The sun has come back for short appearances at 10 in the morning. It sneaks a peek up over the farthest southern horizon you can look to, then sinks back down like a balloon losing air. Truth be told, I hardly missed it's absence. The dark is so soothing.

the baffled king composing Hallelujah...

Well, its been a bit of a rough day. Work demands strain the quality of my time spent in isolation at my new perch in Igloolik. Just here for work matters until Thursday. I have a new roommate in Hall Beach and she seems great so far. But there always is the honeymoon period. So I'm not expecting much, either from myself or her. No expectations, means no disappointments later on.
One of my secrets has been aired by another. Despite the initial burst of anger and self-righteousness, things seemed to have calmed down in my mind. I guess this stage is what one would call: Damage control. So I've sent out my white flags, and can do nothing now but hope for the best. Silly really. I never hope for the best. I have just gotten used to expecting the worst.
but I'm not really in the mood for damage control, either. In this instance, I'm hoping (oops, bit of an expectation here) that we can all act like adults and move on. But I sense that is unlikely. I can blame the one who spilled the beans, or I can blame myself for indulging myself in his audience. Either way, the damage is done.

So, I'm sitting here in the chilly living room of the house I am temporarily occupying, typing this out and listening to an old favourite. A hot bath has been drawn and bloodletting is on my mind, little silken swirls of it in steamy hot water. Memories, I suppose. Or scenes of a movie I can't look away from.

My fingernails are painted baby blue, an opposite to the black I had gotten during my airport manicure in Toronto last week (feels like a month ago). I've only been home for a week yesterday and yet, it feels as though I've been missing in action for quite some time. Or that I've been underwater, swimming. Night swimming. And only coming up for air now. This past week has felt absolutely endless.

My thoughts have turned back to what to do, where to go next and the center of my mind has been focused on teaching english overseas. Vietnam calls me, has called me in the past and it looks like a reality. Or it looks like it could become my reality. If I so choose. The idea of social work in another community or back in Ontario is not an attractive one....just now. Perhaps later.

you know, I used to live alone before I knew ya'...

My bath water is waiting, but I just got off the phone with Craig who is on his own tonight with his very busy offspring, Benji, so he has to call back once things are settled down in his household. In effect, I'm on hold. Just not on the line. Nothing's on the line. He tells me about the song he wrote for me, the lyrics should make me uncomfortable, they are that close...but instead, I'm just eager to hear the finished product and add it to my collection. He's so dear to me in an abstract sort of way, this Craig.

I'm still even, I think. Despite my efforts to sabotage the sense of being even just to see what would happen. Nothing is what has happened. And this makes me feel content.

I just want to get moving. Time to go somewhere else. Time to plan, makes solid plans and follow through. My trusty little dog packed up with me, and off I go. But that's a little ways away yet. Now is the money saving time. Later, will be the fun time.

It's just a shame I can't combine the two and do what I do best....leave.

G.

Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley

Labels: Arctic, Bailey, betrayal, friends, Gish, how not to be an idiot, Jeff Buckley, layers, mistakes, secrets, stupidity, travelling, we all lose in the end

I'm in my room. I bought a set of sheets from the Northern (a general store kind of place) that are bright orange in that tshirt material. So it feels like I'm sitting in a can of orange crush, typing away. It's really warm here today. It rained for the majority of the day but I think the sun has come out. Who am I kidding, it never goes away.

I miss the dark. I miss the night.

I recieved word of a tragedy about a week and a half ago. I was storing all of my paintings at my cousin's place. He isn't the most responsible person on the planet, and the company he keeps leaves much to be desired.

I should have known better.

It seems his apartment was broken into, things stolen, things trashed. I guess you know the end of this particular story. I lost everything I had created in the past 6 years. Not a large volume of work, but it was all I had to show for any creative genius I had shown, regardless of how minute it seems now. They were all trashed. Apparently one painting remains, which also happens to be not one I'm overly fond of. But I guess one is better than nothing.

I was numb for awhile. Unsure of what I was feeling. I feel disconnected from the actual paintings because they aren't in my face every day. But I feel deep down inside, that I have suffered a great loss. And I'm sure at some point, it will resonate.

It will resonate. It just isn't....right now.

Labels: loss, mistake, mistakes, paintings