Old house, old me

And so it begins.  Meaning, the challenges of what it’s like to live in a less than perfectly outfitted house.  I’m taking it like it’s a prelude to actually owning a house. We are not, repeat, not moving into a fixer upper.  Our fixer upper days are long behind us.

We’ve already spent a couple hundred fixing up this and that – new lightbulbs (not the 99cent kind), nightlights for bathroom (the airplane hanger fan and light are electrically connected, dark bedroom closet, the kid’s room (no ambient light like in the heart of the city), friction strips for the basement stairs (the 70 lb princess dog skittering precariously down the steep stairs like a newbie on roller skates), new sockets for the scanty electrical outlets (that are not properly grounded), garbage can for the backyard (for Princess Juno), new recycling bin (the last one was full of rusty paint cans, etc.)  and of course, the obligatory trip to Ikea for organizational baskets.

I’ve also observed that the City of Vancouver is a little particular when it comes to picking up garbage.  I called for and received new bags for recycling – yellow for paper products – ALL CARDBOARD MUST BE FLATTENED – and blue for newspapers – NO STRING.  They will not pick up a small plastic bag of  garbage or recycled material if you are so foolish as to leave one.   Of course, when you have moved, you have a lot of cardboard that will never fit in a 15 x 15 inch bag, so I had to take a load of stuff to the recycling depot which, thank goodness, they took for free.  You have to move the 1 garbage can 3 feet away from the back of your fence and the lid must be closed properly.  Forget about leaving mattresses, TVs, or anything else that does not fit into the list of what constitutes garbage or recycled materials.  This is, of course, unlike living in the city.  You could leave just about anything in the alley and it would be gone by morning.  And we had a dumpster of course, so we could put as much trash in as we liked and if yours was full, that’s what the next building’s dumpster was for.   That is, after all, how we got rid of all the crap we weren’t taking with us.  Here, on Dunbar “island”, everyone’s garbage is as neat as a pin.  I have snuck bags of the dog’s poo in people’s garbage bins as we’ve walked around the neighbourhood, fully expecting to get yelled at.  The public garbage cans are not on residential streets.

My back is out again.  Swell.  I took the Precious to the community centre last week and  managed to twist my back trying to help him navigate down a slide.  I thought it was just a little pull, but of course, it only got worse.  Just in time for an acting audition workshop that I attended this weekend.  I also woke up with a cold.  Keeps getting better.  I had been feeling pretty miserable about so called career and my self identity and being trapped in the house while it poured for days hadn’t helped.  So I was really looking forward to this workshop.  I just wanted to immerse myself in my work.  I got a really good scene and a good scene partner (not much rehearsal cause I also had to work at night transcribing).  I am feel pretty vulnerable these days, out of routine, things aren’t where I’m used to, I know, just part of sorting out a new environment. So when I woke up that Saturday, feeling like a truck hit me, I was not amused.  Still, the show goes on.

Anyway, the workshop was great, we had a local casting director come in and she loved me! My confidence really needed the boost.  I’ve got the acting coach and the casting director say how talented I am, what a wonderful presence I have, blah, blah, she has no suggestions for me and yet, I am not booking gigs.  I am definitely having troubling balancing the two sides of my life.  I think I am looking for affirmation from outside of myself and this is the crux of my problem.  My coach also mentioned that I should “get an ego”.  Meaning, somewhere along the line, I have lost my confidence in myself as an actor, I am settling for less than I deserve.  I need to get a part of my old life, my old spark back, you know, the self centred me.  You know, the one that mothers aren’t supposed to have.  More on that later.

3 thoughts on “Old house, old me

  1. You and me lady — we’re on that same wave-length right now. I truly truly get it. And I too hate change — I mean, there’s something GOOD in it — of course, but when I’m out of my routine, out of my space — when new things have to settle in — oh boy, that’s hard for me.


    I really wish I lived in Vancouver. Maybe someday a book of mine will be made into a big hollywood blockbuster and I’ll demand you be the star.


  2. What? It’s not about me? Huh, nobody told me that when I joined the motherhood ranks – not that I would’ve listened anyway.

    LOL – I love how you describe that area and you are BANG FREAKING ON. And the COV is beyond unreasonable at the best of times so it’s no great surprise that your garbage can must be in the exact spot or they wont pick up. LOL.

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