wherever he lay his hat

My mom is currently standing in that same yard that this picture was taken in. That's our place in Newfoundland, what I consider 'home', although i have been there once (see previous posts) in seven years. Home is a concept that is not rooted in reason or sense, it is, cornily enough, something found in the pit of your stomach (or heart).

I love Toronto. When I was living in Vancouver, I had a sno-globe of toronto featured prominently in my crib so I could always remember it, that Stacey had sent me. I loved it. When I returned back to Toronto after a 2.5 year quest, I consumated my love by frolicking like never before. In dirty alleys, pubs, bars, resto's, on my bike in the summer air, on patios... i drank it up.

Lately, though, I feel that my wonderful city isn't meeting my needs. I'm not sure what that means, it's just a feeling in my gut. I would happily buy a home here, which I will in two years (when I'm done Teacher's College), but I'm not sure I'll ever get that same feeling of 'home' that I get when I'm in Newfoundland. I'm not alone either, as the summer months in Newfoundland are found jammed with buses, boats, and planes bringing genetically similar looking people back to the place they were born. It's like a big giant island of family members.

Yes, I'm romanticizing a bit, but when my gal and I flew in to St. John's on the solstice last month, the guy I was sitting beside on the plane ended up living right next door to my Nan, who lives in one of the most remote places on earth . (look for fogo, you'll see it). RIGHT NEXT DOOR! He's related somehow, i think he's my mom's cousin.

In a city like toronto, so few actually grew up here. Perhaps those who grew up in the burbs and move into the city also consider the city itself home. For the rest of us, I'm guessing it's not. We try to make it home. For those who love it, we don't litter, we enjoy what it offers, we laugh on the streets, and bike home at night and swoosh around cars and dogs, we enjoy the 'wildlife' (skunks and racoons - you know who you are!) , and we generally try to recreate, somehow unconsciously, our previous homes, the comfort of being surrounded by comfort.

it's not easy. Toronto is my second home, and I'll have to be content with that. I've lived in so many places, travelled, and moved, and on purpose and by accident, from England to Conneticut to BC, to Newfoundland, to Stratford and London, from Avenue Road to Madison Avenue. The one thing that change gives you is perspective. As Tom Waits sings in San Diego Serenade:

I never saw the morning 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody, until I needed a song.

I never saw the east coast 'til I move to the west
I never saw the moonlight until it shone off your breast
I never saw your heart 'til someone tried to steal, tried to steal it away
I never saw your tears until they rolled down your face.

almost done

I have just put the finishing touches on what i hope is the last school-based essay i ever write. because i took 5 english courses, i've had all essays all the time. no multiple choice goodness.

now i'm staring down the barrel of a job.

i finished my latest script for telefilm and although it pays well, i seem to spend well, contrary to popular opinion. that's not true, actually, i did buy a car, pay for tuition, and buy a diamond ring, AND live in toronto, so i guess i'm doing okay.

so not having written anything because i have been in school, i have nothing to sell. so i'm kind of at square one. mcdonalds should offer a lottery where you get to win one of their restaurants, and all you have to do is buy a filot-o-fish once a week to enter. yes, I AM one of those people who helps keep that item on the menu.

i went to canada's wonderland with my cousins and uncle and aunt and sister on monday and i have 3 words to say about it: awesome. last year when i went i guess school must have been in because it wasn't quite so busy. i figured that it would be kinda empty, considering it was a monday but that wasn't the case. it was SOOOOO FREAKING HOT. it must have gone up to 40 with the humidity, and there was no escape - no escape, that is, except the splash park. so we headed over to the wave pool and leapt in - ahhhh, nothing is as refreshing as warm urinated water on a hot day. you just put it out of your mind and enjoy the cool down, which is what we did.

disclaimer: for people who respect me, don't read the rest of this post.

ummm... yeah, so this guy... he went to this theme park, and umm... this guy went to the water area, let's call it the splashy parka... and uh, the highschools were all out and it was a hot day... and ahh... this guy's cousin put on his sunglasses so he wouldn't get caught staring at all the young girls in bikinis... and uh, this guy told me that it was insane and he felt like a dirty old bastard but he couldn't help it and if you were him you'd do the same thing.

i don't know, sounds like an old pervert to me.

anyway...

that's it that's all. feels great to be done school (well, august 6th i write two exams, but no more essays feels like i'm done). i will hold this accomplishment above everything else i've done in my life to date, other than tricking my fiance into saying yes.

in response to the response

Wow, what a response to my earlier post. thanks to everyone who sent emails and posted and such. much obliged.

i have some news - i'm going to be a university graduate in 3 weeks. it's only taken me 12 years. i was a bit dismayed to find that the school doesn't recognize the incredible effort i must have put in over those twelve glorious years because all it says on the degree is 3 Year BA. Three year BA? that's an insult! ah well, it will still feel great to get it. perhaps i'll enjoy it even more because i had to go back to get it. the feeling that one gets, if one is prone to thinking of oneself as being WELL over average intelligence, when one walks into a room full of 17 and 18 year olds at 30 years of age to study first year english after having been a professional writer for 5 years was somewhat humbling. but i like to think that i have the maturity level of a 12 year old, and if i had thought it wouldnt' have hurt my grades to fart out loud, i would have done so to get a laugh (as i've said before, farting is always funny - it's the one thing that a 70 year old and a 7 year old still laugh at). but it worked out, and my intelligence (or claim to it) took much solace in my marks.

i had started out in university, like most people, unsure of where i wanted to go. I got an A in economics so they invited me to join their faculty in a really nice official letter. Despite my father being a professor, i didn't understand that if I joined the faculty i would then be on track to complete an Economics degree, and so i happily joined what i thought was a beer drinking club of adults who found all the cheap pubs and imported drinks on sale. Alas, that was not the case. So i eventually dropped out and ran to BC with my current fiancee to write the next great canadian novel, but when i got there i picked up a copy of Douglas Coupland's latest novel and found out that it had already been written.

when i returned to school, i enrolled in film, and proceeded on THAT course, but then, all of my friends were leaving school, and without having completed the degree, I left too. All i needed was 1.5 classes for the economics degree, and 2.5 (half a year) for the film. So what do i do when i want to complete the degree? go for english, which i need 5 (a full year) to complete.

Anyway, a long stage that is soon a part of history, and i can look forward to teachers college next year. that's the idea anyway. I'll be spending the next year writing and looking for work - any work - not necessarily writing (although i'll still be writing for chatelaine.com as a relationship columnist in the wise guys section (i'm patrick decker, the brother, no that's not my photo, yes, it looks like a used car salesman), so if anyone knows of anyone looking for people to work for them, drop a line.

my essay that i've been writing is about to crash, so i'm going to knock this off. i was going to include some pics of some things (calm down ladies!) but will have to wait until i'm trying my best not to work - which will probably be tomorrow.

a treatise or justification of marriage

The anti-marriage stalwart has died and a new anti-anti-marriage one has replaced him. that would be me, and that would mean i'm engaged. I had many reasons, not the least of which is love, beauty, and a sense of wonder at partaking in such a custom. It had been 10 years since we had become a couple, so no one can accuse me of rushing into things.

my main reason was prompted by another wedding:

i had attended a friend's wedding, and during the dinner, when speeches were being given, the bride's father stood up and began to tell stories about his daughter, stories that made me weep, not just because they were beautiful stories, but because my father will never be able to stand up and tell stories at my wedding, no matter how much i wish he would have lived to see the day. So that began my lamenting the absence of ones we love.

compounding this was the following christmas, where my lady's father had his heart stop during dinner and the whole family had their hearts stop too while waiting to find out what happened. sitting around the hospital room waiting, fearing, all that was not said, not often enough, all that should be done, the true feelings of child to parent bubbling to the surface, regret, sadness, fear, and a future pondered without the bright light of their father. it was terrible. i decided then and there to not let my gal's wedding be full of speeches about those who they wished was there to attend, but couldn't.

the final reason was that i love my family. all of them, i think they're all wonderful people, and i wanted to stop being greedy about the whole thing and share them, give them, to my gal. i can't imagine a better gift. marriage may not be thought of as sacred, but if it can bridge any familial bonds and bring people closer together, then it's a powerful putty.

I was also able to propose on our recent trip to newfoundland, on the beach by my childhood home on a sunny day, forever investing that wonderful place with new memories, reinvigorating what was becoming a museum of my childhood into something new, a retrofitting of the mind, and also a bonding of her to something that i hold so dear.

the beauty is that we're not in any rush to get married: if it's taken us 10 years to get engaged, dont' expect any hasty rushes to the altar, there is no 'with child' on the bumper sticker.

i'll be done my two summer courses in 3 weeks, and will return to writing. it's funny, when you hear artists talk about what it's like not to be practising their art, it sounds cliche and false. they say 'it feels like a part of you dies' or 'it feels like you're partly dead', but it's true. i haven't spent so much time being non-creative in my entire life and, on the whole, it's depressing.

having finished my newfie musical 'screech', i turn my attentions to "home blown" or "blown home" or something (i just thought of them last night before falling to sleep), a film about a newfoundlander who returns home to find that the land he has been bequeathed (yes, and i love that it's cliche) has oil under it, and everyone wants in on the action, and the mayhem that ensues. i'm trying to figure out a way to make the main character a 12 year old kid who always walks with his head down so he can find things, but it's difficult. the alternate title was 'the boy who changed everything', and we'll see if we can bring him to life yet.

reading those titles above, i'm not sure i like them (although i'll keep 'the boy who changed everything' if i can).

out