Last year, I took a risk, went out on a limb, and went up to Ottawa for the Canada Day weekend to meet up with J., who lived and worked in and around the Ottawa area most of last summer.
We had known each other for less than a month; we'd been dating less than a week. Still, we had an absolutely amazing time, and, despite all sorts of different obstacles we could foresee might challenge our future, we came home from that weekend resolutely determined that our relationship was a really good thing and we really wanted to make it work. We certainly have.
Clearly nostalgic by nature, I tend to want to revisit the scenes of my memories. So, we're off to Ottawa for the extended Canada Day weekend again this year. J. and I will camp for a couple of nights along the Rideau River, then spend the next couple of nights at the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Ottawa. We intend to go for runs along the canal, take in some of the jazz festival, roam the cobblestone streets, dress up for late night drinks, and order at least one pizza to watch the World Cup in our hotel room.
I seriously cannot wait.
I feel, somehow, that something has changed in me over the last couple of months. Fear has vanished; the past is slowly fading into blurry snippets of half-forgotten moments. Perhaps it is the marking of an anniversary, perhaps only the passage of time, but I feel like this is once again a new chapter of life I am writing, and I'm constantly excited to turn the page.
The future holds so much promise again where once, not so very long ago, it seemed void and empty. I am well aware that the seasons of life come and go; I have lived through many different storms in the last few years. Now, though, there is much to look forward to, much to hope for, much to dream of, and I am full to bursting with the knowledge and understanding that I have entered a happy, fulfilling, rewarding season of my life.
I intend to milk it for every sweet, satisfying drop.
Then drink up every single one.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
one year later
It's been a year.
365 days of change, of growth, of love.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have arms wrapped around me while standing at my kitchen counter, making dinner or doing the dishes. At first, they were willing me to believe they were real; then, they were willing me to believe they were there to stay. I didn't know that one day I would really believe it.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have soft, comforting words spoken when conflict arose. I didn't know that not every misstep inevitably results in insults, accusations, blame. I didn't know that yelling and name-calling were completely, permanently out of the question. I didn't know that love could be so compassionate, so empathetic, so tenderhearted.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have to learn how to understand the irrational; to weigh the impact of every thought, every action. I didn't know I was capable of being so selfless, so sympathetic. I didn't know that in doing so, I would truly comprehend the meaning of unequivocal, sacrificial love.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have hope for the future, to believe that there really could be a happy ending. I didn't know how strong I would have to be, at times; how weak I would be, at other times. I didn't know that sometimes I would have to be the one to carry things through, and sometimes I would be the one to need to be carried through things.
I do now.
It's been a year. 365 days.
I have changed so much. I have grown so much.
I have learned to love again.
Happy Year, baby.
I can't wait to see what the next one brings.
for J.
Breathing Dreams
Time, now,
I'm thinking
in this story life
Thinking, I'll
write a new chapter
sing a new melody
turn a new leaf
I think
It's time.
No more
spilling my guts
gasping for air
coughing up blood
no more.
Easy, now,
I'm breathing
in this story life
Breathing, I'll
dream new dreams
of you and me
with every breath
I breathe.
Julia Hendrik,
April 2, 2010
365 days of change, of growth, of love.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have arms wrapped around me while standing at my kitchen counter, making dinner or doing the dishes. At first, they were willing me to believe they were real; then, they were willing me to believe they were there to stay. I didn't know that one day I would really believe it.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have soft, comforting words spoken when conflict arose. I didn't know that not every misstep inevitably results in insults, accusations, blame. I didn't know that yelling and name-calling were completely, permanently out of the question. I didn't know that love could be so compassionate, so empathetic, so tenderhearted.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have to learn how to understand the irrational; to weigh the impact of every thought, every action. I didn't know I was capable of being so selfless, so sympathetic. I didn't know that in doing so, I would truly comprehend the meaning of unequivocal, sacrificial love.
I do now.
When this year began, I didn't know what it felt like to have hope for the future, to believe that there really could be a happy ending. I didn't know how strong I would have to be, at times; how weak I would be, at other times. I didn't know that sometimes I would have to be the one to carry things through, and sometimes I would be the one to need to be carried through things.
I do now.
It's been a year. 365 days.
I have changed so much. I have grown so much.
I have learned to love again.
Happy Year, baby.
I can't wait to see what the next one brings.
for J.
Breathing Dreams
Time, now,
I'm thinking
in this story life
Thinking, I'll
write a new chapter
sing a new melody
turn a new leaf
I think
It's time.
No more
spilling my guts
gasping for air
coughing up blood
no more.
Easy, now,
I'm breathing
in this story life
Breathing, I'll
dream new dreams
of you and me
with every breath
I breathe.
Julia Hendrik,
April 2, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
no-go piano
The Wurlitzer, alas, is not mine.
Too many unforeseen maintenance costs combined with its sheer age made my daddy-o say no-go to the piano.
The tears fell fast and furious.
They're dry now, though.
On to the next one.
Too many unforeseen maintenance costs combined with its sheer age made my daddy-o say no-go to the piano.
The tears fell fast and furious.
They're dry now, though.
On to the next one.
Friday, June 18, 2010
gearlust
It's a phenomenon that has run rampant amongst my musician friends, but up until now has left me mercifully alone.
Not so any more. I have a serious case of gearlust.
gearlust
To have an intense desire for equipment.
It is usually used in the audio world.
(from Urban Dictionary)
It's this whole wanting to be creative, wanting to be interesting, wanting to be different thing that started it. I'm being completely serious. I'm blaming my creativity, my non-conformist desire to look and sound unconventional, not branded into some genre or image, for my gearlust.
The topic of discussion in the studio of late has been how I should mount a live show (well, it's been one of many topics of conversation on what comes next). The thing is that I really do see myself behind an instrument on stage; however, the feasibility of playing a grand piano everywhere I go is virtually non-existent. It would appear that I need to purchase a keyboard in order to have portability and practicality in performace.
Herein lies the problem. I have a fundamental opposition to playing a keyboard on stage. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against keyboards, or keyboard players, but I am not a high-tech, fully synthesized-type of musician. No sirree. If anything, I'd rather look and sound vintage.
That said, the discussion had turned to old-school electric pianos instead. A Rhodes piano, perhaps, or a Wurlitzer; pianos with an output allowing for amplification, but with a smaller, more intimate, more distinct sound.
And then, there it was. My incredible producer/friend and I were out for lunch mid-session when he decided to pop by a vintage music store in the Kensington Market that he often frequents. And, lo and behold, there it was. A 1954 vintage Wurlitzer piano, in a scuffed up, cream coloured finish (immediate thought: it would look incredible under a spotlight) - complete with the lid that officially turns it into a fully portable suitcase piano.
I fell instantaneously in love.
I fell hard. I fell fast. I fell so completely that I had to go back to visit it an hour later, to play every note, to figure out if it was just a passing fancy or the beginnings of a slow-burning flame.
Tonight, I have coerced my wonderful dad to come down and look at it with me. An expert musician, he will appraise it, approve it, and (hopefully) help me afford it.
And then, maybe, I can stop talking about it. Out for birthday drinks last night with a group of musician friends, I ranted and raved, showing the printed out version of the vintage Wurlitzer manual that we'd found online. The guys totally understood. So much so in fact that they gave me high-fives for joining the gearlust club, for feeling the pangs of intense desire so strong that it consumes the majority of thought. J. swears that he's falling in love with it himself because I can't stop talking about it.
As for being interesting?
I may have just unintentionally and yet fatefully found my unique and unconventional image.
I mean, how many girls do you know who own and play a vintage 1954 Wurlitzer piano as their instrument of choice?
Especially with a violin on the side?
I thought so.
Not so any more. I have a serious case of gearlust.
gearlust
To have an intense desire for equipment.
It is usually used in the audio world.
(from Urban Dictionary)
It's this whole wanting to be creative, wanting to be interesting, wanting to be different thing that started it. I'm being completely serious. I'm blaming my creativity, my non-conformist desire to look and sound unconventional, not branded into some genre or image, for my gearlust.
The topic of discussion in the studio of late has been how I should mount a live show (well, it's been one of many topics of conversation on what comes next). The thing is that I really do see myself behind an instrument on stage; however, the feasibility of playing a grand piano everywhere I go is virtually non-existent. It would appear that I need to purchase a keyboard in order to have portability and practicality in performace.
Herein lies the problem. I have a fundamental opposition to playing a keyboard on stage. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against keyboards, or keyboard players, but I am not a high-tech, fully synthesized-type of musician. No sirree. If anything, I'd rather look and sound vintage.
That said, the discussion had turned to old-school electric pianos instead. A Rhodes piano, perhaps, or a Wurlitzer; pianos with an output allowing for amplification, but with a smaller, more intimate, more distinct sound.
And then, there it was. My incredible producer/friend and I were out for lunch mid-session when he decided to pop by a vintage music store in the Kensington Market that he often frequents. And, lo and behold, there it was. A 1954 vintage Wurlitzer piano, in a scuffed up, cream coloured finish (immediate thought: it would look incredible under a spotlight) - complete with the lid that officially turns it into a fully portable suitcase piano.
I fell instantaneously in love.
I fell hard. I fell fast. I fell so completely that I had to go back to visit it an hour later, to play every note, to figure out if it was just a passing fancy or the beginnings of a slow-burning flame.
Tonight, I have coerced my wonderful dad to come down and look at it with me. An expert musician, he will appraise it, approve it, and (hopefully) help me afford it.
And then, maybe, I can stop talking about it. Out for birthday drinks last night with a group of musician friends, I ranted and raved, showing the printed out version of the vintage Wurlitzer manual that we'd found online. The guys totally understood. So much so in fact that they gave me high-fives for joining the gearlust club, for feeling the pangs of intense desire so strong that it consumes the majority of thought. J. swears that he's falling in love with it himself because I can't stop talking about it.
As for being interesting?
I may have just unintentionally and yet fatefully found my unique and unconventional image.
I mean, how many girls do you know who own and play a vintage 1954 Wurlitzer piano as their instrument of choice?
Especially with a violin on the side?
I thought so.
Monday, June 14, 2010
cup-runneth-over happiness
Call me crazy morbid, but I find it harder to write when things are going well, when I'm happy, when I'm not wrestling with angst or sorrow, as I have been so often these last few years.
Hence the silence of late.
I'm not saying that life is perfect.
Yes, there are moments of petty grievances and silly arguments and paltry offences that occur daily.
Yes, there are moments of wanting to accelerate everything in my life, to skip ahead six months or even a year to see how different things will look, how changed my life will be.
Yes, there are moments of feeling stuck in a period of contented complacency, longing for bigger and better right now, but not quite knowing how to get there from here.
Life is never perfect. But I'm happy. Incredibly happy.
Here's just a glimpse of my cup-runneth-over happiness.
Beautiful, fulfilling friendships.
scene: Red Chili Thai Restaurant, then a gorgeous apartment on the Danforth.
I can't actually say it much better than what was written by my beloved friend at CherryAppleArt after a much-needed girls night out on the Danforth, so here are some snippets from her fabulous blog.
I NEED my girlfriends.
I NEED my cup of tea and my bitching (oops) and my uplifting and my jolt of fab that only a group of rather stunning friends provides...
...gab and giggles and eye rolling we abandoned ship and went to the most wonderful land of comfy couches and cheese and crackers...
It is one of the best remedies for a heavy heart, or a stressed mind, or tired eyes...
One Dose Of Estrogen Filled Room Coming Right Up.
Side Effects: Male avoidance, full bladders (tea), and happiness that spills into tomorrow. Prescription required.
Honestly, I couldn't have described the evening better myself.
Somehow, we keep each other sane in the midst of insanity.
A mind-bogglingly amazing relationship.
scene: Shopper's Drug Mart pharmacy counter, Bathurst & St. Clair.
It was early evening after a packed-to-the-brim-wonderful weekend when we stopped in at Shopper's Drug Mart. While I waited to pick up a prescription, J. decided to pick up some snacks for our evening. Knowing how reluctant I usually am to show any form of PDA, he gave my hand a slight squeeze and walked away. Seconds later, in my peripheral vision, I saw him turn, purposefully, and stride back towards me with a mischievous look on his face. He then announced, "I love you!" (inordinately loudly, I might add) and planted a big kiss on my lips.
I smiled. He smiled. The onlookers in the pharmacy smiled.
Then, grinning, he went in search of our snacks.
Need I say more?
A loving, caring, close-knit family.
scene: a family residence, currently the home of my newlywed brother and his bride.
It was my brother's birthday on Thursday, the first of his married life. We planned to meet up at his place at 10pm for some cake and coffee, served courtesy of his lovely wife. Coming from choir (my parents), a soccer game (my sisters), a work event (myself), home church (my sister-in-law), dinner with his boys (my brother), we congregated around the dining room table that once-upon-a-time belonged to my grandparents to laugh, talk and gorge on sour cream chocolate cake, cherries, strawberries and whipped cream.
It was only an hour, but it was a wonderful hour; all of us taking time out of our busy lives to get together and catch up. It is something I'm sure we all cherish.
Hopes, dreams and the pursuit of passions.
scene: newly renovated studio on Baldwin Street in Kensington Market.
I still haven't blogged too much about this, so I'll be intentionally vague until I've elaborated in more detail in a later post.
After almost six months of anticipation, hearing live drums set to songs that have lived in my head for years was almost enough to make me cry. The extremely talented, extremely generous drummer gifted me with his passion, his heart and his incredible feel for my music as, track after track, he listened to the synthesized drum sounds we'd created and went far above and beyond anything I could have imagined.
Hence the silence of late.
I'm not saying that life is perfect.
Yes, there are moments of petty grievances and silly arguments and paltry offences that occur daily.
Yes, there are moments of wanting to accelerate everything in my life, to skip ahead six months or even a year to see how different things will look, how changed my life will be.
Yes, there are moments of feeling stuck in a period of contented complacency, longing for bigger and better right now, but not quite knowing how to get there from here.
Life is never perfect. But I'm happy. Incredibly happy.
Here's just a glimpse of my cup-runneth-over happiness.
Beautiful, fulfilling friendships.
scene: Red Chili Thai Restaurant, then a gorgeous apartment on the Danforth.
I can't actually say it much better than what was written by my beloved friend at CherryAppleArt after a much-needed girls night out on the Danforth, so here are some snippets from her fabulous blog.
I NEED my girlfriends.
I NEED my cup of tea and my bitching (oops) and my uplifting and my jolt of fab that only a group of rather stunning friends provides...
...gab and giggles and eye rolling we abandoned ship and went to the most wonderful land of comfy couches and cheese and crackers...
It is one of the best remedies for a heavy heart, or a stressed mind, or tired eyes...
One Dose Of Estrogen Filled Room Coming Right Up.
Side Effects: Male avoidance, full bladders (tea), and happiness that spills into tomorrow. Prescription required.
Honestly, I couldn't have described the evening better myself.
Somehow, we keep each other sane in the midst of insanity.
A mind-bogglingly amazing relationship.
scene: Shopper's Drug Mart pharmacy counter, Bathurst & St. Clair.
It was early evening after a packed-to-the-brim-wonderful weekend when we stopped in at Shopper's Drug Mart. While I waited to pick up a prescription, J. decided to pick up some snacks for our evening. Knowing how reluctant I usually am to show any form of PDA, he gave my hand a slight squeeze and walked away. Seconds later, in my peripheral vision, I saw him turn, purposefully, and stride back towards me with a mischievous look on his face. He then announced, "I love you!" (inordinately loudly, I might add) and planted a big kiss on my lips.
I smiled. He smiled. The onlookers in the pharmacy smiled.
Then, grinning, he went in search of our snacks.
Need I say more?
A loving, caring, close-knit family.
scene: a family residence, currently the home of my newlywed brother and his bride.
It was my brother's birthday on Thursday, the first of his married life. We planned to meet up at his place at 10pm for some cake and coffee, served courtesy of his lovely wife. Coming from choir (my parents), a soccer game (my sisters), a work event (myself), home church (my sister-in-law), dinner with his boys (my brother), we congregated around the dining room table that once-upon-a-time belonged to my grandparents to laugh, talk and gorge on sour cream chocolate cake, cherries, strawberries and whipped cream.
It was only an hour, but it was a wonderful hour; all of us taking time out of our busy lives to get together and catch up. It is something I'm sure we all cherish.
Hopes, dreams and the pursuit of passions.
scene: newly renovated studio on Baldwin Street in Kensington Market.
I still haven't blogged too much about this, so I'll be intentionally vague until I've elaborated in more detail in a later post.
After almost six months of anticipation, hearing live drums set to songs that have lived in my head for years was almost enough to make me cry. The extremely talented, extremely generous drummer gifted me with his passion, his heart and his incredible feel for my music as, track after track, he listened to the synthesized drum sounds we'd created and went far above and beyond anything I could have imagined.
This process has been, and continues to be, a magical experience, one for which I am beyond grateful, no matter the end result. It really is a dream come true.
Tell me, how can I not be happy?
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