Up and Away

Pixar's new animated film Up is fantastic. It tells the tale of a widow who ties balloons to his house, so that he could fly it to the mythical Paradise Falls, to honour his late wife's life-long wish. I loved the metaphor of the house being a burden of one's life memories. At some point, one has to learn to let go and start anew.

The past year represented a big change for my family with Pa's death. While we were all affected, the biggest impact it had was on my mom, who was married to him for almost 35 years. The first few months were definitely a blur, but she's ready for change.

My mom is moving this summer. She's buying a condo and going to live with my aunt. I am so excited for many reasons, the two biggest being that a) my mom will have full-time companionship and b) a condo is more practical for her new life.

I thought a lot about my mom after I saw Up. I think the move will be very sad for her, but it will also be a new beginning.

I know I'll be emotional on the day of the move. My family has owned that house since 1993, when I was just 12. I still hear Pa when I visit. The sound of his slippers slowly stomping their way up and down the stairs, one careful step at a time. The click of the hallway light as Pa twists it to dim the lights before he went to bed; never fully going dark, because he needed to pee at night. The sound of my parent's door closing with a thud; never fully closing, because of the clothes hanger wedged across the top of the door.

While my mom's new place will be exciting, it will lack the familiar sounds. For that, I am sad. But I think everyone needs - and welcomes - the change.

When You Look Back At It All

A colleague had her retirement party today. I will miss her, because she was a great pillar of support, wisdom and someone who genuinely welcomed me when I started three years ago. She continued a wave of retirement I've participated in during the past year - the biggest of which was my mom's shortly before my dad passed away last September.

I thoroughly enjoyed the speeches each person made, as they remembered the faces, the first encounters that made lasting impressions, and the proud achievements.

When my dad passed away and my mom retired, it made me step back and think about how I would want to look back at my life when that big day comes. I still do think that the fun is in not knowing and discovering things along the way. But if I can sum it up, this is how I'd want to look back at it all:

I satisfied my curiousities. I tried my best and never gave up. I enjoyed the peaks and grew from the valleys. I played fiercely but fairly. My life was enriched by fantastic friendships. I enriched someone's life and made a difference. I had fun.

Spring cleaning

Spring is my favourite time of the year. Days get longer. Weather is nicer. A season of re-birth and emerging from hibernation. It's also a time of decluttering - in every sense of the word.

Andrew and I spent last weekend doing a massive spring cleaning - including cleaning under our beds in the main and guest rooms - for the first time since we moved in Summer 2006. Vacuuming the ocean of dust was one of the most disgusting and therapeutic things I've done all year. By the end of the two-day marathon, we threw out and recycled a lot of shit.

Being a minimalist and someone who strives to live very simply, exorcising my space from its physical clutter is immensely satisfying. Even Oprah's in on the action - by regularly featuring expert Peter Walsh to help viewers declutter. Check out these great tips posted on her site.

Having just turned 28 - and feeling time fly by so quickly - I'm also finding a lot of time clutter. By that, I mean my schedule is continuously populating with activities - but not necessarily things that bring me satisfaction - whether it's wasting too much time Twittering about scratching my crotch or taking on volunteer tasks. The latter is actually very hard not to do, as I do find these jobs fun and meaningful - but I also feel like I sometimes fill up my schedule, just to avoid focusing on the bigger picture.

I think I need to pause, declutter and focus on stuff that will truly bring me long-term satisfaction and closer to fulfilling my long-term goals. For those who know me - you know what I'm talking about! And believe me, I'm a work in progress!

So in the spirit of Spring, I wish you the best and hope you'll find a moment to just stop, examine and declutter. Large or small scale, this exercise in exorcising is worth the trouble.

Paths

I had the hag - one of my oldest friends since junior high - over for dinner on Monday. It's been a long time since we've done anything just the two of us. It was nice to just talk - although I made the hilarious mistake of calling her disgusting (long story). The evening made me think back fondly to the many nights in high school spent yakking on the phone for hours, repeating the same conversations about guys - one of whom she's now with! Bitch.

Today, instead of boys and what clothes to wear on the first day of high school - we talk about marriage, mortgages, moving and mummyhood. Some of my closest friends are - or already have - in the process of transitioning into the next phase of their lives. Whether it's moving an hour drive from Toronto or to San Francisco, everyone's venturing down their own path.

I can't help but feel sad. I consider only a small handful of people to be "close friends"; people I fully trust. I find that as I get older, I become more selective about who I let completely into my life. I'm not being anti-social or a snob. Far from it! Call it experience, but I just know better now, having seen interesting energies that emenate from people; vibes I rather not absorb into my life.

But the dinner on Monday also reinforced that no matter how "busy" you become, you can always "click" and "connect" again with a good friend. So in that sense, I don't feel as sad. I know that although in the years to come, the time spent together may become less frequent - but I also know that time that is spent together will be meaningful and enriched through the different life experiences that we are about to embark on - and already embarking on.

L-M-N-O-P...

Love. Marriage. Newborn. Old farts. Pet cemetary. I suddenly see my life flashing before me. And you know what? I'm so psyched by the possibilities.

I can officially confirm some news: Andrew and I are engaged! Close friends have known this since we became engaged in May 2007 - but we haven't publicized it, because, well, we were in no rush and we also had to tell our parents.

I told my mom the first dinner we had together after she got back from the Philippines. Her typical ADD semi-deaf reaction was hilarious. Andrew broke the news last night - in person - as part of his week-long trip home to New Brunswick.

Marriage to me has always been nothing more but an expensive piece of paper. But because it means a lot to Andrew, I decided to take the plunge. To me, getting married - or not - doesn't change anything about us or how much I love him. It doesn't minimize or heighten the fact that he's my best friend, who has seen me through the highest of highs and lowest of lows; the only person who's seen my truly dark and unattractive side, and still, does not run away.

I'm not going to air my relationship here - because, well, Andrew won't appreciate that, being not as heart-on-sleeve as I am. *laughs*

People often ask the question - how do you know when you've found the right person? There is no right answer. But here's mine: When you can be together in silence - whether at the dinner table, on the couch, walking down the street together - and not feel a damn bit insecure or uncomfortable.

I will also say this. My favourite parts of the day begin and end with Andrew. Waking up and walking half-dead into the bathroom, bitchy as hell, and having him prance in with a big smile and chirpily mocking my grumpiness... Leaving together for work, with me bitching at him to hurry up, because he's going to make me late... Lying together in bed at night dreaming about the future, feeling hopeful and optimistic, and then him - um - clouding the vision with a loud stinky fart and me passing out soon after.

London and Paris, Peru or Iceland?

I had to hand in my vacation request on Friday. If approved, I won't be taking any time off until June (the next five months will be project heavy at work). If budget permits, Andrew and I are dreaming of a few options for travel this year:

London and Paris - To take advantage of an Air Canada deal offered to Andrew, we're thinking of cramming these two cities - including a Britney concert stop in London - into 7 days. Crazy I know, but there's no other way we love to travel.

Peru - I just can't get this place outta my head.

Iceland - Read an interesting article in Metro's weekly Travel section, which I love, about how Iceland is suddenly a cheaper and travel hot spot.

The next step is to budget out these three possibilities and see which one, if any, are feasible. But for now, I shall keep on dreaming. Which shall it be?

Got Milk? Need More of It

Andrew and I did something unusual tonight: we actually went out on a work night and enjoyed a screening of Gus Van Sant's latest masterpiece, Milk - the biopic of gay activist Harvey Milk, played by 2009 Oscar contender for lead actor Sean Penn.

Prior to this film, I've never heard of Harvey Milk and now I feel like I am the better of it. I feel fortunate that I've had, for the most part, an uneventful coming out experience in my teenage years. True, there were the few pricks who tried and failed to make my life in school hell; they were more like a nuisance - kind of like getting crabs - than anything threatening - like terminal cancer. Not that I've ever gotten crabs.

But the liberties I've experienced have come on the heel of the persecution of many before me, and I often took, and feel like I still take a lot for granted. But I'm not going to go down that sentimental route, other than to say, that I think the best and simplest way to stand up to it all is to just live your life truthfully and proudly; and by doing so, hopefully inspire others to do the same.

The moment that made me choke up during the film was thinking about my dad. My mom actually came out for me. She claimed that a speech I wrote for Grade 9 somehow crawled out of the box in my closet all the way to her dresser top. Yeah right. Either way, it was a blessing in disguise that she snooped.

My Dad didn't take the news so well. We just didn't talk about it. During my senior year in high school, I began working as a freelance journalist for one of the local gay newspapers in Toronto. I was so proud of seeing my byline and wanted to share it with my parents. Then my dad told me that he didn't want me writing for the newspaper anymore, because homosexuality was wrong. My dad then spewed out such a hate-filled speech filled with the usual stereotypes - including espousing that AIDS came from gay people.

I still remember that fight so vividly in my head. I completely lost my temper and threw the TV remote across the living room and it smashed against the hard wood floor, breaking open and the two AAA batteries rolled out. I picked up my jacket and stormed out of the house, nearly 11 p.m. on a school night.

I stomped down the street onto the main road and kept walking for almost half an hour, unable to come down from my volcanic furor. I called my cousin and ex, who took me to a bubble tea shop where I vented. I must've gone home at 2 in the morning. I didn't speak to my dad - or my mom - for over six weeks.

The point of sharing this story is that when my dad passed away earlier this year, not only did he acknowledge, love and accept me for who I was - but he openly welcomed and accepted Andrew as a member of our family and as my boyfriend. He didn't do this overnight, or even after the fight, but over years.

I still laugh when I recall how Andrew used to visit for the weekends from Waterloo and sleep in my room. My dad would stand in the hallway and shout, "Andrew can sleep in your sister's room." (Sa had moved out). We just ignored him, until he got used to it. Andrew, of course, sucked up the best way anyone could to my dad: by buying him lotto tickets.

I remember a conversation my aunt had with me, alone in her van, one time during my university years, when she told me that a) she knew I was gay and b) that I had to give my parents time to accept it. It was not just an adjustment for me, but for them as well. She said that it was going to be an educational process for everyone.

And I think that's the most powerful message of the film, Milk: the power of building bridges through education and time. At the end of the day, I think all parents will love and accept their child for whoever they are, as long as they are genuine, truthful and open about how they live their life. It just takes time.

I started to cry in the theatre tonight, as I thought about my dad and how he - in his seventies - changed his long-held prejudices, views and attitudes about life and other people's lifestyles. Who said change can't happen? It just takes time and a genuine willingness from all sides to look at things from every angle.