Stuck, but thinking about Lightfoot and Dad

I’m behind again. 

Wednesday: was out late with Twitter friends… no post.

Thursday: had an overly-intense workout that left me in much pain (more on this later — much learned). Was in bed early (unlike me) and very sore… no post.

Friday: restorative yoga and out (again!) for dinner and tea with a friend. Got home late and tired… no post. 

Which brings us to today. 

Truthfully, I’ve had lots of time to post these past few days, as I’ve been on holidays, but I’ve felt a bit stuck. There are several reasons for this. Most of them are reasons I’m not ready to share publicly. The thing is, I have lots to say. I’m just not sure how to say it. It’s a weird kind of writer’s block. Things are bubbling at the surface. They need to be said. I will get there. I’m just figuring out … HOW. I’m not depressed or angry or anything … it’s nothing like that (in case you were worried… haha. All good!). I’m just… stuck.

I know this might sound strange considering that many of my posts are trite and silly. But they are (I am?) taking a new turn, I guess. As is often the case, I’ve got more things going on in my head than I’m letting on. And I’m having arguments with myself at the moment as to how to best express those things. It’s hard. It’s okay. I know I’ll get out of it once I work through a few things.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share that I caught up with a bit of Jimmy Fallon on CNBC here tonight. I didn’t even know I could watch Jimmy Fallon on CNBC in Singapore — turns out you can watch the entire week’s episodes all back-to-back on Saturday night. Kinda weird, right? So I watched 3 episodes. It was a really odd feeling: I’ve never watched any American late-night shows while living in Singapore… or anywhere else outside of the USA and Canada, for that matter. When I’m in Canada (usually in the summer), I watch these shows regularly — nearly every night. It’s one of the ways I keep up with pop culture, new music, etc. while I’m there. But here? It felt out of place, but I still watched.

Anyway, on Fallon’s show this week, one episode included a performance by Gordon Lightfoot. I almost couldn’t believe it. Lightfoot seems so…. anachronistic for Fallon, especially when you consider The Roots as a fixture, just next to the stage. He performed “If You Could Read My Mind,” which I swear is one of my favorite songs of all time — though I also swear many others sing it better than he does. As much as I love old Gord, for me he is in the same category as Neil Young, Bob Dylan, and Leonard Cohen — exceptionally talented songwriters who are barely-passable singers. Having said that, however, I fully appreciate their respective places in the history of modern music, and I love (many of) their songs. And seeing Gordon Lightfoot perform this song on Jimmy Fallon just made me… all teary. 

One of the reasons for this is that every time I hear Gordon Lightfoot — or Neil Young, for that matter — I think of my dad. I imagine this is because when I was very young — pre-memory, probably — my dad listened to Lightfoot and Young a lot. He also played and sang their music himself, on a guitar… still does, though not as often, I don’t think (Mum can verify this, as we don’t live with him anymore! haha). I grew up disliking Lightfoot and Young and that wholeof singer-songwriter genre mostly because I had listened to it so much in my early childhood and by the time I was a teenager in the late 80s and early 90s, that stuff was so not hip.

It wasn’t until I was much older — nearly 30, I think — that I realized how deeply imprinted those sensory memories were onto my brain. In fact, I very distinctly recall going to a live music event in Doha where an acoustic band (an expat band, probably — this is one detail I don’t remember) began playing a Neil Young song, and suddenly out of nowhere I began crying into my beer. My sweet Nova Scotian friend, Nadine, who was with me at the time understood what was happening (I had told her about my dad before) and without even flinching, put her arm around me saying, “Honey, I know how you feel! It happens to me every time I hear Great Big Sea!” Ever since then, when I hear Lightfoot or Young, I have a different reaction than I did when I was in my teens or 20s. I still don’t love their voices, but I do love their music, and hearing them instantly brings me back to … my dad. 

Tonight was no different. Seeing Lightfoot perform on Fallon’s show captivated me. He is old — much older than the last time I saw him on television. Wikipedia tells me he is 10 years younger than my grandma (!) but I swear she looks and sounds 10 years younger than he does. His voice faltered in a few places, but mind you… it always did. The song, though… the song is still beautiful. And it still makes me think very fondly of my dad… who I also know can sing this song better than Lightfoot himself. 🙂 Yes, okay… Lightfoot himself is a legend… and his performance is incomparable, but I still don’t think his voice is better than my dad’s!

Today’s truth is that no matter what, wherever I am in the world, whenever I hear Gordon Lightfoot (or Neil Young), I remember Dad playing and singing these songs with his guitar in the living room… Lightfoot might be a legend, but you are too, Dad! <3

And so, in honour of memories: I sadly can’t post a video to share of the memories in my brain of my dad singing Lightfoot, so instead I’ll post one to share how I remember Gordon Lightfoot, knowing that the memories of my dad are parallel.

Thinking of you, Dad! 

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Bloody hard work, this exercise thing

I have to exercise. I don’t particularly enjoy (most of) it, but I can definitely see the benefits of being active 3 or even 4 times a week. 

But 5 or 6? What the… 

I’ve recently begun training (thanks, Aimee) to get on track with my fitness. I have osteopenia, and I recently suffered a fall and subsequent minor fracture that have made me realize I really should address a few things. I’ve had osteopenia for quite a while now — since 2005, I think — and doctors have never really been concerned. My bone density puts me in osteopenia range, but I’m pretty healthy. I’m not wildly out of shape — I do yoga nearly every day — but I’m not supercrazyfit either. And I’m okay with that, really I am. But apparently my bones might not be, as this most recent tumble indicated. Although the orthopedic surgeon I saw didn’t think I needed to do anything too wild and crazy in terms of fitness plans (“Just keep doing what you’re doing”), he did indicate that starting earlier is always better (“Strength training and balance exercises are the only ways to actively reduce your chances of another fall”). BUGGER.

So this osteopenia thing means I have to get a bit more serious about my activities. THIS schedule is the kind of thing I’m talking about. What the… did you look at that?? I’ve done the math. Combine all the recommendations about the amount of activity I need to do — weight-bearing cardio, strengh training, and balance (which is the only thing I’m currently doing) — and it works out to 6.5 hours of exercise a week. This sounds insane to me. That’s nearly a full school day. 

Do fit people have any other activities or interests, I have to wonder? (Do they have children? partners? friends? pets? How the hell does that work?) Because here’s the thing: fitness is actually not one of my interests. At. All. No sports, either, in general. I have other, more creative interests. They involve reading, writing, singing, cooking, learning languages, volunteering for local causes, and finding ways to use tech for learning. I’m currently wondering how the HELL I will find the time to continue doing these things that I actually enjoy if I’m going to spend 6.5 hours a week exercising, which I don’t particularly enjoy. And that’s just the actual exercise time! Don’t forget showers afterward, because otherwise, that’s gross. So let’s just round it right up to 8 hours a week. Now we’re talking a full workday. 

Or FULL INSANITY, for crying out loud. How the hell does that work?! 

Unless you’re an Olympic athlete or training for a marathon (some of the few things I can confidently say I will never do or be), I see very little point in exercising to this degree…. at the expense of all my other very valid interests. 

As you can see I’m struggling with this. I’m open to ideas. Mostly because I know Aimee and the Osteoperosis Foundation fancy specialist doctors are right: I don’t want osteoperosis and I do want to live to celebrate many birthdays. So I need help. How do I do this??? How can I be healthy and still a) not hate exercise and b) do the things I love to do? Oh, and c) not resent exercise because it keeps me from doing the things I love to do? … because that would be the worst possible combination. 

Sigh. 

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another gratitude post

Truth: I’m very tired and have spent the last several hours researching flights and crunching numbers. 

Truth: This summer will be very expensive and I’m rather concerned/anxious/fretful about this. 

Truth: I don’t have any real major truths or insights about my rather uneventful (but good) day, so here is my list of 5 things I’m grateful for right now: 

  1. A Monday without an alarm — how blissful it was to wake up in my own time this morning!
  2. Hitting the 4K mark again. It was hard, and I felt nauseous again upon reaching 3.2K… (note to self: Google “how to not feel nauseous when running) but I made it. 
  3. Fresh fruit stands and access to fresh fruit in general — year round! I am never wanting; I’m so lucky.
  4. The dedication, perseverance, care, and human ingenuity of society to realize not only that worldwide carbon consumption is so out of control that we have to offset it, but also that we need a set of standards to make sure that said offsetting is done properly. I LOVE the people who first came up with this stuff, whomever they are. Love love love. (I’m embarrassed that Canada is not part of the Kyoto Protocol but that is another story altogether.)
  5. Friends in other countries who go out of their way to maintain bonds. As you know, I’m superoutofthisworld grateful for my friends here in Singapore, but I’m equally superoutofthisworld grateful for my friends flung all ’round the earth who make efforts to reach out, connect, share, and engage in order to keep close ties with me. I appreciate it so much, as I know it’s not always easy (particularly with time zone craziness). Sometimes it’s just the little things — a funny FB joke here, a silly WhatsApp message there, a random photo in my email — that really make me feel like these friends are not so far away after all.
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Perfect, happy Easter!

Today followed through on yesterday’s expectations. 

It was soooooooo lovely. 

I have lovely friends here in Singapore: I am so lucky. I know this because I have lived on this earth long enough to have experienced fairweather friends, party friends, friends-of-convenience, and the like. I know a genuine friend after I’ve spent some time with them; I say with confidence that these ones are the real deal (and I’m not just saying that because they like my cooking! haha). No, they are as genuine as they come. And I’m so very grateful. 

Today was perfect. Perfect conversation, perfect coffee, perfect food — even if my pancakes did fall apart! But it was still all perfect — perfect for a day which is all about symbolic freedom, redemption, and rebirth. A truly gorgeous day! 

That is today’s truth. Thank you, universe.

Happy Easter! 

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Easter, lilies, and memories.

It’s been a complicated week for many reasons. Nothing too crazy; just complicated. So, let’s keep this simple today. 

My favorite flower: 

Always has been, probably always will be. Why? I’m not sure, but I am thinking it has something to do with their fragrance and their simplicity. My gran also loves lilies; her favorite is the stargazer. I love them, too, but Easter lilies are my #1 favorite. 

That’s today’s truth. Simple.

Tomorrow is Easter, a special day. I’ve been spending the last few days re-connecting with myself. It’s been good. Easter reminds me of many things — one of the big ones is my family. I miss them. Like any holiday, Easter stirs up memories for me too. Good ones. 

I’m looking forward to creating more good memories tomorrow to add to that bank. 🙂

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Springing out of bed

This morning I woke up to an alarm.

I hate having to wake up to an alarm on weekends or holidays, but I had an important appointment and I really couldn’t miss it. The trouble was, I was still having difficulty getting out of bed, and I kept hitting snooze — soooooo typical! As I lay there in bed, I mentally went through what I had to do in the day…. 

  • yoga
  • breakfast, coffee, etc.
  • important appointment
  • travel research
  • grocery shopping
  • running
  • recipe planning

BOING. Suddenly I was springing out of bed. Recipe planning! I instantly wondered: if I got out of bed and got ready fast enough, could I do some of that before my appointment? Would there be time? 

(There wasn’t, sadly.)

Later in the day, when it came to the time I had set aside to sort and browse through recipes, I immersed myself. It was blissful. Three hours went by very quickly, but while I was in those moments, it was like time stood still. Cliched? Yes. True, still.  

It was meditational: I sifted through recipe cards as well as old printed-out and handwritten papers of family recipes scrawled or hastily typed. I leafed casually through cookbook after cookbook (no less than 6 today) while tagging potentially useful pages with a sticky note and penciled markings. I was in another world. 

That kind of feeling — the one that makes me want to spring out of bed in the morning — is that the one “they” talk about? Is it just because I’m on vacation time that I’m feeling this way, the luxury of having all afternoon to browse making it all the sweeter? 

Or is there something I’m missing?

Don’t get me wrong, I love the work I do. I love my job, my day-to-day profession as a teacher and ICT coach, professional guide, and general explorer of learning. I love it. And there are many mornings when I spring out of bed, due to what I know I have planned that day, excited to start my day with kids and colleagues. We do such cool stuff! But there are some days when I’m not excited to get up in the morning, even with how much I love my job. 

Is every passion like this? Are some passions more spring-outta-bed-inducing than others? 

I’m not sure. I’m open to ideas, and to hearing other people’s experiences about their spring-outta-bed-(or not)-inducing passions. Whatever the case, this much is true: I love recipe and meal planning. 🙂 I’m not sure anyone would pay me to do it, but I don’t really care because I’d love doing it anyway!

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Yesterday: Existential Migration

I posted this on Facebook and Twitter last night, but was too tired to write about it at that moment, so I’m writing about it today. 

Last night, my friend Aimee (also my new personal trainer) posted this Wikipedia link with the simple comment “Yes.” Aimee is a TCK but doesn’t always identify as such. (Sidebar: I find it interesting that some of my TCK friends don’t like that label at all, while others cling to it proudly.) I am not a TCK, and some have labelled people like myself as Cross-Cultural Adults (CCAs?), but I’ve just never really found a description that quite “fit.” Expat? Sure, I guess… though the term expat(triate) implies that at one point I will return to my country of origin. And hey, at one point that was indeed the intent. But here I am, nearly 12 years later… 

So when I read the Wikipedia entry on existential migration, I, like Aimee, found it really resonated with me. As often happens with me and Wikipedia, I found myself exploring the source links voraciously, and a couple of hours later I had another 12 tabs open in my browser. I became infatuated with Greg Madison‘s work, mostly because in everything of his that I read or that was referenced, I found myself so clearly. It was a bit like reading a my own unauthorized but rather accurate biography. When that kind of thing happens, it’s quite arresting. I felt a deep connection to what I was reading.

I posted it about it to Facebook with a plea to my friends and family who have never understood why I left “home.” You see, I still get asked. I left Canada in July 2001. I return to Canada (Alberta and BC) every summer — I have to, for my own reasons and for my family’s reasons — and I couldn’t imagine it any differently. But I also couldn’t imagine living there again any time soon, as much as it breaks my heart sometimes. And still my family and friends say things to me like, “So when are you coming back?” or “When you do finally think about settling down here…” and “How much longer till you’ve had enough overseas?”

I know why they say these things. They love me. They miss my company. They wish they could see me more often — especially the kids. And I feel the same way — about all of these things! I really, really do. My choice to live overseas has had nothing to do with any of these reasons — ABSOLUTELY nothing. That needs to be very clear. I do hope they understand. But sometimes those questions and comments come with a tinge of something that makes me feel that they’ve taken my departure very personally — as if they believe that I left because of them. I didn’t. NEVER. And I want them to understand this, though I know they might not. It has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with me.

That’s why this concept of existential migration is so very important to me. I want all my friends and family and loved ones to read about it in the hope that they can better wrap their heads around why I chose not to stay in the same city or country where I was raised. I loved it — I still LOVE it! immensely! with the biggest heart you can imagine! — but I cannot live there. Not right now. Maybe not ever, though I’m in no position to predict that. My choice to live overseas — and at times, to keep moving — is strongly linked to a personal need to explore the world and other cultures. This need is about my making sense of myself and my place within the world. This need is about how I express myself and how I feel comfortable. It is not about abandonment of family, nation, or community. It is not about escape — rather, it is about discovery. Like Greg Wesson says, “I … moved abroad because I felt like it was what I had to do.”

That’s not to say I’m never coming back. I might. Or I might not. The truth is, I just don’t know yet. And that’s okay. I am very comfortable not knowing that. I realize my family and friends might not be comfortable not knowing, and for that I’m sorry. But I just can’t say anything different, and I don’t want to lie. 

So there’s my truth: I’m comfortable as a foreigner. I suspect I always will be. It brings me comfort. It might be hard for you to understand. It’s hard for me to explain. But I hope that means we can still love each other, because being far away is a silly reason not to.

I am part of a community of migrants across the globe, searching out situations where they are strangers in strange lands, all so they can feel at home. –Greg Wesson

 

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Doors

I don’t want to go into a whole lot of detail on this, but today’s truth is really not new. It’s just something I personally need to pay more attention to. 

New doors can’t open until current ones are closed. 

And by closed I mean SHUT TIGHT. 

Historically, I’ve been really good at starting things and not as good at finishing them. This doesn’t mean I never finish anything — I do. I have finished 3 degrees, the most recent of which included an 86-page thesis which damn near killed me. Finishing that was one of the most difficult things I’ve done. I finish all kinds of things: cooking meals, unit plans, books, Angry Birds, and I even once sewed a skirt. (It was a long time ago, but it counts!)

But… I’m much better at starting things. I heart beginnings. 

The problem is, I’ve discovered, that when I don’t properly finish things, I often leave them cluttered about my life. This means they occupy valuable latent space that could be better put to use by new things and energy that offer more value or return. 

I need to stop doing this. I need to follow these basic rules:

  • If you take it out, put it back. 
  • If you turn it on, turn it off. 
  • If you open it, close it. 

(I actually think these rules deserve to be examined literally in my life, too, as well as figuratively, as I realize I currently have 31 tabs open in two browsers. Um, yeah.)

I am going to start paying more attention to this. Close doors that I opened. That’s it. It’s that simple. CLOSED. And then move on to find bright shiny new doors full of opportunity! 🙂 

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Sunshine and loveliness

Tonight I caught up with two different friends who live far away, each in different countries. 

Today I also saw this image go viral on my FB feed, in support of marriage equality. 

Michael Franti reminded me of these lyrics, which speak some of the biggest TRUTHS I think have ever been known to man. 

But it ain’t about who ya love,
see it’s all about do ya love, 

Well well well well
sunshine and loveliness
ain’t nobody feeling no ugliness tonight
ain’t it fine like sippin’ sweet Georgie wine
see I’m just chillin’ with these friends of mine

Yes… nobody feeling no ugliness tonight… just chillin with these friends of mine, indeed!

It was a lovely night. And I look forward to many more!

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Northern Alberta Night

Earlier (as part of my stint as this week’s @hellofrmSG curator), I had a brief conversation among some peeps about the seasons, weather, and so forth. Typically, my response in a convo like this is pretty predictable:

  • I don’t miss the seasons. 
  • I hate winter
  • I love warm weather.

While it’s true that I can appreciate the seasons — I enjoyed having equal amounts of them while I lived in NYC — the fact is that in Canada, where I’m from, they are not equally distributed. Winter lasts from October to April some years. And I’m not talking winter like NZ winter (“as cold as -10°C” oh please!), I’m talking temps of -20°C or colder sometimes. I have many childhood memories of -30°C for weeks.

YEAH. How does that sound, hm? Well, I’ll tell ya: flipping cold. I wouldn’t mind winter so much if the seasons calendar was something like this: 

  • 4 weeks of autumn (crunchy leaves, scarves, tights, and sipping coffee in crisp air)
  • 2 weeks of winter (skiing, skating, tobogganing, snow forts, okay yeah!)
  • 4 weeks of spring (flowers, green, pretty, nice smells, light rain)
  • SUMMER for the other 42 weeks yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh NO MORE LAYERS, break out the sundresses all the tiiiiime woooo!

(Canadians reading this right now are chuckling and rolling their eyes, amirite?)

But of course my ideal climate or planet doesn’t exist (or we haven’t found it yet – I’m hoping Cmdr Hadfield is on top of that, eh?) and so the next best thing for me is to live in either a temperate or a tropical climate. 

So here I am.

But someone in that conversation I mentioned earlier made a comment about how much they miss the long summer days in the UK where the sun doesn’t set till 10pm. And that was all it took… 

I recalled how in Northern Alberta in the summer, the sun doesn’t fully set until past midnight. The photo above — taken while waiting for Canada Day fireworks in 2010 — says it all. (For the record, the fireworks happened 10 minutes later, and I have a photo of that too.) Long summer days in Canada are pretty effing special. I love them, and nothing nowhere else I’ve lived can compare to them.

So: missing Northern Alberta summers. I dug up this poem (below), which I first wrote in 2009, after re-reading some of my journal entries from the summer of 2007, when the poem takes place. Reading it again tonight, I felt like it needed a wee teeny bit of editing, so I did that. 

… I’m now missing “home” a bit… and very much looking forward to my visit this summer. 

———————————

 

 

Northern Alberta Night

August 2nd, 2007

2:35 a.m.

 

The moon tonight was so stunningly, arrestingly beautiful. I was 

hopelessly forced to stare. 

 

I was aghast and distracted

stopped in my tracks 

– near the train – 

got out of the car

just to admire that moon in awe.

 

How is it possible, I wondered, that the same sun 

that had only just set some 30 minutes before 

was now giving this moon its basking tangerine glow? 

 

How can that sun be so near and yet so far? 

 

How far does it stretch?

 

 

 

 

 

Northern Alberta Night

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