I received this by email today and thought I'd share. 21 tiny rules. :)
ONE - Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
TWO - Marry a man/woman you love to talk to . As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
THREE - Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.
FOUR - When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.
FIVE - When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
SIX - Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
SEVEN - Believe in love at first sight.
EIGHT - Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
NINE - Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.
TEN - In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.
ELEVEN - Don't judge people by their relatives.
TWELVE - Talk slowly but think quickly.
THIRTEEN - When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'.
FOURTEEN - Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
FIFTEEN - Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.
SIXTEEN - When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
SEVENTEEN - Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.
EIGHTEEN - Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
NINETEEN - When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
TWENTY - Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.
TWENTY ONE - Spend some time alone.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Freedom At Lunch
I have plans to have my ex over for lunch so that together we can sign some legal documents that will lead to the finality of our marriage. I could not stand the thought of meeting with him yet again in a public place where we both have to fight to hide our feelings, and where we can't truly be authentic with one another. This time, I want our meeting to be on my terms. Surprisingly, he is 100% onboard with the idea. When I pick him up downtown at Cafe Artigiano, he is holding his usual quadruple Americano in one hand, and a soy-decaf latte in the other for me. I roll down the window and grin at him as he hands me my coffee, and then he throws his bag in the back seat, and hops into the passenger's seat. The sun is shining and house music is playing on my car stereo. He leans over and kisses me once on each cheek, the way the Greeks do it. It's nice to see him again.
We cruise up to my place, an east side home that sits across from an elementary school on a quiet street. This is the side of town where people still have plenty of yard space and lots of green grass. It is a calm Sunday and I notice how he seems so at peace, standing outside my house in the quiet sun, smiling.
Inside we sit in the living room on the big L-shaped couch. It is weird that it still feels so comfortable being around him. He starts talking first, telling me about some of his Truths, things he probably never would have mentioned while we were still married. I smile and listen to him talk, realizing how much compassion I have for this gentle man sitting on the other side of the couch. I watch his eyes and I hold space for him to be honest about his feelings, knowing that this is something that's always been difficult for him. He slowly tells me about a memory he had just this morning, one that doesn't make him feel good. Instead of angrily defending myself, I soften and say "Yes I know, I remember that too". He pauses and looks at me, and then after a few moments, feeling safe, continues to talk more openly. Instead of scrapping, we are finally hearing one another. He wants to know why we did the things we did, and I can see that he is in pain. My heart goes out, and I move over to sit beside him. I say that we both did the best we could, and that we didn't know we were hurting one another. I realize I am not the only one who is haunted by memories, by visions that we can't do a thing about any longer. I hope he feels supported by me now, in this place where truth feels so uncomfortable. He doesn't move away but instead accepts me rubbing a single hand on his back. I know him well enough to know that he would have never asked anyone for support in these last months, and here today in this house, away from public eyes, he can finally let himself feel. We sit in the silence for a few moments until forgiveness washes over us.
For lunch I cook herbed chicken and steamed vegetables tossed with olive oil and sautéed garlic, with a plate of feta cheese, olives, and cucumber. We drink sparkling mineral water with slices of lemon. It is all just like it used to be, but it's sad sitting across the table from him now. He holds his glass up and looks me in the eyes the way they do in Greece, and says "Cheers". I smile and hold his gaze and reply "Yamas" (Greek for "cheers"). Again I notice that it just feels so normal sitting with him, enjoying a meal. I tell him this, and then continue to tell him dinner time used to be my favourite time of the day. Curious, he asks why. I reply "Because it was the only time that we got to be together, it was the only time I felt we were really on the same page. I used to love dinner time with you". He blinks as if this is the first time he's realized this sentimental fact. It probably is the first time. Our lunch is turning out to be a nice time, as the conversation moves between our feelings about our marriage, to the mundane, to the quirky. We chuckle easily together, finding that familiar tone, that sense of humour. The kind of language that only two people who were once married can share with one another.
The sun is coming in through the dining room window, and he moves his chair to my side of the table so we can sit in the sunshine together. I say "I love the sunshine". He smiles lovingly at me and says "I know you do, Char". Right then a memory flashes in my head and I start to tell him about it. It's a memory of a beautiful vacant, naturalist beach in southern France, the Languedoc-Roussillon region. Someone in a shop drew us a map, and we took off in our little rental car down a dusty road to search out the perfect place to lie in the sun, sans clothing. Finding the beach, a breath-taking, long, vacant beach of sandy dunes and crashing waves, we laid our beach blanket down in a perfect little hiding spot nestled close to the long grass, up on the hill a ways from the roar of the waves. Almost ritualistic, we spread our towels, set up our music, and shaded our lunch, making ourselves ready to enjoy a long, luxurious day in the sun with nothing else on the agenda. I go on to tell him that I remember watching him walk in the warm sun down to the water and dive in. I say "I was always so amazed at how fearless you were in the water". I tell him how I thought he swam so confidently, and how I loved to watch him swim. Then I tell him that I kept on watching him as he resurfaced from the salty Mediterranean and walked up the beach, his strong, Greek, god-like legs carrying him across the sand dunes and back to our space. My eyes start to mist over again. His eyes and his facial expression tell me that he's also gone back in time with me. I look at him and say "I thought you were so beautiful".
Hadn't I told him then, as well? I was sure I had. Maybe he didn't hear me? Why are we able to hear one another now? A couple more tears spring from my eyes and he reaches over takes me in his arms, sitting there in the dining room in the sunshine. For a minute, I feel safe and warm.
After lunch, we move back to the living room. I say "So, do you wanna just do this?" and he goes and gets the papers from his bag while I grab a blue pen. Nice and legal. We sit down beside one another on the couch and he signs first and then lays the pen down. I hear his breathing beside me, heavy and rapid. I know he is upset. I pick up the pen and methodically start to sign my name in the appropriate spaces. My eyes fill so quickly that I can hardly see what I am writing. I just know I am signing my name by the feel of the pen's stroke, just like I've signed it so many other times before without thinking about. But this time it stings really bad. When I finish signing, I put the pen down and let my face drop into my hands. I feel his big arms around me, the familiar arms of the man who used to be my husband. Together we sit on that stupid couch for many minutes, crying quietly and holding one another. I see the past 6 years run like the reel of a movie in front of my eyes. All the memories, all the heartaches, all the love, all the dreams. Gone with a couple strokes of pen. Just sign your name on the dotted line, and voila. You're divorced. It's more difficult to get married than it is to get divorced.
When I drop him off back downtown a little while later, I sigh heavily. So I am free now.
This morning I wake up not to the usual panic attack, but to thoughts of my future. Hopeful, uncertain, free. I briefly let my mind wander over the Atlantic ocean to the land of tulips and wooden shoes. I linger there for only a second, and then I shake it off. Focus on your freedom now, Char.
On my break I walk over to Urban Fare to pick up some groceries to make a big healthy salad for lunch. Right there in the middle of the produce department while looking over the organic lemons, I start to think of my ex again. But this time it is a vision not of him and I, but of him and his new girlfriend. I start to feel the beginnings of an emotional attack setting in. I almost drop my lemon and start to groan quietly, glancing quickly around the store to find something that will take my mind off of it, something that will stop my eyes from overflowing so bloody quickly. Damn! I didn't even have a chance to stop it, it hit me so fast! I let my feet carry me swiftly to the back aisles of the store, trying to catch my breath and fighting to focus on something different... what should I have in my salad? A nice can of tuna. Flaked or chunk? That's it Charleen, move your thoughts somewhere else. Slowly my breathing levels out. I close my eyes and look inward, trying not to be too hard on myself for still having difficulty with it all. Once I am sufficiently calm, I glide back over to the check-out stands, feeling the drain from the attack I've just had. I always feel so crummy and so uncertain about myself afterwards, and not centered. It always baffles me how my day can be clipping along at a nice pace, when WHAM! I get completely hit from the side. I feel like a football player who didn't even see it coming, only I'm not wearing any protective gear or a helmet. Well, at least I am wearing my big sunglasses! I don't want to look at anyone, and I sure don't want anyone to see me either. I am certain that if I take my sunglasses off, everyone will see how completely fucked-up I am feeling right now, so I would rather keep hiding behind them. Waiting for my turn in line, a man comes and stands behind me. Then he moves a little closer to me and I can see by his body language that he is readying himself to strike up a conversation. Oh god, I think. Please just don't look at me! His chipper voice breaks my stupor: "Say, that looks like a really great salad you have yourself there! I love that salad...!" Despite my wanting to run and hide under a rock, a little smile cracks across my face and my eyes start to twinkle. What a line, I think. I turn my body slightly towards him; a very nicely dressed older man with a big smile and a smooth, black lamb-skin jacket. I quickly size him up. Nice black slacks, nice shoes. Mmmm, actually he is Very Nice, I think. And was that an American accent I heard? I reply lamely: "Well, I'm trying to eat healthy these days...". He goes on with a tale of how he once had bought the same salad, how much he had enjoyed it. It's a super sweet attempt on his part. How wonderfully refreshing and sexy American men are, I think. Darn good thing I kept my sunglasses on...
Strolling back down Alberni with my bag of groceries in my hand, I round the corner at Thurlow and pass the Burberry store. Then I stop myself in my tracks and think "I am going to let myself go inside that store!" Just like the therapeutic affects of a really great movie, window shopping always helps to relieve at least some stress. But it's the feel of very fine fabric and delicate stitching under my fingers, on garments with little tags that read "Made in Italy" that have always been the icing on the cake! As I walk through the door I am greeted by a friendly sales person who offers to show me around the store. Still hiding behind my dark sunglasses, I politely decline and continue quietly on my own. Wouldn't you know it, of course I find an absolutely amazing dress that I know for a fact would look fantastic on me. Standing in front of a mirror, I hold it up against my body and think "And it would fit perfectly, too". I check the price tag: $695. Ouch. I wonder to myself: Would I ever spend that much on a dress? No, I wouldn't. But believe me, I sure would like to! I sigh and my stomach growls, reminding me to get the heck out of there. One day I'll buy that dress for $695. One day.
Back at the office I sit at my desk and munch on my salad, juggle calendars and arrange schedules, respond to emails and put out fires. A thought comes across my mind, and I can't help but think to myself that I am sitting on the cusp of something so cool, so close I can almost taste it. I do believe that there is always a reason for everything, and who knows? Maybe my freedom is necessary for me to really get to where I'm going. Maybe it's all good.
Charleen xo
We cruise up to my place, an east side home that sits across from an elementary school on a quiet street. This is the side of town where people still have plenty of yard space and lots of green grass. It is a calm Sunday and I notice how he seems so at peace, standing outside my house in the quiet sun, smiling.
Inside we sit in the living room on the big L-shaped couch. It is weird that it still feels so comfortable being around him. He starts talking first, telling me about some of his Truths, things he probably never would have mentioned while we were still married. I smile and listen to him talk, realizing how much compassion I have for this gentle man sitting on the other side of the couch. I watch his eyes and I hold space for him to be honest about his feelings, knowing that this is something that's always been difficult for him. He slowly tells me about a memory he had just this morning, one that doesn't make him feel good. Instead of angrily defending myself, I soften and say "Yes I know, I remember that too". He pauses and looks at me, and then after a few moments, feeling safe, continues to talk more openly. Instead of scrapping, we are finally hearing one another. He wants to know why we did the things we did, and I can see that he is in pain. My heart goes out, and I move over to sit beside him. I say that we both did the best we could, and that we didn't know we were hurting one another. I realize I am not the only one who is haunted by memories, by visions that we can't do a thing about any longer. I hope he feels supported by me now, in this place where truth feels so uncomfortable. He doesn't move away but instead accepts me rubbing a single hand on his back. I know him well enough to know that he would have never asked anyone for support in these last months, and here today in this house, away from public eyes, he can finally let himself feel. We sit in the silence for a few moments until forgiveness washes over us.
For lunch I cook herbed chicken and steamed vegetables tossed with olive oil and sautéed garlic, with a plate of feta cheese, olives, and cucumber. We drink sparkling mineral water with slices of lemon. It is all just like it used to be, but it's sad sitting across the table from him now. He holds his glass up and looks me in the eyes the way they do in Greece, and says "Cheers". I smile and hold his gaze and reply "Yamas" (Greek for "cheers"). Again I notice that it just feels so normal sitting with him, enjoying a meal. I tell him this, and then continue to tell him dinner time used to be my favourite time of the day. Curious, he asks why. I reply "Because it was the only time that we got to be together, it was the only time I felt we were really on the same page. I used to love dinner time with you". He blinks as if this is the first time he's realized this sentimental fact. It probably is the first time. Our lunch is turning out to be a nice time, as the conversation moves between our feelings about our marriage, to the mundane, to the quirky. We chuckle easily together, finding that familiar tone, that sense of humour. The kind of language that only two people who were once married can share with one another.
The sun is coming in through the dining room window, and he moves his chair to my side of the table so we can sit in the sunshine together. I say "I love the sunshine". He smiles lovingly at me and says "I know you do, Char". Right then a memory flashes in my head and I start to tell him about it. It's a memory of a beautiful vacant, naturalist beach in southern France, the Languedoc-Roussillon region. Someone in a shop drew us a map, and we took off in our little rental car down a dusty road to search out the perfect place to lie in the sun, sans clothing. Finding the beach, a breath-taking, long, vacant beach of sandy dunes and crashing waves, we laid our beach blanket down in a perfect little hiding spot nestled close to the long grass, up on the hill a ways from the roar of the waves. Almost ritualistic, we spread our towels, set up our music, and shaded our lunch, making ourselves ready to enjoy a long, luxurious day in the sun with nothing else on the agenda. I go on to tell him that I remember watching him walk in the warm sun down to the water and dive in. I say "I was always so amazed at how fearless you were in the water". I tell him how I thought he swam so confidently, and how I loved to watch him swim. Then I tell him that I kept on watching him as he resurfaced from the salty Mediterranean and walked up the beach, his strong, Greek, god-like legs carrying him across the sand dunes and back to our space. My eyes start to mist over again. His eyes and his facial expression tell me that he's also gone back in time with me. I look at him and say "I thought you were so beautiful".
Hadn't I told him then, as well? I was sure I had. Maybe he didn't hear me? Why are we able to hear one another now? A couple more tears spring from my eyes and he reaches over takes me in his arms, sitting there in the dining room in the sunshine. For a minute, I feel safe and warm.
After lunch, we move back to the living room. I say "So, do you wanna just do this?" and he goes and gets the papers from his bag while I grab a blue pen. Nice and legal. We sit down beside one another on the couch and he signs first and then lays the pen down. I hear his breathing beside me, heavy and rapid. I know he is upset. I pick up the pen and methodically start to sign my name in the appropriate spaces. My eyes fill so quickly that I can hardly see what I am writing. I just know I am signing my name by the feel of the pen's stroke, just like I've signed it so many other times before without thinking about. But this time it stings really bad. When I finish signing, I put the pen down and let my face drop into my hands. I feel his big arms around me, the familiar arms of the man who used to be my husband. Together we sit on that stupid couch for many minutes, crying quietly and holding one another. I see the past 6 years run like the reel of a movie in front of my eyes. All the memories, all the heartaches, all the love, all the dreams. Gone with a couple strokes of pen. Just sign your name on the dotted line, and voila. You're divorced. It's more difficult to get married than it is to get divorced.
When I drop him off back downtown a little while later, I sigh heavily. So I am free now.
This morning I wake up not to the usual panic attack, but to thoughts of my future. Hopeful, uncertain, free. I briefly let my mind wander over the Atlantic ocean to the land of tulips and wooden shoes. I linger there for only a second, and then I shake it off. Focus on your freedom now, Char.
On my break I walk over to Urban Fare to pick up some groceries to make a big healthy salad for lunch. Right there in the middle of the produce department while looking over the organic lemons, I start to think of my ex again. But this time it is a vision not of him and I, but of him and his new girlfriend. I start to feel the beginnings of an emotional attack setting in. I almost drop my lemon and start to groan quietly, glancing quickly around the store to find something that will take my mind off of it, something that will stop my eyes from overflowing so bloody quickly. Damn! I didn't even have a chance to stop it, it hit me so fast! I let my feet carry me swiftly to the back aisles of the store, trying to catch my breath and fighting to focus on something different... what should I have in my salad? A nice can of tuna. Flaked or chunk? That's it Charleen, move your thoughts somewhere else. Slowly my breathing levels out. I close my eyes and look inward, trying not to be too hard on myself for still having difficulty with it all. Once I am sufficiently calm, I glide back over to the check-out stands, feeling the drain from the attack I've just had. I always feel so crummy and so uncertain about myself afterwards, and not centered. It always baffles me how my day can be clipping along at a nice pace, when WHAM! I get completely hit from the side. I feel like a football player who didn't even see it coming, only I'm not wearing any protective gear or a helmet. Well, at least I am wearing my big sunglasses! I don't want to look at anyone, and I sure don't want anyone to see me either. I am certain that if I take my sunglasses off, everyone will see how completely fucked-up I am feeling right now, so I would rather keep hiding behind them. Waiting for my turn in line, a man comes and stands behind me. Then he moves a little closer to me and I can see by his body language that he is readying himself to strike up a conversation. Oh god, I think. Please just don't look at me! His chipper voice breaks my stupor: "Say, that looks like a really great salad you have yourself there! I love that salad...!" Despite my wanting to run and hide under a rock, a little smile cracks across my face and my eyes start to twinkle. What a line, I think. I turn my body slightly towards him; a very nicely dressed older man with a big smile and a smooth, black lamb-skin jacket. I quickly size him up. Nice black slacks, nice shoes. Mmmm, actually he is Very Nice, I think. And was that an American accent I heard? I reply lamely: "Well, I'm trying to eat healthy these days...". He goes on with a tale of how he once had bought the same salad, how much he had enjoyed it. It's a super sweet attempt on his part. How wonderfully refreshing and sexy American men are, I think. Darn good thing I kept my sunglasses on...
Strolling back down Alberni with my bag of groceries in my hand, I round the corner at Thurlow and pass the Burberry store. Then I stop myself in my tracks and think "I am going to let myself go inside that store!" Just like the therapeutic affects of a really great movie, window shopping always helps to relieve at least some stress. But it's the feel of very fine fabric and delicate stitching under my fingers, on garments with little tags that read "Made in Italy" that have always been the icing on the cake! As I walk through the door I am greeted by a friendly sales person who offers to show me around the store. Still hiding behind my dark sunglasses, I politely decline and continue quietly on my own. Wouldn't you know it, of course I find an absolutely amazing dress that I know for a fact would look fantastic on me. Standing in front of a mirror, I hold it up against my body and think "And it would fit perfectly, too". I check the price tag: $695. Ouch. I wonder to myself: Would I ever spend that much on a dress? No, I wouldn't. But believe me, I sure would like to! I sigh and my stomach growls, reminding me to get the heck out of there. One day I'll buy that dress for $695. One day.
Back at the office I sit at my desk and munch on my salad, juggle calendars and arrange schedules, respond to emails and put out fires. A thought comes across my mind, and I can't help but think to myself that I am sitting on the cusp of something so cool, so close I can almost taste it. I do believe that there is always a reason for everything, and who knows? Maybe my freedom is necessary for me to really get to where I'm going. Maybe it's all good.
Charleen xo
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Practical Dreamer
Trance music and trips abroad aside, one must always come home to face the music.
In trying to sort out which direction the Universe wants me to walk in, I've only been able to figure out one thing for sure: that's to go with my heart. As much as my mind wants to play games on me to force me into being Miss Responsible, Miss Practical, I just can't do it. In the last few months since I've been back in Vancouver, and especially in the last few weeks, I've had some amazing power interviews for some amazing power positions. But ironically the only job that I have actually been offered is the one I don't want. If it makes me feel like barfing then I just can't say yes to it, no matter how practical it seems.
And there's another good part of me that is just practical enough, and maybe even desperate enough now, that might allow me to take a job that isn't exactly what I want if some other factors seemed cool enough. That would make up for the lack of depth, wouldn't it? Well, wouldn't it? I'm starting to take it personally that I haven't found anything here yet, although I know there's something huge going on in the Universe right now. Something massive is going down on this planet and it's giving a lot of people a good shaking, not just me. Why is the planet experiencing so many earthquakes lately? Look around you and you'll see that tons of people, maybe even yourself included, also feel that their lives are being thrown off course. People feel unsettled, nervous, ungrounded, or doubtful about their future. Still, I can't help but wish that everything would just finally come together for me. I wish I could just find that elusive job, that one awesome opportunity that would be challenging and rewarding, and something I'd have to work hard at for a change. I can't help but wonder: what am I doing wrong?
Today I bought my first ESL resource: a picture book on vocabulary which will be perfect for a beginner ESL student. Why did it take me so long to buy a single book, you ask? I don't know if there is only one answer for that, but I have been feeling so out of sorts since coming back here in January that it's just taken me this long to get to it. From a month of intensive TESL training, to another month of working 3 jobs and taking in the Olympics, to then another month of moving and settling and countless interviews and time spent researching job prospects, I think my adrenal glands have been on overload! Some days I just want to come home to my cozy room up here on 40th and Fraser and do nothing but veg and decompress. All of this, plus still having a random day when I can feel pretty darn blue, well, what can I say? I think I've done a good job at keeping it all together, but still I don't feel content or at peace with the direction my life is going. I hope I'm developing some grace in all of this, but to be honest I just don't know if I am. Recently I've started to gain a bit more energy and enthusiasm for life. So with a slight boost in energy, I'm going to slowly start to put together my own library of resources from which to fall back on. Hopefully I'll be able to teach in Spain one day, or any other Spanish speaking country, or possibly one of several countries in Europe that I'd feel right at home in. For now though, I'm still pounding it out in Vancouver.
I can't continue hanging out here forever, waiting to see what time will dish me. Something's gotta give. It will most likely take a miracle to keep me here. Years ago, I put the idea of a move away from Vancouver out into the ethers, and probably too often. Now finally the universe is lining it all up so I really can't stay here any longer. And with little to no job prospects on the horizon, that is what it seems like to me. I guess it is true that we create our own reality. Who knew that it takes such a long time for dreams to work themselves into reality. Patience is something I never knew I had, but having to sit back and watch things unfold these past months I think I can say I've definitely learned it.
One cool thing that I've recently developed the space and energy for in my life again is kickboxing! There's a great place in Vancouver called "30 Minute Hit". A couple of years ago I trained for two years with a Muay Thai kickboxing instructor, and now I feel right at home in this little place. The best part is beating the living crap out of a dummy called "Bob" right at the end of the workout. Poor Bob. He really got the brunt of my frustration and confusion today.
Last night I also made space in my life for my very first runway show - the Jacqueline Conoir Fall/Winter 2010 Collection Fashion Show.
My good friend Mark came along with me, and we were fortunate to sit front row and centre for a glorious runway presentation of some very fine articles of clothing that had me drooling and exclaiming "Oooh! I want that, I want that!" all night long. Giggling while people watching and sipping champagne, Mark especially got a good case of whiplash from trying to regard all the luscious ladies walking around the place. Well, even I have to admit that women are nice to look at, nicer to look at than men even. What can I say?
Are these things enough to satisfy me here? No, Vancouver is slowing down both professionally and personally for me. I don't know what could keep me here too much longer, not even Ultimate Frisbee or Wreck Beach, the two things I mostly enjoyed and lived for at one point in my life. Ahhh yes. We all love those beautiful Vancouver summers, don't we? We're reminded about Vancouver summers on days like today, where the sun comes out and the breeze warms up, and people take off their coats and put on their sunglasses. If we're really honest about it, it's probably one of the only things that keeps people living here. It's funny: I used to see such greatness here. Now I feel blocked. You might try to convince me otherwise by saying "oh, you just have to look at it this way", or "you just have to do this differently"... But maybe not? I think I've had a good run of it. But maybe it just really is time for something new? A little internal earthquake, so to speak. Well I guess that already happened. So maybe this is just the after shock? :)
So stay tuned for the next episode of "What Ever Will Become Of Charleen?" As soon as I know something, you'll hear of it.
Charleen xo
In trying to sort out which direction the Universe wants me to walk in, I've only been able to figure out one thing for sure: that's to go with my heart. As much as my mind wants to play games on me to force me into being Miss Responsible, Miss Practical, I just can't do it. In the last few months since I've been back in Vancouver, and especially in the last few weeks, I've had some amazing power interviews for some amazing power positions. But ironically the only job that I have actually been offered is the one I don't want. If it makes me feel like barfing then I just can't say yes to it, no matter how practical it seems.
And there's another good part of me that is just practical enough, and maybe even desperate enough now, that might allow me to take a job that isn't exactly what I want if some other factors seemed cool enough. That would make up for the lack of depth, wouldn't it? Well, wouldn't it? I'm starting to take it personally that I haven't found anything here yet, although I know there's something huge going on in the Universe right now. Something massive is going down on this planet and it's giving a lot of people a good shaking, not just me. Why is the planet experiencing so many earthquakes lately? Look around you and you'll see that tons of people, maybe even yourself included, also feel that their lives are being thrown off course. People feel unsettled, nervous, ungrounded, or doubtful about their future. Still, I can't help but wish that everything would just finally come together for me. I wish I could just find that elusive job, that one awesome opportunity that would be challenging and rewarding, and something I'd have to work hard at for a change. I can't help but wonder: what am I doing wrong?
Today I bought my first ESL resource: a picture book on vocabulary which will be perfect for a beginner ESL student. Why did it take me so long to buy a single book, you ask? I don't know if there is only one answer for that, but I have been feeling so out of sorts since coming back here in January that it's just taken me this long to get to it. From a month of intensive TESL training, to another month of working 3 jobs and taking in the Olympics, to then another month of moving and settling and countless interviews and time spent researching job prospects, I think my adrenal glands have been on overload! Some days I just want to come home to my cozy room up here on 40th and Fraser and do nothing but veg and decompress. All of this, plus still having a random day when I can feel pretty darn blue, well, what can I say? I think I've done a good job at keeping it all together, but still I don't feel content or at peace with the direction my life is going. I hope I'm developing some grace in all of this, but to be honest I just don't know if I am. Recently I've started to gain a bit more energy and enthusiasm for life. So with a slight boost in energy, I'm going to slowly start to put together my own library of resources from which to fall back on. Hopefully I'll be able to teach in Spain one day, or any other Spanish speaking country, or possibly one of several countries in Europe that I'd feel right at home in. For now though, I'm still pounding it out in Vancouver.
I can't continue hanging out here forever, waiting to see what time will dish me. Something's gotta give. It will most likely take a miracle to keep me here. Years ago, I put the idea of a move away from Vancouver out into the ethers, and probably too often. Now finally the universe is lining it all up so I really can't stay here any longer. And with little to no job prospects on the horizon, that is what it seems like to me. I guess it is true that we create our own reality. Who knew that it takes such a long time for dreams to work themselves into reality. Patience is something I never knew I had, but having to sit back and watch things unfold these past months I think I can say I've definitely learned it.
One cool thing that I've recently developed the space and energy for in my life again is kickboxing! There's a great place in Vancouver called "30 Minute Hit". A couple of years ago I trained for two years with a Muay Thai kickboxing instructor, and now I feel right at home in this little place. The best part is beating the living crap out of a dummy called "Bob" right at the end of the workout. Poor Bob. He really got the brunt of my frustration and confusion today.
Last night I also made space in my life for my very first runway show - the Jacqueline Conoir Fall/Winter 2010 Collection Fashion Show.
Are these things enough to satisfy me here? No, Vancouver is slowing down both professionally and personally for me. I don't know what could keep me here too much longer, not even Ultimate Frisbee or Wreck Beach, the two things I mostly enjoyed and lived for at one point in my life. Ahhh yes. We all love those beautiful Vancouver summers, don't we? We're reminded about Vancouver summers on days like today, where the sun comes out and the breeze warms up, and people take off their coats and put on their sunglasses. If we're really honest about it, it's probably one of the only things that keeps people living here. It's funny: I used to see such greatness here. Now I feel blocked. You might try to convince me otherwise by saying "oh, you just have to look at it this way", or "you just have to do this differently"... But maybe not? I think I've had a good run of it. But maybe it just really is time for something new? A little internal earthquake, so to speak. Well I guess that already happened. So maybe this is just the after shock? :)
So stay tuned for the next episode of "What Ever Will Become Of Charleen?" As soon as I know something, you'll hear of it.
Charleen xo
Friday, April 9, 2010
Trance and Tulips
....just two of the many things that wonderful Holland is known for!
Some thought I was totally bonkers heading to The Netherlands for only a weekend. But me, I didn't even flinch when I packed my carry-on suitcase. It's become second nature to me, and as I'm still kinda living out of my suitcases anyways, packing for a weekend away with Ries was a total no-brainer. In fact it was one of the easiest packing jobs I've ever done.
Fully collecting airmiles all the way, on Friday afternoon I hopped on a plane bound for Amsterdam where my lover, friend, and confidant was waiting for me at the gate on a Saturday afternoon. Always a joyful reception, we held one another for a long time and probably caused a scene for those who don't like public shows of affection. Misty eyed and smiling, we walked hand in hand through the airport as if no time had passed between us at all, and hopped into his Lexus and drove to the city of Utrecht where the Trance Energy 2010 concert was going to be held that night.
I remember moments about that night when I looked around and saw everyone dancing and laughing and talking together, and moments where some of us needed a little bit of extra help and the rest of us all stayed close for support, and then other moments where I just could not believe that I was fortunate enough to be back in Holland dancing to some of the finest trance music in the world. And get this: not one fight broke out the entire night! Not one! (Canadians are, in comparison, agro barbarians who can't handle their liquor and quite probably use it as an excuse to get into all kinds of trouble.) This party was far from being the slop-fest you would think 60,000 people partying together under the same roof would be. It was awesome! But by about 5:30 a.m. I was pretty much done, and I think everyone else was almost there too, too. Ries and I hailed a cab with one of the other couples and went back to the hotel. By 6:00 we were cozy and warm, and sleeping back at the Houten. What a fantastic event that was, and the crowd of friends we went with made it an even more brilliant night! For me, it's not important that I go out to night clubs every Saturday night anymore. Nah, I'd rather save my energy and time for a super great event like this one, even if it means travelling all the way to The Netherlands to do it! It was completely worth it!
Some thought I was totally bonkers heading to The Netherlands for only a weekend. But me, I didn't even flinch when I packed my carry-on suitcase. It's become second nature to me, and as I'm still kinda living out of my suitcases anyways, packing for a weekend away with Ries was a total no-brainer. In fact it was one of the easiest packing jobs I've ever done.
Fully collecting airmiles all the way, on Friday afternoon I hopped on a plane bound for Amsterdam where my lover, friend, and confidant was waiting for me at the gate on a Saturday afternoon. Always a joyful reception, we held one another for a long time and probably caused a scene for those who don't like public shows of affection. Misty eyed and smiling, we walked hand in hand through the airport as if no time had passed between us at all, and hopped into his Lexus and drove to the city of Utrecht where the Trance Energy 2010 concert was going to be held that night.
We drove for about 35 minutes to the Hotel Houten, checked in, and then I crashed really hard as soon as my head hit the pillow. I knew if I didn't get even a little bit of sleep, I'd never be able to make it through the night. We were in for a long one and at 10:30 we were supposed to meet up with the friends that we had met in December at the Best of Both Worlds in Amsterdam, and their group of rowdies. I knew I'd have enough time for a much needed siesta, a quick shower, and dinner with Ries.
Our room at the Houten
After an amazing dinner of sea bass and mussels, we downed two double espressos and met everyone in the lobby. Altogether there were 11 of us in total, excitedly jumping into cabs and driving off to the concert. Trance Energy is an annual event that is held at Jaarbeurs, a massive conference centre in the middle of Utrecht. I expected only the best from this show, and I'd done my research and knew I wouldn't be let down. The place was huge and the event was organized to perfection. Tunnels and passageways leading to any of the four separate rooms where the world's top trance DJ's were playing were well marked, lit, and easy to get to if you didn't mind walking for a bit. There were lockers at the front entrance, and obvious signage leading to washrooms, bars, token purchase, merchandise sales, and even various first aid areas throughout. This sort of efficiency always makes partying easier! With four different rooms to choose from, each with a full schedule running till 6:00 in the morning, it was going to be difficult to take it all in. Luckily everyone was on the same page: we all wanted to spend the majority of our time partying in the Main Stage room!
We knew we had to take this picture at the beginning of the night!
The Main Stage
The lineup for the Main Stage was: 22:00 Nic Chagall (we didn't get there in time to see him), 23:00 BT (totally rockin' it when we got there), 00:05 Markus Schulz, 01:20: Armin van Buuren plugged-in via satellite from NYC (you could tell everyone in Holland is so proud of the guy),
Armin on the big screen
01:40 Above and Beyond, 03:15 Sander van Doorn, 04:35 Gareth Emery, and 05:45 Simon Patterson and Sean Tyas.
Sander van Doorn!
The theme for the night must have been to play it as hard and as fast as they possibly could, which left the entire crowd freaking losing it! All the DJ's were awesome, but hands down my top pick of the evening was Sander van Doorn! By the time he came on of course none of us were feeling any pain. We were still able to converse with one another though! ha!
(And talking about conversing, I just want to mention how very cool it is that everyone in Holland speaks English. Like, EVERYONE. Furthermore, they all thought it was very wild that I'd come in all the way from Canada to party with them. You know how it is: striking up a conversation with the person dancing next to you, he/she inevitably asks where I'm from, etc etc, then they'd find out, look at me wide-eyed, and then drag over all their friends, saying "She's here from Canada...!" Then all their friends would look at me in disbelief, but then shake my hand and welcome me warmly. Then we'd all dance together a bit, talk a bit, and the night continued on like that...very cool people, the Dutch.)
Incredibly, the group of us all managed to stick together for the majority of the evening, but at around 4:30 a.m. someone finally suggested we go check out the High Contrast room. So we all broke up and made our way slowly there, just in time to re-group and take in Jochen Miller, who turned out to be great! The High Contrast room was super decked out with disco balls and lights hanging from the roof, and the music was wild.
High Contrast Room
I admit that we did lose one of the girls for a short time, but luckily someone texted her and she came to find us just in time to eat frozen popsicles and treats - reminiscent of The Best of Both Worlds. So hilarious to look around and see all of us eating these popsicles!
mmmm, popsicles!
Here's a bit of a wobbily clip... sorry!
some boyz from France - very naughty!
I remember moments about that night when I looked around and saw everyone dancing and laughing and talking together, and moments where some of us needed a little bit of extra help and the rest of us all stayed close for support, and then other moments where I just could not believe that I was fortunate enough to be back in Holland dancing to some of the finest trance music in the world. And get this: not one fight broke out the entire night! Not one! (Canadians are, in comparison, agro barbarians who can't handle their liquor and quite probably use it as an excuse to get into all kinds of trouble.) This party was far from being the slop-fest you would think 60,000 people partying together under the same roof would be. It was awesome! But by about 5:30 a.m. I was pretty much done, and I think everyone else was almost there too, too. Ries and I hailed a cab with one of the other couples and went back to the hotel. By 6:00 we were cozy and warm, and sleeping back at the Houten. What a fantastic event that was, and the crowd of friends we went with made it an even more brilliant night! For me, it's not important that I go out to night clubs every Saturday night anymore. Nah, I'd rather save my energy and time for a super great event like this one, even if it means travelling all the way to The Netherlands to do it! It was completely worth it!
The next day was Easter Sunday, and Ries and I went for breakfast in the town of Utrecht. Ries did his best to be a tour guide for me, and considering how bagged we both were, we still managed to get in a bit of sight seeing.
Utrecht. Reminds me of a little Amsterdam.
Here's us driving around Utrecht - great little town!
After breakfast we went back to the hotel and crashed for another three hours, but woke up super bright eyed and bushy tailed! I wanted to see more of Holland and Ries happily obliged me. He drove me around the countryside where thousands of tulips filled acres and acres of pastures. Isn't it true that when you think of Holland you think of tulips?? I sure do. Tulips and wooden shoes...
Talking the entire time and cranking the trance music, Ries then drove us to the beaches where we stood in the cold wind and looked out to the North Sea.
But the day didn't end there. As is standard when Ries and I are together, we somehow seem to have more energy than usual (or maybe love gives you more energy?) and always spend our entire time out and about, exploring and talking about everything under the sun. I asked "Where are we going now, hun?" and he replied "Haarlem"!! Here I didn't think we were going to have the energy to do anything but sleep all day Sunday. I'm sure glad I was wrong. Haarlem is a fantastic, magical little city. If you ever get the chance you should go!
Haarlem
Ries and me - brrrr, it was so windy!
the view from inside a warm and cozy bistro
Ries. He is big on communication. Until Ries, I had never met a man who wasn't afraid to talk about what he's feeling. Even if he doesn't understand what he's feeling, Ries still somehow finds a way to discuss it. I think that is awesome. I listen to him talk and I don't interrupt him, even if what he is saying pushes my sensitive buttons. It's just too easy to get your guard up and assume something negative about what you think you just heard the other person say, when really, if you wait and hear the person out, you realize that you've just had the opportunity to learn something totally new and beautiful about them. We ask one another tons of questions, and we answer 100% honestly. I know, I know. You are probably thinking "Yeah right, that never happens in relationship." Well it does with Ries. There are no "guessing games" between him and I, and through him I am learning how to trust again. Even though we're still getting to know one another, I know that he has my back. This past weekend he proved to me more than once that he cares for me. He was gentle, loving, very wise, and he absolutely wants to support me in everything I do.
And I don't think I have to tell you how damn good that feels!
After dinner we drove back to the hotel and I watched the signs go by... 
... We could have taken the turn off for Paris/Brussells/London, but decided against it. Ah well, maybe next time?
... We could have taken the turn off for Paris/Brussells/London, but decided against it. Ah well, maybe next time? My flight back to Vancouver came all too soon on Monday morning. I think Ries and I are getting good at tearful goodbyes. We know to expect them, but we also know that we're going to get through them. We are 5000 miles away from one another physically, but our hearts are seriously closer than that.
So I'll have to see you soon again, Holland!
Charleen xo
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