would have made it so I can sleep.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
So I walk upon highToday it's taken me the better part of the day to pack Cole's paintings and photographs, and Jacob's letters and journals. It's a beautiful day to be wrapping memories in clean packing paper and tucking them securely into cartons so I can bring them with me.
And I step to the edge to see my world below.
And I laugh at myself while the tears roll down.
'Cause it's the world I know.
It's the world I know.
Friday, 12 March 2010
I just noticed this.
Holy COW.
We're moving.
(Yes, I realize we're almost three months into this knowledge, but we made it. *I* made it.)
Woohoo!
Seriously.
Ben, hopefully is somewhere in the Pacific Northwest forging my medal as we speak. I hope it matches my crown, because coordination is paramount.)
I will make his here before we leave.
He earned one too.
We're moving.
(Yes, I realize we're almost three months into this knowledge, but we made it. *I* made it.)
Woohoo!
Seriously.
Ben, hopefully is somewhere in the Pacific Northwest forging my medal as we speak. I hope it matches my crown, because coordination is paramount.)
I will make his here before we leave.
He earned one too.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
The food replicator must be in there somewhere.
Looking at houses in Vancouver tonight online. The first few things I can see are that it's raining in almost every photo, every house has more bathrooms than bedrooms, and they all come with dishwashers.
What is this machine...a dishwasher?
I'm guessing it's a portal to another dimension. When you close the door and hit the switch you are transported into the future, where your dishes are already clean.
Unbelievable!
(I'm sad to report the people who bought my house can take over wondering what those two switches do in the front hall. I have no idea either, perhaps they also trigger access to other dimensions. Good luck!)
What is this machine...a dishwasher?
I'm guessing it's a portal to another dimension. When you close the door and hit the switch you are transported into the future, where your dishes are already clean.
Unbelievable!
(I'm sad to report the people who bought my house can take over wondering what those two switches do in the front hall. I have no idea either, perhaps they also trigger access to other dimensions. Good luck!)
She looked right into myLook out.
eyes and said to me
The hurt that you try to hide is killing me
You drink a thousand lies,
to freeze the past in time
I've tried to fill this silence up
But now it's back again
See the pain in my eyes
see the scars deep inside
My God, I'm down in this hole again
With the laughter I smile
with the tears that I cry
Keep going down this road called life
You don't want to be here right now. She'll turn around slowly, curls resting gently against her shoulder blades, eyes bleeding black all over her alabaster skin. The fear that turns your blood to ice will be no match for your curiosity and you stand your ground in front of her. After all, you are looking down at her and she must lift her lashes to meet your eyes.
She won't. She looks straight ahead now. Wooden doll, charred and blackened and thrown under the shed out back because you didn't mean to.
Oh, but you did.
There are few secrets that can't be told and fewer dreams that can't be destroyed with a whim. She bides her time, you see. Standing still in order for you to witness the horror but smiling gently and with a sinister intent because she knows things you will find out later. She knows her own whims can destroy you in a completely different way. She doesn't mean to be bad, it isn't her fault that everything is black. Somewhere along the way it got darker and darker until her pupils expanded and she could see again. She has that gift, you don't so don't even try.
Just stay there, let it wash over you. Know what it's like. Feel what she feels. Cry like she cried. She isn't crying today and that's why today will be worse for everyone else but not so bad for her.
It's deafening
it's deafening
this silence inside me
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Ten-second eclipse.
Eclipse teaser trailer.
Stephanie, stop borrowing from my archives.
PS Team Edward all the way. Team Jacob seems like sacrilege. Besides, in this house we love vampires.
Snort.
Stephanie, stop borrowing from my archives.
PS Team Edward all the way. Team Jacob seems like sacrilege. Besides, in this house we love vampires.
Snort.
Give me a BREAK.
I found the drum keys. I know where everything is in this house and soon I won't be able to find a thing. Today is breaking down the drum kit and hopefully getting the hotel arranged and more boxes to pack. Toys and books, toys and books. It's endless.
And Power 97 keeps playing Just Breathe by Pearl Jam. It's a sign. I love this song. I am trying to listen closely.
OH! And speaking of signs and songs, HELLO new music video!!!!
You're welcome. Warning, it's sad and beautiful.
JUST LIKE BRIDGET.
And Power 97 keeps playing Just Breathe by Pearl Jam. It's a sign. I love this song. I am trying to listen closely.
OH! And speaking of signs and songs, HELLO new music video!!!!
You're welcome. Warning, it's sad and beautiful.
JUST LIKE BRIDGET.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Need a miracle.
No luck today. I try to arrange the words just so but they all pour out in a scream. Maybe tomorrow.
Tomorrow will probably be worse.
Ha, I am having a real hard time with your optimism. Maybe you should WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES and then tell me to calm down. I need drugs. Drugs and someone else to do this because I really don't think I can pull it off without casualties. Watch as she explodes before your very eyes just out of sheer stress.
It could happen. Stay tuned.
Tomorrow will probably be worse.
Ha, I am having a real hard time with your optimism. Maybe you should WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES and then tell me to calm down. I need drugs. Drugs and someone else to do this because I really don't think I can pull it off without casualties. Watch as she explodes before your very eyes just out of sheer stress.
It could happen. Stay tuned.
Monday, 8 March 2010
Benjamin, I can't lift these boxes.
I'll be waving my handsThe thrill this week in grade three is to pull your mouth open wide with two fingers and say things like "puck" and "apple".
Watching you drown, watching you scream, quiet or loud
And maybe you should sleep
And maybe you just need a friend
As clumsy as you've been there's no one laughing
You will be safe in here
you will be safe in here
Sigh.
In grade six the trend is to decorate your jeans with memories written in sharpie, a la Sisterhood of the traveling pants. I may join that one. I already lead the threes in swearing so I think I have elementary school covered tenfold.
We are surrounded by cardboard boxes, markers, packing tape and lists. Contracts to print and sign, calls to make, addresses to change, hotels to book, flights to organize, pets to calm, children to reassure and...
...one princess sitting at a scrubbed table with a borrowed glass full of cheap white wine, near tears and near smiles at the effort in place to relocate many lives all at once, and memories too.
It rained all day today and I can see the tops of my lilac bushes again. I scraped away the ice in front of the garage door so that I don't have another session of stars and sparrows, flat on my back on the cement floor of the garage, wondering how I got there.
I'm favoring myself physically because if I hurt myself or pull anything I won't be able to pack. Time is at a premium right now, I am writing tonight from the dinner table, on precious batter power while Henry finishes his homemade pizza in the dining room and Ruth is long gone, off to watch television while she waits for us to be ready to head outside to walk the dog. Once I get the children organized and in pajamas playing Warcraft with Ben across the miles I will finish the calculations for my taxes and call them in tomorrow. Then I can put all of that away and concentrate on coordinating this move. Which sometimes seems so very easy and straightforward and other times becomes unbearably complicated and impossible.
But I have done so much. And I'm going to list the things because I could use a little pep talk with my contraband wine:
- I refinished a hardwood floor.
- I painted several rooms, top to bottom.
- I mudded and finished a newly gyproc-sheeted room.
- I hired a realtor and sold a house (almost forty showings in four days).
- I hired a mover.
- I had my car repaired and negotiated a free rental car for the duration.
- I kept the three of us safe.
- I lived without Ben for almost three months, no small feat for someone who is afraid of everything and who only breathes or sleeps in his arms.
- I kept my computer alive. There's no resuscitation order on this thing. It clearly wants to die. I need to give it permission and I don't plan to do that for a bit yet.
- We made brownies. They ruled the universe. Then we tossed the rest of the baking supplies.
I will soon find out. Two weeks from tomorrow.
Oh, Jesus Christ. Bring more wine then, I have work to do.
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Eight is enough.
There's a little white porchBen took that picture in the post below. I am still landlocked quite tightly but the countdown is on. Give or take a little we're down to less than twenty days remaining. Ben will be home in just under two weeks and we'll wrap up life on the Prairie and get the hell out, but I'll save the malevolence of goodbye for the final few days, if my laptop is still functioning then. The house is sold. The truck is booked. The lawyer is booked. The neighbors have been told. I've been saving out keys and taking things down. The suitcases are all over the dining room floor and the table pushed out of the way.
And you wanted it so
Can you let me go down
To the end of the road
In the black and the white
A Technicolorful life
Can I stand by your side?
We can make it alright
Here we go, Bridget.
Here we go, boys. Take our hands and never look back at this place, or I swear to God, I'll claw your eyes out.
Ben sang to me the other night. He played Tangerine and when I finally went to sleep I wasn't crying. Almost into the single digits now and finally I figured out how to destroy whole blocks of time Godzilla-princess style with movies and books and throwing myself into whatever else I am doing with one hundred percent attention and effort, instead of the usual fifty-fifty. Half a shot, merely a chance, and not a sure thing. Like the game of Capture her Heart. You won't get how it works but three of them figured it out in my life and that's enough for me.
There was no Hyde this time. The stress is starting to shift to semantics and plans that don't hinge so heavily on outside influences and finally it feels like reality instead of incarceration. Pair that with the clocks going ahead this coming weekend and a less-frigid round of weather as of late and I have officially clocked out of here with eight full winters under my belt.
Eight.
Eight.
When the fuck did that happen? Nevermind, it won't happen ever again. He promised.
Just nevermind. This chapter will be dealt with later as I see fit. Not today. It's a nice day today and I don't want to ruin it. Though I could ruin it if I think too hard about Ben's eyes, or Ben's arms, or Ben's beard, or Ben when he breathes and I hear it sometimes. It's one of my favorite things in my entire life and I'm counting the days now until we're a force to be reckoned with instead of two completely lost individuals foundering around in far-apart locations trying to do the best we can. Of course it's been good enough, but it isn't GOOD enough. Got it?
Sometimes you can just tell when a new chapter is going to be better than the previous one. I don't know how that happens, but it does. Sometimes it even happens to me.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Two bits (losing my credibility completely).
Could someone please tell me where I put the box full of cellphone chargers, headphones and assorted cases? I've looked and I can't find it. I NEEEEEEEEED it. My headphones! I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed my headphones. Argh.
In other notes, I really need to get a bigger microSD card for my phone. There is never enough space for the songs.
And just because this is calm before the next storm, I'm going to do something totally awesome here and post the list of songs in my OHW folder on my Blackberry. That's One Hit Wonders. Even though they aren't, they're just random songs I love and want to have handy but I don't want the whole albums on my phone. Get it? (If you are the author of one of them, don't be offended. The whole albums are on my computer, but the SD card is very tight, packed full, okay? And I love you.)
Don't laugh if you see something weird. All of them are a good offset for Tool and for Ben's stuff. Trust me. These are the songs that you find when you open up the glove compartment in Bridget's head and reach far back into the dusty corners.
And I won't tell you about what was in August's because he would come home and tickle me to death.
On second thought..
In other notes, I really need to get a bigger microSD card for my phone. There is never enough space for the songs.
And just because this is calm before the next storm, I'm going to do something totally awesome here and post the list of songs in my OHW folder on my Blackberry. That's One Hit Wonders. Even though they aren't, they're just random songs I love and want to have handy but I don't want the whole albums on my phone. Get it? (If you are the author of one of them, don't be offended. The whole albums are on my computer, but the SD card is very tight, packed full, okay? And I love you.)
Don't laugh if you see something weird. All of them are a good offset for Tool and for Ben's stuff. Trust me. These are the songs that you find when you open up the glove compartment in Bridget's head and reach far back into the dusty corners.
- Toto-Africa
- Trust Company-Downfall
- Thirteen Senses-Into the Fire
- Matthew Good-Strange Days
- Train-Drops of Jupiter
- Iron and Wine-Night Descending
- Matthew Good-In a world called catastrophe
- Black Crowes-She talks to Angels
- Wide Mouth Mason-The River song
- Black Crowes-Remedy
- Garbage-A stroke of luck
- Hudson River School-The Great mistake
- Spin Doctors-Two princes
- Incubus-Drive
- Iron and Wine-Each coming night
- Collective Soul-The world I know
- Sting-Fortress around your heart
- Foo Fighters-Come alive
- Neverending White Lights/Dallas Green-The grace
- Foo Fighters-Times like these
- Hawksley Workman-Striptease
- White Zombie-More Human than Human
- Slipknot-Vermillion Part 2
- Bee Gees-How Deep is your love
- Death Cab-Transatlanticism (the whole album, so it's probably in the wrong place)
And I won't tell you about what was in August's because he would come home and tickle me to death.
On second thought..
Friday, 5 March 2010
Night-doubt.
Oh ominous place spellbound and unchildproofedTonight I was swinging gently on the swing that is tied to the tree with two heavy ropes. A weathered grey board beneath me, my toes only graze the ground if I stretch my legs out far. I was watching the stars as they lit in the sky and then I noticed how frayed the ropes were. Once knotted securely to the strong branch, I could see that they were unraveling to the point of it being dangerous to continue to swing at all.
My least favorite chill to bare alone
Compatriots in place they'd cringe if I told you
Our best back-pocket secret our bond full-blown
But I didn't move.
A little of the euphoria is beginning to cloud again and the fear makes a campaign to return. What if someone steals our mail? New bank cards and tax receipts are at stake. I suppose our identity gets stolen or some funds from our bank account. All of it will be replaced. What if there is nowhere to stay when we arrive and someone drops the ball and the condo isn't ready for us? We find a hotel.
Jesus, Bridget, you really need to get your mind off things.
What if the plane crashes? Then nothing else can go wrong, now, can it? What if the movers lose my car/our furniture/everything we own? Then I guess you get a wad of cash to spend on new things. New things you have always wanted like a custom-painted fiddle, nicer clothing and a couch you can sleep on that still fits through a doorway. Maybe a stacking washer/dryer because they take up less room.
Simple things for a simple girl, because she over-complicates things so very badly.
Snap! And Bridge drops an inch on the swing as more stars come to light in the ever darkening backyard. You can hear her if you listen closely. She is singing songs she heard on the radio today, and today she is wearing a useless evil eye bracelet, or maybe it isn't useless but she would like a detailed report of that too if you have information for her.
What if it's awful?
How can it be awful, princess? We've got the ocean, the mountains, the forest and the mild easy living you have craved through eight arctic winters.
What if it's too expensive?
Then you write more and crawl back up to your post as the author who has these big dreams but puts them at the back of the shelf behind the mental obstacles for safekeeping. Words that are destroyed are merely letters after all.
What if I get homesick?
For what, exactly? Eight years, princess. Eight years and we still can't believe you did it.
Where does Jake go?
Where I always go, pigalet. With you.
What if Ben is difficult?
I promise, beautiful, no more Mr. Hyde.
They (everyone) feel the same way. Maybe everyone hides it better. I never had a poker face. I would see a handsome man or tell a lie and the action would be evident in my expression, colored in as a blush to a admission that I was all heart. Completely heart and nothing else. No mind, no guts, no brains. Just heart. A girl-organ, all red and pulsing with valves meandering off into different directions and blood squishing through your fingers as you hold me and feel me beating.
Too fast. And it won't slow down until I conquer all of the current fears and invent the next round to swing from, some of which will bring my swing crashing to the ground. But only if I let them. I may, but I may not. After all, it's dark out. No one will see.
I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind
I am a Joan of Arc and smart enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my throne
Destined to reign, destined to roam
Composers in absentia.
Just a little reminder when things get so very hectic I tend to take to Twitter. Button to your left and in this post below. Don't be a lurker though, it's nice to have followers and I will follow you in return if you say hello.
Why I like Twitter so much I'll never know. But I do. It's painless and quasinonymous and....
...there's a picture of me on my Twitter profile and for once I'm not hiding behind a BlackBerry/sunglasses/boy. Ben took the snap last night during our webcam chat. So that is me from my bed at two o'clock in the morning. If you look closely you can see my striped over-the-knee socks. I was cold.
More later. I thought you needed a treat because you've been very good readers putting up with my non-existent, positively undigestable word arrangements during this chaos. Thanks for that.
Why I like Twitter so much I'll never know. But I do. It's painless and quasinonymous and....
...there's a picture of me on my Twitter profile and for once I'm not hiding behind a BlackBerry/sunglasses/boy. Ben took the snap last night during our webcam chat. So that is me from my bed at two o'clock in the morning. If you look closely you can see my striped over-the-knee socks. I was cold.
More later. I thought you needed a treat because you've been very good readers putting up with my non-existent, positively undigestable word arrangements during this chaos. Thanks for that.
Thursday, 4 March 2010
Henry asked tonight if Ben missed his glue stick guitars.
It only took me a minute to figure out what he meant. He went on to tell me he likes it best when Ben plays glue stick songs after dinner at the table...instead of plugging in the electric ones. The electric guitars are so much louder. The acoustic guitars are better for dining rooms.
Sometimes I agree. :)
But only sometimes.
It only took me a minute to figure out what he meant. He went on to tell me he likes it best when Ben plays glue stick songs after dinner at the table...instead of plugging in the electric ones. The electric guitars are so much louder. The acoustic guitars are better for dining rooms.
Sometimes I agree. :)
But only sometimes.
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