Please keep them away from us…..

Posted on August 8, 2008 by

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Not that I want to give the freak killing on the Greyhound too much discussion – but I read this latest nuttiness and had to link it here. You know, because God hates Canadians, and Canadians hate crazy fundamentalists. But you know, not to be outdone in shameless opportunism, the animal rights fundies over at PETA have a few things to say about that too.

Could everyone just leave that poor family alone to grieve now?

Impatient reading.

Posted on August 8, 2008 by

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It’s been an awfully long time since I’ve written about books – partly because my reading has slowed down lately, but also because I haven’t read a ton of stuff that’s affected me enough to rant or rave. Mostly the books I am reading are well-told stories but not much else. Enjoyable. Forgettable. Which is what happens when you just allow books to enter your life rather than consciously seeking out the things you’ve always wanted to read. Sometimes serendipitous, but mostly just providing a cover for gapping out of life once and a while.

But I just finished a book which really irked me on some level which lead to a discussion between my literary workmates about the phenomena of “books that are really annoying but leave one feeling compelled to find out the story arch which encourages a very very fast reading just to get them over with”. I really wish there was a word to sum up that particular feeling of irritation because it is a tad wordy to describe – but you readers out there must know what I’m talking about, right?

It’s not every annoying book of course. Some books don’t inspire me to finish for any reason; I am content to put them down two or three chapters in (bad writing, stupid characters, plot that isn’t going to hold up) and discard them with the next cull of the bookshelf. Usually with those novels there is more than a single thing wrong with them and so deigning to read them seems like a big waste of time. The particular phenomenom I am referring to above happens generally when only one element is irksome. The plot usually is intact and somewhat compelling, but it’s some other piece that doesn’t quite work. Most often, it’s when I realize that none of the characters are sympathetic and/or their choices seem unfathomable or ridiculous to me. One bad choice I can forgive, but by the time we get to three or four (one wrong turn always begets another), I have switched into full-blown impatient reading mode.

Two of those which I have written about previously are Peter Carey’s His Illegal Self, and Ian McEwan’s Atonement.

The one that sparked the discussion today is Alice Sebold’s latest work The Almost Moon which starts out promisingly enough when the main character kills her aging (senile) mother in a fit during caregiving, but then turns into a series of errors painful to read about. A bit like watching someone in a horror movie – you know if they make “that” decision (to open the door, to enter the dark house, to laugh at fate) then it will necessarily result in the unraveling of everything else. Is it realistic that a character would make these decisions? Or is the author merely putting the character through the paces in order to see what might happen? (Apparently Sebold couldn’t decide in this case because the book ends abruptly and with no resolution for the main character.) You read because you honestly want to know how the author resolves the plot, while remaining completely unsympathetic to their personalities and choices throughout.

It’s a paradoxical feeling, to be tantalized and yet repelled. And it may sound strange, but by the end of books like these I feel a little bit used. Like I was just along on an author’s uncomfortable joyride, not one that I would have ever chosen for myself. Fortunately, I can read quickly – not too much of time gets wasted at the very least.

(I will say that Sebold’s previous work Lovely Bones was an excellent, if odd, piece of fiction and she is a very readable writer which is part of what lead me to this book.)

In any event, I am feeling the need to be a bit more directed in my reading over the next little while and to that end I have ordered second-hand copies of Pat Barker’s 2nd and 3rd books in the Regeneration Trilogy (one of which won the Booker). I read the first novel a few years ago and loved it, so I’ve decided to read the whole lot from start to finish once I’m done with a book of hers I’ve just borrowed from a friend – Border Crossing. I’ve got tons of books on the “to-read” pile at the moment, but I do want to make sure I get a quality read or two in before the end of summer!

Pushing myself.

Posted on August 7, 2008 by

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I have been experiencing some sort of writer’s block lately. Can not, don’t feel like, am stumped about…. And it’s not like I don’t have topics in mind, but somehow I just can’t get myself motivated to write them. Perhaps it’s just August. I’m not sure. But I don’t feel any urgency to post these days. Something about the formlessness of late summer – June/July all full of promise, August I often feel too little structure around me and everything becomes lazy.

On the other hand I have managed to keep the stucture of working out, and am currently experiencing another surge in fitness level (meaning, I have been sore the last couple of days). Since I went back to the gym in late June, I’ve been trying to mix it up and as such have been doing a weekly kickboxing class that has been really challenging and fun – so much so that I’ve started researching downtown boxing gyms for the fall. We’ll see. I don’t want to sign myself up unless I’m sure it’s what I want to do for the next year – but I really like the idea of being a buff boxing babe 😉

I’m feeling pretty good about myself bodywise at the moment, eating really well, losing weight, trying new things out at the gym – all sparked by the recent realization that a) I am getting older, b) I have the same crappy genetics as the rest of my family, and c) if I continue to carry extra weight into middle age then I am just setting myself up for high blood pressure, diabetes, and arthritis complications (a la my mother). And while I know that aging is something that happens to everyone and I won’t escape all of it, I’d like to think that living healthier now (particularly the regular exercise part) will give me an extra advantage when I’m sixty-five.

Problem of course is that I’ve been here before – this probably being the fourth or fifth round of rediscovering the gym. Each time the same – a lot of energy starting out that evaporates as I get bored, lazy, or over-committed to other things. It’s a cycle I don’t care to repeat – the motivation does get trickier with each attempt, and I worry that eventually I’ll just move on to “why bother?” So I’ve incorporated a lot of variety into my weeks this summer – walking to work, elliptical trainer, kickboxing classes, the occasional hike, and even some (sorry) attempts at jogging. Now I’m hoping to add some regular strength training and yoga or pilates classes as well. I’ve been doing a bit so far, but nothing regular. Biggest issue with that is finding the time for it all!

Brian has been pretty supportive (and likewise getting more active) so despite the fact the gym often cuts into our time together, he hasn’t been complaining. And as a bonus, he’s often around after work to make dinner when I come home all hungry. So that helps too. I want to be all yay me! but because I know that this can be a thing that comes and goes I’m not going to celebrate too much until I get to a consistent six months. I’m hoping that something like boxing will help with goal-setting and motivation in general. And push-ups – boxing classes will force me to do those exercises I find most terrible.

I’m hoping my writer’s block will recede if I just keep posting regardless of form or content. Apologies to those of you hoping for something a little more interesting!

The wild coast.

Posted on August 5, 2008 by

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The wedding we went to this past weekend isn’t really worth writing much about – it was a wedding and the married couple are very happy. The end.

However, we did have a great time in Sooke when away from the wedding festivities. The B&B we stayed at had a hot tub right on the beach, we got lots of downtime to read in the sun and play guitar, and on Sunday we drove up the coast to visit the place where I broke my ankle five years ago. I’ve always wanted to go back there – though I had completely forgotten what a gorgeous part of the coast it is (I was a little preoccupied with endorphins and thoughts of rescue the last time around).

The Juan de Fuca Marine Trail has four or five access points along the road winding up the west coast of Vancouver Island – and this particular spot is accessed off the Parkinson Creek lot (found at the end of four kilometers of badly-potholed logging road the parks service seems to have stopped maintaining). From the trailhead to the beach is perhaps only 2 kilometers through secondgrowth forest which leads out to a beach covered in solid rock shelf and tidal pools. The day was misty, the waves were fierce, and yet the temperature was not too cold for exploring and picnicking. The only other people you are likely to run into at this amazing spot are through-hikers on the JFMT since the parking area is poorly marked from the highway and it’s not a popular spot for camping or surfing.

I’ve posted some photos here. Including the panorama shot below. Click on that image to see it in a larger size. More soon.

Not a good wife.

Posted on July 30, 2008 by

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I’m having some trouble just getting down to things this week and I am not sure why. Restless perhaps? Ready for a bit of a break from going one way and then the other? I’m not sure. But I am looking forward to having a few days off this weekend even though it means attending a very “het” wedding of some of Brian’s friends. (And by het I mean, straight, flat, traditional – and very likely boring.) What I am really looking forward to is the cabin on the beach in Sooke with a hottub and some time with just my partner – something that has been in short supply lately what with all the moving about and family stuff going on. Not to mention needing some time just for me too.

Brian has moved into the upstairs suite of his house now that his ex has moved out, and the new renters for the downstairs are expected Thursday. Most of the moving work is done, with bits and pieces to be put away and some pictures to go on the wall still, but the main furniture is placed and the kitchen sorted out which makes it liveable. I haven’t been too helpful on that front because of my work schedule, but I have spent the last three nights there, which has left me feeling slightly ungrounded since I have barely been home in the past week.

It’s pretty strange to me that after almost a year of dating, I am finally allowed to stay in my partner’s home (not only stay, he has given me a key and the alarm code). The bed has been arranged so there is access to my side, I have a reading lamp, I have brought a set of toiletries and a yoga mat to leave there. And because Brian has a dog (not to mention a kid), I expect that in the next year we will spend more time there than at my place.

Which is jarring to me in a way I didn’t expect.

I suppose it really is just more of the transition our relationship is going through – from dating, to partnership, to (next year) living together – I am experiencing the fear of identity-loss through being swallowed up into my partner’s home and life. I think the feeling is compounded by the fact that he lives in a home and neighbourhood I never would choose for myself (not really his choice either, it was bought out of practicality), and already I can feel my neighbourhood routine disrupted. Too far for me to walk to work, it’s not close to anywhere I want to be (except my guy).

But maybe it’s not even that which I’m worried about as much as my own inability to express my needs to my partners without feeling guilty. Pretty much all my past relationships have followed a similar path whereby I subsume my life into my partner’s and within a few years get frustrated, resentful, and want out. I allow them every liberty (hell, D. slept with my best friend for several months and I didn’t leave him over it), do essentially what they want, put dinner on the table every night, take on all the household chores – you name it. The perfect wife. Until I can’t stand it and just want to be left alone.

Which is why after a decade of those types of relationships I wasn’t disappointed for the first few years of being single. It just seemed like so much less work to look after myself and no one else. A little more of a struggle to pay the bills, but overall a worthwhile trade when it meant I didn’t have to answer to anyone else’s needs for awhile. A much-needed break, and one that I sometimes find myself reluctant to leave entirely behind.

Now I should say that I am less worried about those prior patterns in my relationship with Brian for a few good reasons. First, five years alone gave me the space and time to develop a good life of my own which has its own responsibilities, relationships and commitments. I enjoy myself now more than I ever did as a younger woman and have a lot more confidence. For his part, Brian is used to looking after a kid, and as a result does more than his share of cooking and grocery shopping when we spend time together. More importantly, he is genuinely interested in reaching a state of living where we can both feel comfortable and be happy. (And for the record he does not expect me to stay at his all the time, or move into that house).

But of course whether I allow myself to slip back into the (miserable) “good wife” role is up to me and no one else. Because Brian is certainly not interested, nor would he put any woman in such a place in his life.

(And if you are wondering if I know what childhood modeling and trauma this is rooted in – yes, I do. It relates to the need for acceptance by my father who did not want me, and the fact that many times expressing ourselves in my family lead to explosive anger and occasional violence. The problem for me then, as it is now, I can only shut-up for so long without things leaking out in all sorts of unpleasant ways.)

It all comes down to trusting myself to develop strategies that will work for both of us, and trusting that Brian will not leave me just because I express a need to spend time at my home or on my own. Seems simple, but it’s not when you are as convinced as I am that every relationship must, by necessity, fall apart in some spectacular fashion.

It’s a lot to unpack, this stuff that lies dormant until the next big relationship, and lately I have been having daily revelations of exactly where my deficiencies lie. At least I can say that despite these little doubts, I am very clear about the fact that if there is anyone I could possibly work them out with – it is definitely Brian. Cause, you know, he’s the man for the me who isn’t a good wife, but just a loving woman.

I’m pretty sure the key is figuring out the difference between those two selves and acting accordingly.

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