Archive for April, 2010

h1

Long day’s journey into night.

April 28, 2010

Ok, so my dad died recently. Last night in fact. April 27th will hereby be known to me as having the distinction as the date upon which my father left this realm for whatever lies beyond it. Or beside it. However that works.

Bummer dude. Serious. It always sucks to lose someone you love, for me personally, this is the first time I’ve lost someone I was directly related to, whom I spent a lot of time with. There have been distant uncles and grandparents, but never immediate family. Never a time when it affected me so directly. It’s surreal to be sure. I know that I’m still processing all of it and will be for a good long time. I kinda feel like I’m not sad enough or something. I have yet to cry, though I did inadvertently put on all black when I woke up this morning. My mum and my sis are holding up fantastically well also. It could be that we’re in shock and to an extent I’m sure we are, but we’re also fairly pragmatic when it comes to things like this.

Death is an inevitability. It’s as universal as math and music. Perhaps even more so. And we were well aware that he was dying, a little faster, a little sooner, a little more inevitably than those around us, including ourselves. He was diagnosed with cancer back in september. The bad kind. The kind that they tend to make you comfortable through and don’t offer a lot of options because there really aren’t any. It’s a freaky thing to be suddenly handed a death sentence like that and I wasn’t even the one getting it.

I’m one of those fortunate people who grew up with a kind and loving father. I don’t remember being condescended to, spanked or even disciplined excessively. I remember much in the way of laughter and joy and pride in what I was doing most of the time. Of course there were the turbulent teenage years, but I think that’s common enough. It makes me sad to think that I ever caused my father pain with my unusual lifestyle choices, hair styles, affinity for freaks and weirdos for company. But in hindsight, that’s kind of his fault. I learned from him the value of the strange, the sub, un and supernormal. Not to mention the ab. That there is humor everywhere, even in darkness. And I have had some very dark periods of existence, some so close to the edge of what could be considered insane that I had friends who never came back from the trip. Whether their minds went, their bodies succumbed, their morality shattered, their judgment or ability to remain capable and rational destroyed, it didn’t matter. At some point, the darkness had consumed them and they were lost. Some came back, altered, not necessarily for the better. Some were lost to memory. I came through, realtively unscathed, wiser, stronger, aware and free of malice. Because I knew how to laugh, even in the darkness.

And that’s in large part to the time I spent with my dad when I was young. A lot of what we did together was watch movies. I cut my teeth and my funny bone on black comedy. My mind is sharp, my wit is savage, my humor is dark. But funny. It can’t just be taboo, it has to be clever. And my dad knew clever, and helped me to realize the difference.

Of course, that’s not the only thing I inherited from my dad. And it wouldn’t be fair to say it was all him, because my mother certainly has a delightfully skewed sense of humor. There is always much in the way of laughter under this roof, for which I’m grateful because it could have easily gone the other way.

My dad didn’t always understand my choices, he didn’t even always like my choices. But he always allowed that they were mine to do with as I pleased. And he loved me in spite of and because of who I am. That’s the best thing a parent can ever do for their child I think.

That’s all I wanna say on this for now. I’m sure there will be more as time goes on and I process everything I’m feeling, but for now, it’s been summarized fairly well.

My dad died. He was a superawesome guy who loved me more than I deserved at times, but never ever less.

Thanks for that papa.
Safe journey.
Send postcards, I’m insanely curious.

Love, Trish

Advertisements
h1

Ramblin

April 14, 2010

Moving across country, it’s really easy to forget that there are people who live in all these tiny towns one passes through. Saying, I’m in the middle of nowhere is all fine and dandy, but it’s the middle of somewhere, to someone.

Ask any young person who lives in one of these places, ‘what goes on here?’ The answer will likely be ‘nothing’, with a certain resignation. But ask anyone beyond the first flush of experience what goes on here. They will inevitable answer, “Life.” Maybe not exactly like that. But this is where they live, where they breed and raise their progeny, where they smile in the sunshine, frown in the rain, or vice versa.

It’s very easy to have  a callous attitude towards someplace one personally dubs as ‘I got pregnant out of high school and am now trapped in’ (insert province/state/town here). But that doesn’t make any less someone’s home. A place that someone feels a sense of community, a sense of joy.

It doesn’t hurt to have something giant for people to come and look at though. Or a catchy town phrase. Such as Swift Current- where life makes sense. Maybe not to me, but I’m sure to someone. Mind you, I think any place that calls itself swift current should have some kind of swell, and there’s not a lot of inland surfing going on. Perhaps that needs to change. River madness! I’d consider living inland if there was a town called river madness…

Wild horse creek comes closest so far.

Is it terribly obvious that I spent entirely too much time driving today? Coupled with the fact that my only conversation was with a stuffed husky dog? We did argue through most of Saskatchewan why Quebec shouldn’t separate. I was against, he was for, his only argument being, Je suis tres mignon!

He almost won.
Bon soir darlings.

h1

Full circle.

April 11, 2010

Well, here I am again, in the apartment I moved into nearly exactly 5 years ago. That I moved out of almost exactly 2 years ago. Recently one year older, still having managed to stay away from debt, school, serious relationships and accidental pregnancy. Yay me!

In my 2 year absence from Vancouver I’ve managed to include a thumb severing and reattachment, a whirlwind tour of Europe, a couple of northern ontario winters and a month in Costa Rica learning to surf and acquiring a tattoo that my father believes is far too big. But that’s kind of his duty.

Have I grown? I hope so. Have I learned much? Certainly. Have I matured with more of an idea as to what I want to be when I grow up? Hmm..that’s where it gets fuzzy. I still have yet to cultivate the desire to be involved in a steady romantic relationship, to stick with any job/career in particular or settle in any one place and own property. I really do appreciate the idea of having some place that is mine, I just don’t know that I need that place to be the same one for any longer than the moderately forseeable future.

The newest dream involves a surf hostel in Costa Rica, mostly because the surf there is awesome, the weather is dreamy, the people are great and did I mention the surf? It would seem that any travel plans I have for the present revolve around whether or not I can surf there. I predict a summer filled with trips to the westcoast of the island, for more than just the typical wave I catch in July. I must admit, the idea of surfing in a wet suit is slightly less abhorrent than not surfing at all, but honestly, I’d prefer to be somewhere it’s not needed.

I realize that it would be folly to decide after one visit to Costa Rica that this is the place for me, especially since there are so many places I have yet to visit. The inland ones don’t have as much appeal for me anymore. I used to think that I could live in Paris, but I realize now, after having spent so much time away from the ocean, I’m really not happy anywhere else. I think it’s possible I could live in the kootenays, but perhaps after the huge ass tsunami hits and the whole west coast is under water…I hope I’ll have a board handy.

I am happy to be back in Vancouver for more than just the ocean, the proximity to my family and friends I’ve missed so much and sushi for dinner every day. There’s not a whole lot of tango dancers in northern ontario. Or the kootenays for that matter. And that, we have here. Just up the street from me. Yay me again!

So here I am, come full circle. What will I do in Vancouver for work? Something nice and part time that will allow me trips to the island for visits and waves? I wonder how long that will last. The cost of living in Vancouver is high and part time working while living here is not conducive to saving money for travel to all those beaches I have yet to visit.

In some ways it’s very hard for me to be here because coming full circle feels a bit like I haven’t really moved forward. I’ve come over all ouroboros-y. Gnawing on my own tail. Crap! I’ve been back all of 3 days and already I’m having misgivings! Well, perhaps it’s like a haircut, at first you hate it because it’s strange and different and not how you’re accustomed to seeing things, but after some time you settle into an ease of being every time you look in the mirror. Which should never happen with a tattoo. You should like a tattoo right off the bat. Even if later you come to realize it doesn’t really represent where you’re at anymore and get it covered with something that does.

Queen of off-topic.

I guess I’m a little bit scared that because I’ve come back it means that nothing has changed. Not with Vancouver (ok, to an extent with Vancouver) There are all kinds of observable differences around the city, friends’ kids are growing into little humans that I can finally interact with, without feeling all creeped out and since I have no idea what I’ll be doing for work yet the city feels less like it revolves around marinas and boats and has a much more urban feel.

I have changed as well…haven’t I? I just hope that I’ve evolved enough that I don’t fall into those habits I didn’t like as much the last time I was living here. Such as? I’ll save that rant for another post.

Bisous darlings.

%d bloggers like this: