A perfect moment, broken.

There is a list of things that needed to be done for me to get back at it. Write more, act more, get an agent, figure out how to negotiate the joe job and the artist life. A big one on the list was the condo. Sell it? Work the joe job and try to hold it down? One option that I've been considering is selling the condo, getting one with a second room and renting it out. Then I wouldn't be so dependant on the joe job for money.

The Annual Employee Evaluation Discussion Log Form 2010 version thing came out at the joe job. I had to fill it out. Well, obviously. What I mean is that I had to fill it out candidly. I'm no longer happy. I respect the company and believe that they do good work in the province. But it's no longer a fit for me. A two page form ended up becoming four pages long with my comments. I took my time. I never attacked and held myself to task for a lack of motivation lately. And then I wrote the thing that I needed to, asking to sit down with management to discuss my employment.

Could we move to part time?

Contract?

How can we fix this so that I can pursue the artist life that I need to and still do the work that is required of me.

I bumped into my manager in the washroom, and asked if he had read it. There was a brief tight smile and a "Yes." He tells me that he would let me know when we could meet.

Still no meeting invitation in my mailbox tonight.

Returning home, there was a slight weight off of my chest but a heaviness in my brow. Things are changing. The future gets a bit more unknown but more malleable every day.

My neighbour Jeff was out. I had a vodka water with him while we talked about growing up. It was a legitimate "We're getting older" chat, not forced.

We freely talked about how our bodies are responding to our age. Slower to recover from workouts. Harder to get back into the running that we used to do. But, we are adults, responsible for our own health and happiness. We had to clean up our own back yards now, Mom and Dad can't help forever. I didn't mention to him what's going on with me at work. I maybe mentioned once at a Christmas party considering selling the condo.

Jeff has done amazing things to his unit and its lawn. The front is gorgeous, with a patio set, gorgeous bbq, and beautifully maintained lawn. I looked over at mine... Weeds, long grass, and a collection grown of over accessories.

I went inside and e-mailed my realtor. How does the market look? Think I could flip this place now? I hit send, and then catch a moment of motivation. Time to clean up my own back yard. I grab the garbage and head outside, grabbing a "for rent" sign that found a home under my tree at some point last year. I walked, with motivation around the side of the building, my neighbour on the other side of me, Steve, calling out "WooHoo, only took you two years to get rid of that Crap. What happened to you tonight?"

His lawn is also really nice.

Coming back from the dumpster I tell him "Time to clean up. No one else is going to do it for me." He jokes briefly that he had contemplated calling the city to complain. I wouldn't put it past him.

I grab the next largest object that had sat outside for two winters. A sectional metal fence. Folded into it were the leaves of two autumns, weeds and spiderwebs. This was Chico's fence.

The Ex, her little Bichon Shitsu. The dog that had melted my cat-lover heart and taught me how to acept a lick and actualy go in for one. I love that little guy. I'd call him the "chiconator". Almost two years since I had left The Ex. The most heartbreaking thing I had ever done was breaking up with her, and I've discovered recently that I'm still broken a bit inside because of it.

I hefted the gate into the air, dirt and grass falling into my hair and eyes. I could feel the memories churning, ready to be poured away into the dumpster. One less item I had tied myself to.

"You can't throw that away." The neighbour says. "We might need to capture that cat that is stuck in Number 4's condo."

A perfect moment, broken.

"This was Chico's gate man. Remember him? Two years since I've seen him. Time to get rid of this."

"Do it tomorrow." Steve says.

"But, man, I was all having a moment here..."

"Well, you can try to have a moment again tomorrow."

Fuck.

So tonight I tossed the thing into the dumpster. Just felt like throwing trash away. Nothing more. Just another item on a list.

But at least it's started. Clean up my lawn, and get the place ready to be shown. Leave/change the job. Sell the condo and move. Get back on stage. It's not about a single moment, it's about choosing to live my life again, and again, and again. Every day.