After a day that looked and felt like a cold blustery November day in Toronto, today is rather nice. Unfortunately, I would estimate that 50% of the golden leaves that had been holding on have since blown down. And, slowly but surely, the snow is now creeping down the mountain sides. It's on the taller mountains surrounding Whitehorse, and Mount Lorne is looking particularly spiffy. Golden Horn and MacIntyre are speckled white and Grey Mountain has had snow but it has melted off again. I'm more comfortable with the snow now than I was in August, that's for sure.
I'm working 70 hours this week for some extra dough. I'm the transportation captain for this weekend's conference, so we went and picked up our walkie-talkies this morning. That was fun. I won't get a lot of sleep, though, which is a shame because I really do enjoy sleeping. However, an additional 40% supplementing this coming paycheque is welcome and will get used either to put down a security deposit on a lease vehicle or purchase part of my airfare home to TO for Christmas. I've also picked up some freelance work for "What's Up Yukon", the arts rag that's published every two weeks. It wants to be "Now Magazine" when it grows up. It doesn't pay much, but it pays enough to buy me some groceries.
Speaking of money, the saga continues. I finally had my meeting at the Bank of Montreal today about the loan I applied for. In that time, I came to the realisation that it will be nearly impossible to find a decent vehicle, 5 years old or under, for $8000. I've been doing my research. It ain't gonna happen unless a miracle occurs. So, I've been out visiting the Import dealerships here (Subaru/Kia, Toyota, and Nissan) and test driving their new mini-models. Kia doesn't have the Rio5s in right now, but it was estimated I could get a lease rate of 260/month. I test drove the Yaris five-door hatchback, which was quite zippy and fun, and was given the rate of 244/month, which is better than the Kia. I finally test drove the Nissan Versa today, too, and it was absolutely the -most- fun to drive of the lot of them and felt quite "European". It is a small, sexy car, but the rate I would get would be 298/month, so it's also the priciest. Probably out of my range, even.
Getting back to the bank, today; I talked to the representative about getting a line of credit instead of the loan. Denied ! Flatly. Seriously, I was flat out denied and there was no room to negotiate. So, I asked about a better loan rate that would allow me to actually find a vehicle and was informed that based on my income, and utter lack of assets, I wouldn't get much more than what they're offering, which at 5.5% + prime (approximately 11.5%), isn't really all that great. So, this leaves me somewhat screwed, but I'm just going to hang onto the wonderful sensation of rocketing along in SIXTH gear in that little Versa. Mmmmmm.
Friday, September 15, 2006
First of all, I had three days of migraine headache. I ended up calling out on Thursday and sleeping through most of the day. I think part of the reason (other than it being that time of the month) has been due to stress. Stress at work - being busy with little time to recouperate, financial stress regarding loans/lines of credit for the vehicle, etc. It's a catch 22 you see. If I don't get a vehicle, I can save some money, but if I don't have one, I feel extremely isolated. If I get one, I will alleviate some of my 'trapped' feeling, but I'll put myself into debt, nevermind not being able to save money. The thing is, I've been really unhappy this week, and part of the reason is exactly that 'trapped' feeling of isolation. It is bad enough that there is no other city to go to, nothing within a few hours drive, or that to get most places it takes at least one plane, usually two.
I realised that I hate the feeling of being penned in, of enforced isolation. I hate making more money than ever before and finding myself just as caught by prices and expenses as when I was poor. I hate that when my mother says, "But how will you save money?" my answer is, "I won't." I hate that to make myself feel better, I buy things, which, of course, uses money. I hate that the people of this city, in many ways, do nothing to alleviate the sensation of entrapment, too. I told Rick that I 'hate it here', which may not be true, because I really don't think I do, but I hate a lot of things about it. Of course, I like things, too.
For instance, I like that I was able to go for a walk and sit on a rock overlooking the greenspace behind my apartment and think about things. I sat, in the sun, surrounded by golden trees, undisturbed for half an hour. That is when I came to the realisation that I really dislike it here. Not 'here' specifically, but because of all those things I mentioned, I really have strong negative feelings. But I also realised, while sitting on the rock, that I can change how I feel about this place. I have the power to control what I take from the experience. My second cousin taught English in Japan for two years and could only think about the differences between here and there and it made her dislike the experience intensely. I don't want to be like her. I want to come out of this Whitehorse experience feeling better for it, like it wasn't a waste, or hateful.
So I got to thinking about what I need to do in order to change how I feel. There's no question, I have to have a vehicle. Preferably while it's still nice so I can... you know, go places, but that's probably a pipe dream (I won't have the money until October, at which point it will no longer be nice). I need to accept that I will live with debt for a while. I think it will be impossible for me to save money here. I must concentrate my efforts to do the best job I can do here at the Arts Centre, get the experience I need, work my buns off for my Masters, and then, perhaps, if I'm one of the very lucky, I'll eventually make enough money (doing what I love? Is that even possible?) to climb out of debt. I guess life is full of these challenges and choices, so I need to make mine as carefully as possible to get the things I need and hopefully some of what I want, too. I mean, this time last year I had just arrived in Winnipeg and being in the position I am now in was not even imagined.
Oh, life. Better than the alternative.
I realised that I hate the feeling of being penned in, of enforced isolation. I hate making more money than ever before and finding myself just as caught by prices and expenses as when I was poor. I hate that when my mother says, "But how will you save money?" my answer is, "I won't." I hate that to make myself feel better, I buy things, which, of course, uses money. I hate that the people of this city, in many ways, do nothing to alleviate the sensation of entrapment, too. I told Rick that I 'hate it here', which may not be true, because I really don't think I do, but I hate a lot of things about it. Of course, I like things, too.
For instance, I like that I was able to go for a walk and sit on a rock overlooking the greenspace behind my apartment and think about things. I sat, in the sun, surrounded by golden trees, undisturbed for half an hour. That is when I came to the realisation that I really dislike it here. Not 'here' specifically, but because of all those things I mentioned, I really have strong negative feelings. But I also realised, while sitting on the rock, that I can change how I feel about this place. I have the power to control what I take from the experience. My second cousin taught English in Japan for two years and could only think about the differences between here and there and it made her dislike the experience intensely. I don't want to be like her. I want to come out of this Whitehorse experience feeling better for it, like it wasn't a waste, or hateful.
So I got to thinking about what I need to do in order to change how I feel. There's no question, I have to have a vehicle. Preferably while it's still nice so I can... you know, go places, but that's probably a pipe dream (I won't have the money until October, at which point it will no longer be nice). I need to accept that I will live with debt for a while. I think it will be impossible for me to save money here. I must concentrate my efforts to do the best job I can do here at the Arts Centre, get the experience I need, work my buns off for my Masters, and then, perhaps, if I'm one of the very lucky, I'll eventually make enough money (doing what I love? Is that even possible?) to climb out of debt. I guess life is full of these challenges and choices, so I need to make mine as carefully as possible to get the things I need and hopefully some of what I want, too. I mean, this time last year I had just arrived in Winnipeg and being in the position I am now in was not even imagined.
Oh, life. Better than the alternative.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
A bond between cats is a powerful thing. My boys, Choco and Twee, are truly bonded, the way Willi was bonded to me. They share everything, from my bed to catnip toys; they are a delightful pair. Twee asserts himself with me more now, demanding my attention and Choco can stand to be in a room without Twee, now, but nonetheless, they are best friends.
I have been getting home really late (for a work night) most nights over the past week. It's installation time at the Gallery, you see. Sometimes I remember to turn on my porch light, but mainly I forget. I guess my head is still somewhere in July when it would still be light out. Anyway, tonight I got home around 11:30pm and it was pitch black in my apartment and outside. I unlocked my door after several missed attempts; on the other side, my cats were whipped up into a frenzy of meowing, waiting for me to come in and feed them. When I open my door, I tend to thrust in my foot, or my backpack to keep the beasts at bay - I'm not keen on them dashing out. The first time they escaped, it was a bit nerve-wracking to get little Choco back in. At night, I don't usually have to worry about them escaping, they're more interested in dinner.
Tonight, however, Choco, who was completely whipped up, took it upon himself to throw himself over my foot and out into the wilds. Crap, I thought, but instead of panicking, I went inside, leaving the door open and calling to Twee for his supper. I thought that might entice Choco back in. I realised after putting kibble in both of their plates, Choco had not returned, so I flipped on my outside light and went out to see about retrieving him, shutting Twee in. I called and immediately heard Choco's little voice in answer, excited and not too far away. I called again, he answered, and I followed him, but he was in the process of moving up into the front of the house.
Around the side, where my living room window is, the outdoor light came on (motion sensor) and I got a clear view of Choco who was hesitating now. I stood there, calling him, trying not to sound nervous or upset because he's very sensitive to that. The thing is, Choco doesn't really come when he's called. Despite sleeping with me, lying on my lap, and being fairly lovey with me now, he hasn't gotten to that level of domesticity with me.
Then I heard another little cat voice, at first thinking it belonged to one of the neighbour's cats, until I realised it was beside me. There was big Twee in the living room window, which was open, calling. He could see Choco climbing around the parked cars. Twee got very insistent, using the same tone he saves when calling Choco for a game, or just trying to figure out where in the apartment Choco might be. Immediately, Choco stopped and answered Twee. Twee called him again, face pressed right to the screen of the window. Choco took two steps toward me, Twee called once more and Choco bolted for the door.
When I let him in, Twee backed up to let Choco through. Choco was all excited, his tail was all frizzy, and he was miewing kitten-like with excitement at Twee. I assumed that Twee had eaten the dinner I had put down for them, and wanting to reward Choco for coming back in, I went to their food tin. What I discovered was that Twee, who, as Gareth says, has the heart and soul of a wumpus, had actually abandoned his dinner to come to the window and call out in concern. He knew something was wrong and that Choco was missing. I couldn't stop myself from picking Twee up and hugging him hard - something he usually isn't keen on. This time, as though he understood, he just let me, purring the whole time.
Now, Choco is lying pressed up against me in bed as I type, exhausted from his wilderness adventure and feeling, I think, a bit vulnerable. Suits me just fine; better him here then out there.
In other animal related news, tonight I saw the biggest fox I have ever seen. Foxes are not usually large animals. This was an enormous fox. I couldn't believe it for what it was, at first. I found it because en route to the private studio/gallery I about to visit, I met a Subaru pulled up on the highway shoulder with its four-way flashers on. I thought it was a problem, at first, until I saw the guy sitting in the window, elbows on the roof of the car, camera in hand. Naturally, I pulled over, too.
I honestly didn't know what I was looking at. Surely, I thought, that cannot be a fox. It was huge. It was the size of a wolf. But it was red. Bear? said my brain that still couldn't believe it was a fox. No, said my eyes, looking at its slender features, long nose and black points, that is a fox. I took a couple of truly terrible photos of it and then headed back into the car and up to the gallery.
People refused to believe me when I said it was a fox, but huge. "No, it was a wolf," said one in a tone that suggested I knew nothing because I was from a big city. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "It was alone. Wolves are not solitary. And it was red. Wolves are also not red." Not sure whether they should believe me, I decided to leave it alone until I spoke with the studio owner.
"Oh you saw him, did you? Isn't he gorgeous?" "So I'm not crazy and it is an enormous fox?" "Of course - he's often around here, did you see him on the road?" "Yup, just watching the cars go by from the edge of the woods. But he's so big. He's at least twice the size of a normal fox." "Yes, he's pretty amazing."
Vindicated ! I know what a damn fox looks like. Wolf, my ass.
I have been getting home really late (for a work night) most nights over the past week. It's installation time at the Gallery, you see. Sometimes I remember to turn on my porch light, but mainly I forget. I guess my head is still somewhere in July when it would still be light out. Anyway, tonight I got home around 11:30pm and it was pitch black in my apartment and outside. I unlocked my door after several missed attempts; on the other side, my cats were whipped up into a frenzy of meowing, waiting for me to come in and feed them. When I open my door, I tend to thrust in my foot, or my backpack to keep the beasts at bay - I'm not keen on them dashing out. The first time they escaped, it was a bit nerve-wracking to get little Choco back in. At night, I don't usually have to worry about them escaping, they're more interested in dinner.
Tonight, however, Choco, who was completely whipped up, took it upon himself to throw himself over my foot and out into the wilds. Crap, I thought, but instead of panicking, I went inside, leaving the door open and calling to Twee for his supper. I thought that might entice Choco back in. I realised after putting kibble in both of their plates, Choco had not returned, so I flipped on my outside light and went out to see about retrieving him, shutting Twee in. I called and immediately heard Choco's little voice in answer, excited and not too far away. I called again, he answered, and I followed him, but he was in the process of moving up into the front of the house.
Around the side, where my living room window is, the outdoor light came on (motion sensor) and I got a clear view of Choco who was hesitating now. I stood there, calling him, trying not to sound nervous or upset because he's very sensitive to that. The thing is, Choco doesn't really come when he's called. Despite sleeping with me, lying on my lap, and being fairly lovey with me now, he hasn't gotten to that level of domesticity with me.
Then I heard another little cat voice, at first thinking it belonged to one of the neighbour's cats, until I realised it was beside me. There was big Twee in the living room window, which was open, calling. He could see Choco climbing around the parked cars. Twee got very insistent, using the same tone he saves when calling Choco for a game, or just trying to figure out where in the apartment Choco might be. Immediately, Choco stopped and answered Twee. Twee called him again, face pressed right to the screen of the window. Choco took two steps toward me, Twee called once more and Choco bolted for the door.
When I let him in, Twee backed up to let Choco through. Choco was all excited, his tail was all frizzy, and he was miewing kitten-like with excitement at Twee. I assumed that Twee had eaten the dinner I had put down for them, and wanting to reward Choco for coming back in, I went to their food tin. What I discovered was that Twee, who, as Gareth says, has the heart and soul of a wumpus, had actually abandoned his dinner to come to the window and call out in concern. He knew something was wrong and that Choco was missing. I couldn't stop myself from picking Twee up and hugging him hard - something he usually isn't keen on. This time, as though he understood, he just let me, purring the whole time.
Now, Choco is lying pressed up against me in bed as I type, exhausted from his wilderness adventure and feeling, I think, a bit vulnerable. Suits me just fine; better him here then out there.
In other animal related news, tonight I saw the biggest fox I have ever seen. Foxes are not usually large animals. This was an enormous fox. I couldn't believe it for what it was, at first. I found it because en route to the private studio/gallery I about to visit, I met a Subaru pulled up on the highway shoulder with its four-way flashers on. I thought it was a problem, at first, until I saw the guy sitting in the window, elbows on the roof of the car, camera in hand. Naturally, I pulled over, too.
I honestly didn't know what I was looking at. Surely, I thought, that cannot be a fox. It was huge. It was the size of a wolf. But it was red. Bear? said my brain that still couldn't believe it was a fox. No, said my eyes, looking at its slender features, long nose and black points, that is a fox. I took a couple of truly terrible photos of it and then headed back into the car and up to the gallery.
People refused to believe me when I said it was a fox, but huge. "No, it was a wolf," said one in a tone that suggested I knew nothing because I was from a big city. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "It was alone. Wolves are not solitary. And it was red. Wolves are also not red." Not sure whether they should believe me, I decided to leave it alone until I spoke with the studio owner.
"Oh you saw him, did you? Isn't he gorgeous?" "So I'm not crazy and it is an enormous fox?" "Of course - he's often around here, did you see him on the road?" "Yup, just watching the cars go by from the edge of the woods. But he's so big. He's at least twice the size of a normal fox." "Yes, he's pretty amazing."
Vindicated ! I know what a damn fox looks like. Wolf, my ass.