enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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When you were here.

That's sort of the point of the entry, but more on that later. (Aside: Please excuse the writing in this entry. I'm trying to "get this out," and the text will be rough.)

Do you know, each time I come home and see the empty driveway - this time with snow gently falling (yes!) - I think of my landlord and miss him. Tonight I wanted to knock on his door and sit down with a glass of Pineau des Charentes in front of me and have him transport me to a gracious world full of books and words and dreams of music and art and grace.

That's also sort of the point of the entry, but more on that later.

So many things. First, I must say that this past weekend was life-changing.

Travel is fantastic in that way. Even a little bit of it can sometimes open up a whole new window, a crack that lets the light in.

ASIDE: This entry is probably going to meander - there's so much going on in my brain right now - so please excuse that fact. :) And before I continue, I may also say that I felt sure of deleting this diary yesterday and now I am not so sure. Please just ignore me.

When I get away from my little space here in Ottawa, I tend to suddenly solve problems in my mind that I had; at the same time, I realize that problems that I thought I had I do not in fact have...in any way, shape or form.

This trip was interesting in that there was a fair bit of genuine panic involved (where there hadn't been for the Italy trips). What I get from that is actually something positive: I WANT TO LIVE!

It's not that I didn't want to live before, but I wasn't so confident or sure about the beauty of my life or its potential.

And when I say potential I don't mean potential in terms of achievement (which is how I've always framed things), but potential in terms of being.

Something was quite different at the end of this trip. The big thing about trips for me is that usually I come back with all sorts of grand ideas about how I'm going to change my life. This time is no different. The difference this time is that I felt the ideas more like visions (I don't mean psychically, but I could actually SEE myself doing them). I really believe that visualization is incredibly important in life. It is one of the most important things. When I decided to win a marathon I could see myself doing it months in advance. This time, I see myself taking a leave from my job and moving to Europe - probably to Paris, and then to Rome, and then to London, and all probably in 2011. (It will take time to figure out where I am going to be in my job and when the best time for an unpaid leave will be.)

So this is perfectly fantastic. I love it when I can see myself doing things. WHen I've written in recent years about being "blocked," it is the inability to envision anything that was driving me NUTS.

But enough of that for now.

The trip was also fantastic because C. and I had a truly great time. You won't believe how much we did when you see the pictures that I will eventually get around to posting. I'll try to give you a quick recap. It was amazing, exhausting and very interesting.

First, we arrived at around noon on Thursday, after a ridiculously horrible night of flying. (Getting to the airport at 4 a.m. I will never do again. I don't know how people do that and feel OK!)

C. and I are not people to sit around in a new city, however, so we got on the BART and rolled right on down to our hotel to drop off our cases. Technically we had booked a single room with two twin beds and an ensuite in a hostel. It turned out to be a bit shabby and initially C. freaked out about bedbugs (as I laughed - not because it is not reasonable to freak out about bedbugs, but because if there is any possible problem anywhere, C. will find it). I was quite sure that the place was fine and just old, however, so I let him go on his inspection tour and remove all of our clothes and so on and stayed quiet. The thing was that the hostel had hundreds of very solid ratings and comments on the site on which I always book, so I knew that it was very unlikely that...the hostel was sending people home with bedbugs or bedbug bites.

The place was also scrupulously clean, as far as I could tell. Everything was just mismatched and shabby. I'm shabby, so I'm A-OK with that. A-OK. :) IN the end, C. had to agree with me that the place had been pretty great. It was clean, quiet, and in the best possible location. It was also cheap. It had a free breakfast included and the breakfast was terrible, but who cares? :)

So after getting to the hostel, C. and I decided to walk around. We did a massive walk through Chinatown, stopping en route because C. wanted to try some gruesome roast duck in the most authentic Chinese restaurant possible. I was quiet about it because C. is stubborn and there is no use trying to change his mind. I used to spend lots of time in places like this with my Chinese friends in Vancouver. I knew that C. would a) not like the meal, finding it too greasy; and b) have diarrhea the next day as a result. But I do love C's sense of adventure, and I'm always into sitting in a cool place and trying out the three phrases in Mandarin that I know.

SO...after that we did a massive walk through North Beach, into the Coit Tower to see the 1930s murals commissioned by Roosevelt's very forward-looking-artists-project-part-of-the-New-Deal thingie. It was awesome. We walked along all of the piers and then made our way back downtown, up and downhill. Marvelous!!

ON Friday we went on a free walking tour offered by the library. We had the most excellent time (city scapes and public places). Afterwards we went to the oldest continuously-operating seafood restaurant in San Francisco. The place is amazing; the men who took over ownership after their parents died in a car crash have kept the place as authentic to the 1940s as possible. C. I think found out that the place had been in business since the 1850s (of course I'm sure that the original building was destroyed in the earthquake of 1906).

At lunch we met a very cool older man (our waiter), whom I guessed to be Czech. Sure enough, he IS Czech! :) He also happens to be married to a German and had lived in Germany for a couple of years, so he and C. merrily chatted away in German. It was fun. We do have pics.

After that...hmmm...Oh yeah: We took the bus to Golden Gate park. We walked the entire park (I think it's three miles in length alone) and then ended up at the Pacific Ocean. We walked along the beach, looking at all sort of brave dudes (and one dudette) in wetsuits who were windsurfing and something like it but not. We then walked up the hill to the Cliff House and walked the entire trail as the sun set along the cliff through Lincoln Park. We made it just to the edge of the Presidio part of the park I believe and then we walked back to Geary Street and took the bus back downtown.

At that point we were exhausted and so we found a sushi restaurant - our favourite - and ate a whole heap of delicious stuff (including some hot sake - yummm!). (Seriously, if I could only ever again eat Italian and Japanese food I would still be so happy.) At the sushi restaurant we met a very interesting Japanese sushi chef who had moved over to America from Japan about thirty years before. His English was still terrible, but slowly we extracted his life story. He was incredibly interesting. I have been to Japan nine times, but I have never been able to stay there for long and so the place is still a mystery to me. IT is one place I would very much like to see again. MY personal guess is that even though he mentioned a wife and children, he is likely gay (perhaps the fact that he originally moved to New York to be a singer and dancer biased me in this direction). He had such a sunny face and smile and as a result looked so young. It's the joyous, free-spirited people who keep their youth, don't you think? He seemed to have a genuine wanderlust.

The funniest part of the trip happened next. We got back to our hotel room and each stretched out on our respective beds. We were watching Obama at the G-20 conference and discussing the conference in general when I drifted off. I woke up I guess because C. had gone to the washroom or turned off the light or something. I totally don't remember this, but apparently I said to C., "I was dreaming that I was Barack Obama." And then, apparently, I said, musingly, "But I think I'm not."

So that was kind of funny. I DO have an active imagination. :) The people on our tour the following day definitely thought it was funny.

This is a long and pedantic sort of a recounting of our trip, is it not? I will shorten it. :)

The tour to Muir Woods and the Sonoma Valley to drink wine were both great. Our tour guide was an English guy who had landed there twenty years before (illegally) and had married (and divorced) someone subsequently and so now has his papers. I liked him. Apparently he liked me, as well, as he was very forward in flirting with me. Funny. That doesn't happen all that often. Except when I'm on tours and I'm traveling. Maybe flighty people spot each other. :) Birds of a feather! HOnestly, I DO wish that I could just move around all the time...

Gosh, this should be an interesting story. But I find it is not!

Anyhow. THe tour was great. C. and I bought four bottles of wine. I can't vouch for their quality - we were kind of sloshed at the time - but they hold memories, anyhow.

When we returned to SF we took another long walk through neighbourhoods we hadn't seen - including the red light district - and then we had dinner at another cool cafe. There we met an amazing Iranian artist who had come to the states in the 70s. We had a cool chat. He had live jazz musicians in his cafe and there was a young woman having an opening for her artwork at the same time. Good times. Then, sleep.

On Sunday we did two more awesome free walking tours - one through an early "mission" neighbourhood; the second through the "gold rush" district. They were too detailed to describe fully here, but both were great. Then we met up with Anna and BoXx!! But you knew about that. They were kind enough to come down to the ferry terminal to see us off on the Alcatraz cruise that we had pre-booked.

In truth, I could have skipped the Alcatraz cruise. It was interesting, and it is a national park, but I'm not really into being herded with a large group of indifferent tourists. Still, it was kind of a fun way to end our trip. If you want to know the truth, I was on the ferry thinking, "Is this ferry going to sink now?"

I can't stop worrying. :)

So the thing is that I got back to work this morning and things kind of went to hell in a handcart quickly, and then they improved when people realized that something that they had thought I had done in error was actually very carefully and properly done by me (I had even doubted it, momentarily), so all was well. Still, it made me realize how much my work is not me. I mean, it's not even worth talking about how much my job doesn't fill me up anymore, but how it's great to have the stability and security of a good job. Anyhow. That's work. INstead of focusing on it and focusing on what's wrong with it, I'm just going to focus on keeping that separation between IT and what I think to be ME. That seems to be the best target.

So...all is well.

Oh! For those of you who have continued reading this far, I will tell you exactly why I am not with C. I know it is difficult to understand why we are not a couple. People always wonder! I would wonder, if I were on the outside of our pairing.

Honestly, I really don't understand it. We did date, briefly, when we first met nearly ten years ago. I honestly, honestly, however, was never attracted to him. I never wanted to kiss him. I just don't feel that way about him. It's weird, I know - he's handsome and I love him. He's a wonderful person.

I also know that he feels the same way about me. A couple of years ago when I was hating this AWFUL girl he liked, he sat me down and asked me if I was jealous and told me that if I had the idea that one day we were going to get together I was barking up the wrong tree. And the thing at that time was that... I honestly and truly just did not like that woman. I still was not attracted to him. I did not feel one pinch of desire to be with him.

ONe of my friends, A., said that one day C. and I would get together...about eight years ago. Every year that goes by he (A.) is amazed. But still, no attraction.

Even on this trip, I tried to think about it again. Same answer. Being analytical as I am, you KNOW that I have tried to figure out why. There are lots of things that annoy me about C., but I guess that that is true about anyone. He has very few very negative qualities, I would say, and so that makes it an interesting analytical process.

I think the biggest thing that bothers me about him is that he is a pessimist. Rather than making me feel more cheerful about things he inevitably will find me something else to worry about. He's not the type to give reassurance, unless it is completely based on reason. (Which makes no sense, I realize, as I begin to write the next bit.)

In some ways, C. is more of a worrier than I am. He can manufacture every possible worry that there is. FOr example, he spends his entire life worrying that his credit card will be stolen. He ordered a new credit card recently and had it delivered to his bank because he didn't trust it being mailed to his house. He has never lost a credit card or had a credit card stolen, so I don't understand this.

C. is the type to come over and photocopy MY TAX RETURN, because he doesn't like my record-keeping and he wants me to have all of my ducks in line. This is totally unreasonable. I know everything there is to know about the tax system (practically), and everything about my own tax records. He just likes to worry. About everything. Especially money. His dad taught him this.

So...you can see how for a nervous person like me...this worrying thing in someone else is very unappealing.

The other thing - and this is related -is that he is a rational. He has a warm heart and he is kind and fair, but he is a rational. Whenever I even begin to talk about the universe or faith or magic or anything else...he rolls his eyes. To C., belief in anything but the absolute scientific (I point out to him the up-to-now seen and understood) facts is a indication of an enfeebled intelligence. I have known C. for a long enough time and have kicked his ass and run circles around him in enough math classes and comprehensive exams and even debates(when he finally admits that I have some decent points, which is rare) that whilst he sometimes doubts my rigour, he probably doesn't doubt my intelligence. But you see, although I'd never be able to say out loud, "I believe in God," fundamentally I am a woman of faith. I want to believe. I WANT to believe with everything in my being, which is always the first step. Rather than being shaken, I think that being a person of a kind of faith is the only thing that helped me to survive all of the crappy, selfish relatives who did stupid, crappy selfish things when I was a kid. I don't know where I got it or how it persisted, but I do believe. In something. In something beautiful, like light.

So whatever.

So what was next? I don't know. I will always love C. like a brother, but I can't honestly ever imagine kissing him. I just don't want to. The man I think I could love in that way would turn those two last things that I see in C. on their head - he'd be rational and sensible but he'd want to believe in something; and he'd be an optimist who'd be willing to give me a hand of reassurance.

Soooooooooo...I don't know what else to say. I think that sometimes people just don't chemically match as well. That is something. The thing is though that I do love C. more than anyone except my two own brothers. I can't stand the idea of him being on the plane with me, for example, because - as I thought yesterday - if something happens to me it is better than something happening to him. It's not that I don't think I'm worthwhile; it's that I love him that much. I feel the same way about my brothers and even my mother, believe it or not, because no matter what she is or does she is still my mother. Maybe I just appreciate the fact that she gave me life. Maybe I've spent too much time in the presence of Mary in Italy. :) That culture of the Madonna is very beautiful. It moves me. They do love women over there. And what's not to like about that?

Well..I'm truly meandering. I have a million things to say. I will end with this: I want to be Madeline in those children's books. DO any of you remember those? I want to be Madeline in Paris in a pair of wellies (I don't know why) and a big hat with a ribbon. I want to jump in puddles with intent, just as I did when I was a little girl. I actually thought these exact thoughts as I stood by the elevator at work today, in my proper black high heels and proper black coat and hat and scarf.

8:26 p.m. - 2009-04-07

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