All the Little Whispering Ghosts

As you may or may not know, Dan and I both applied to 3 schools to start our Master's studies in psychology this September.  While we waited to hear whether or not any of them would take us, we put our future lives on hold; drifting along, continuing to work, but not committing ourselves to any further responsibilities or plans.  Nolan used to have some sort of war-strategy video game where when you pressed the "pause" button, a flashing sign would come up stating, "Reality Check: Press Start."  The video-game designers were not wrong in their philosophy- wars, and life in general, will not stop just because you need or want a break. Most of the time, anyways.

Thanks to the thrift-awareness of my friend Jen, Dan and I learned about a year ago that you can use Airmiles points to pay for hotel stays.  It's a pain to arrange, but makes mini "luxury" travels much more affordable.  We recently used some of our points to stay an extra night at a hotel in Canmore where we were staying for a foster parent event.  (No, we haven't taken up foster parenting at this point in our lives, thank you for checking.)  Rather, the agency my parents used to foster with gives out an award in my mom's name each year (called the Marilyn Archer Memorial Award, MAMA for short) to a current foster parent who displays perseverance, creativity, and a sense of humour in their parenting, and this year I was the family member presenting the award.  Anyways, while we were in Canmore, we heard that the Canmore public library was having a used book sale.  Being suckers for cheap deals and the written word, we went in search of said sale.  We did find it, but before the library, we discovered an art show being put on by the Canmore Art Guild.  Being suckers for beauty and things that involve the word "guild", we went in.  We looked around a long time.  Each piece was quite different, and had an attached note from the artist explaining the inspiration for the piece and its materials.  Some members of the guild were sitting at a table, and warmly invited questions if we had any.  They also expressed love for my abominable snow-monster touque, and who wouldn't? I must have been dressed funny, or we stayed longer than their average vistors or something, because one of the guild members eventually came to stand by me and said, "You must be an artist."  I smiled politely and told her I wasn't really; I hadn't created anything in years, though I'd attended an art school when I was a kid.  I hate to take credit for being more than what I am.  My sister Melanie is an artist- she works on her craft 14 hours a day.  I've been "working" on the same mural on my wall since before I got married 3 years ago and there's barely 4 cartoon animals added per year, on average.  But as we left the gallery, I had the strangest sensation of being Peter, denying Christ the second time.

The second time?  Jesus, when was the first?  Oh, silver stormtrooper head necklaces, riiiiight.  Earlier in the month, Dan and I visited ACAD for their metal and jewelry show and sale, called Hephaestus.   I was excited to be the kind of pop children's literature reading nerd that understood the reference to the Roman god of metal working, and I brought $$ along to buy stuff and support starving students.  Apparently they hadn't had too many visitors, and I was one of 5 people who had bought anything the entire weekend of the show and sale, so many of the artists presenting their work were eager to find out how I had heard about the event, and seemed to be under the impression I must be an artist as well.  Then, as with the Canmore Artist Guild, I responded that I wasn't an artist, and I had heard of Hephaestus from my little sister, Melanie, who was a student there.  Melanie they knew.  One of the students helpfully informed me that Melanie was in the school that day, "She's on the third floor, working.  You could go see her if you like...oh wait, you're not a student, you don't have a key card to get up there.  Sorry, never mind."  I left feeling just a little bit sad.  ACAD wasn't really a part of my world- I was just a visitor, looking in from the outside, with no key to enter deeper realms.

Denial thrice: aaaaand check [mate].  Last night I went out to a Karla Adolphe house concert I'd been invited to over facebook via a former house-mate (who is now living in a smaller house with 9 new house-mates, the brave hippie soul).  I love house concerts.  They're intimate and relaxed, allow the musician(s) to interact with their audience like a large boisterous family at dinner, but don't deafen and crush you the way that "pro" concerts do.  And I would go to a Karla Adolphe house concert even if her music was wretched (happily, it's fabulous)- she's so delightfully human and humane, stretching herself out to engage her audience with personal stories, awful jokes, humour-filled self deprecation, and pursuasive encouragements to sing along.  Toward the end of her show, Karla invited anyone with an artistic bent to stay in touch by adding their name to her email list, adding a star to let her know they were interested in talking with her more personally about art and spirituality and community.  I wanted to add my name, and a star.  But at the end of the night, I left without leaving either.  I don't want to be a burden. Why should I take up space in their busy lives when I have no art to speak of and already struggle to maintain the relationships I have?  And yet.  And yet listening to her music reminded me why I had ultimately asked God to have U Vic reject me: because I need to learn how to be a psychologist from someone who can also teach me how to use art to communicate beyond words and logic.

Reality Check: Press Start.  The morning I asked God to take the decision of whether to accept U Vic or not away from me, was the morning that U Vic sent me an email telling me they had declined my application because they didn't have a professor for me.  So.  So now what?  Apply to more schools for acceptance in 2014, yes.  But what do I want to study?  And what will I commit myself to in the meantime so I will be ready?  I'm not sure.  But it seems suspicious that my place of employment recently informed me that my entire job and it's unpredictable hours may change by June, and that 3 of my closest friends from Milton Williams Creative Arts School have all recently reappeared in my life.  Hmmm.  Art class?