It's been some time since my last post. I've been wicked busy, which has been good. Being chained to a piano and being constantly preoccupied with how I can arrange that my next meal not come from the Subway around the corner has meant that I haven't been constantly preoccupied with how my life hasn't really turned out exactly the way I expected it would if I looked at it from the vantage point of about one year ago.
I took a trip to visit a good friend on one of my first free weekends since my new life started. We had a great time. We did a lot of awesome things and I took a lot of pictures of us doing awesome things. But a funny thing happened that weekend. I fell in love with a bartender.
No. This is not my rebound story. I don't think.
I fell in love with this bartender because he knew that the time signature to Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill was 7/4, he was genuinely interested in what instrument I played, and also teaches music and science...you know, when he's not a weekend bartender. And all this happened after I decided he was kind of cute. It was like I'd been given this gift.
Now, I don't know his name and he could be married and have kids that necessitate his working at a brewery on weekends in order to support them. I don't know. I left before I could get too invested.
The next day, I drove home. It was a sunny day and I had a great mix of tunes playing and the only downfall was that I was leaving a great weekend behind just in time to hit morning rush hour traffic on the 403. When I finally got onto the 400 to head home, I burst into tears. Not because of rush hour. Not because of the weekend I was leaving behind (I'm totally going again this summer). Possibly a little because I had expected to find somewhere to eat breakfast hours beforehand and was getting a little shaky. Probably because of the sense memory of the last time I was in that spot three-ish months ago, likely tinged by the fact that, only a few days before, I ran into my ex for the first time since we parted ways, and seeing him reminded me that not too long ago, I was really effing sad (It was awkward, but I did not bolt like a frightened deer, though I suspect it was painfully obvious that I wanted to).
I got it together by about Barrie, and when I got home, I fell in love again. That might be my rebound story. Time will tell.
The following weekend was spent at the family cottage with family members that I haven't seen in over a year. They have all been very supportive of me via Facebook and email, despite the fact that I certainly had not made visiting them at all a priority in the previous year or so. They were full of inspiration and kind words. And advice about what I should do next.
I'm telling these two stories for two reasons. If you haven't figured it out already, the first story illustrates that emotionally, I'm still kind of wobbly. The second story leads to a bit of a personal epiphany about how to stand on two happy feet.
Ever hear of a compliment sandwich? When you sandwich some not-nice criticism between two slices of good stuff bread? Maybe I have it backwards...but you get the idea. Well, the truth is that there is an awful lot of bread (i.e. good stuff) in my life and there really always has been. Only, for years, I've been mired in the modest skim of not-nice filling I've got going on between those voluminous slices of bread. And it hasn't made me really happy, and I suspect it makes the people around me kind of not happy also (truly, I don't suspect it. I know it.). I found the advice of my family a little bit overwhelming because they were full of ideas about how to make my life better than it is right now.
The truth is, though, that it is challenging enough to like my life the way it is right now. Even though, in my rational thought centre, I know that my life is pretty freaking great. I think the best way to make my life better right now is to work on liking it the way it is.
I've always found that those people who celebrate the little tiny microscopic good things in their lives are just a little bit precious and perhaps also a bit willfully ignorant of their own misfortunes. On the other hand, I'm kind of starting to think that looking at everything except the giant elephant of sadness in the room might make it get bored with hanging around.
#100happydays, here I come.
