Ok but really...maybe this is what it's all about.

She summed it up rather well. "Last night was the type of night I felt very lucky to be me."

Ridiculous giddy laughter. Terrible dirty jokes. Laughably bad sound. Unbelievably good sales. Tangibly warm friendships.
Fireworks.
Hugs.
Kids dancing.
Rockstar fame.
Road trip conversations and revelations.
Back seat naps (between the amp and the guitar).

Maybe I should have held onto that feeling this morning for a bit longer. I am back there now.

It was a good night.

volunteerism....

I volunteer. Alot. Mostly for arts related things (although I have also worked for environmental groups, walked dogs for the SPCA, served soup in a soup kitchen, and worked with battered women's support groups). These days, mostly I do merch for bands, work for other theatre companies, volunteer at festivals, work my ass off for a couple events which I wouldn't trade for the world.

In the past week two people have called me stupid for my volunteer activities (one of whom I actually do volunteer work for so go figure). Someone else uttered seeming dissatisfaction with the volunteer work that she does - calling it frivolous and indulgent. I understand that she was speaking of the type of voluteering, maybe comparing it to saving the world through peace rallies and marches, or working with orphans in Africa, or teaching literacy... all are wondrous and beautiful ways of volunteering, of giving back. There are many volunteer activities that are more "life-altering," perhaps more humanitarian. And I also understand that she wasn't talking about my volunteering, although we do many of the same things.

I don't agree. With the stupid; or the frivolous and indulgent.

I started volunteering in the arts more or less as a favour to some friends, and then as a way to enjoy more of the arts. Purely selfish motivations I admit - but I don't think that because I get something out of the experience I am being self-indulgent. I wanted to see more shows and I couldn't afford to go to whatever I wanted so I started offering to sell merch, to poster, to usher. All of it to help people who, in my head, had already given me so much - as a way to say thank-you... but mostly as a way to see more shows. I had friends in music, in theatre - it was easy to get involved. And I loved it. I still love it. I love being at these events with a purpose. I love feeling that sense of belonging, that sense that I am a part of it all.

I got my current job at a place where I volunteered alot. Essentially I volunteered my way in. I worked hard until the folks here knew they wanted me onboard and when someone left, I got their job.

Volunteering looks good on a resume. ANY kind of volunteering. Volunteering, whatever the "cause" - means you are giving of yourself for nothing. And I think that's admirable. Volunteering also means I meet interesting and unusual people, become part of a community. And I like that.

And I get more out of it: more satisfaction, more enjoyment, more focus... than you could possibly imagine.

So please, no matter how much you think you are looking out for me - even if you are just worried I am being taken advantage of (because I'm pretty sure that's where the "stupid" comment came from). I do this because I enjoy it. Doesn't mean on occasion I won't be tired or grumpy or frustrated with aspects of it. But I will always come back for more.

is this how it's supposed to be?

I often wonder - is this it? Is this all we get? Is this what I dreamed of when I said "when I grow up I'm going to...?"

Don't get me wrong... I have a great life. I'm healthy. I work doing what I love, and volunteer with what I am passionate about. I make enough money to live on and I have the world's greatest friends (something that was powerfully illustrated for me this past week). I'm almost never bored.

But sometimes it feels like I've missed the boat. Like something is missing. This isn't a rant about how I need a boyfriend - although I think the fact that there's no one extra special in my life has something to do with it. And it isn't that I'm overly dissatisfied with my current status quo.

It just hasn't worked out as I planned. It doesn't fit the picture I once had in my head of how life should be. I still struggle to find meaning, to maintain happiness, to contribute... something. I wonder sometimes if it's true that the ony real meaning you can find in life as an adult is when you have children. (something I don't plan to do).

What will my legacy be?

*Note* - ok, I have now read a couple of my friends blogs today and apparently there is a case of malaise floating around. I didn't mean to be doing this on the same day as everyone else but I guess maybe it's symptomatic for a few of us lately to be asking some bigger questions....

On being far from home...

Homesickness decends at the oddest of moments but a few are very clear and obvious. There are moments you need to be home; moments and events that are difficult to miss. Holidays, weddings, birthdays, births, bridal and baby showers... all of these make me wish I could blink myself back there in an instant. But I gave up those moments. I can't go back for every happy occasion - I mostly hit the holidays in winter, doing all of my familial bonding in one fell Christmastime swoop.

But the most difficult are these moments. Times of trouble. When people there that I love very much are sad, and having a tough time. When I wish I could be there for them, but also for me - because I too, am sad. And when I am sad, all I want is the warmth of those embraces and the sound of the waves crashing. These are the times when my desicion to live this far away makes me the most regretful... guilty almost. Illness and death; funerals... those are the hardest moments to be here, away from them all. I would give anything to be there right now. I'm terribly sorry I can not.

A Bluenoser and a Newfie walk into a bar...

Oh how envious I am of your view of the water. Of your walk up and down the hilly streets and your warm and welcoming pubs on every corner. I wish I was there... or maybe I wish I was my version of there, since you seem to graciously understand that my version, while similar, is not the same. But your graciousness replaces the superiority I am often treated to in similar conversations - my harbour city is just as special to me as yours is to you. Thanks for understanding that. And for feeding my current wistful yearning for salty air and cool ocean spray.

even obsession fades

He's not there. He has stopped occupying that space in my head. My thoughts have strayed further and further afield until the circuitous route no longer stops there. Like the fading warmth of summer, the thoughts grew less intense too quickly. Perhaps it is just my brain's way (my heart's way?) of being realistic. The time has passed; the likelihood of seeing him has diminished. Or maybe I'm fickle.

More likely it is my own disappointment in my ill-timed introvertedness; my lack of guts shall we say. I am a bit saddened by my inability to speak up... I wish I'd... but regret is a wasted emotion. So "realism" wins out.

But I guess there's always next year; next summer; next festival... or maybe not.

I am a little fickle, after all.

The five universal song topics...

Love... unrequited love, never-ending love, brothery love, end of love (heartbreak songs could probably be a separate category but).
God
Country
Drinking
The Road/making music

really... every song in the world is about one or more of these things... and if you lump God and Country into types of love songs (Faith and Patriotism being aspects of love in a sense); there's really only three.