crows to burnaby

This year, with everything happening that's happening, Christmas has been somewhat less of a priority. Usually we've done a tree and decorated the place up a bit, but I just haven't really been interested. It just seemed better not to let it be one more stressing factor, and I can't get worked up about buying stuff for people right now. We'll spend some time with family and friends, but it's not going to be a big thing.

As a result I have this weird sort of detached feeling about Christmas this year, like it's something other people do. I'm not bothered or bitter about it or anything, it just doesn't feel relevant right now. I guess this is what it's like for people who've never celebrated Christmas; watching with a bemused calm as everyone around puts red and green and shiny silver stuff all over everything. I went out last week looking to buy new socks, and felt strangely and pleasantly calm as shoppers sweated over finding just the right heated car seat or slippers with tassels on them.

I keep trying to think about presents I could buy for the people I truly care about, but it baffles me. I feel like I only want to get things that they really need, and none of it is stuff you can buy. What do you get for the person who has no time for themselves? For the one who needs some certainty and stability? For the people who need to heal? The people waiting for a sign before they can make the change they need to make - where can I find that for them? If I can't fix these problems, how is giving them a nice poinsettia going to help? If I'm thinking of them, I should be letting them know anyway, regardless of it being December 25th or not.

I hope I haven't put a damper on your Christmas with this. It's just a strange, strange feeling; Christmas is usually a big production you can't help getting involved in, but this year I feel like I'm off backstage somewhere while everyone else performs.

Whatever it means to you at the moment, I hope you enjoy it and get from it whatever you need the most.

I've got a bit of nice news about ARCTIC: Music BC picked the song "You Coming Down", off the new album, to include on their 2008 Compilation CD, which they'll be bringing with them to MIDEM 2008 in Cannes. We're in good company on the CD, which includes British Columbia artists like TV Heart Attack, Immaculate Machine, and John Mann (of Spirit of the West).

There's just something nice about external validation once in a while.

You can get "You Coming Down" as a free download on ARCTIC's "listen" page. It's the solo version of the song, which sounds quite different from when we play it as a full band (if you'd like to compare, we'll play it at the Backstage Lounge on Dec 28th).

I just watched the last few minutes of TV that I'll probably be watching for a while, as we've cancelled cable starting tomorrow, and in a while I won't have a TV any more. I'm not a big fan of TV, really. I tried to savour this last viewing, to really enjoy it, but honestly there wasn't much I really could get into, aside from a decent Seinfeld episode; everything else was either sitcoms I dislike or yet another performance elimination-style reality show.

I was pretty sure I wasn't going to miss much, but then I went back for another look. One of the channels said a new Family Guy episode was up next, but I couldn't find it; instead I happened on a CBC story about scientists in the Arctic studying climate change and contaminants in the water, which was quite interesting, and something I make a point to stay aware of as one of the writers on ARCTIC's "News of the North" blog.

Still, it was information that I could've found online, and probably even in video format if I felt so inclined. Web video still seems like a hassle to me, at least compared to TV; I think it's the buffering, how you never quite know if it's going to play reliably. But it'll be there if I need it. And I will live TV-free.

The other item being unplugged is our dishwasher, which has just died. I happen to passionately despise doing dishes. I don't mind cleaning the countertops (much), I don't mind dusting (much), I don't even really mind vacuuming (I just mind moving things out of the way of the vacuum), but washing dishes aggravates me. Still, I made it through a respectable quantity of dirty dishes this evening without trauma. There's no way in hell I'm going looking for a new dishwasher while the Xmas shopping nightmare is in progress, but perhaps it'll be worth braving the Boxing Day terror for a decent discount. Oh the joy!

Well, I'm glad I posted about what's going on; it felt sort of burdensome to be keeping it quiet for the first while when we were working out more of the details, and I'm incredibly grateful for all the positive notes and thoughts I've gotten from people. I really, truly appreciate it: thank you.

I don't really know what to blog about now. Do I just pick up where I left off? Or tell you about what I'm feeling about the process of separating? Or some of the practical realities of it? That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I don't think anybody can answer it but me.

Here's one practical reality I should let you know about: I'll be reverting back to my old name of Kirsten Starcher. I went to Services Canada yesterday to change it on my SIN card, and it was funny how... easy it was. Birth certificate, current SIN card, and a few skill-testing questions about my family... and that's it. New card in the mail. Just like that. New identity (or old one? A variation on the theme, I guess).

Oh, and for those of you who have my home number (with 708 in it), that'll be cancelled, and I'll just be using my cell phone.

In the meantime, while I figure it all out, the show must go on. I'm playing at Wired Monk this coming Monday, Dec 17th along with a bunch of other fine local singer/songwriters types (I believe I'm the only one on bass, though). Show starts at 8:00 and cover is $5.

And if you're looking for something to do during that awkward lull between Christmas and New Year's, come see ARCTIC on Dec 28th at the Backstage Lounge, along with Slowpoke & The Smokes, The Price of Drugs These Days is Through The Roof, and Room Seven. Show starts at $10, cover is $10.

I have learned that it's important to be able to force yourself to focus on something else, not as a means of avoiding your problems, but as a mental break and a way of pulling yourself out of the bog. And it should be pretty obvious to anyone who knows me that music's going to be the most likely way for me to do this.

You may have noticed this blog has been a bit quiet lately, and when there's been activity, it's been ... well, shallow. There's a reason for this.

The short explanation is, Greg and I have decided to separate. It's a completely mutual and amicable decision; we intend to stay just as close friends with each other after our marriage as we were before our relationship began. But we have become different people over the past few years, gently drifting apart, and we see our lives pulling us in different directions. It's been a very difficult process coming to terms with this, but we know that this is something we both do want, and that over time, it'll be best for both of us.

If you were to ask when this all started, it'd be hard to say whether it's been weeks, months, or years. But it's been over the past few weeks that we've realized this is our path, and have begun to deal with the realities of it all, the paperwork, the logistics, and importantly, talking to our family and friends. (In this modern world, we had to take into account when to change our Facebook status. How odd.) It's been an ever-widening circle, and now I'm posting about it here, which I guess is the widest circle I have.

So I haven't posted much else here lately, because nothing else has really seemed particularly important. And I haven't really decided how much I want to talk about this process on my blog; obviously some things are private and some things are public and I need to find a balance. This is marking a major, major change in my life. Greg and I were together for fourteen years, married for seven. I've never really lived on my own; it's an experience I think will suit me, but it'll be a huge shift. Please bear with me while I make some significant adjustments.