Here's where i sit and think and write and read. Here is where i spend the majority of my "alone" time.
It's a little antique desk. On the bottom of it handwritten in block letters it says " J Bennell, 1951, Victoria B.C." I love that. I love that over fifty years ago someone built this desk and stamped it as theirs. That others have sat at it – perhaps stared out a window from it, just as i do.
Obviously it's a little bit small and i suffer from cluttered desk syndrome. There are two cameras, a video camera, three necklaces, two puffers, a pile of polaroids, bills to be paid, holy basil and activated charcoal, a needle and thread, hair cutting scissors, lipstick, tubes of cream, film, candles, pens and a paper weight strewn around my trusty, well-loved MacBook Pro.
All things i have used in the past few days.
The desk sits in one corner of my way too huge bedroom. The window above it gives me a view of the lake and the mountains behind. It is the spot i have always dreamed of when i picture myself writing a novel. Which i may well do, maybe even this year.
I have this strange feeling lately. I feel like i'm living outside of my life, like i'm watching myself go through all the motions, but i'm not physically there. I'm not sure if i'm even there mentally.
I'm not unhappy. I'm just there. Living this life.
There was a movie in the 90's about life making shifts. One event changes the course of your life, but another you keeps living that old life. That is how i feel. I can't shake this feeling that i died back in december and in some other place my family is going on without me.
It's disconcerting. It's uncomfortable. I try to change my thoughts, but they keep coming back.
It is very dark and stormy out today. I'm watching it out my bedroom window. I'm waiting for spring, to get myself out in the world, to shake these cobwebs out of my head.
People have been asking to see more of my house now that we are settled (almost) in. I need to break out my SLR to get some good photos.
I snapped a couple on my iphone this morning. Above is the "grown-up" side of my living room. The room is so long that i split it in two by placing two sofas back to back in the middle. One sofa faces the television, which means that is the "kid side" of the room.
On my side i have a chocolate brown leather sofa with some nice red pillows that i bought at a thrift store. I've had that bookshelf for an eternity. We bought it before kids, back when we had money to throw around. It was custom made at some store in Victoria. I splurged and bought a thick plush red carpet. The art in the frame came from an Etsy shop and the stars on the wall from a crazy, winding store in Chinatown. Every monday when i go shopping i buy some red flowers for the top of the bookshelf. All of these things put together make me very happy. Especially when the fire is going in the woodstove.
As it happens so often, late at night, i found myself stumbling through a dating site. Checking out men, presumably available and looking for a hot mess like me.
Does it really work? This internet dating thing. I don't get it or even understand it.
I get them at the restaurant on a fairly regular basis. I think it's because i work weeknights. Less formal, an easy excuse to take leave early. "I have to work in the morning."
The man almost always arrives first, all pressed and tidy. Beige dockers and a casual yet stylish shirt. Attempting the easy, confidant look. Leaning back in the chair, strategic body placement so as to allow a clear view of the door.
I love this part. Having met people from the internet before i know from experience that 90% of the time they look completely different in real life than they do in their profile pics. I call it Facebook fraud. I love the moment when she walks in the door and they see each other for the first time.
There is relief, sometimes there is disappointment.
Surprisingly, most of the time, the dates seem to go well. They linger for hours. Exchanging all those stories and tidbits of information that are necessary in that getting to know each other dance.
I find it exhausting. The thought of doing that over and over. Hoping for that little connection. The spark. Whatever that magic thing is that changes a relationship from maybe to possible.
We are well into our second week of spring break. I had grand plans filled with adventure, but instead we have been having mini-adventures here on the island.
We have been swimming and hiking, been to the movies and the mall, been thrift store shopping and out for a boat ride. Nothing huge, but enjoying being together.
And, of course, staying up late and sleeping in. In most ways absolutely perfect.
I have been doing all of that instead of writing, paying bills etc. My to-do list has been put on hold for two weeks and it feels great.
As always holiday time makes me wish i had the constitution to homeschool so that every day could be like this.