Mid-life blaaaaahs

I know it sounds like a shamefully self-indulgent and utterly first-world kind of whinge, but I've been feeling quite bummed out lately. Ye olde familiar and nagging weight of the eternal 'what am I doing with my life?' question, compounded by the deafening crash of doors that I sense are slamming shut to me, on opportunities that I'm becoming too old to pursue. And it's not like new ones are really opening up. I guess it wouldn't bother me so much if I even had the remotest idea how to respond to, "Well, where do you see yourself in 5, 10 or even 15 years from now?' Crap, I don't even know where I'll be (or want to be) 6 months to a year away, never mind 5 or more. The only desire that's remained constant with me is that I'd like to live in Europe, and even that seems to be dwindling into nothing more than a pipe dream that may never actually materialize, especially the longer it's kept 'on hold'. I try not to be resentful about it since I chose to move to Canada, met and married Lorne here and have since stayed put. But, truth is, there is absolutely part of me that resents it - some days more than others. The more the months and years drift by, the more I struggle with the idea it really might never happen.

I do understand Lorne's hesitations - he doesn't speak a foreign language for a start and his job as an Editor/Colourist for TV/Film is very specialized, perhaps not so easily transferred to, or available in, another country. Besides, he's very good at what he does, he thoroughly enjoys his work and is well recognized for it here. Meanwhile, I spend every day here not doing what I love - i.e. speaking another language; french, german or even mastering new ones. When I'm in Europe I can physically and emotionally feel part of me comes back to life that simply remains otherwise dormant and ignored in my Canada life. A part that I can't - and don't want to - let go of. But what do I do with it? What do we do?

I've suggested Holland or Scandinavia as a possible option if we were to move to Europe (or even Germany for that matter) since they speak such good english anyway, but I'm not sure Lorne can do it. We held off while all of our cats were seniors and in various stages of decline, feeling it'd be too much to put them through. Well, that's no longer an issue - with our current brood all being so young.

We talked more seriously about it in 2008, even discussing whether we would move to Bristol in the UK (where I went to university) as a base for travelling more into Europe. But then came the worldwide economic crash, I was laid off from my job and we decided it best to wait and ride out the recession. And then, last year, breast cancer and all its associated uncertainties came along and the priority became getting that all sorted out and particularly here, where we have access to some of the world's best medical expertise.

So here we are, another 5 years on from our 2008 conversations, and I'm still in a nomadic flux workwise - contracting back at my old job (which is coming up for a year soon) with nothing in line for when this wraps up in a month or two. And what do I even look for after that? The struggle to get motivated about looking for work really wears on me, mentally and emotionally, and completely erodes my self-esteem. I'm not even sure if it's a Vancouver thing, with salaries here being the sh*ts - especially compared to the ridiculous cost of living - and they want a whole wack of high-level expertise and years of experience for even the most entry-level crap. Most job descriptions sound like the work of 10 people for the salary of 0.3.

As you can probably tell, I'm not in the most positive frame of mind these days. In fact this past week I've felt particularly blaaaah! It's coupled with that sense of being mid-forties too, I can't deny that. I just can't wrap me head around my age and feeling like I should surely be on a better career path of some sort by now and at least know just what the f*ck I want to do with my life. I struggle with trying to think what job would I like to do and what can I even expect to get, compared with 'well, it's just a job - use it to pay the bills and don't get so bent out ouf shape about it.' Only I don't have the mental tolerance for complete boredom at work just for the sake of a paycheque. I have to enjoy what I do and get some level of personal fulfillment out of it.

It hasn't helped that I choked down a whole bunch of pride at my present job recently and finally offered up my services on a more permanent level, should there be an opportunity within the Marketing team here. In other words (and if I'm honest with myself) I was offering to prostitute myself back to them and come back full-time if there's an opening. Because really, that's what it would be since I still personally and fundamentally disagree with a lot of what goes on there - their involvement in Alberta Tar/Oil Sands projects, their obsessive lust for developping on greenbelt land and vacuuming up environmentally sensitive areas and animal habitat only to replace it with featureless condos, strip malls and big box Home Depot outlets! Plus the company is SUPER-corporate. I mean nauseatingly, sole-crushingly, Big Brother-like corporate. Working there as a freelancer this past year has graciously spared me that obligation, but going back full time would bind me once more to the suffocating expectation of being 'one of us....one of us.....'. 

In my heart of hearts, I know the reason I even suggested being hired back full time was a) for job/financial security (pay's not bad), b) because I really do enjoy the writing, editing, graphic design and marketing I get to do there (even if the architectural/construction subject matter isn't quite my ideal choice)  but c) perhaps primarily, because it would be the easy way out and would save me the inevitable and horribly awkward job search.

So, having floated the idea out there to my boss (who's leaving in November to travel the world for three years with her husband....grrrr), I was advised that they hadn't yet decided on just how things/jobs would be moved and reshaped within the Marketing team just yet, but would keep it in mind. Next thing I know, I get not one, but TWO emails - direct to my work inbox no less - from CSMPS (Canadian Society for the Marketing of Professional Services) both are job postings.....for positions at this company.....in Marketing! And so I have my answer! God damn that chunk of pride I'm still choking on!

I guess one person is moving up and they're looking for a replacement Proposal Coordinator (which is the job I used to do when I worked there before and wouldn't particularly want to do again) and they're hiring another, much more junior level (read cheaper) person as Marketing Coordinator. Personally I would have appreciated my boss at least letting me know that, but hey - now that it's in my face, I've been honest with myself about how much of a cop-out it would have been for me anyway. In fact (and I'm really not just saying this), I'd been asking myself more recently if I wasn't just hoping to get hired back because it'd be the easiest option and I'm too lazy/daunted/intimidated and clueless to know what else I should be aiming for anyway. I do feel like I'd be selling myself somewhat short to go back as an employee, even if they did want me to, coupled with a demoralizing lack of faith in finding anything that personally interests, inspires, motivates or challenges me, ideally without destroying the environment, promoting consumerism or harming animals in some way. Is that asking too much?

Anyway, what with that and other stuff 'n' nonsense, I've been thoroughly beating up on myself this past week....or longer. Feeling old, redundant, superfluous, unattractive, indecisive, insecure and generally very mid-frikkin-forties! I should just let go of the whole age thing really, after all it's only gonna get worse. But I think it's not so much the number 45 (okay, maybe it is), but also/rather the fact I don't know where I fit or what to do or where to go. What's more, I resent this horribly unsettling feeling and the way it completely undermines any confidence or self-assuredness I might feel otherwise. Gawd it's like being an adolescent all over again!

I'm alive, I have my health, I have the love of a good man, I live a good life and, on the whole, that all makes me incredibly lucky. And yet, when I feel like this, that whole 'very lucky' shit just doesn't cut it!

Like I said at the beginning of this verbal diarrhea - it's all shamefully self-indulgent and utterly first-world kind of crap. And yes, I do feel guilty for it. Because seriously, what's the use in navel-gazing if you don't add a relentless dollop of guilt to boot?

Les Enfants Sauvages

It took me a while to notice the "Next Blog" link in the upper left corner of my homepage where you can click through to the next blog and the next etc. I've clicked through a few times before now, taking a peek into other people's worlds and learning a little more about the lives, loves, creativity, and daily trials and tribulations of people I've never even met.

Mostly I seem to fall upon blogs about diabetes, not sure why that is since I don't have diabetes (thank goodness) and have never written about it here. Often it's a blog with a distinctly religious slant which I, personally, have little interest in. Each to his own, I absolutely don't mind if someone wants to blog that kind of thing, but it's just not my cuppa tea, as I'm sure my own is of little interest to most people.

Many bloggers are new parents, recording every moment of their children's lives which, even as a non-kidlet person myself, can nevertheless be quite endearing to read (as long as it's not too schmaltzy). Some blogs are uplifting in spite of their content and one quite literally moved me to tears a few years ago. (The heart-wrenching journal of a young woman nursing her ailing 18-year old cat through its last days and struggling, for many months afterwards, to come to terms with her unrelenting sense of loss and emptiness - a familiar story that's a little too close to home. Pet-lovers among us all know that it's never 'just a cat', or dog, or gerbil....)

While it still feels a little voyeuristic at times, I enjoy these momentary, candid connections with complete strangers and often catch myself, even months later, wondering about the lives of those whose blogs I've stumbled upon. Their stories, thoughts and experiences told in words of wit, hope, love, desperation, anxiety, nostalgia, humour, compassion and charm. There's so much to share and learn from one another and so many people out there are doing such amazing - or delightfully mundane - things, or else fretting and over-analyzing the day-to-day (what a relief to know I'm not on my own).

But clearly not all blogs need words to tell a beautiful and charming story, which is certainly how I felt when I stumbled across this wonderful blog just recently: Alain Laboile Photographies. Quelles merveilleuses images d'une enfance sauvage et tellement fantastique!

It's a remarkable feeling to be captivated, enchanted and so wonderfully inspired by someone you've never even met, simply through their photographs and the stories they tell. Beautiful, funny, endearing, sensitive, delightfully candid and evocative images which, through lack of accompanying text, are every bit as au naturel as the children within them.

Bare, muddy, feral kids, running wild through sodden fields, clambering the banks of murky rivers and cannon-balling into their backyard, dug-out swimming pool. Just as spirited and carefree as kids should be.

I couldn't help but include a selection of Alain's pictures here but I encourage you to check out his site, Alain Laboile Photographies, to see for yourself just how beautiful these images really are. I am truly in awe of him - I can only aspire to ever have a single ounce of his incredible talent at portrait photography and his ability to capture so perfectly the raw essence of childhood; in such simple, naive, funny and truly natural moments of his family's daily life; kids simply being free to be kids. So wonderfully sauvage, discovering life on their own terms. Similarly, their delicate connections with each other - despite their varied ages - and with the rural landscape and nature that surrounds them; cats, kittens, birds, insects, snakes and even a fawn. 

What's more, this fabulous photographer shares the very same birth date as me and lives near Bordeaux - my favourite place in France, where I'd always intended to live. Ho-hum.

Sinking into Sóley

I like to think I have a varied taste in music. A quick spin through my Ipod will reveal anything from Arcade Fire, Brazilian Girls, Cat Stevens, Charlie Parker, DeVotchka, Doves, Elliott Smith, Fluke, Frightened Rabbit, Goldfrapp, the Heavy, Hey Rosetta, Interpol, Iron & Wine, Jagwar Ma, Jesca Hoop, Kate Bush, LCD Sound System, Lemon Jelly, Massive Attack, Marilyn Manson, The National and Nine Inch Nails to Oreanda Fink, Patrick Watson, Pickwick, Portishead, Queens of the Stone Age, Radiohead, Ray La Montagne, Stellastarr, Sufjan Stevens, Thelonious Monk, Tricky, TV on the Radio, Underworld, Unkle, Vivaldi, We are Augustines, Wilco, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and finally, Zero 7. Not to mention a lot of other great artists in-between.

Mainstream radio in Vancouver is utterly diabolical! You're unlikely to hear any of the above artists let alone be introduced to any new ones. Instead you'll find yourself brainwashed into total moronification by an endless, nauseating loop of absolute sh*te from a handful of dreadful bands, repeated over and over and over and over and over and........

Thankfully, since first dating Lorne in 2001, I was also introduced to KEXP.org - a fantastic non-commercial radio station out of Seattle and I have KEXP* (and their fabulous morning host, John Richards) to thank wholeheartedly for not only helping us to develop such a ridiculously bloated music library, but for the abundance of fantastic bands we've seen play live - bands we might never have heard of otherwise - of which I would highly recommend Arcade Fire and DeVotchka for putting on a truly oustanding live performance.

But, to get back to the original point of this post, while my music library is fairly diverse (and amen to iPod for saving me the weight of lugging a million cassettes/CDs around) I am nevertheless embarrassingly inept at venturing to describe musicians, music styles or anything musical really so, other than listing What's New On My Ipod I've never gone into detail here. However, since discovering a new singer-songwriter lately, one I'd never even heard of, I decided I might just give it a try.

T'would appear I'm arriving somewhat late to the party on this one, but I recently discovered the rather enchanting album, 'We Sink' (which actually came out in 2011) by the artist, Sóley.

Sóley is a young, icelandic singer-songwriter, normally associated with the band Seabear (who I'll also have to look up now) and We Sink is apparently her first full solo album, following on from the release of her 2010 debut EP, Theatre Island (also on my list). I can only hope I'm doing Sóley justice in describing her as a captivating and unique, poetic, indie-folk artist.

We Sink is a hypnotic dreamscape that glides gracefully between whimsy, melancholy, the supernatural and child-like bewilderment. Singing in little more than a delicate whisper, Sóley's intriguing lyrics seem to roam the desolate hallways of an abandoned house, sprinkled with eerie and nostalgic echoes of old toys, broken music-boxes, erratic wind chimes and simple piano notes. The overall quirkiness of this album is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland meets Great Expectations.

I'll have to listen a little more to determine which song might be a favourite. For now I'm enjoying the wistful, ethereal undertones of the album's entirety as it wavers between dream, memory and nightmare. Kill the Clown is a particularly disturbing, yet strangely alluring song - not least because I've always hated clowns! Hmmm, perhaps not one for bedtime listening.


Well, that's my humble opinion anyway and hopefully I'm not completely off the mark with my first (somewhat minimalist) attempt at a review.

I'm already looking forward to the next journey with Sóley. I doubt she'll disappoint.

*Incidentally, if you tune into KEXP.org this week, please don't be put off by the fact they're doing one of their twice yearly membership drives, being a public-funded, non-commercial radio station 'n' all. (It finishes this Friday.) We've been appreciative members for more than 10 years - especially after all the amazing music and live acts we've been introduced to through them. Believe me, they really are worth supporting! 

Three Times the Charm

Wohooo! I've finally been given the all-clear after a third....and last (I hope).... ultrasound on my left boob and surrounding lymph nodes. The couple of areas they were keeping an eye on since July last year, and again in February, were checked once more last week and a follow-up visit with the insipid oncologist Dr. N confirmed the results that (thankfully) there really is nothing to worry about. He even added, "I suspect the only reason your lymph nodes are so easy to feel is because you're very slim".

Ordinarily I could have taken that 'very slim' thing as a compliment, except that he hadn't yet done that one last examination of my boobs, so I knew the ol' lumpy-bumpy comment would soon follow - again! And he didn't disappoint. In fact, with two trainees also there to check things out, Dr N surpassed himself this time by adding 'with no disrespect intended'...that my left boob is particularly lumpy-bumpy.....cobbley.....even a little gristly in places. What the f*ck! "Hello, I am still in the room you know!" (I wish I'd said.)

Bloody charming! Not satisfied with referring to them as lumpy-bumpy on my previous visits, he decided to outdo himself. Cobbley was certainly bad enough, but gristly??? Like some unpleasant, semi-masticated glob of meat spat out on the side of a plate? Are you kidding me? Jerk!

So, as you can imagine, any whaff of a compliment intended by the 'very slim' comment was soon beaten to a pulp by the descriptors that followed. At least the two female attendees had the diplomacy and discretion not to add anything further in that regard - perhaps sensitive to the unabashed ignorance of one's boobs being so mercilessly critiqued.

Needless to say, I finished off the appointment by shaking his hand and saying, 'No disrespect, but I hope never to see you again.' Which could be taken several ways.

That aside, I am obviously very relieved to have another lingering element of the past 15 months over with. No cancer to see here folks - yay!!!! And breathe.....

Apart from the follow-up pelvic ultrasound booked for next Thursday, I am thankfully DONE! I'm sure next week's will be just fine too, the bloating finally stopped weeks ago and I've been feeling really good lately. Heck, I didn't even gain weight on vacation, so there's a first. Quite a relief too since my weight seemed to be climbing upwards for a few weeks there.

Outside of Tamoxifen, all that remains of this ridiculous cancer ordeal is next week's appointment and the final verdict on the gene testing currently underway, for which the results may not be determined for a few months yet. Safe to say I will be very glad to close this chapter once and for all.

(Oh and, for the record, Lorne assures me he would never for one minute consider my boobs to be remotely 'cobbley' and definitely not 'gristly'. He has to say that but, believe me, I've kept a careful hand on my boobs these past 15 months, and can assure you those words have never come to mind for me either.)