Not Really Sure

A lot has happened in the last few days. I went home saturday night until monday for my grandmother's funeral. The trip was lovely, under the circumstances. I feel like I learned a lot about life. I think now I understand why people are scared of love, because I saw how much it hurts to lose someone you've loved for 30 years.

My grandmother was quite ill towards the end, now I can imagine with more accuracy what it's like to see your parent die. I feel more calm about this situation than I expected, but most of my strong emotions are related to my dad, grampa, and uncles. They all seemed fine on the surface, telling funny anecdotes about the past, but once I hugged them (which I couldn't help but do), and held on for a little bit longer than them, I felt them melt completely. I could feel the tense emotion in their arms and backs and chests loosen. Those were some of the most overwhelming moments I've ever experienced. I think it resulted in a subtle reconnection between me and my family. Particularly in the case of my dad, I feel like most of my heavy baggage has been lifted. I feel it's okay that things are the way they are, because at least he's alive.

This situation has given me perspective on what really matters to me. The bursary I was complaining about not getting last week seems insignificant now.

I also just found out that I am not going to be receiving the Ontario Graduate Scholarship I was counting on to go to UofT. I'm not sad I didn't get the bursary, but I am very disappointed I won't be able to do that program. I'm not sure how much I feel like scrounging around looking for money I may or may not get... when it comes to money on this scale, it arouses nothing but the most acute stress. I'm not sure what to do yet, because I still see many good things about staying in Montreal. Being able to stay in the city where my friends and love are, that is not too far from my family in the east, staying in my pretty and affordable apartment with my roomies, paying next to nothing for school fees, being able to continue working at Bummis part-time, possibly taking courses in the design department at Concordia, developing my design things, and probably more things too. I think part of me wanted 'something different', 'and adventure' and maybe a little 'struggle' (because new things are always a struggle for me), but staying here would also give me a chance to do new things. Saving all this money would allow me to travel more, and sooner. I could always go to Toronto for work later.

My friend Arl told me I should stop playing this 'better-worse' 'first-choice/second-choice' game. Just accept Mcgill, be happy and make something out of it. In a way I think he's right, but when I look at the course selection at that school, it tosses everything in the air.

I'm not really sure how I feel about all this.

I suddenly feel like I'm doing something wrong

Today I learned that I am not invited to the cinema school's awards ceremony. This is were students are given awards (in the form of titles and money) for all their work during the year. I'd been invited the two previous years, so I thought it would be a safe bet that I would get invited this year too. I guess I got too sure of myself.

This disappoints me, because this year particularly, I tried very hard to participate in class, share my thoughts, engage with other students, and make things happen. I decided I would be true to myself and my ideas.

I suppose the wise thing to say is: "the reward is in being true to yourself, not in the recognition you get for it", but somehow this feels insufficient at this moment. It has done the reverse: sewn the seed of doubt in myself. "If I can't get awards at this school, after all this time and effort, how will I do it at grad school?" This was not enough. You are not enough.

Fuck film school.

Petit Dilemme - Résolu

I wish I could make a flow chart to illustrate how i felt this weekend. Originally, the plan was to celebrate P's roomie's birthday with all the old friends from Aylmer. Everything seemed to be happening that particular night, because I found out that I had an old friend passing through town for one night only on that night.

Earlier in the week I asked P if I should bake something. He said, 'oh well, one of the other guys' girlfriend is baking something' I reply 'oh, okay.. well, I guess I don't really have time to do it anyway' to which he answers, 'well, you know she's doing her MA, so she's probably super busy too'. And there the seeds of jealousy and competition were sewn. I should say that this also relates to another time last summer when P went to this couple's place in Sherbrooke and came back from his weekend raving about them. Boasting them as superb hosts and a lovely couple. Somehow this boasting translated itself in my mind as 'he is idealizing them and thinking they are so awesome -- are we not awesome?!' (ie. craziness). I stuffed this down into the deep dark corners of myself, and proceeded to want to dazzle everyone with MY cupcakes. I spent 30$ and 2 hours making them, and I arrived at the party thinking I had my bases covered.

I arrived late, so I assumed everyone had eaten supper and dessert, so I said 'if anybody feels like more sugar, I brought some cupcakes'. As P greets me and we go into the kitchen he says, 'well Mdln already brought cupcakes. So we'll eat hers first. Besides, she made them especially for Antn.' To which I reply, 'and who did I make mine for?' Let's just say we got off on the wrong foot. The rest of the night I spent quiet and somewhat bored, because I felt totally excluded from this old-friends bonding thing. I saw P trying to connect with me, touching my hair, hands, shoulders, but I sensed an awkwardness in him. He was clearly concerned about being a good host, which I felt was at the cost of being concerned for my comfort (somewhat selfish.. I know). I also felt threatened by a new girlfriend. One we were all meeting for the first time. I felt jealous that she was mixing better with this group she just met, than I had been for the past year. At the end of the night(after having been able to get but one sentence out of my mouth), we chatted about the girl once she and her man had left. One person commented on how she 'got it', she understood their humor. I couldn't help but think 'whoa.. I don't get it, I don't get it at all!' so where does that leave me?

At the end of the night I was trying to be pleased, since P was really excited that this was the most fun party he'd ever thrown. I felt jealous and distant. The next morning I left early to go have breakfast with my friends before they left town. Needless to say I was pretty cranky.

So, it started with jealousy and competition, which only brought out my insecurities, which were not helped by P's comments, which turned into feeling taken for granted, which turned into a bit of anger and sadness, and fear of having to bring the issue up.

After my workday on Sunday I set up a meeting with the person was geographically the closest to me, because I had to talk about this. I met with Arl right after and we spent almost two hours analysing the situation. We did a lot of work in those two hours, and it is all mixed up in my head now, but basically, he encouraged me to talk about it with P.

I told him I called P earlier to make plans to see a movie that night. When on the phone with P he answered 'mmm... .. okay' with hesitation. In my mind, I understood this as something negative :'he always has energy for his friends or his work! what about me?!' but then, Arl told me he was supposed to have a business-creative meeting with P that day and P asked to postpone because he was too tired. So, the point being, my interpretation was totally false, and in fact, P was agreeing to see me when he cancelled on a work meeting. Sweet! Not selfish!

We went to the movie and after it I started crying. Things came out slowly. We discussed it. He made some points I could agree with. All in all, I saw that he was sorry, he told me he felt awkward, he wanted to make sure I was okay as we parted (he offered to join me at my house, but I told him he didn't have to, since he was right next to his house), and he made plans for tomorrow.

I sent him an email trying to explain this jealousy-insecurity thing, and he sent me a sweet and comforting email back. I think the whole experience makes me a little bit stronger, and makes my faith in our relationship grow stronger. I feel less and less insecure in the me-and-him, but I've still got my me issues to deal with.

In other news, I'm handing in my last film studies paper tomorrow. Meeting a friend for perhaps the last time.

Things are okay in general. I feel excited about summer projects, and, I want this kitchen.

La la la New York

Can I go nowhere with you?

Easter weekend with P's family was lovely. Full of food, fun and more food. Everything was great. There was only on moment, strung next to two other moments, that were a little bit difficult. On sunday P wanted to play basketball. I thought it would be fun too. I've been thinking lately how I wanted to be better at group sports. So we started playing 21. Turns out, I have less hand-eye coordination than I thought I did -- which wasn't much to begin with. I got maybe one or two balls in the net, the rest kept flying and bouncing around everywhere.

I suppose for people who are good at things like sports it would be unpleasant for them to play with unskilled players like myself. P didn't let on, besides a few grunts here and there. While I was basically running around like a chicken with its head cut off -- I quickly realized, it's not that I could never be good at basketball, it's just that I don't actually care that much about being good -- again, frustrating. After a while we stopped. Then spent the afternoon lounging. Later in the evening as his sister was about to drive her boyfriend back to his place, they started playing another basketball game. I think it was called bump. I've never played this game either, and it required more skill, so it wasn't pretty.

After supper, the whole family was going to play a card game called Spoons. The object is to get the lest amount of letters spelling Spoons - each lose gives you one letter, when you get them all you're out. As I was rapidly picking up letters, the family quickly offered me more letters, a longer word ('Spooniette' it turned out to be). Something about this generosity, this kindness struck a chord in me in a strange way.

Playing board games and card games are not fun for me. I didn't grow up with games, so I'm not good at them, because I never developed that kind of thinking. I could say the same about crossword puzzles and such. I never really cared about games -- probably as a defense mechanism, because all they do is remind me that I never had a family that wanted to play games, that wanted to spend time together, that could tolerate each other, that could laugh with each other. So games evoke this kind of painful association, even though I know it sounds a bit strange.

Halfway through Spoons I felt like crying. Something about me putting pressure on myself to be good, about wanting to succeed, about I don't know what. The next day, on the computer with Patrick, playing computer games -- also bad at those -- triggered the tears. Obviously I felt silly, and he didn't quite understand, but he was sympathetic and encouraging. Though I didn't believe him when he said I was good at basketball.

Everything ended fine. We got to the city, went to Bily Kun for a drink with P's friend Erc. Walked home. Bought Bagels. Had a great talk about his work, his desire to find a creative partner, and all kinds of stuff he's usually hesitant to discuss. It felt good. I feel good.

I'm indulging in a sudden Joel Plaskett Emergency revival.

Addictions

Current addictions:

sugar
caffeine
Gilmore Girls
Gmail
Internet

I need an Easter resolution...