Rain Rant

I find the rain in Vancouver is oppressive. I hate it and I am sick of it. Even my dog hates it. Yesterday morning she wouldn’t leave her bed for our morning walk. I knew before I moved to Vancouver that the city was parked in a temperate rain forest, but nothing could have prepared me for this much rain.

Vancouver rain has turned me into a fiber snob. I shun cotton and especially abhor cotton socks. My first winter in Vancouver I wore cotton socks (which is what I normally did in California). I was seething angry by the afternoon because the wet would creep into my feet. Now, I only wear wool socks and I have seven cashmere sweaters. The wool keeps the wet out.

I have thrown out two worn down, broken umbrellas in one year and purchased two more. I resent spending money on ugly, spindly accessories that I must carry around 24/7. Black and compact, these commuter umbrellas bump my head and the one handed interruption makes maneuvering in and out of the car annoying and navigating a crowded bus absolutely baffling. Where can I put my collapsed, dripping umbrella on the bus? In my lap? In my bag? On the seat? Pity the next passenger who sits there. I dare not put the umbrella on the floor. Once, I put it on the floor of the bus, forgot about it and stepped out of the bus into a downpour, unable to return and retrieve my umbrella.

The only good thing about the rain in Vancouver is that I am warm and snug in my home with my like-minded dog, enjoying my indoor hobbies and dreaming of summer.

How I Write

I write as if my high school enemies were watching me trying on swimsuits from a dressing room security camera. I am self conscious and twisted, hunched over, hiding my body and shivering, feeling threatened and alone. I imagine these enemies ganging up on me, laughing amongst themselves, leering at me, making vulgar jokes and then releasing the video on the internet for everyone to see. Once my writing is out there, it is there forever; evidence of my identity, following me through college, jobs, weddings and baby showers. They will all judge me.

I write unlike the scientist and project manager that I have been trained to be. I abandon linear thinking, organizational principles, strategic planning, and analytical reasoning. The one way that I do write as a scientist and project manager is that I choose my writing topics based on a calculated risk. Would I risk putting that personal, deep, dark secret onto paper? Of course not. The odds are very good that my parents would read it. What would be the pay off? There is a lot to lose and nothing to gain. I don’t dare write about something shameful. What if my neighbor saw it and read it? And then I bumped into him in the laundry room? I better keep myself out of it. I don’t get involved.

I write with a wish and a dream. I fantasize that I am Carrie Bradshaw and that my writing is my primary source of income and that I will achieve material wealth on my columns alone and I will court a subscribership that actually pays to read my work. Not just once, but every week! And they will recognize me at parties and invite me to model at New York Fashion Week. It is possible! I can do it! That could be me! But that would mean I have to write about my sex life. I couldn’t possibly do that. Back to working on my molecular biology manuscript.

I write like someone who was discouraged to write. I keep it short. I don’t share my writing. I keep it safe. I delete and I cross out and I whine and then I give up. Later, I feel guilty and return and try again. I mimic my idols and thumb the thesaurus. I read and re-read and edit and stare.

When I am done, I feel glad that I wrote but sad that no one is ever going to read my work.

Sad Things

Last night I saw Atonement, and it left me feeling very sad. No one in the movie achieved happiness in their life. It got me thinking about other things that make me sad. Here is a list of trivial things that make me sad:

• Cracked tiles
• Spoiled produce
• A dirty fishtank
  
• My dog's bald spots (from years rubbing up against a kennel)
• Vancouver rain, not the heavy downpour, but the soft mist that makes your eyelids moist
• Car accidents
• When I run out of good socks and laundry day is a week away
• Stained clothing
• Taco Bell
  
• Slivers of bar soap that slip through your fingers in the shower and dissolve
  
• The bank
• Tight jeans
  
• Wire hangers
• 7-11, White Hen Pantry, Gas stations, etc.
  
• Throwing away a gift, even a hideous ill-fitting sweater
• HIV red ribbons
• When it is beautiful outside and I am stuck working in my windowless office
  

I am going to go lie down and have myself a good cry.

What makes you sad?

Dear Valentine

I just want you close
Where you can stay forever
You can be sure
That it will only get better

You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry 'cause
Everything's going to be alright
People keep talking they can say what they like
But all I know is everything's going to be alright

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you

When the rain is pouring down
And my heart is hurting
You will always be around
This I know for certain

You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry 'cause
Everything's going to be alright
People keep talking they can say what they like
But all I know is everything's going to be alright

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel

I know some people search the world
To find something like what we have
I know people will try try to divide something so real
So till the end of time I'm telling you there ain't no one

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you

What I feel for you is love, love, love.

Boundaries

Questions I have been asked in the workplace:

• Do you think a black man will ever be president?*
• How old are you?
• Do you have kids?
• Are you married?
• When are you going to have kids?**
• What's wrong with your face?***
• What's your blood type?

* asked during a job interview

**most annoying question

*** my all time favorite

Threats in the Workplace

Wednesday morning during a routine finance meeting a worker threatened to burn down the workplace if their pet project was deleted from the budget. This comment made me uneasy and nervous, so I dismissed the comment by making a joke. I later bumped into this worker at Starbucks and he expressed his frustration with "the system" and need to vent. Of course he didn't mean it, and all was well.

Later that same day, I received an email from my husband telling me he was locked in his lab with his co-workers due to an unknown threat. The entire Bio Sciences Building at UBC was locked down; no one was allowed to enter or exit the building. The exact nature of the threat remains confidential pending police investigation, but rumor has it that an anonymous caller threatened to bomb the building.

In the first case, the threat was face-to-face and dismissed.

In the second case, an anonymous threat was made over the phone. The RCMP locked down the entire building, deployed a bomb squad with dog team units and roamed the halls searching rooms one by one while police and media helicopters circled overheard.

Which threat is more serious? The personal threat? Or the unknown threat? Should all threats be treated the same?