Banged

One day, maybe soon, maybe not, I will write an ode to the first half of 2007. Perhaps it is because I'm [cursed or charmed; I can't often decide which] to view the highs and lows of life through the filter of words or cinema. I often set my life to a soundtrack. I often interpret events, and even more often relationships, as I would the same tale or characters read in a work of fiction.

My ode to 2007 will likely be too dense to be any good. I can't be disappointed by this, since it all actually happened. It's true: my reality has been on the level of bad fiction. There's been illness, loss, death, and brokenness; successes, recognitions, birth, and celebration. I can't complain: I'm doing pretty well and so are all the other players, all things considered. I'm struck by how in control I feel, actually. I owe a lot to my sense of humour. It often gets me into a pickle, but I'll take that if it means I can laugh through tragedy and hardship.

Which brings me to this past weekend. There have been a couple of weekends in the last few months during which I did not work. Only a couple. It's been a busy time. I needed a vacation back in February, but had a health crisis instead. So I ran on empty for about two months. And then things kinda evened out. And then my friend and I were going to skip town this weekend. No computer; no work. Just us, an iPod, shopping destinations in the land of the plenty, and good conversation. We'd planned on the weekend for over a month (we didn't plan it, we just planned on it). I had a lot riding on it: I needed it to be fun and disconnected enough to serve as a week on holiday.

So you can imagine how hard I laughed (and she laughed too) when, before we even left the city limits on Friday night, we were rear-ended by a taxi cab. Screech… bang. My glasses flew off my face. Our necks hurt, but that was it. The other driver was fine. No damage to the cars. Just enough shaking-up to make us not really want to drive for another couple of hours and out of the country. I discovered that 2007 has primed me for experiences such as this. I wasn't surprised. I wasn't even disappointed. I just sort of shrugged: this is what happens. I swear that before March, I had never in my life used the words “lemon” and “lemonade” in the same sentence. 2007 has made me a slinger of platitudes. But my sense of humour keeps me grounded and cynical enough to know I only sling them for the benefit of others. If I say it first, at least I don't have to respond when someone else says it.

And so my friend and I went to The Real Canadian Superstore (why? I can't really remember why), where we laughed ourselves senseless in the bulk foods aisle; I phoned Mr Cme and let him know we were coming home for a sleepover instead of going away, and then we went out and gorged ourselves on delicious sushi. We spent Saturday in our lovely city, finally springly warm, and had a delightful time, content to exploit our time at home when otherwise we'd be away. We shopped, we ate, we stumbled onto Got Craft and had a blast. We saw friends and met their new baby. I slept in on Sunday. I read my book. I napped. And now, this Monday, I can't tell if I feel robbed of my holiday. I'm content, rested. Really, I think I've just adjusted to the reality of 2007; to the mingling of good and bad; ease and struggle. I don't mind it. I hope the suffering of this year is on the wane; I could do with less pain myself, and the people I love, I'm sure, could do with less pain, too.

But if it's not to be, I'll be ready with a smile.

And a link dump, soon. I've collected quite a few.

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