On Taking Myself Out On Dates

I am not the kind of girl that guys are lining up to ask out.

If you are my mother or best friend, you probably scoffed at that statement and feel the need to say something like "Any guy would be lucky to go out with you." Please don't. I'm not being self-depricating and looking for reassurance of my worth as a human being. I'm not bemoaning the fact that my dating life is basically non-existant. At least not this time. No, this time I'm just stating a fact. Guys are not lining up to ask me out, literally or figuratively.

When you have no dating life and your best friends live on the other side of the country, you have two options if you want to go out: repeatedly ask the few friends you do have living near you if they want to go out or just go out by yourself. Since I start to feel annoying and needy if I ask the same four or five people to hang out all the time, I've started to take myself out on dates. I'll go to the movies, or out for coffee, or to a show. I went to see Sarah Polley's Stories We Tell and loved it. I went to Starbucks, got a gingerbread latte (decaf soy, naturally), and wandered through Chapters looking at books. I went to Jian Ghomeshi's book tour stop in Halifax. Yeah, I would have liked someone to discuss the movie with afterward (go see it, it's so good), but it's nice to not have to debate what movie to watch or worry about whether the person you've come with will talk or text during the film. And, sure, coffee and book-browsing aren't the same without my Edmonton bestie with whom I used to do it all the time, but they still make for a pretty enjoyable way to spend a rainy evening. And, yes, I would have liked someone to grab coffee with after the book tour, but I got to laugh with abandon and shift in my seat like nobody's business without worrying about what people thought of me (because, really, I'm never going to see the people I was sitting with again). So, I am slowly starting to love these little dates with myself.

Although, you know, a real date might also be nice.

Lest We Forget

To the men and women of the armed forces and their families,

Thank you.

If you can't get around it...

If you can't get around it, get into it.

I don't know where I came across this quote, but it's been bouncing around my head the last few days. I put it into practice this evening by tackling the pile of dishes while listening to jazz music and talking to my mom on the phone.

The Good Things

I am finally done my SSHRC application.

I move on Tuesday.

I went out for dinner with a friend last night.

I spent Thursday evening catching up with some good friends.

I am lucky enough to work in a store that is already kitted out for Christmas.

I have some really wonderful coworkers.

I am currently drinking a lovely soy rooibos chai latte.

And, yesterday, while I was walking, the wind was blowing giant autumn leaves all around me.

Hard Choices

Decisions. I am not good at them. And I seem to have found myself in a position where no matter what I choose it feels wrong. Of course, this also means that no matter what I choose it feels right. I am not sure what to do with this. Unfortunately my trusty pro-con lists are failing me. They balance out, making them as unhelpful as consulting the ocean and its ever-changing tides or looking for the truth in the strange combination of seagrass and acorns.

Old Haunts

Despite the fact that I am technically living in Halifax now, I seem to be spending a lot of time in Wolfville. I miss the place. Also, Halifax and I are having a rough go of it, so I often want to escape and try and think things through. And, of course, I have no desire to spend my days off in a mouse-infested apartment, and Wolfville seems like as good a place as any to get away rom that situation. I had a couple of days off at the end of the Thanksgiving weekend and came out here. My friend's family adopted me for dinner on the Monday night, and basically for all eternity with an open invitation to stay there any time I want, and it was lovely to be around a family. On the Tuesday evening I wandered down to the train tracks with my camera, and it felt like a homecoming. The light was beginning to fade, but the colours of the turning leaves were incredible, and I spent about an hour walking and taking photos. Sometimes going back to old haunts is exactly what I need. Although I am slowly acquiring new haunts in Halifax, it is a long and arduous process. It's nice to have a place to come back to where I can just slide back in effortlessly.

I should probably apologize if this post isn't the most coherent thing ever. I'm deep into SSHRC proposal writing and have very little brain power left for anything else.

Parallel Universe

I'd been rehearsing this moment for hours, and I had outlined a hundred different scenarios. Mr. Jensen once tried to tell us that there existed somewhere a set of parallel universes, unreachable but real, where every possibility came true; whatever didn't happen here happened somewhere else, each option unfolding in a separate universe. But in this one world, at least, the outcome that morning was reduced finally to just this one version. 

-- Karen Thompson Walker, The Age of Miracles

Maybe in some parallel universe there is a Breanna who lives in an apartment that doesn't make her cry on a daily basis. Sadly, it isn't this one.