Waving a white flag (from my couch)

When you injure yourself badly enough, you are not just limited physically, but your mental state takes quite a blow.  What's worse, is sometimes the physical and the mental team up, and you are not much more than a blob on the couch, figuring out your timing between now and when you have to pee.

In late November, I had won the lottery for the Toronto Fringe Festival for their 2014 season.  I already had a few notes down for a play idea, and, based on the timeline I had when I wrote my last play, I had more than enough time to create my new show.  When January came around, I didn't have much more written, but I still wasn't concerned.  I have always been one who thrives under pressure, whether it came to deadlines in school, or troubleshooting on site for events and work, I am in my element.  However, by the end of the month, I was in a full leg brace, trapped on the couch and stuck with noting BUT time.

And that's when I became trapped.

There I was, sitting on the couch, leg propped, with a cup of tea and a blank screen and nothing coming to mind. I had no motivation, no inspiration, and no direction.  I could barely decide what to watch on Netflix, let alone brainstorm plot points and dialogue.  The last time I wrote, I had a full work schedule, dealing with stresses of life and otherwise, so I mastered the art of time management.  I would go to the laundromat and write between loads, I would have endless notes in my phone I wrote on my commute to work, I had scribbles in between notepads at work, I would edit pages as I packed boxes for my move.  I even created a scene when I suddenly had to take a trip to Ottawa for a personal matter.  I somehow found the time to write a 60-minute play when my free moments were sparse at best.

When I was sitting there with an endless amount of free time, I had nothing. I had no drive, no spirit, not even any real excitement about being able to write again, because I was still trapped on that couch.  I couldn't go outdoors safely because of the weather, I could barely bathe myself, I was sore, exhausted, and concerned about how badly I had hurt myself.  The one time I did try to go out, I ended up hurting myself further.  I essentially became a bummed out bum with not much else to do but wait.  I know it may sound like I'm whining, but when you're trapped in a basement apartment trying to maneuver  your next bathroom run, it can bring you down.

So, with all this time time and not much writing, I had to come to a very upsetting crossroads: I could try to push through and have a mediocre (at best) show for fringe, not up to my standards, and lose money and (self) respect in the theatre world, or I could drop out of Fringe, getting 50% of my application fee back, and letting another company in that were more prepared and would have a better chance of success. Dropping out, although better in the end, was a huge blow to my confidence.  Even with the pressure, I couldn't pull through and complete my task. I had failed myself.  I had created a goal for myself, one which I had succeeded in before, but this was a first for me in a very long time.

Yesterday I officially sent in my withdrawal to participate in the 2014 Toronto Fringe Festival.  The process was a lot easier than I thought, but the gravity of it has not set in.  It sucks, but it's better this way.  The show I'm working on, even though it isn't close to being a final product, has become something more personal than I thought it would be.  It's something that could be really good, even if only for me. 

Admitting defeat and accepting my own failures is not something I will ever get used to.  I've always been far too stubborn and bull-headed to admit my own limitations.  This time, however, I'm actually  glad I was able to see the big picture.  Sometimes you need to also accept the bullshit that comes into your life.  I was not expecting to hurt myself, and I was not expecting to have these troubles.  But they happened, and I have had to adjust my life and change plans, because, well, shit happens.  You have to take life as it comes, sometimes you can succeed, some times you can't but you definitely can accept the wins and losses as they come to you.  I think this is that 'delicious ambiguity' Gilda was talking about.

Is this that thing people call 'growing up' and 'maturity'? Because it's weird.

-janeovision

Ramblings from a cripple admitting defeat, and accepting help

When I was little, my mum told me that my phrase of choice was one of defiance, usually said behind my pigtails with my arms crossed.

“I can do it myself!”

As soon as I figured out how to French braid, I was always fighting for my independence. I could pick out my own outfits, tie my own shoes,and braid my own hair, even though I had to take breaks and let my arms rest.  Before Beyonce was even wearing training bras, I already had the anthem for independent women down pact.

Fast forward 20-ish years, and I am writing this blog post four weeks into a dislocated kneecap injury, barely able to do stairs, sit properly, or even use the washroom without it being a full event, exhausting and overly dramatic.  Since I injured myself a month ago, I have been stuck, trapped by my own injury.  I've been stuck at home, needed help in and out of bed, been fed, taken care of, and been treated with kid gloves. 

Now being the independent fool that I am, although I was grateful for all the help, I tried to do things myself. I got dressed, figured out how to bathe, and I even ventured out a few times.  Of course this is when the Beyoncé in me gets kicked in the teeth.  I ended up falling down some stairs and hurting my ankle, as well as hurting my knee again (I fell so hard I bent my brace) and putting a really nice dent in my pride. 

After that nightmare, I was quickly swept up by my awesome parents, and taken back to my hometown where I hid away for a few weeks, being fed home cooked meals, watching Disney movies with my nieces, and consistently and comfortably medicated as needed.  Although this sounds awesome to most, I have to admit, this was probably one of the lowest points I have ever hit in my 20-something years on this rock.  I was officially helpless, unable to support myself, take care of myself.  I had officially become more dependant on others than my 18-month old niece, and it  sucked.  

I had gone from paying my own bills, creating art and helping out my friends and peers, to being spun on my head and having others help me.  I didn't like it.  In fact, I still don't like it.  I learned very early, from school, from people I have encountered, and from jobs that I have glad, that if you don't take care of yourself, no one else will.  I am fully aware, especially with the amount of help I have had since I have hurt myself, that this is a load of crap, but it is programmed into my brain.  Along with this, that brief stint in Catholicism in my youth has programmed me to help those around me and to lift them up if they are are down, or need help, in many way possible, because that is the good thing to do.  Basically, I'm a dummy who doesn't know the concept of give and take.  

So, once I got myself into this mess, I didn't really know how to process people offering their help.  My logic was, if you wanted to help me out, my brain immediately believed that I was putting you out of your life and I was now a burden. AND GOD FORBID I WAS BEING HELPED BY SOMEONE ELSE.  My brain couldn't handle it. Of course, any offer I received, I responded with the cordial "thank you for the lovely offer" or "you're too kind, but I should be fine", ignoring the fact that walking further than my couch to the toilet was exhausting and painful.  It wasn't until I was blacking out and vomiting from the pain did I finally concede and allow someone to take care of me.  In the end, it took a very painful stumble down some very painful stairs to knock some sense into me.

I have now been back in my own apartment for a full week, dropped off with clean laundry, a full fridge, and parents comfortable enough to trust that I won't fall down a flight of stairs again.  I have only gone out a few times, and I have been cautious of time, weather, and finances, since all are now huge factors in my life.  Since I've been back, I'm still struggling with the whole 'let people help you' thing.  It's still an incredibly foreign concept to me.  The fact that people are not only being nice to me, but offering their help, friends and strangers alike, is absolutely alien to me.  I have started to accept it slowly, but having someone I have never met before offer their seat on the bus, or let me go ahead of them even though I am obviously slower than them, or offering their help is like watching a baby talk or a hamster strut in a tuxedo (that commercial weirdos me out).

I am still a ways away from being back to my normal self.  I still have physio to start, as well as results to await, finding out if I screwed myself up worse than I thought, and need a scope, or, (bite my tongue) surgery.  Until then, I will take things slowly, and I will learn to accept a hand and say thank you. I will learn to be weak and let someone else be strong for me.  I will learn that I can't always do it myself, and letting someone help you is not only normal, but what people do.  We help each other, we let ourselves be helped, and we accept defeat, no matter how proud we may be.

So this is where I say it, and I am incredibly grateful to be able to say it.

Thank you.  Thank you to everyone that has helped me, thank you everyone that has offered help, even if I politely refused, thank you everyone that, wished me well, wished me luck, or even said hi and reconnected with me after all this happened.  To be honest, being as isolated as I have been these 4 weeks, gestures as small as a Facebook post or a simple Instagram like on my silly Simpson day-to-day updates have meant more than you will ever know.  I am getting better slowly. I am becoming my normal self slowly. And knowing that I have that support with every update, photo, and occasionally bummed out post means that I'm being supported the to the end, even if I'm not always ready to accept it.

I couldn't do this by myself if I tried, and I'm thankful for everyone who ignored me when I said I could.

-janeovison 

 

REPOST: Drunken soup for a cold winters night

THIS IS A REPOST!!

Since it's so damn cold in the city, and if you're not cold, you're probably sick AND cold, this soup seems to be extra comforting and soothes every ailment, ache or shivery quake you may have.  This recipe is also easily adjustable. The photo below is more like a stew because of he amount of rice I added. I suggest trying it as the recipe asks,then adjusting in the future.


So I've had a LOT of people asking for this recipe. Below is the official recipe. However, keep in mind that I've made this recipe so much that I just adjust it to my own liking. I call this my drunken soup because of the amount of
Alcohol I put in it!!

Have a look at it. Anything in brackets is what I do to it for my own enjoyment. Try the actual recipe and try my version. See which you like!



Sherry Wild Rice Soup

2tbsp butter
1tbsp-1/2 cup minced onion (I like to use red onion to give it more colour, but any regular onion works)
1/4 c flour
4-5 c chicken stock (I end up adding a cup more, just because I add so much rice)
1-2 c cooked wild rice (so I like my soup thick and lumpy. I end up adding close to 4 cups. Add as much as you want, depending on how thick you want your soup)
1/2 tsp salt
1c light cream (again, I add a bit more because of how much rice I add
1/4 c dry sherry (yea... I add a lot of booze. Between 1/4 and 1/3 of the bottle... If you like numbers, no more than 1/2-2/3c.It'll burn off, don't worry)
Parsley or chives, minced, for garnish  (optional... I've never used it)


Melt butter in a saucepan, add union and cook til golden. Blend in flour and stock, stirring constantly until thickened. (I never measure the flour. I just add it in as i go. If you think its too runny at the end, add flour at the end, but pre-make it in a pan with butter. Wen you add this pre-made mixture, itll bend in better!)

Stir in rice and salt and simmer 5 minutes (I like to add in any leftover rice water too, it helps
As a thickener. I also put in the rice SLIGHTLY undercooked. It'll finish cooking in the soup)

Blend in cream and sherry (LOTS OF SHERRY!) and simmer until well heated. (i like to let it simmer for 10-15min, keep stirring so it doesn't stick to the pan. Take it off the heat and let it cool to warm/room temperature if you're not sering it immediately, this will mature the flavour)

If you feel fancy, garnish with the parsley/chives when served.

If you find the flavour is bland, add more salt and add pepper but be very careful with the salt. If you find it's too strong, add some sugar. This will soften the bite.

Give it a try and let me know what you think!!

-janeovision