The Excorcism of 1462 1st E

When we're kids, we have this idea that when we're older--in our double digits-- we'll know everything.

When I was still in single digits, I'd look up to all the older kids and I'd be like "Woah. These guys have it made, they must know about how to do it all". People who were 23-years-old when I was 8 were Gods and their lives were already all sorted out. 20-somethings were on the same page as my parents; anyone in highschool and beyond were grown-ups. Grown-ups had jobs, could stay up late, drove cars and made phonecalls in their important-sounding voices. They made decisions, and all their decisions must be right decisions, because I didn't see much of a difference between a right decision and a wrong one yet. When I was an adult everything would be easy, and by the time I was one (however it is people suddenly morph from adolescents into adults...) I should probably already have a job, a house, a car, babies, and be going on vacation to Florida or something.

I'm sitting here blogging with you now, and this little pixie of a child is staring at me from across the cafe. She must be about 9, and she seems pretty intrigued by me on my little netbook-- flicking away on the little keys, my fingers sounding like scurrying beetles. I wonder if she sees me like I would see the kids on the back of the bus, gawking back at them with my sticky, apple-juiced lips hanging open. I remember Vicky, with her long, cool hair and her Lisa Loeb glasses, a highschooler-- the one who, in grade 3, I walked right back to and sat on the lap of. I wanted to be like her. I'm kind of laughing thinking about it, because she probably did listen to Lisa Loeb, and I know now that Lisa Loeb sucks.

Honestly I would be a bit weirded out if this kid did that to me right now, and I'm hoping she's not as bold as I was back in the day. I wouldn't have the heart to tell her I'm not that cool, and that I definitely don't have it figured out.
She might laugh in her I-don't-get-it kind of way, because kids never get what adults mean when they are self-depreciating.
Then it would be really embarrassing for me because I would be serious.
Please kid, don't come talk to me.

This blog is about learning lessons (note: we usually call them 'lessons' if they are embarrassingly painful, and 'experiences' if they are deliciously good...) as an adult. It's a reminder that we're just as much babies as we always were. We wear bigger shoes, and we're more comfortable taking the bus on our own (I'm still actually super uncomfortable with this, just saying), but most of us don't have a clear and concise picture of everything we want to be. We blur the things we want to have, and the jobs we are cozy snuggling into with the people we want to be, and the lives we want to be living. We are all just as confused and new as children are-- we just become better at faking it. We don't ask questions every 30 seconds anymore, and we certainly don't go shamelessly sitting on Vicky's lap. The worst part about learning the painful stuff as an adult is that adults are expected to pull up their trousers and "know better". Well, if you haven't already gathered from my introductory rant, I obviously don't know any better about anything.

SO.
Since I moved to the West coast on my whimsical little trip, I've gotten a couple stings in the heart.
I came out here after having spent an entire summer again, in solitude, far removed from city life in general. Prior to living in that cabin for the summer, I was on a pilgrimage in Spain. I'd been recharged, and I had my fire back. I came out here seeking change and adventure, throwing responsibility and the advice of naysayers to the wind. This, as far as I'm concerned, couldn't have been avoided. I wanted to leave, I booked my ticket for 3 weeks before I came, I'm here. Bam.

That's how I work.
...However!

I think I'm gunna chalk up some of my Brittney-should-have-known-better moments to that attitude I had upon arrival.
I had a lovely way about me! I was feeling good, I was happy to have met all these new people, and I didn't understand how anyone couldn't be on my same page. And really, how wonderful is that? I was open-armed, romantically in love with life, and I had the best of intentions for myself and the people who entered my life. It started when we settled into our new apartment.

Our household was living in our communist little peace-land, happily depending on each other, trusting each other, needing each other. We made dinners together, shared food and money; we were poor and new here, so we all helped each other ease into Vancouver. The first couple weekends were, as one might expect, a little wild. A wind would pick up, a lightning bolt would sound off in the distance and suddenly a shitstorm of Irish people (friends of our adopted house goblins from Dublin) would unleash into the place. Beer cans would litter the floor like a fleet of hail, people hanging from things, house goblin footprints all over the countertops. At first, Julia, Simon and I (best friend, and best friends cross-country rideshare) thought it was awfully fun. We just figured things would calm down eventually.
It wasn't only because they were Irish and spoke like little leprechauns that we adored them. It was because they understood what relocating was like, and we didn't have to go through all of the learning alone. They were charming, funny, and shamelessly lived up to the Irish stereotype of general hooliganism. At first, that was endearing for some reason. Except we didn't know how far it could actually go from there.

I'm going to spare everyone the gnarly details by playing a wordgame. I'm gunna say one word or event, and then I'm going to follow it with a 1-2 word description.

Weekends- Apocolyptic Drunkenness (or insert 'drug bingeing', which we did not participate in. Promise, Mom.)
Weekdays- Prohibition
Parties- 3 Days
Brittneys Weekday Birthday- Work Tomorrow
Julia's Weekend Birthday- Fighting/Cancelled (or insert '36-hour party', which, again, we did not participate in)
Christmas- Slave cooking (or insert 'Goblin Invasion')

The parties got worse after Christmas, which was by far, the worst holiday I've ever had. It was after the craziness of Christmas that we gave the first major ultimadum. I didn't know how to deal with 9 wretchedly hammered Irish people (who chalked up their behaviour that day to being "Irish" and drunk, which I never understood), while Julia and I were cooking for all of them. Number one, I don't really like cooking for a bunch of people. I especially don't like cooking for a bunch of people who are drooling all over themselves, won't leave me alone, and who generally just suck at drinking. Christmas ended with a goblin getting a fist in the mug by yours truly, crying, breakups, and then everyone leaving the house to drink at the pub-- all but the two dears who invited everybody over to eat and drink with us in the first place. Oh, and cleaning the house for 3 hours after the shit-posse left. Merrrrryyyyy Chrissttmmasssss!

I should pause here and say that by writing this blog, I run the risk of a couple people getting kind of upset with me.
I just realized that....
Whatever.
I've got to tell you a little bit about what happened in the house in order for you to get it.

It became very evident after a fire extinguisher was set off in our house (sounds funny, but really isn't) that we weren't willing to deal with the partying anymore. I should say it's not really the partying I am against, but the "sessions" as the boys would call them. After having seen them drunk enough times, we came to realize that they eerily morphed into other people under the influence of alcohol. They couldn't touch alcohol throughout the week, and treated it almost fearfully. I have actually never seen people get so nasty to one another, try to rip cupboards off the walls, or tap their fingers on the counter waiting impatiently to sprint to the pub on a friday night at 6pm. Watching the truth about the boys unfold in front of our eyes, which we had been patiently ignoring for a long time, was both very scary and very embarrassing.
Because we were nice, easygoing, understanding and caring people, we let some really crazy shit go on for a pretty long time.
I don't want this entire blog to be about shitty experiences, though. Like I said, it's about lesson-learning, and from the madness I think we all definitely learned some lessons. I like to believe that the boys are remorseful for hurting us, our friendship and each other.

So, in the end, though we loved the boys, we realized it was time to let them go, because none of us were happy. When they were packing up, though it was for the best, we still felt really sad. Like I previously mentioned, I like to believe we all had the best of intentions. When the tension was released from the house, it was like an excorcism had occured. The negative energy had been vaccuumed out, through the walls, out the vents to collect with the rest of the toxins in the city air. There was a resounding, collective sigh from the leftover housemates that lingered about for days. The decision to sever the group was at the expense of a few of us, however. Me and Julia decided that it was best for us to cut our losses, and move onward together-- friends are always fail-safe, as we say-- though we'd thought extensively about giving up here and moving back home. We decided to move into a rooming house together, chisel away some of the posessions we've acquired so quickly, and build up our finances again in order to be back in a position of independence. Besides, we only came out with a couple bags, and we both know we can live with very little.

Here's the thing. Trust is a double-edged sword. It is one of the most beautiful feelings to trust your heart, and goodness, into someone elses hands. Although, its betrayal can be responsible for some of the most insidious wounds, deep down in your gut. Over time, we teach ourselves through this pain and conditioning that trust is a hot, yet delicate thing, and we begin to dish it out in smaller doses than we might have as a child. One of the biggest reasons children are such beautiful creatures, I think, is that they trust in everything. They are hungry, and they trust that we will provide for them. They trust in our protection, love and knowledge, because they have no reason not to. Those who are brave enough to trust are brave enough to love and forgive, and are in turn the most fearless creatures on the face of the planet.

I think allowing open-hearted trust may be the most difficult thing for me to learn. I'm constantly being provided with new reasons to trust and not to trust, and I've been searching for the balance between the two. To trust where trust is due, but never at the expense of my own well-being, which is the main reason for seperating from my housemates. In some cases you really have no idea that your trust is being betrayed. I like to believe that every moment has it's genuinity, though, even if later it feels false. So I guess this means that I will probably go on making my best attempts to genuinely trust people, giving second, third, sixteenth chances. Giving both my goodness and my heart away so frequently, because when it is accepted and reciprocated there is nothing better. My best, and longest-standing friendships are based on this act of sharing. I do this though, with the knowledge that I will likely be nicked, stung and lashed a few more times for it.

I really, truly love myself the most when I am in love, when I am giving, when I am passionate and helpful to others. The consequences of those character traits are obvious. It's like entrusting a papery new heart into a watery new love. You float on it's waters carelessly for a while, like a little hope-vessel. Perhaps it takes you on a bit of a journey, until the expiration date arrives, and dissolves your paper-heart in it's water. All things do, inevitably, come to an end-- this we know. I guess all I can really hope for in the future is to be happy with the fluidity of things, and the fact that I was taken anywhere, to learn anything, in the first place. Adapting to my environment, and applying all the new knowledge I learn each day, is the only way to really survive.

Maybe all we can do is to help each other through it, and be our own steel-crutches as we learn these valuable little lessons...

Onward and Upward,
Brittney