Catching up, giving in, rolling over.

I should be sleeping. Catching up, giving in, rolling over.

I should be, but today there was no deterring from the magnetic pull of the need to write. I cannot seem to put a finger on how the events of last night's art opening at the Boozecan changed me, but they did. I can tell already, half delirious with sleep deprivation and too many liters of wine consumed on Fresh's bar tab with Rebecca, not to mention being starved for touch and productivity and groceries, this post is going to be treacherous to articulate. But I will try my hand at it anyway because today I have no choice in the matter. Miriam Toews told me to keep writing today, so I will.

There is something in the air lately, it is charged and wild, creating foam at the mouths of myself and my friends and family; it is so obviously tangible and yet mysteriously fleeting in the same instant.

Change. Change. Change.

I have been uprooted in the last month by unhappiness and joy, by happenstance encounters with Canadian powerhouses and by stark white art spaces, by tools, by a sole man and two dear friends once removed, by teacups sent via the post, by such great happiness and singsong laughter, by a duet on a stage in Laura's honor, by a birds-eye-view perspective from atop historical buildings, by the Royal Art Lodge and the ideology behind their art and intention, by a darkroom and by babies, by surprising letters passed between strangers hands, by weddings, and by cycling alone in the dead of night when sleep escapes me. I have been uprooted and thrown headlong into a black wind tunnel of change and it is exhilarating and terrifying and electrifying and impossible.

Last night in a sea of bodies, I teetered on high heels and connected with people within whom I sensed the same desire for transiency and evolution as my own. We stooped it, curb perched, huddled cross legged on pavement, toddled upright until standing was no longer wise, clutched hands, winked profusely, danced recklessly, and spooned platonically.

The stark dichotomies that have presented themselves to me this week are both laughable and heartbreaking. Never in my life have I received such waves of flack and praise, of feedback or commentary in a seven day cycle. Three of my dearest acquaintances took it upon themselves to spout their concern regarding the new direction of my reckless life via the telephone, the internet and face to face in a room full of people, their anger and disappointment stinging me to my core. All points were hurtful, and all true. Reality shrings. I have made a million silly choices and broken too many commitments mainly owing to heaping helpings of laziness and a lack sleep. Their deliveries were all varied, all taken into account, and all appreciated. Meanwhile, in between darting the aforementioned blows of criticism, I was drenched with affirmation from the most surprising candidates. These letters, notes, emails, and passing conversation of positivity re-instilled my faith in change.

Aunty Daryl told me over turkey sandwiches a few days ago that change is personal, and art is personal and people will experience these at one hundred different paces or sometimes not at all. We should not have to apologize for change or growth, only for the chaos caused by it's blinding appeal. Maybe my hope for a challenging, productive and kinesthetically pleasing Fall/Winter o8 season are ridiculously idealistic, but something tells me I am not far off.

Andrea, thank you for your letter. I cried when I got home because a hug and a meager 'thank you' are never enough. Thank you, you saved me.
Beth, I don't have much to offer except affirmation. I think you are going to be in my life for a long, long time; even if we never get closer than a three province divide.
Loco, goddamn I love you and your fearlessness. You will change the world and I will look on with pleasure. Keep on shocking me, it feeds unknown places within.
JJ, I am so proud of you. You are fearless like Laura but in a different way. The nuances in this difference are intoxicating. I think that is why I love you. The Judgers only judge because they cower in your presence.
Rabbi, we have been around the world and you have seen me higher and lower than anyone. If I had a dream date, it would be you.
Janique, without your softness and consistency I would be a sheep without a shepherd. I like the idea of being shepherd's to each other. You have blossomed before us all this year and I feel very privileged to watch. Je t'aime.
Frin, we terrify each other. I am sorry for being a mystery to you. Your coattails are worthy of royalty and to have ridden them for as long as I have is an honor. You ground me like no one else because it was you who taught me the meaning of missing.

I am feeling so much right now, my head is a watermark. For all the chaos I have caused, I am sorry. For the limitlessness I feel because of it, I am not.

Many thanks to all for saying what is necessary, unnecessary and hard.