The World According to Rena

In the category, “Only In Vancouver”…..you know what I mean

I heard on the radio recently that our local Vancouver Aquarium was offering yoga classes in front of the beluga tank viewing area. The ad promoted it as peaceful, serene, and mind-opening (more so than yoga when NOT accompanied by large, Arctic-dwelling marine mammals). Don’t get me wrong. I love yoga (I do it every day before work) and I love the aquarium (my family has an annual pass). But put them together? It just becomes fodder for the Toronto folks to mock us west coasters. Beluga yoga indeed.

Years ago, when “Six Feet Under” was airing live on TV, I was hooked. I would watch an episode and as soon as it ended I would be jonesing for next week when the next episode was scheduled to air. I was addicted and totally wrapped up in it. And I loved every minute of it.

Fast forward 10 years later. SFU is long gone (and one of the best series finales I’ve ever seen). And since I’m busier more than ever these days, I’m very selective about the television programs that I watch. But the funny thing is I’ve never discovered a series that captivated me as much as the Fisher family did. “Downton Abbey” comes close (never in a million years did I think I’d be watching a soap opera period piece). And I really dug HBO’s “Hung”, “Enlightened”, and “Bored To Death” (but they were either cancelled or just put on hiatus). Whenever I set a series recording, it seems to be the kiss of death for whatever I choose.

I didn’t even run out to subscribe to Netflix in order to watch the new “Arrested Development” episodes, even though it would have been minimal effort on my part. I loved the original series, and maybe in the back of my mind I didn’t want to taint it (I’m reminded of that saying, “You can never go home” i.e. nothing is as good as you remember it to be). And as much as I love “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” the fact that I have unwatched episodes on my PVR from 9 months ago is perhaps an indication that I’m finding the gang’s misadventures a bit repetitive at this point.

But the other day I was searching around HBO and I saw a description for a show called “Family Tree.” From the description I thought it was interesting and thought it might have been a documentary series. I’m glad I decided to tape it on a whim. I watched the pilot episode and loved it. Quirky, quiet comedy with a bite. And when it was over I was surprised by the writer/director/creator credits: Christopher Guest. Ah, it all makes sense! From the brilliant mind of “Best in Show” and “Waiting for Guffman”. Genius. I can ‘t wait to watch the rest as they record.

But it’s still no “Six Feet Under.” Oh well. I’ll keep looking but family dramas centered around death might just remain at the top of my memory list for favourite TV memories. For the time being at least.

I was talking to some of my gay friends recently and they commented on a trend amongst a few of their friends. There are quite a few couples we know who have moved out of the city (ahem, West End) and transplanted to further outlying regions like Cumberland or Sechelt. They are tired of the bustling city and are seeking a quieter, calmer lifestyle.

However, in doing so, they have also found themselves a little isolated. Even though their new neighbourhoods are tranquil and  picturesque, these older gay men are finding it a little too quiet. Also other like-minded folks aren’t exactly easily found in local leather bars and cabarets. Where are the other gay men, and where can you go where everybody knows your name?

It got me thinking. Wouldn’t it be a fantastic business plan to set up housing and communities in certain quiet places in B.C. And make them gay-friendly, with a queer book store, a coffee shop with rainbow stickers on the doors, and maybe a bar that has drag bingo or cabaret performances every 2nd Saturday night? Also remember that gay men typically have good discretionary incomes (good jobs and no kids). I think it would fly.

Yes, gay-ted community living. I can see the brochures now…..

My hubby took our iPad with him to the island this weekend so I am without tablet. I wanted to do some photo organizing and realized that I could do it on the laptop. But then I didn’t feel like going downstairs to the chilly basement to use it (the laptop lives in the office down there). Upon deeper consideration, I realized that the damn thing is portable. I could just walk down a flight of stairs, grab it, and bring it upstairs to the warm living room. So I did just that.

But I still feel that the whole thought-process was pretty pathetic on my part. Bad me.

Knowing how to co-exist with others in a compact, urban environment is a necessity in this city. I often look the other way when it comes to bad umbrella etiquette or sidewalk spitting. I have also become a pro at dodging and circumventing slow walkers. I even step aside without complaints for the occasional, rogue skateboarder. However, something recently is almost driving me to the brink of losing it.

I work near the an art school in Gastown. When I leave work every day, there is usually a group of students whom I imagine are finished for the day. They are all standing in front of their school with their matching knapsacks, skinny jeans, and toques. Now I’m not talking about 5-6 people. No, I’m talking about 20-30 bodies just standing there. Right on the corner. Blocking the sidewalk for half a block. And they’re talking. Or hugging. Or laughing Or smoking. Or yelling really loudly to their colleagues who are crossing the street. Or doing it all at once. And it makes navigating through the street corner extremely difficult.

At first I would just find the gaps and zigzag through the mob. Now I just walk straight-ahead and hope for the best. In the process I often shoulder-bump a few people. No one seems to notice. It’s just bizarre. Looking at these students, it’s fair to say they’re mostly in their early to mid-20s. So, young people (to me). Their complete lack of common sense is just astounding. And they seem oblivious to how their actions affect others around them.

I have visions of attaching spikes to my legs and running through that hipster crowd, taking everyone out at the knees (and piercing their skinny pants in the process). Or filling my large, shoulder bag with a dozen, navel oranges and swinging it over my head as I parade through the swarming students. Or, worse of all, I envision myself yelling out to nobody in particular (but directed to them, of course): “Don’t just stand in the freaking sidewalk! Don’t you see that you’re blocking it for everybody else? Where is your common sense?”

And that last one is the worst because it makes me feel old. I was definitely once that young person who probably spoke or laughed too loud in public settings. Or didn’t pay attention to my surrounding and inconvenienced people in the process. Oh yes. I remember those days.

Sigh. For now, I’ll probably just continue my zigzag detour outside my office door and roll my eyes. Because I know young people will never change.

Many of my friends comment on a regular basis how we can’t remember things very well any more. It could be our inability to recall what we ate for dinner the night before, or our embarrassing blank moments when asked about old relationships (we seriously have omitted memories of certain intimate moments with various individuals). It’s a trend that I’ve noticed in the 40-plus crowd, and we speculate that it’s only going to get worse.

But then I had a thought. I don’t necessarily think that a ‘failing’ memory is an indication that you’re losing it. No, in fact, I think it might be the opposite. I think about how many people I’ve met over the last 2 decades, and how much I’ve learned on my numerous jobs throughout my career path, and the sheer volume of information that I’m expected to retain (names, faces, university courses, job tasks, general data, trivia, information, etc). The amount of knowledge I’m expected to have at this point in my life is astronomical when I compare myself to where I was fresh out of high school.

So, in a way, it makes sense for previous, lesser memories to be crowded out by new information that inundates my brain every day. In fact, my failing memory is a sign of intelligence, and a sign that my brain is still healthy and I am learning on a regular basis.

Well, that’s what I’m going to tell myself anyway.