squeezebox alley

I'm back to blogging over here! Come visit me there for the latest news...

On the treetops of my friendly local mountains (the top of the nearest one only minutes from my front door): snow. And it's the first of July tomorrow...

I know that this is not only local;  a friend in Vancouver tells me that people are calling this month June-uary; but I long for lakes and lazing on the beach, not huddling in my living room with the heater turned on. Although today is a day for resting and recharging, so maybe it's just as well that the rain and cool winds are keeping me indoors with sugary snacks and season one of 'Ally McBeal'. 

It's been over a month since I've written; the best times in my life are the ones where I have no time to write it all down, but now I have a day to take stock and rest and- most importantly- NOT SPEAK OR SING, because I need to rest my poor, overused vocal cords for a day.

My co-workers have gone to Town (Quesnel) to buy groceries, and more importantly, to get out of this tiny place for a few hours. I have no need of that today. I have supplies, I need a break from the people I see everyday (although I love them all) and for once I don't even want to ride my bike or go for a walk. I am tired-I may be fighting off a cold or something- and I am content to potter today.

We opened our main season shows a couple weeks ago, on the 19th. And suddenly, the frantic work of rehearsing 2 shows in 3 weeks while 3 of us performed the Spring shows as well is over. Goodbye director, goodbye Spring show stage manager, hello to 2 new shows a day AND rehearsing one last show which opens this weekend. Starting on the 3rd, we will be doing 14 shows a week, BUT we will be finished with rehearsals for good. Family will begin to visit. I'll have time to get to know some of the locals (and the other seasonal workers, like me), and hopefully, the weather will finally switch into summer mode. 

I am learning so much up here; I hope I can take these lessons with me when it's time to head back down south and face my old life again. Up here I don't have to take my emotional temperature every 5 minutes. I am happy and fulfilled, even on days when I feel tired and overworked. I am working, which makes me feel useful. I am doing a job I love, and learning that I have some talent as a performer. I want to feel this successful not just here, in this lovely northern town, but everywhere. 

But it's not time to worry about the future yet. Today I will finish writing, walk to the general store and buy things that are bad for me, and pay a visit to Babe, the mule who belongs to my boss. I will feed her a few dandelions, pet her soft nose, and bike home to rest up before another long workday tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow it will be warmer.

Monday, I cycled to Barkerville for the first time, enjoying the lonesome road and the wind in my hair. For about five minutes, until the constant uphill grade and the buffeting headwind wore me out. Eight kilometres of relentless, sweaty, sneaky climbing- the kind you can't see from a car and only notice when it is the power of your poor legs that is getting you there. I sang sometimes- to keep the bears away- since I was moving so slowly that they could have reached their paws out lazily and plucked me from my bike like a juicy piece of fruit. Not a bear did I see on the outbound journey, and my fellow cast member (and boss) Amy assured me that she had been cycling that road for years and had never seen a bear. Which reassured me greatly until the homeward journey, when I cruised right by a young black bear about 20 feet away from me. He/she stared at me, mouth full of something; I called "hello!" and laid on the pedals for a bit until I was sure I wasn't being followed. My bear spray was in my knapsack; if the bear had charged me there's no way I would have reached it in time.

I am writing this in my living room, which is very cozy and now boasts quite a large pile of books from the Wells Library (located in the basement of the community hall; open 10 hours a week). My three incredibly vivid carpets which horrified me when I first arrived here now seem amusing , especially the brown-checked living room carpet, which dances in my peripheral vision when my eyes are tired. I poked around an empty suite yesterday while I was borrowing a vacuum cleaner, and scorned its boring grey-blue office-like carpet. True, my bedroom stinks of cat's piss, a legacy from the previous tenant's pet, but what's a bit of an ammonia smell when you have the greenest shag carpet in the province? It looks great with my quilt.

I am working hard in what is basically a historical theme park. I have no money and am living in a dinky little town with 250 people, and I am amazingly happy. I check my emotional temperature from time to time, worrying that it may have changed, but no- I remain surprisingly buoyant. Certainly it is the change of pace that is helping. And having a job. And the fact that the job allows me to do what I love best in all the world, which is to perform. I sang my heart out for 10 people today (there aren't too many tourists yet) and although we all grumbled about it to each other afterwards, my heart wasn't in it. I would have happily done the show for 2 people, or none. I love my work. I like walking around Barkerville at the end of the day when there are hardly any tourists about, smelling the pine- and horse-scented air and staring at the old wooden buildings. I like wandering into the theatre green room after a show and finding Prancer, the Barkerville cat, curled up on our sofa. I like that my landlords gave me their old accordion yesterday and bought me a bike helmet today when they went to Quesnel. I like that everyone smiles at me when they drive past and I like that I am hanging out with people I wouldn't normally hang out with in my regular life: the young guys in the theatre company, my two bosses, my next-door neighbour who is a theology student. It's not that Wells and Barkerville are Utopias. It's just that, right now, this place is opening me up, making me feel more like myself than I've felt in ages. And so, right now, it's the right place for me to be.*

* even though it snowed today (at the end of May!!!) and I needed to turn my heaters back on, I am still having a good time here. A cold time, but a good one.

As I coasted down the hill on my brand-new bike this morning, a funky five-dollar lamp and a second-hand bathmat stuffed in my knapsack, I couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear:

The snow is melting.

We have a show- it opens Monday.

I love working here. 

I have an awesome bike.

I endured a loooonng bear safety course last night... and got a free can of bear spray!

I have laughed more this week than I have in the last month or more. I hadn't realized how the stress of not working, of not having direction was making me feel so down. Not to mention feeling as if I am doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. Performing. There is nothing like it in the whole word for me. 

I can only hope that the rest of the summer will be as fun. 

Sunday May 2nd, 2010 Wildlife count so far *:

• 2 black bears

• 1 bear bum, disappearing into the trees

• 5 young moose

• about 7 deer

* some of these may be the same moose and bears, seen twice. But pretty cool, no?

It has snowed since I arrived last night. Big fat storybook flakes last night and little icy ones today. Good thing I brought layers. Arrived in the near-dark last night after a 10-hour bus ride and 45-minute drive from Quesnel to Wells. First impression of the apartment: comfy and spacious but, um, plain. Drinks with the rest of the company, then messy unpacking to find my bedsheets and then, mercifully, bed and sleep.

Today was better. Funny how it's the small touches- a vivid red blanket, some of my photographs, the quilt my stepmom made me- that make this place already seem more like home. Add the smell of frying onions, the first meal, the ritual putting- away of clothes and kitchen stuff, and I'm already glad when I step through the door. I have made peace with the wall-to-wall shag carpets.

The building managers, Butch and Norma, have been very kind to me. They gave me coffee and brownies this morning, took care of various things that my apartment needed, and insisted that I come to Quesnel with them for Chinese food this evening. They wouldn't even let me pay. It was nice to not have to spend my first day here alone. It was nice to be made welcome, especially because Wells is still mostly closed for the season. Barkerville opens in 10 days; most of the stores and restaurants in Wells will be open around the same time. So it's kind of neat to see everything before the tourists do. But lively and open-for-business, it's not.

Tomorrow is my first work day. I'm going to get up early enough for pancakes. And coffee, definitely coffee. And then... I guess we'll see, won't we?

It's a brilliant idea, and it's totally not mine. But the songs will be...

Trolling around on Facebook yesterday, I came across a singer/songwriter type who's decided to write and post a song per week, all summer long. While her songs weren't really my cup of tea, her idea was, and so I've shamelessly decided to steal it. 

This summer was going to be all about writing anyway; the Song-A-Week idea just gives me a bit of a push. I've always done so much better under pressure! 

So stay tuned. Beginning next week, my first week in Barkerville, I'll be creating a song every week and posting it online, probably on this site. Probably on a Friday- that sounds like a good day to put a new song online, huh? 

It's sunny outside, and it's raining too. Somewhere, there must be a beautiful rainbow, although I can't see it from my North- and West-facing windows. 

I'm killing time working on this blog because I'll be posting from here instead of at my usual blog for the summer. New blog, new perspective. The old blog is about my life in east van; this blog will be updates and news from my temporary summer home in the Cariboo: Wells, BC. 

I'm leaving in 2 weeks, and although I'll miss my man, my band and my 'hood, I'm so excited to start working! It's been a hard winter/spring, folks, and the old wallet is getting pretty empty.  Plus, I start wondering just who I am and what I'm doing with my life after a few months of joblessness. So spending over four months as a corseted, costumed actor in a remote northern town seemed like a challenge and an adventure when I was offered the job. 

 I'll be posting news and pictures in the next four months. If I'm really into it (and if I can figure out how to do it), I'll post a video or two along the way. Stay tuned...