Dance to the summit!

I've been procrastinating on writing this entry. Part of me wondered if it were now futile, as the events I will be describing occurred weeks ago. But, I still catch these thoughts rolling around in my head more often than I should, so I think it'll be worthwhile to write them out. I daresay it won't be nearly as cathartic as it would have been if I'd written them while these sentiments were still raw - but, I was travelling at the time, and logistically, it was too difficult for me to pull off.

I am the absolute worst when it comes to goodbyes.

No, but actually. As a child, I was always bigger than everyone and exhibited crippling shyness, and I made it a point to be "tough". I don't mean that in a macho sense, more in a "I won't show any emotions" sense. I didn't want anyone to know that I enjoyed affectionate gestures (hugs, for example), endured moments of frustration or anger, or - heaven forbid - could get upset or cry. Some of these elements linger as an adult, but I thankfully matured and came to terms with the fact that deep down, I am a massive cuddle bear, can rage like an unholy force, and when I'm sad, it's so embarrassing I don't know why friends who have seen me that way continue to stick around.

Goodbyes trigger the latter like a firework triggers awe. It's bad.

The evening of Thursday, August 3rd - my last night in Montréal - I spent the night at good friend Max's home. He kindly offered to host a goodbye BBQ, as he is fully equipped, has lots of space, and lives in a convenient location. I didn't want to have a full out crazy party inviting everyone I knew; instead, I selected those that meant the most to me, prioritizing non-kendo friends as I knew I'd be seeing them over the weekend. I was also extremely fortunate as one of my best friends, who currently resides in America, happened to be flying into town that same day, and he was able to attend! What a treat that was.

It was a pleasant evening to end a hectic day (picking up the above friend from the airport, last minute packing, and several moments of OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD), with good conversations, food and drink; you know, the things that make life worth living. A couple of moments struck me in particular. The first was something two of my best friends, who I'll refer to as L. and A. (I'll refer to future friends in this manner because I don't know if they want their names flying around on the internet), had said. We've known each other for... 8, 9 years? and had become particularly close over the past few months as they graciously hosted me a couple of nights a week. They stated that they had already started experiencing "empty nest syndrome" now that I won't be spending frequent evenings and nights with them. They had folded the futon up and everything! Their main room felt so empty! What are they to do now? We'd established traditions, dammit!

There's something about being described as their pseudo-child that I found particularly touching. They're such incredible fucking friends, internet. You're just going to have to take my word for it.

The second moment was at the end of the night... which kept extending later and later. As it was a Thursday and everyone save for a couple had to work in the morning, I wasn't expecting a late night, and so we started early. Unfortunately, for the last portion of the night, realizing that the-thing-I-am-the-worst-at was on the horizon, I had started experiencing something I'll call "crying". I specifically call this "crying" and not "sadness" because I legitimately didn't feel that sad, certainly not enough to merit tears. Maybe I had been intensely suppressing it in an effort to remain stoic, and my body couldn't handle it and was rupturing. I don't know. Nonetheless, I'm sure the others noticed, because... nobody was leaving when said they would. We ended up hovering around the kitchen for an extra hour? I think? Until I practically had to shoo everyone away because if they literally stayed a couple of minutes longer, they'd miss the last metro home. Max came by swinging after I locked up and stuck a metaphorical dagger deep into my chest: "Aww, wasn't that sweet? Nobody wanted to leave, they wanted to stay around you! They love you!" and I realized that was totally true and then I really DID feel sad and went straight to the bathroom.

This is going to be a feels-intensive entry, if you hadn't already gathered. You should probably stop reading now if you're not into that mushy stuff.

Fast forward to the weekend. On Friday, I drove my caravan to my first stop: Toronto, for the Canadian National Kendo Championships! Oh boy oh boy oh boy. It occurs once every three years, and I may have engineered my departure around attending this tournament. I've met some of my favorite and best friends through kendo, and they would all be attending this tournament. Additionally, I'd be rooming with three of these wonderful friends - so yeah, there's not a chance in HELL I was going to miss this. I've had a number of kendo trips with these girls and they've always been epic and I would never do it any other way.

I was absolutely energized and psyched to the max for this weekend. I love kendo, I love bringing people together from different corners, I love the spirit of competition, I love taking high-speed photos, I love seeing how different dojos train, I love cheering for those I love and believe in - there was just so much goodness to be had at this event and I couldn't contain it. I was a bit spastic and running around like a bubbly little retard trying to see and do everything at once - an impossibility considering there are four courts going at any given time! At one point, my homie R. turned to me and said, "you look SO happy". I'm glad my enthusiasm was visible. I was over the moon. I also participated - and won my first round, which I was thrilled about! It was a great match and I gushed all over my opponent after the match was over. My second match was against my future Sensei, was was also super cool! She is vastly more skilled than I and won the match, but I held my ground well. Overall, I'm satisfied with my performance, considering I had only re-started kendo for about a month at this point after a six month absence.

By Sunday afternoon, I started to wind down. I began to tire, and had a hard time talking with friends and focusing, because I knew the end was inevitable and that I'd have to say goodbye sooner than I'd rather like. Once again, the "crying" phenomena began to manifest- except this time, it was harder to contain because I really DID feel sad, now. As soon as I felt it coming, I segregated myself from the others to avoid bringing down the mood for others. I walked around aimlessly. I bummed a cigarette off a Sensei. But, the floodwaters weren't receding. At one point, I was literally pacing back and fourth in the empty equipment and preparation area trying to calm myself out of being a blithering fool. I think at one point I was telling myself, "you're a Dr. now, Dr.'s don't cry!" or something ridiculous like that. It wasn't working very well. My friend A. (oh internet, I confess, I really adore this human and I'm so happy she exists and tolerates me) entered to get something from her bag, glanced at me, and quickly changed her trajectory, approaching me with extended arms. I definitely expressed my pathetic melancholy into her shoulder for a little while without uttering a word (I wasn't able), which was counterproductive to the whole trying-to-suck-it-up-and-be-stoic thing I was trying to achieve. She comforted me and it helped; I've always felt comfortable around A. - I'm not entirely certain why, but I do - and greatly appreciated her gesture. Eventually I calmed to a point where I could shoo her away and she felt comfortable leaving, and I paced a little bit longer until I felt sufficiently contained to join the others.

The tournament finally wrapped up around 7pm. Lots of little moments unfolded, and one (on a personal level for me) major one. One member of the McGill dojo with whom I'd practiced with regularly approached me:

"Hey! You're leaving? To Calgary?! Like... forever?!"

It surprised me because I hadn't really spoken to this fellow very much, as he's fairly shy, so I didn't think he'd really miss me. We babbled for a little bit and he wished me all the best, and was surprisingly sincere, which again threw me, because it was so unexpectedly nice.

One of my sempais bought me a tenugui which was also unexpected and lovely. I wore it when I had my first kendo practice out here.

Then there was the moment I dreaded: saying goodbye to my homie, R. Ever see two powerful magnets kept at a distance by force, and then once that force is released, they snap together instantaneously with intense vigor? That's pretty much what happened. We were standing in front of each other, looked at each other, paused, and then just flew into each other's arms. Oh, man. I was already steadily emotional for the past few hours, and I knew this was going to be a whole other level of me being embarrassingly emotional. That is, until, I noticed something after a few seconds: R. was sobbing into my shoulder. Vehemently. Harder than me, and I was the one leaving. I felt this raw, profound emotion, and I still remember it vividly three weeks later.

"Holy shit... what the FUCK am I doing? Why am I leaving the people I love and who love me? Why am I doing this to them? What in the fuck am I thinking?" is the thought that went through my head as this transpired. I'll return to this momentarily.

It's interesting the shift in mentality this sort of realization causes. I suddenly felt like I had to be the strong one and the source of comfort, and so I held myself together. After a little while, I resorted to some humor to lift some of the emotional heaviness, as I often do, which worked. I sort of wish I didn't, because I think I really would have benefited from finally being able to physically get all this bottled up emotion out somewhere. However, I made my homie's experience easier, and that I don't regret. This occurred in a hallway which everyone had to use to leave the athletic center, making this exchange very visible and very public. I doubt either of us gave a good god damn (I certainly didn't), but what this lead to was AMBUSH. Suddenly, several of the guys came barreling at us with smiles and laughs, saying "AWWWWWWWWWW" and all sorts of other silly things in a caring but mocking manner, and they all hugged us. I think there was about 4-5 people surrounding R. and I in a kendoka hug trap. It was wonderful. This also helped lighten the mood, to say at the least.

The hug trap dispersed slowly. My other sempai, V., who was part of the hug mob, looked at me as and said, "I want a hug too." Of course, I obliged, as she is another wonderful human.
She also kept saying, "I will not be a gender stereotype and cry! I will not! I will not be a gender stereotype!!" To her credit, she didn't. It still makes me laugh and adore her, and it reminded me of myself as a child with my whole "I don't want to show emotions" complex.

Finally, knowing I had to drive several hours to Sarnia on my own, I took my final leave and got the fuck out. I ran part of it. I knew I had to or this could just go on forever, but life is about progress and not stagnation.

I made it to Sanria safe and sound and was treated exceedingly well by an old friend who put me up for the night. I'll make a separate (picture-heavy) post about the cross-country trip, but I will say that I had no problems travelling and it was overall a good experience.

I've rambled for far too long about how I have too many ridiculous emotions. The amazing thing about it that still blows me away is how much goodness came out of it. My friends staying late at the BBQ, A. comforting me in the equipment room, the kendoka hug trap - all these most memorable moments for me came into existence because they recognized how I was feeling and stepped up. I think this was in Pixar's Inside Out. It's absolutely true.

Three weeks later, I feel well, overall. There's been a couple of hard nights but that's another topic. I'll wrap up by addressing the question that went through my head as I embraced R. for quite some time: Why the fuck am I doing all this?

I don't like to gamble. I never have. When one gambles, you are required to place your faith in something or someone that is beyond your control, by definition. Of course, unless you live in absolute isolation, one will often have to make decisions that require investing in others. Most people try to be sensible about it and place their bets on things and people that they think will be the most reliable and rewarding. That's why I decided to do all this and re-located to Calgary. I chose to bet on myself.

Here's the thing: you are the only person that will be around for you every day of your life. Friends, co-workers, even lovers and family: none of these are a guarantee for happiness or a replacement for self-worth because... well, things happen! Their priorities change, they move away, they die, THEY change as a person. I cannot articulate how important some of my friends are to me and how much I would sacrifice for them. Even so, I recognize that if I had decided to bet on them - which would have required staying in Montréal - I'm placing my happiness in their hands. Almost all of my friends (and myself), despite being stable, are in transitional periods of their lives. They're all finishing studies, and/or establishing their careers, and who knows where that'll take them. What if I had chosen to stay in Montréal, and within a couple of years they were gone? Or if (god forbid) there was drama and they weren't my friends anymore? Or something worse happened? I'd be shit out of luck.

Montréal is a wonderful city for many reasons, and I feel exceedingly fortunate to have grown up there. But, now, there are many things about it that limit my happiness. My career options are exceedingly limited. I dislike the humid climate. I despise the local, omnipresent language politics; I find them to be distracting and damaging. Civil corruption is also omnipresent and everyone accepts it, but it would actively make me angry. I resented not being able to be proudly Canadian without getting shit for it from someone. I cannot snowboard reliably owing to the shitty climate (the past two seasons were awful). Yes, the plateau is lovely and has unique character. The nightlife is fantastic. Running on Mont Royal in the fall is one of my favorite things. It's not enough. I chose Calgary because I can have the exact lifestyle that I desire. Obviously, it's not perfect (see: the Wild Rose political party, ugh), but it's far better.

I have every intention of keeping in contact with those I love (and so far have done okay with this). I cannot wait to see what unfolds for them in the future, and to be there with them for as many major life events that I possibly can. For now, I'm looking forward, and as painful as some of these tribulations of betting on myself have been... I have no regrets.

I used to write a lot when I was younger (Livejournal was my mojo), then stopped for years. This blog is an attempt to get that rolling once more; hopefully, the motivation wick doesn't put itself out again.

2017 is halfway done; I'm not sure how that happened, but here we are. It's been an eventful year, with many personal and professional changes on the horizon. I suspect having a more organized, coherent means to collect and reflect upon my thoughts will be a boon.

(Additionally, I really like sharing pictures, and don't necessarily want to depend on Facebook for this. It's easier for me to tell stories associated with the photos using a blog. Facebook doesn't encourage this. While you can write captions, they're fragmented, and it isn't the focus.)

I think this entry will set the stage for the sort of material you can expect to read here. I suspect it won't be of interest to many as much of it will be self-reflection, and that's fine. I like an audience, but I'm writing this primarily for myself.

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I've had difficulty sleeping the past few days; too many thoughts streaming through my consciousness. Yesterday, it finally caught up to me when I succumbed to a massive headache (which I seldom experience, fortunately) and passed out around 18h00. Waking up just before 22h00 meant I was up past 3h00, but then I was able to rest for six additional hours. I feel okay, right now.

Last week, I completed the final requirement for my degree (doctorate in chemistry): I submitted the accepted, corrected version of my thesis to the university for processing. After five years, it's finally OVER. My Ph.D. has easily been the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, but that's a whole other topic; what's important is the fact that it's FINALLY FUCKING OVER is a source of immense relief. And yet, here I am at work, still performing experiments to wrap up a final project for bosslady. It's... rough. I think I'm partially burnt out from the whole experience, with the final six months of my degree being particularly demanding. These final experiments are taking more time than anticipated, and despite having an imposing deadline, I'm finding it immensely difficult to keep pushing.

This wouldn't be so stressful if it weren't for the fact that I depart for a cross-country move in 16 days: I currently reside in Montréal, and will be driving to Calgary to start a new job. I have my trip planned, but I haven't prepared anything here, yet (like packing and purging). I don't even want to start thinking about it, honestly, but of course that's not an option. I still have friends that I want to see, and friends that I want to see more of.

I think at this point, I'd rather spend more time with a few people I truly adore, rather than seeing as many friends and acquaintances as possible. I hoped to do more of this before I left. The fact that I've had to work regularly this month ate up so much time and energy... it just really, really, fucking sucks. I'm a little crushed.

Fortunately, I had a break from work over the weekend and got to do exactly this, as I'm told normal people typically do. I organized a social event with six friends that involved camping in my parents backyard like little kids. We live in the suburbs away from the city, and transport at night is dreadfully long or even impossible; hence, camping! Somehow they were all legitimately excited about this idea for an evening, which took me by surprise. In the end, what's not to like? BBQ! Sweets! Good company! Drinks! Merriment! Fireflies! Feral bunnies! One of the tents hosted three of the girls, and I heard them continue chatting and giggling for quite some time after we retired for the night, which made me grin. I shared a tent and mattress with another friend, which was definitely not measured for two Canadian amazons. Despite not sleeping well (I never do when I change my routine), it was pleasant; I'd forgotten that it can be lovely to sleep in such close quarters with a friend. I find it soothing and comforting and I miss camping for that.

I realized after the event came to a close, that I have a problem when I host company: I have no compass for gauging if they're enjoying themselves, and that ultimately, what I'm providing isn't enough. Rationally, I know this is ridiculous, especially since I was THERE and everything seemed to go well, but I still experienced that feeling. It's unusual, and I don't like this discrepancy I have between what I rationally think and what I feel. I'm still pondering what to do about it.

I fucked up and WAY overspent on food and drinks (again, I never know what's enough! So I must buy ALL. THE. THINGS. People will be happy if I provide ALL THE THINGS, right?), which I regret because money is tight until I actually start working my new job. I suppose 200 bucks is a pretty cheap life lesson and in the end, if it's spent to make others happy, it doesn't hurt as much.

Even though I have lovely people in my life, because of the psychological caveat I described above, much of the event was suprisingly demanding. I had to co-ordinate logistics like who had tents and mattresses, when and where to pick up their gear, when and where to pick them up, when to get all the food and alcohol, how much to get, physically setting everything up, doing the cooking and serving, etc. This normally isn't a problem for me and I'm quite good at it, but I hypothesize that owing to being-burnt-out-from-thesising-and-work, it ended up being a lot to handle. When I finished dropping my friends off the following morning, I was overcome with the desire to collapse in my car and cry. Instead, I drove to work, stared at my screen for 20 minutes, realized that this was going to be a bust, and called two other friends who I was planning on seeing later that evening.

"Hey, are y'all home?"
"Nope, but we will be later. What's up?"
"May I come over earlier than planned and please take a nap?"

They're lovely friends and despite affectionately making fun of me, they said yes as I knew they would, but it's still pretty pathetic. I got to flex my car power abilities and pick them up from IKEA to help them transport unassembled furniture, which they highly appreciated. When I awoke from my half-awake-half-asleep rest, the furniture had been assembled, and they hadn't broken up, which is always an endearing sign that they once again could handle the IKEA relationship test.

Despite the unexpected anxiety (which I'm mildly shamed about), I'm grateful to have friends open to ridiculous ideas for evenings like this. I have 16 days left to milk this as much as I'm able... challenge accepted?