I don't expect anyone to read all this. It's so long, and it's not really meant for anyone else but me. But this is my blog, so there.
I haven’t left the house today. I almost went out to go buy socks, but I decided it could wait. After 10 days of fighting through the job at the stampede and all the unexpected surprises, setbacks and challenges, I didn’t even want to feel the discomfort of one cold raindrop trickling down my back.
It doesn’t make sense to me how as an individual, I cannot understand myself. I mean, doesn’t it make sense that if there is one thing we should be able to understand, it should be ourselves—inside and out. Literally like the back of our hand. How can emotions and intentions be so confusing? You can THINK you’re happy, and then somehow, you can realise that you’re only happy because you’ve been ignoring something that’s been ‘secretly’ stressing you out for a long time. Or you can be miserable and feel hollow immediately after something fantastic happened—like meeting some amazing girl, getting a big pay check or promotion, or learning how to whistle after 20 years of wishing you could.
No, I haven’t learned to whistle yet, but the other things did happen.
This girl wasn’t someone overwhelmingly amazing or life changing, though. I’d like to say she was, but that’d be really silly since I didn’t know her. But I bet that if I had the chance to get to know her, she would be. Already you can sense the confusion in my emotions. The pay check was huge. Not just in a monetary way, but as a stress reliever. I now know I can pay for at least one semester of school, which is huge since I’m tired of wasting time bumming around semester after semester. And the promotion isn’t really a promotion, but a big thank you from the company I work for after doing an exceedingly fantastic job at my job on the stampede grounds.
After mentioning I worked at the stampede, I always feel compelled to add that I don’t actually work FOR the stampede. I’m not a carnie, I’m not picking up garbage, and I make more than almost anyone else on the grounds for being at the bottom of a corporate ladder. I don’t really know if that’s a confidence issue that I have to tell people that I work for a promotional marketing company contracted by GMC or a source of pride because I absolutely excel at and love my job, and want people to know what I am passionate about. I’m also quick to point out that I have no emotional attachment to GMC and would hardly consider buying one ever....but that’s not important.
So, let’s get down to it.
I spent the last 10 days working Stampede. There are two observations I made with my coworkers while reflecting on our job at the stampede. One is that while on the job, we don't measure time by the sun getting lower, but instead by the skirts getting higher... The things people wear. Yikes. The other observation I make is that I can measure my life in Stampedes: Each of the last three years marks a different time in my life, and a certain feeling is invoked by each 10 day period. Three years ago, I was dating Leslie. I was also jealous, insecure, and madly in love...or at least as much as you can be at 17 years old...or so I thought. The truth is, I’d been talking with various people for a couple months around that time about my need to escape, be on my own, and live my own life for a while. Darcy and Natasha were dating, and the four of us worked together in harmony.
Fast forward one year.
The next stampede, Leslie and I had recently broken up, and this stampede would be the most time we’d spent together since the previous December. She was dating someone else, which really bothered me at the time. Darcy and I had grown much closer over the last few months as we had finished recording our first CD, ‘Faith In Shadows’. We had also spent a good few months planning to leave on what would come to be known as Josh And Darcy’s Epic Adventure. By the time stampede rolled around, we were both itching to leave. Things had grown sour with friends, and we were out of reasons to be at home. I remember feeling numb and apathetic, all the while pretending to be perfectly happy.
Fast forward one year. To now.
I had quite the year. With the trip as life changing, inspirational, and influencing as it was, and then coming home and realising that when you’ve changed, it’s beyond depressing to drop back into the same lifestyle. And then there’s the thrill of moving out, being a musician in a band, and living pay check to pay check. It all added up to make me a more independent, confident, laid back person (I think). I (think I) started to feel some pride in myself and it paralleled with my slow realisation of what I am good at, and what I (think I) wanted to pursue in life. My trip to Vancouver sealed the deal. The concert, the mountains, the ocean, and the hitch-hiking: I felt different because of it. I felt good. I was being more honest with myself, and I loved who I was (I think). I began to take the wheel in my life. I came back from that trip a much more content person (I Think). I was excited to see how this stampede would be different from the last two.
You know those women who seem to come out of nowhere every year around stampede? They are all blonde, 5’ 10” who consistently make you wonder how they fit into those clothes...and then you realise that they really DON'T fit into them. Most of their boobs are hanging out. They are, by-and-large, considered the “perfect woman” by “the average male.” I don’t know where they spend the rest of the year, and I’m convinced the City of Calgary breeds them somewhere between here and Airdrie on a farm specifically for stampede as part of getting people in a party mood. And then there’s those guys. Biceps larger than my legs, a tough looking scar on their forearm, and the perfect five o clock shadow smeared across their shining faces. Damn it, I use to think. If only.
But not this year.
This year, I went to work on the first day fully aware of how far I fell from that standard, and I couldn’t have cared less. I saw the way those guys treated the girls, how the smirked at me, how they all spat and smoked and swore and kicked stuff and I realised that personality goes a whole lot further. And I went to work knowing that my personality was likeable. That I’m not stupid, and that I can do a lot more things if I feel confident in my ability and stopped second guessing myself and wondering what other people think. I’m not six foot two and 220 lbs. But I am six feet and I’m a good guy. I actually realised that I’ve spent a lot of my life looking up to people (literally) who were shorter than me. I always felt short, and I realised it was entirely psychological.
Stampede started out well. I exuded a high level of confidence. I worked hard and people instantly noticed. Management trusted me, and I was put in charge of bigger projects after only a couple days on the job. I felt great and carried myself with a smile and an outgoing attitude. And I felt like having a coffee.
I bought a coffee from a very sweet girl who worked the coffee stand no more than 20 meters from where I worked every day. We struck up a friendly conversation full of humour and complaints about not getting enough sleep the night before. Even a month ago, I would have just kept this conversation to “one coffee please,” but now I felt good. And she was cute. Really cute.
I would end up dropping by to say hi to her and her co-worker Laura several times a day. Many times, I would start the conversation by ordering a coffee, paying for it, and then walking away after a good conversation...forgetting the coffee. I learned she was from BC, and only here to work stampede. Eventually, I told her where I worked, and in the evenings when it died down, she would bring a hot chocolate for me and we’d talk for a few minutes. On one of these nights, I asked her if I could take the train home with her. Actually, she suggested it...(teeheehee). We met after work, and took the train home, having a fantastic and light-hearted conversation the entire time. I made an effort not to make a big deal of anything and not bring up heavy topics. I’m notorious for being too intense. I think I usually become intense because I hate small talk. But this time, I was able to just be my regular self without any depressing talk of life and death and regret and all that. I offered to walk her home from the train station and she smiled and said yes. I asked her if maybe the next night we could hang out for a bit after work. The next day she came by in the evening, and I nervously asked her if she was still up for hanging out. We made plans to go for a drink and then wander the city, both aware that every moment we spent awake after work was lost sleep that would make the next day a little bit harder.
I met her at 11pm, watched the fireworks, and we caught the train. She sat in the exact same spot on the train: one of the sideways facing seats. We had a slightly deeper conversation that went beyond family and school. I learned that she’s scared of a lot of things, that she’s very smart, and probably a bit OCD. She told me she wanted to be home by 1:30...which meant we didn’t have a whole lot of time since the trains weren’t running too often. She was staying at the SAIT dorms with other stampede workers and if she was later than 1:30, she’d probably be locked out for the night. I was just happy to be spending time with someone, so it didn’t matter if our time was brief. We got to the train station near my house and the pub. I told her that in order to get there, we’d both ride my bike. This was a huge stretch for her, but eventually she got on the bike and I rode in front of her to the pub. It was closed. She suggested we just go back to the train station. I chuckled as I realised how unadventurous this girl is. I suggested we go back to my house and hang out in the back yard and talk. We walked the bike back to my house.
I gave her a quick tour of the dark house and showed her the studio in the basement. We went to the back yard, laid out a blanket and sat and talked. She tried to explain just how uptight she is. How stressed. She spent most of the time complaining about terrible customers she dealt with all day. I didn’t care what we talked about. I was just happy to be doing something besides handing out fuzzy stickers, scheduling, and updating websites. I could tell she wasn’t going to let herself get too comfortable around me and was careful to not face me. But man....the few times our eyes met....wow....
I noticed she kept checking the time, and offered to take her home a bit early. We both rode the bike to Brentwood and caught the train. Sitting in the same spot for the third time, she sat there stressing that she wouldn’t get back home on time before the security guard locked the dorms for the night. I tried to explain something I’d learned on JDEA. When you get on a train, a bus, or a plane, you can no longer get anywhere any faster. You’ve done what you can, and the rest is up to the driver. So you can relax. Lindsey said that the thought of that stressed her out even more. What opposite personalities! I found her very interesting, but definitely not my type in any way beyond appearance.
When we got to SAIT station, I told her of a short cut I knew that would get her home faster, as it was almost 1:30. She agreed, and I jumped onto the c-train tracks. She stood wide-eyed on the platform and shook her head. I knew that this was pushing her waaaay beyond her comfort level, and she probably thought I’m some psycho idiot...but I could live with that. I was just having fun now. A train had just passed, so I didn’t expect another one to approach us from ahead so soon...however, a train came screaming down the tracks with its bright headlight and blaring horn. We had to dash to the end of the platform so that there was space to get off the tracks. She screamed; I smiled though I did feel a little bad. And as we left the tracks and walked down the path to her dorm, I realised that construction had replaced my path with a hole in the ground surrounded by 12 foot fences. Now I really felt bad. I gave her two choices: go back along the tracks, or jump the fence. Another train whizsed by behind us; she chose the fence. We walked through the construction zone, climbing the fence on the other side. As we approached the door to her building, she shook her head and said “this is not me. I would never do these things.” I nervously chuckled...I’d had a good time, but I knew this was not her idea of a good night out after a 12 hour shift.
I said goodbye, gave her a stuffed fish from one of the carnie games as a joke, and after she was able to wake up one of her friends to open the door, I left.
The next few days proved awkward and I went and said “hi” far less. I made multiple half-apologies for freaking her out. She was ever polite and even bought my CD, but never came to find me on breaks. This was fine...I didn’t expect her to, and I knew that nothing would ever come of this anyways. It was all in good fun and just some time spent with a random stranger who I clicked with. I wondered if I should even go say goodbye on the last day of stampede. She texted me as I was standing 20 feet from her having a debate in my head over what to do. So I did. I told her that I was planning on hanging out with friends for a couple hours and since she had to work until 2am, I’d come by on my way out. We took a picture and hugged. Later that night, I went to say bye, but ended up helping them pack up their coffee stand until almost 2am. She then told me she wasn’t taking the train since she had arranged a ride and thank you and keep in touch and “have a good night.” So that was that. I left feeling a little bit dumb for liking her in spite of everything that didn’t make sense. She was going into first year university in BC, I didn’t know her (or hardly at all), and what I did know about her was just so “out there” and different from my other friends and how I like to live. But it’s definitely my style to get caught up in these things too quickly and easily. Girls will always rock me to the core.
Anyways, my boss loved my work, the people I was supervising loved me, and I even got attention from several cute girls in my ten days. Confidence is a powerful thing. But now, on my first day off with zero plans, I tried to spend the rainy day asleep so I wouldn’t feel depressed. It was all over. The perfect job, the power, the girl, the fun, the money. Now it was just me again. I watched Garden State. Zach Braff felt so lifeless and numb until he met this girl and stopped his medication. I worry that without that job, a girl, the power of being in control, and all that good stuff...I will quickly become numb again too. But the mere fact that I took the time to write all of this and think it out word for word means I’m avoiding my apathetic habits. I want to keep up my good mood, my confidence, and my outlook. My emotions confuse me. I should be happy and relaxed today after working so hard and achieve high goals.
Every time I play the Live Coldplay CD ‘Leftrighleftrightleft” I can sing and dance and cry. It reminds me of Vancouver, and the independent, content mentality that I came back home with. The sense of direction and purpose I found from talking with Ameeta and reading Velvet Elvis. I start every day listening to that CD. The sheer joy of the cheering crowd, the emotion in his voice as he sings. And to me it makes everything feel more real, rawer. And it keeps me going. It keeps me thinking, and it makes me smile.
