The penguin and the aging rock star

Although he didn't waddle so much as stride across the stage, I couldn't help but think of a penguin. He was small of stature, tiny really, and wore a tuxedo. And all I could think was how absurd it seemed that this little penguin man exuded such a pompous air - full of confidence and bravado and not quite likeable for some inexplicable reason. And then with a flick of his wrist, the entire orchestra came to attention. He coaxed such a beautiful array of sound and song from them, all with a flick of the wrist, a nod of the head. And between songs he strode off the stage and then back on - milking the applause until it seemed there should be none left. And again after the next song, he left and was beckoned back once more by the applause of the half filled room.

And then a flurry of activity, a grand piano is brought centre stage and from the wings our soloist appears. In a silver and black brocade jacket and pants that fit like the tightest Levis (but still with the silver and black motif), he arrives onstage like one of the Rolling Stones. The crowd seems momentarily puzzled but they applaud ever louder (that's what you do for the soloist after all).

The moment arrives, the song begins, and the room is filled by the sound of the piano. Then, with a pointed look, the penguin brings in the orchestra. What came next felt somehow like a competition, but of the best kind, where one combatant brings out the best in the other. Going back and forth - piano to orchestra and back again - until they finally commingle in the crescendo of the climax of the song. Each time the orchestra raises the stakes is preceded by that same pointed, knowing glance from the penguin.

And at the end of this song, the applause seems genuine. The penguin, in his tuxedo, and the aging rock star, in his skin tight silver brocade, have finally brought the room to their feet.

OR ... maybe it was the Dayquil.

Ever have one of those days where you absolutely don't want to be around people...and yet there's this one part of you that does? And you can't figure out what this contradiction in feelings is all about until you realize that you do want to be around one person. But that one person is someone you haven't seen in a long time, maybe even someone so far away (in both time and space) that their company is impossible.

I am having that day.

Maybe it's because he was the last person to make me soup when I was sick.

Or maybe it's the Dayquil.

New links

I added some links over there ----->

One belongs to one of my favorite people (he won't appreciate the gush but it's true). He's also intelligent, interesting, a teeny bit neurotic and quite possibly the best trivia partner in history.

The other is a blog I recently discovered and have been pouring over ever since. I especially loved her series of "What I want in a Guy" posts ... and I think there's some redhead empathy going on as well. This is the first time I've linked to a blog of someone I don't at least sort of know in person.

I think I'm getting a bit geeky here.

I keep feeling like there is something I'm supposed to be doing. Not those domestic chores like laundry, dishes and general tidying (which I should be doing since I can't remember what I think I'm supposed to be doing) but SOMETHING. Like I had plans today that I've forgotten, something important. Maybe it's because my last few weeks were oddly crazed with stuff to do and my upcoming weeks will likely be similar. Maybe that's why this odd day, where all I am actually doing is driving to Camrose later to pick up a bed, feels very strange and idle.

If anyone else knows something I was supposed to do today could you call me and let me know?

sparkle-free zone

I guess if I'd thought about it, perhaps I would have known it was over. I described it to people as suddenly realizing I had fallen out of love but that may be a bit of a stretch ...

But the sparkle died. I had always felt a little inexplicable sparkle around him, since the day we'd met and now it's gone. True - we don't see each other often. His life has changed in some pretty big ways (my life as well). But even with the gaps the sparkle had always been there, below the surface, resurrected each time I saw him.

But it's gone. Replaced with a not unpleasant feeling of comfortable friendship mixed with just a bit of distance. An interesting transition that I was completely unaware of until it had finished.

gratitude

Today I went to see a friend of mine in his one man show. It's about his life and particularly, about a time when he almost died. It's a wonderful show: moving, funny, and ultimately it always makes you realize how much there is in life to be thankful for. And today was no different. In fact I may have been even more grateful than usual - walking out into the fresh air of potential spring.

The wonder of my life hit me with full force, even as the one stray raindrop hit my nose as I was leaving the conference centre. I live in a city that feels like home (in spite of it's lack of an ocean view). I am surrounded by people I adore and who stimulate and entertain and support me in every conceivable way. I have found a passion for new and creative types of work that I once thought well beyond my grasp. I am finding a place in this community that is mine, a place that fits and feels as comfortable as faded blue jeans but as new and exciting as first love.

I am grateful that my playwright friend is around to tell his tale - that he was not lost before I knew him, before he could point out this lesson to me. I am grateful for the many people in my life: here and there and in all those other far away places where they all live.

I am grateful for all of this, for finally finding my way here, and for much more. For today at least I will think about that, and celebrate it and try not to let the small things and small worries intrude. And tomorrow, if I slip, I can come back here and read this again and remind myself of this feeling. Sometimes, maybe that's why I write here, to remind myself....

(thanks Jer)