Last Day of Work

Finished my last day of work today. They have decided that they probably won't need another story producer in four- six weeks, after I have recovered from surgery, so this is it. Dim Sum with the bosses on Wednesday, another contract done.

I can't speak for anyone else, but every time I come to the end of a contract, I feel like I'm starting from the beginning again. Each deal memo completed is another chance to jump off this crazy train and go back to school for nursing, or art history, or to get a joe job washing dishes and just concentrate on writing. Although if you have to washes dishes ten hours a day, I doubt anyone could concentrate on much. So here I am again. It's spring, I'm unemployed, and I have this vague feeling that things could be different.

But for now, I'm giving myself a break. I don't feel like stressing about what I'm going to do. I've been told by doctors not to. And, for me, a surgeon's warning is what it takes to keep myself from finding something to worry about, honing in on it and setting the cloud of bees in my head to attack it. So for now, my mind is just going to be here now and not somewhere in the hazy future where I'm unemployed and presiding over a slipshod wedding.

Date Night

Went on a date-night last night with the fiance. He's leaving on Tuesday to the Banff Center for a workshop of his new theatre piece, and can't be here for the surgery or until about ten days after. He feels terrible about it. And I wish he could be here, and hate when we have to spend tons of time apart. So we went on a date-date- we cashed in our $50 gift certificate at Joey Restaurant.

I don't know why it's not Joey's Restaurant, but it's not. It's Joey Restaurant. Ever so slightly annoying. But despite this, the food was good, and it was fun to people watch - like the 16 year olds waddling past on high highs that were way to high for their walking-in-high-heels skill level. They looked like baby ostriches in gold sequence tops. Very cute.

We drove to Gas Town to go dancing. I suggested the Lamplighter, and we gave it a shot. Huge line-up at 10PM. Everyone inside looked very conscious of the fact that they were inside the Lamplighter. I guess its the Place to Go, or it used to be. It's has now become way too popular to be the Place to Go. But there are those that still think that it is. And there's a certain self-consciousness that hangs in the room at the Place to Go. so I was totally happy not to get in.

We went to a divey place to play shuffleboard instead, and everoyne there, all under 30, was right in the middle of a drug deal. They all were giving suspicious hand shakes. Every single one of them. Everyone I happened to glance at had mini black holes for pupils and were chewing on gum like they had been ordered to by a general who was going to kill them if they didn't do it vigorously.

And then we tried Honey, even though Saturday is their "off-night," it was juuust right. The music was good in that pop, "Ah-just-wanna-dance" kind of way. There was hardly anyone there, but everyone who was there was on the dance floor (well, after I deflowered it by doing the foxtrot.) There was a group of gay hipsters with their gorgeous hag. There was a man who looked like an orange with sticks poking out for arms and legs. There was a couple out on a date, the guy being the biggest fan of dancing this side of Granville. He was awesome. He looked about 90 pounds, and he probably worked as a sales manager at Best Buy. And he had gelled his hair and put on his good, white stripped shirt for the night, and his shiny shoes. He looked as if he had taken salsa dance classes at some point, maybe by himself, just because it was the funnest shit around. And he cut it up. At the Lamplighter, he would have felt too self-conscious, due to the douches staring and laughing. But here, he felt totally free to have at 'er. He moved his feet every which way, kept the beat, closed his eyes. There was something old-timey about it, the way he enjoyed it. like he should have been on a dance marathon, or going to the church dance not because he was religious, but because it was the only place to jive to good live music. I wanted to go back and retroactively slap anyone who every made fun of him.

Over at the gay hipster pod, they were beautiful and gay. And then there was one dude, wearing a Roots Canada hoodie and mittens, who just didn't get it. He looked so self conscious and uncomfortable, I just wanted to go over there and give him a hug. Those are the people I usually relate the most to, but he was out of control. He kept rubbing up against the gorgeous hag in an attempt to dance "crazy". She was obliging. But it was awkward.

And then there was Mike and I - sharing fizzy virgin juice drinks, joking around, giving each other dance lessons, me demanding that he dance as if in a sequence from a musical set in a club named Honey, having an amazing time together before he leaves for a long time.

Bed Ridden

I haven't posted in so long. Jeeze.

So next Friday I go under the knife. I'm having a short rib removed, which is weird to say because usually they are on a plate. But there's a vein wrapped around one on my left side, and last year it caused a massive blood clot to form along my shoulder, which came scary-close to killing me. So I had an angioplasty and have been taking rat poison to thin my blood ever since.

Since then my day-to-day has been totally normal except for occasional discomfort, a prohibition on intense exercise and the fact that, if I accidently got pregnant and failed to notice in the first few hours after conception, the baby would have an 80 per cent chance of extreme mutation. For me that was the worst part of it. Accidental pregnancies happen.

Anyway, on Friday they are removing the offending rib through a key hole incision in my armpit.

Yesterday, the fact of what's going to happen struck me, and I got nervous. But I think it's purely instinctual, to be repelled by cutting and digging and the drawing of a piece of me out. I asked if I could keep the rib, and they said no. I asked them how on earth was I going to create my new gender if they weren't going to let me keep it, and they told me I'd have to figure out a plan B. Suggestions?

I'm going to be bedridden for four weeks, and can't even touch a computer. I'm already preparing a list of books I'm going to read - finally reading Stark and White from cover to cover. The new Zadie Smith came in the mail the other day, which made me clap my hands and jump up and down. I might try a new genre I haven't read before, like sci fi fantasy or something. Any reading suggestions? Any genre suggestions?

I'm going to watch Important Television Series. The BBC just came out with a list of the best TV shows of all time. I've already seen the singing detective, but am only on season four of The Wire. I'm so watching the rest of the Wire in a two-day marathon. Any other suggested watching?

It's kind of like a bed-vacation, but where it hurts to breathe. Or so they tell me. I'm not allowed on the computer, but the surgery is on my left arm, so I'm going to try and get a few two-finger-typed posts in. A day.