I did it!!!!

I ran the entire 5k! Even better - apparently the course is actually 6.something km, when you pace it out with your pedometer or fancy iPod gadgets. So I'm thrilled with myself.

Next goal may have to be a 10k run. I'm trying to see if there's a way to work a 10k run into fundraising for my choir's trip to Italy this summer... :)


This would be me and my fellow runners clutching at our bottles of water after crossing the finish line. Yay us!

I ended up raising a little more than $600, and I'm super proud - I didn't think I'd even make $100.

Y'all are awesome. And for those of you who were wondering if the dogs were there again this year... the answer is yes. I left them with their owner whilst I ran, though.

So last year a friend and I did CIBC's Run for the Cure - a 5k run in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. We signed up about a week before the event, didn't do much fundraising, and basically used it as an excuse to walk her dogs for the morning. It was a ton of fun, and immediately afterwards, we decided to do it again this year.

See? It was fun? Where else do you get complete stranger firefighters in pink willing to pose with you? (That's me on the bottom left, in case you're wondering. My hand is at that weird angle because we'd been trying to get the dogs to hold still - there's food in that hand)

So this year, we're more organized. There's more time to fundraise. And this year, in celebration of how much improvement and such I've made over the last year, I hope to actually RUN the 5k this year.

I realize that just about everyone and their entire family does this run, and you've probably already been hit up for donation about half a dozen times, but if you could see your way towards sponsoring me in this run, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm pretty close to my goal - if even 6 people donate $5 (that's about £2.8, or $4.5o US, or 3.25 euro), then I'm there. If you're in Canada and donate, anything $20 and up automatically received a tax receipt (under $20, you have to make sure you request the receipt when donating).

My Donation Page at the CIBC Run for the Cure can be found HERE: TTR's Page

It's a great cause, and so many people have been affected... So please, consider donating. Please.

30May09

On Monday, the boy and I had a conversation over MSN about how I might potentially be moving to Ottawa in the fall. He said something that really got to me. "I hope I'm not influencing your decision on this." I made some flippant reply about how that was a loaded statement, deftly avoiding the unasked question, and continued the conversation.

But it got me thinking.

He's super nice. The last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings. But you can't build a relationship on avoiding causing pain to others. We don't really talk any more. It's down to pleasantries like "how was your day?" "How's the weather?" and other such mundane things. When he said he was coming up this weekend, my first thought was not "oh, yay!" but rather just "oh". He's definitely more into the whole thing than I am. And as one of my friends said, when a guy spills his feelings to you and all you can think to say is "Thanks" and look for the door, there's definitely something wrong.

I'm not comfortable having him in my space any more. Whether it's my apartment or my personal space. I realize that most of the blame in this is probably mine, for not speaking up sooner when things were making me uncomfortable, for not pointing out that I thought things were moving too fast. But looking back (hindsight is always 20-20, right?) I realize that there were all sorts of things I should have done differently.

I should have realized that when we had the same conversation about tea back before we were dating, almost word-for-word, THREE separate times (yes, I even went back through my MSN message history in analyzing this relationship), that we would probably quickly run out of things to talk about. When we'd been dating for a whole month and he said that he "accidentally" referred to me as his girlfriend to coworkers, I should have told him that made me uncomfortable and that while I was flattered, I needed more time. I should have never let him take for granted that he could use my space here. I shouldn't have gone on a week's vacation with the guy after only seeing him for 5 months (my mother had half-jokingly told me that if we made it through the week, we might make it in the relationship - further proof that you should always listen to your mother, people!). When we had our first discussion about how I needed space, I should have just ended it there rather than trying to avoid hurting his feelings by telling him I didn't feel the same intensity of emotion for him as he did for me.

So, it was with all these things in mind that I broke up with him today. I think I made the decision on Tuesday, and the rest of the week, waiting for him to be here so I could do it in person rather than being a 21st century idiot and doing it over the phone or by MSN (god forbid).

He's taken it well - well, as well as can be expected. He said it wasn't unexpected, which is good, I guess - better that he had some preparation rather than simply throwing a bucket of ice water on him. I avoided using most of the cheesy breakup lines (although I did basically give him the it's-not-you-its-me reason, which is true - he's a great guy and I wish him all the best), and it ended with him asking if I'd still talk to him, so I'm hopeful that there may be a friendship salvageable there. Only time will tell. He asked if I had any regrets - and the answer is yes, but only because I didn't speak up sooner and let it drag out this long. I don't regret any of the time that I spent with him. We did, after all, have a great time...

In short, I'm feeling kinda shitty and like a horrible person because I've hurt him, but mostly good. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can get on with my life.

In other disturbing news, my dad's skin cancer is back. They removed a huge chunk of his face a while back, but looks like they got it all. Prayers/thoughts/vibes/whatever would be greatly appreciated.

And work is stupid busy again, but I get a two-week "vacation" as I attend two training sessions - one in E-Town this week and one in Saskatoon next week.

In other news, our choir had its final conert of the season last night - it went beautifully, I think. For more info on the program you can check out the associate director's blog at Podium Speak (see his May 29 post). John had taken over the main conducting duties this year as the usual director was on sabattical. I was especially excited about the Sirett piece, as Dr. Sirett was my first ever choir director nearly 20 years ago (oh, dear god, I feel old all of a sudden - it really doesn't seem that long ago that I was a little chorister at St. George's...). The Bruckner went off wonderfully (as he seems to have written in an update today), which was the most worrisome bit...

If I do end up moving to Ottawa, I think it'll be one of the things I miss most. Although having said that, my Dad recently made a comment about how he wondered if I actually enjoyed the choir, since most of the people in it are twice my age. He's right, and I think if I stay in E-Town I might find another choir to work with - the great thing about RES, though, is that it's a huge choir and you get to do all sorts of works that require the power and volume you simply can't get from a smaller choir. I don't know if I could do it if the John's wife (who used to be my boss and who I'm now happy to call a friend) wasn't in the choir as well. I have to re-audition for the choir on Thursday this coming week, and will make it known to the usual director that I may be moving in the fall, but we'll see how it goes - even if I don't move, I don't know if I'll stay with the choir and may look for other things, especially if John's wife leaves, which she's thinking about doing. But as I said to John last night, this year has been a slice, and I've greatly enjoyed it, in spite of moments of frustration (mostly with other choir members and their lack of respect/tact... but that's another blog post for later).

I'll be off to dinner with a friend this evening, and possibly out for another friend's birthday afterwards... Looking forward to it! In spite of the slight low of today, things are looking greatly up.

I feel like a bit of an idiot. Today I attended a funeral. I didn't know this woman particularly well. I don't know her family. I don't know most of her friends, and only barely know the rest on a professional level. I didn't interact with her at all outside the university, with the exception of a couple of emails after I went away to England. And yet her death and the fact that I won't ever see her again are affecting me a lot, and I don't entirely understand why.

She was an absolute whirlwind. As somone pointed out today, she was like a force of nature - sometimes a tornado, sometimes a rainbow. To continue quoting from the eulogies, she knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and as long as she got it at precisely the right moment, she was pretty easy to please. And lord only knows, she's probably up there attempting to micromanage the way Saint Peter runs the gates of heaven. She drove a lot of people nuts at various times. What matters most, though, I think, is that she showed me kindness during a period in my life when I really needed it. And it is that that I will always remember. And from what I heard today, I was not the only one.

What gets me, is that it was yet another person that I know who's died of cancer. It's snatching up the best and brightest, and ripping them away from us.

Dietlind Bechthold was an amazing woman. Especially in the last fourteen months of her life, as you can see chronicled on the short website she and her loved ones mainted.

I will always remember how I finally learned her name. After continued banter about some paper or other I was handing in after a long semester of handing in paper after paper, I finally said something along the lines of "You know my name now, so what's yours?", and it started from there. She'd photocopy papers for me - but only in return for my postering half of the Tory Building... I can still bring to mind our chats about her German courses, the paper she had in storage for me from a prof that I didn't want back, the discussion with another faculty member about the colour of a third faculty member's robes (he claimed 'Crimson', we all thought pink...). She was about the only person behind that counter that didn't scare me half to death - and the only one that ever bothered to learn my name, even after 5 years of handing in papers and picking things up and asking questions.


I wish I had faith. At least then I'd believe that she wasn't gone for good and that maybe we'd get to trade witty insults again some day.


Much love to you, Dietlind.

So I had my first super-bitchy client today. I wasn't able to accept the madam's paperwork for a few very key reasons, and she was less than impressed (and yes, I use the word madam in multiple senses). She was even more unimpressed when I had to confiscate a piece of her paperwork and refused to accept my explanation. I finally had a much more senior person talk to her. She was still unimpressed. As she packed up and left my area, her purse was zipped with such venom that I wanted to reach out and smack her. I refrained, and just sat in silence, giving a 'tough shit, your own damn fault' look as she huffily turned and teetered out.

The kicker?

All this was in French. I'm fairly confident working in French. That's why they hired me. But I still don't know all the 'lingo', so to speak so there are words that escape me - especially since I don't use the French on a regular basis. Part of the reason I had someone more senior come out and explain was because I was afraid I wasn't communicating something properly. But listening to their exchange, nope, I was using the right words the right way. Big wiping of the sweat from the eyebrow.

I was able to step away and get out of the office shortly afterwards, and it was a good thing I did. The whole incident really drove home just how new I still am at this whole thing, and harped on all my professional insecurities. I was left with shaking hands and a feeling that I wasn't performing adequately. It doesn't help that the two others who were hired at the same time as me are both completely fluently bilingual. I feel ill-trained, ill-equipped, ill-informed, and ill-prepared right now.

Hopefully it will pass soon enough.

On a completely different note, my father had surgery on Wednesday. Just day, laser surgery, but surgery nonetheless. Yup. The skin cancer had made a few inroads. They think they got it all, but he'll be going for fairly frequent checkups from now on. The kicker? My mother didn't tell me until we had lunch together on Monday and she just casually happened to mention something about taking Wednesday afternoon to take my father to his surgery. I'm not sure whether I'm grateful to her that she kept me in the dark and didn't make me worry, or pissed right off that she didn't inform me of something that important a little bit sooner.

*sigh*

It's gotten to the point where I can't process this internally any more, so here goes.

My dad has skin cancer.

Which, if you're going to get cancer, is the sort of type to get, really. You can usually just dig the mole-y melanoma-y thing out, and do a bit of follow-up chemical treatment stuff, and voilà! good to go. One of my former bosses went through having skin cancer in her younger years, and you'd never know it. Healthy, upbeat, fine...

Nevertheless, the 'c' word is a fucking scary one.

It's even fucking scarier when it's happening to someone you know and love. It's even scarier when, during a follow-up appointment, the doctor notices ANOTHER spot, digs it out, and sends it off for biopsy. And then he's doing a little more looking, and oh, look! there's a third spot. And it's in a place where my dad had skin grafts as a kid, making the skin, well, not entirely skin-like, complicating removal.

So, yeah. I get home, and my dad has new stitches and bandages, and we all avoid talking about it over our pleasant, picturesque family dinner, and I get in the vehicle so that my mother can drive me back to my apartment and this is the news that is casually dropped as we're backing out of the driveway, as I'm waving goodbye to my father.

We're still waiting on the results from the second biopsy, but in the meantime, I get to sit here and fucking wait again.

I thought I'd already cried about this as much as possible. I thought I'd exhausted all the tears, all the worry. I thought I'd talked it over with enough people that all my fears had been mostly allayed.

Apparently I was wrong.

My mom told me today that one of her coworkers has cancer.

Problem is, I know this coworker. I worked in that office one summer, and it was 4 months of sheer hell, with a few bright moments along the way. I was The Student, The Inexperienced, The "She's only here four months, no point training her, or letting her do anything remotely important."

There were, however, a couple of people in that office that went out of their way to teach me new things, let me do new tasks, learn about the ins and outs of that particular governmental department. Kathy was one of those bright spots. Her bubbly personality made it a pleasure to work with her and she continues to ask after me and find out how I'm doing.

And now she has cancer. Not "oh, good thing we caught it early, so let's eradicate it" cancer. Not "Hm, this doesn't look good, but we have several options available" cancer. Nope. It's "this is bad, we'll try chemo but..." cancer.

And she's alone.

Her kids have moved out, scattered across the country, and she's divorced...

And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

Why does it always take the good ones? Why did it mess with Vicki? Why did it take Bev a little over a year ago? And why Kathy now? Why can't it mess with someone in my life that I can just go "oh, that's too bad", and leave it at that?

Dammit, I feel so bloody small and useless...