GlobalFest

It appears I have been adopted by one of the girls from the office. Jen, She moved to Calgary a year ago from Vancouver. I suppose she felt sorry for me when I told her my situation and has since been my interactive guide to the city. Along with being adopted I have also been adapting. Me and this new lifestyle I thought would be like oil and water. Turns out it is more like soil and water; slowly sinking in bit by bit. I’ve spent most of my free time either in my chair or in bed, desperately trying to find some quick fix, some means of escapism; Running through variation upon variation of a budget that leaves no room for thrills and frills. While sitting in my arm chair, eating ichiban and finishing the bottle of cheap red wine, lacking the social aspect of my life I daydream, watching old movies like breakfast at Tiffany’s, Sunset Boulevard and All About Eve; beautiful women wearing beautiful things, getting exactly what they want.

Thursday Jen managed to convince me to attend a night of global fest with her and a few friends. ‘Friends’ turned out to be Jen’s boyfriend Paul and his wingman Derrick. When Jen introduced us it was obvious what she was doing and why Derrick was present. He wasn’t my typical type. Don’t get me wrong he was; cute, average height, dark hair, dark eyes, just not someone who would normally turn my head. He was of course, interested in me and I was polite. While we were waiting for the fireworks to begin, we talked the same old opening lines. Then, as ridiculous as it sounds, we had one of those moments where the eyes meet. You know the kind. The eyes meet, you keep the glance for a fifth of a second too long and you see something that you missed before. The muscles in your face pull on their own accord and tighten at the cheeks. Before you can stop it, you are wearing this large grin. You turn your head ever so slightly so your hair covers your flush cheeks and wait till you regain composure till you look back up, tossing your hair as you do. Then you see the same look staring back at you. “Oh Rachel! Stop right there!” I warned myself. “You have seen that look and tossed that hair before!” I couldn’t argue with myself. Thankfully Jen reached over and asked what time it was. The music started and the show began.

That night China lit up Calgary’s skies with eruptions of color and sound. Even with the thunderous explosions above my thoughts were still quite clear and pronounced. Eastern Philosophy, fashion and design crossed my mind. From Dior’s 2007 Couture collection, Armani back in 2001, again now in Prive Spring 2009 and using actress Zhang Ziyi as the face of Emporio Armani for this years ready-to-wear. Talented designers like Jason Wu and Vera Wang. Then the essentials of Chinas contribution to the world of fashion; the mandarin collar, Chinese Silk and Satin brocade. Then Beyond that, China’s historic and modern contributions to amazing architecture and interior design are considerable. I remembered seeing both Asian inspired clothing and décor last Saturday at the mall. I already wanted to go back to induldge in my new fascination. As the two minutes passed that it took me to reminisce all those names, textiles and effects I used to enjoy in excess, I again became downtrodden. Confucius say “he who will not economize must agonize”. Well, having experienced that I am trying to live by the idea “with coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my crooked arm for a pillow; is not joy to be found therein.” Another gigantic bloom of color pulled my eyes back from my meditative state. As the fireworks ended I was grateful for the company and to be socially active again. However, the entire way back to my apartment I still couldn’t shake the feeling of melancholy.

I enter my lifeless still somewhat bare apt. Strip down to my loungewear, grab a bottle of nail polish and plunk myself into my armchair. I seem to be a bit complacent and beside myself, The last few weeks have weathered me a little; running on all cylinders. I put in ‘Being Julia’ with Annette Benning; she lies on the massage table covered only by a towel, in a moment when she should be so calm and flaccid she exclaims “ I’m in such an odd state at the moment, a sort of limbo it’s a though the curtain has come down on act one but I have no idea what’s to come in act two”. I wait for my polish to dry on my toes. Looking over my work I spot a smudge on my second toe. This tiny imperfection, the smallest error, the last thing to go wrong, somehow pushes me past limbo and down to hell. With an uncensored scream, like a cannon, I hurl the small bottle at the far wall and watch the red liquid trickle down against the white.

Xo Rachel