Upon revision, I appear to have sounded a bit sad in my last post. That is not true in the slightest. My perspective is definitely negative. Actually, there is a possibility that JUNK will soon be renamed CRITICAL BITCH. Which although a bit tedious for others to read may have a cathartic effect on myself. I will reserve my cynicism and complaints for written word via online media rather than oral dialogue. It is true, as Casey has stated, that comfort comes from those you love. From people, not from places. This must be true, how else could people love Calgary, Regina and Edmonton? There must be fabulous people residing in each. I feel very loved, so comforted in love and acceptance from a great few that I feel safe to wander geographically. They are a phone call away, a plane ticket close and a constant buzz of group emails each day. You special little people are complete stability to me.
The problem, it is actually questionable whether it is a problem at all, rather, the issue that I have been facing for my entirity is whether it is feasible for me to be stable yet happy. I can throw a fast ball, but can't throw a slow change up, I can serve twenty tables at once, but my mind is jumbled if there is but one. When life slows down, my mind speeds up. But I am young. The recent debate as to whether I will ever 'grow up', or whether this is actually a maturity factor or a personality factor or a genetic make up, will come at a later date. Perhaps with time and age and years and years and years, I will suddenly develop a gripping desire to have a white picket fence surrounding my perfect lot and house with all the other typical features adorning the picture, whatever they are supposed to be? But for now, I cannot deny that the more that I stand still the more uncomfortable I feel.
Before I started this nursing program, which has forced me to stay still for 19 months, without release, I attempted to satisfy my stability jitters en route. Rather than board a plane from Toronto and settle into Calgary for 19 months straight, I boarded the Via rail for a long journey out west. For three days, I ceased to be geographically still. Those were the most relaxing hours in recent day. So my new question that I pose is, how does one be happy where they are? How do I stop moving? If catastrophic changes send chills through my being, how do I find satisfaction in the subtle newness of each day? And is this settling, not physically, but expectations-wise? Am I lowering my criteria and doing what I can with what I have, rather than seeking more?
Vancouver is extremely captivating, it is also comfortable. The first time I left because it felt, in many ways, too easy. Some have referred to this city as 'lala land'. It is perfect. The buses: perfect, the people: gorgeous, healthy and for the most part pretty friendly, the city services: pretty damn good, the coffee shops: a dime a dozen, the outdoor activities: the best place in the world to live. A masterpiece creation of architects, city planners, human geographers and the likes. A well planned zoo with perfect feeding spots, mentally captivating activities, lazy areas and hamster wheels to kill some energy. But too easy. As new as each day is, the similarities are too strong for one to ignore. It is arguably the best place to settle and live for years to come, and perhaps that is the issue. Perhaps the CRITICAL BITCH in me is lacking stimuli to feed my being? Perhaps the perfection is a tad captivating and the potential for future is a bit too much.
“As unrefined and basic as an animal's emotional equipment may be, it is not insensitive to freedom. Somewhere in the archives of crudest instinct is recorded the truth that it is better to be endangered and free than captive and comfortable.” Tom Robbins
Alright, enough. I have somehow just spilled my coffee all over my glass table and even managed to splash the underside. Pup looks upset. The rain is gone. The deadlines overdue are looming as my slow morning draws near. The darkness of this Vancouver day is calling me forth.
