Surrey is far

Well, yeah, Surrey, England is really far from here.

Almost equally far is Surrey, BC.

I had an interview today at blahblahBC for an instructional writer position.  I translinked the experience and it would have been a 20 minute bus ride, a 45 minute skytrain ride and then a 20 minute bus ride.

J. from my writing group offered to drive me!  She drove from across the town to my neck of the woods.  We left two hours before the interview and it took an hour and a half.  90 minutes, people.  In non-rush hour traffic.  She was amazing about it.

“You should wear more skirts like that,” she said, “And your hair is beautiful.”  Thank you, J. these are things that you can always say to me.    We chit and chat all the way and get to know each other better.  NINETY MINUTES.

That is not an easy commute, people.

I have the interview – so-so I’d say.  They didn’t seem in love with me.

“Is telecommuting an option?”

“Nope, we are a union shop.  That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh,” I say.

I wanted to spend time discussing the amazing carbon monoxide lesson plan I had prepared (PowerPoint!  Great learning objectives!).

“Are there any blah blah potato chips?” I asked.

“Huh?” asked talent source person (a three person panel interview it was.  Lots of “Can you tell me a time . . .”)

“BlahblahBC produces these chips.”

“Oh, really?”  Talent source person looked surprised.

“I read up on blahblahBC,” I said.


I will find out in two weeks if I made it to the short list.  I won’t be crushed if I don’t – the commute, people.  Move to Surrey! You say.  No, I say.  We shall see.

J. was waiting in the parking lot reading a book when I returned.

“How was it,” she asked.

“They didn’t know about the chips,” I said.

“The nerve.”

She drove mega out of her way to get to my abode.  I was getting quite sleepy.  We talked some more. Very enjoyable.  Thank you, J.

On Mother’s Day, J. sometimes has brunch with friends of hers.  What they all have in common is that they have lost their mothers.  If that happens on Sunday, I am invited so that is nice.  And they are all psychiatric nurses (most of them are gay men) so all the better I say.  Bring on the psych. ward talk.

I e-mailed hospice counsellor N.

“Okay, this Mothers’ Day thing is harder than I thought.”

“Light a candle for her or go to the casino for her (as I had written to her).  And then do something life affirming like swimming.  (I had told her that I’d gone swimming the day my mother died.).”

“Okay,” I wrote back, “I can see now why people like dedicate park benches to their loved ones.  I seem to be all about making sure people remember her.”

“Take care of yourself.  Honour your feelings,”  wrote N.

“And your article has helped many people.”

I’m feeling melancholy, tis true.

In other news, teaching Explore starts up in a bit over a week.  And I’m teaching one evening a week Business English to a lovely group of students.  And at the end of the month on a Saturday morning, there is to be a pronunciation/speaking class for 14 Chinese Buddhist meditation volunteers.  All or nothing this life.  Well, oh well.

Even though I will be exhausted during these five weeks (and invigorated one hopes) I still plan on a bi of art therapy with art therapist G.  She is moving me beyond crayons.  She showed me everything I could be working with yesterday. This seems to be her gentle way of introducing me to things other than crayons.  Gack.  I’ve got pretty non-existent fine motor skills and shaky hands so I’m like, gack.  Okay, said I, I shall work with paint.  This seemed to make G. kinda happy.  The paints were interesting – they were squeezed out of bottles like ketchup and mustard.  The colours were very, well, colourful.  I dug that (one reverts to sixties slang when one is discussing art therapy).  So many colours.  At another point I was throwing clay against the wall.  I LOVED that.

“We’re not trying to exacerbate your anger by doing this,” G. said, ducking out of the way.

“Oh, well,” I said.

“Okay, just one more throw.”

That was satisfying as hell.

I know I know it all sounds kinda like woo woo and such like that there.

“This is all so woo woo,” I said.

“Hang in there,” said G.

So once I’m teaching Explore it will be back to the real world that consists of getting up early and going to a workplace.  Imagine that.  Will be nice as I haven’t had a paycheque in more than two months.  My savings will be appreciative;  they keep telling me to leave them alone or add to them.  Indeed.

Due to a thing and a mixed up thing and a thing, there will be a repeat of the Explore meeting next week and a repeat of the lunch at the Sage Bistro!  I don’t have to go but I will, nothing beats a free and good lunch, even if it is preceded by a repeat meeting.

I shall carry on with my melancholy.


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