Black water, blue water

I don't usually do diary-type entries, but I've been absent due to unusual circumstances and I think a newsy post is in order. On October 9th, my apartment flooded with sewage or "black water," as they poetically call it in the restoration biz. By evening, the apartment was dismantled and I was in a hotel. Carpets were torn out, flooring was stripped off and walls were about to be cut out. The photo above is what's left of my kitchen, with the floor partially torn out and a big dehumidifier buzzing away. What the photo doesn't show is that there is no longer a ceiling or that most of the walls and cupboards are marked with blue tape which means they will have to be removed and thrown away.

Just one photo hardly does it justice: you can't see my front yard, torn up by service vehicles; you can't see the pile of big, black garbage bags full of contaminated household items and, thankfully, you can't see the scene of the ghastly crime: the bathroom. But what you can see is my new front yard, my new view and my dog's new park:

From dark sludge and destruction, to blue water and boats. To borrow from The Talking Heads: I ask myself, "Well, how did I get here?" Two words: house insurance. For at least a month, I will be staying in a hotel that is a few feet away from Vancouver's beautiful seawall and that is surrounded by million dollar condos. Let's just say this isn't my usual neighbourhood (or tax bracket). But insurance covers living costs and here I am, with green parks, dog beaches and waterfront cafes.*

It's a challenge to live away from all the things I have in my home that make it a little easier to manage living with chronic pain, so hotel life isn't simple; however, I've had a lot of sunshine and great times playing ball with the dog at the local parks; I've had sunset rides on the small ferry that departs just a few metres from the hotel's front door and I have moments where I feel like I'm on holiday. I'm not sleeping well and am quite disorganized, but the view is swell. I have to count my blessings.

So, shit happens, and now I'm on a strange psuedo-vacation. I might not be up for posting or doing art, but I'm practicing the art of going with the flow.

*Blogger won't allow me to post with an accent on the "e." How provincial. Oops, I must go with the flow...


Visual shorthand

These past few months, I've been in a thick, slow mental fog due to sleeplessness and high pain. I've wanted to blog about isolation in an active, big city; how to be a foodie even when you're chronically nauseated and can't eat much fat; my sister's journey with her cancer treatment; macro and aerial photography and the mathematics of repetitive forms; the push-pull of listening to my body while trying to engage in life; the oblique thought patterns of a pain-ridden Fibromyalgic brain and my art and life in general.

But it's all quite stuck inside. If I could let it all out, it might look something like the image above.