Mars and Venus Venture Off Course

A friend’s recent situation inspired me to write this blog post. I’ve always thought that the older we get, the more respectful we become as a person, with friends and family, and also with matters of the heart. What I’m discovering is that it appears to be quite the opposite at times. My friend’s relationship issue just showed me a glimpse of how much we protect ourselves at the risk of hurting others, and it made me stop and think.

I suppose it’s actually society that sits at the top of the food chain when it comes to interpersonal communication, but it’s always the relationship between men and women that is highlighted. Assumptions are abundant, and everything has to mean something these days. Why? A simple gesture of being polite or neighbourly is greeted with a frown or massive look of confusion. Oh my god! I smiled at you--I clearly want to marry you and have your children. Yeah right.

My belief system is based on the concept “Do what you want, as long as you don’t harm anyone or anything”. I consider myself to be quite selfish at times, but not to the point where I hurt anyone. What I have seen as of late, specifically through my friend’s situation, is that some men AND women don’t seem to care if they hurt someone through their actions. Or, if they do care, they don’t show it, which, to the other person, is the same as not caring at all (mind-reading is not a typical human trait).

It makes no matter whether you’re in the dating world or not, women are always saying men are jerks. Men are always saying women are crazy. The reality is that some people are not only jerks but are also crazy, and more importantly, it transcends gender. There are some people out there that are just plain frightening regardless of whether they live on Mars or Venus, so to speak. Examples I’ve seen lately tell me that this whole Mars and Venus thing can really be just an excuse for men and women to act certain ways. I had one of my guy friends tell me years ago that it’s normal for guys to cheat because they have been hardwired since the beginning of time to plant their seed. If we were still in the Paleolithic Era I would say yes, I see your point. But last time I checked, it’s 2013...give me a f’ing break.

If we agree that we’re all human (although there are some people that believe aliens have invaded the planet), then unless you are mentally incapacitated, is it fair to say that most people, whether you are a guy or a girl, know the carnal difference between right and wrong? You can assume the answer is yes, but what I am discovering, which should be no surprise, is that everyone acts, thinks, talks, reacts, etc. based on what they have been exposed to and what they have experienced in their life. So the answer is really a big, fat, subjective “no”, and moreover, trying to logicalize someone’s behaviour can drain your brain. I’ve learned to realize that unless you have lived in that person’s exact shoes, you’ll never really know how they see things. One reality; two different experiences and viewpoints <enter relationship issues>.

Bizarre and illogical behaviour comes in all shapes and sizes. I’ve seen people get dumped through a text. Or how many times have I heard, “He just never called me again”. Been there myself. What I find interesting is the lack of respect that seems to be extremely abundant and come to the forefront amongst the population in recent years, and is now (or I’m just noticing it) popping up my generation (I’m in my early 40’s). With the age of social media growing exponentially, I am hopeful that my generation for the most part is still at the stage of open and honest communication that doesn’t involve hiding behind our opposable thumbs. My hopefulness has now turned to more of a cautiously optimistic stance, but it’s positive nonetheless.

Time and energy are two things that should be carefully spent. You only have so much of each. I choose to live my life where I will continue to put myself out there to be kind, courteous, and communicative to my fellow humans, man or woman, whether I know them or not, and whether they like it or not. My intentions are always good. I will always have a smile on my face. The filter is shrinking with age, and I’m finding it easier to ditch the political correctness (how can you tell).

I wish for all of us that we can just say what we want to say, always with respect, but just get it out. And most importantly, whether you’re a Martian or a Venusian, garner the respect you deserve, give others the respect they deserve, and always be true to yourself. Life is just so much happier that way...that, and karma can be a bit of a bitch.

Shakespeare Please...Bard on the Beach Style

I’ve been lucky that for two years in a row now, I’ve been to London’s Globe Theatre to see the best traditionally-performed Shakespeare in the world.  The first year, I thought it would be fun to stand in the courtyard, the cheap seats if you will (it lost its appeal very quickly when my back started to ache within the first act and I couldn’t bend down in the book store later), and the second year I sat on the bench with a cushion which was helpful but still not the most comfortable. But hey, that’s what you get when you are given an authentic back-in-the-day Shakespeare experience, which is exactly what the Globe Theatre provides, from the seats, to the theatre, the acting, right down to the costumes. Outside of Stratford-Upon-Avon, you won’t find anything closer to the real thing.

Living in Vancouver can make it hard to visit the Globe regularly, so the next best thing to England’s plays would be Bard on the Beach. Each year they produce four plays in a variety of styles, eras, costumes, accents, etc. all within the fabulous Vanier Park which provides a magnificent back-drop to the company’s main stage tent.

For years, I have been the traditionalist when it comes to how the plays are produced--I prefer the period dress and performances as if I was back in the 16th century. Going to England only furthered that sentiment, and I’m not even English (although apparently I can start speaking with an English accent all of sudden without realizing it).

That having been said, I have always immensely enjoyed my eight years plus of attending Bard on the Beach. My friend Ron is a member and has been for quite some time. Each year he gets two Bard packs (if you purchase all four plays you are given a discount) and away we go. Long gone are the days where you had to “claim” your seat by writing your name (or a reasonable facsimile of who you wanted to be) and then when the gates opened, you had to run like mad and stick the name on the seat you wanted. I always chose the name of a goddess like Athena or Venus--it made for good conversation with the people around me when I went back to my seat. Now there is assigned seating when you purchase the tickets which makes the whole experience that much more relaxing without the possibility of anyone getting mowed down in the process.

The gift shop housed inside the village is great--it has everything and anything Shakespeare you can think of. A book of insults, magnetic poetry, finger puppets, aprons and t-shirts, and the list goes on. Sadly, I basically have the store in my home, minus the finger-puppets. They also have some tasty refreshments too. We always tend to grab a bite to eat before going; however, if you need to eat upon your arrival, they have sandwiches now and a plethora of snacks and drinks. The main attraction for me is the caramel corn--and some sort of beverage to avoid any kind of coughing fit during the play. Lastly, to complete the village experience (and more importantly a biological necessity), and this may seem like an odd thing to mention, but the portable washrooms are very nice, and I mean that sincerely. They do not smell at all, and there is hand-sanitizer everywhere. The first year I went I remember thinking, “Oh how cool, they even have a purse-holder in here!”. I quickly realized just as the handbag almost touched down, that it was not a place for my purse but rather, it was a urinal. There’s nothing further that needs to be said on that subject.

Going to the plays this year, I opened my eyes a little further to what I was seeing in each of the shows, and realized that the Bard on the Beach productions are truly quite unique. The Twelfth Night was set at a spa in the early 1900’s. Hamlet was done modern day with the use of cell phones and iPads. Measure For Measure brought us back to the New Orleans about a century ago, with southern accents to boot. And lastly, Elizabeth Rex--a play that was not written by Shakespeare but rather had him in it, so indeed a different perspective on Queen Elizabeth’s life, all done in period dress. I was extremely impressed, especially given my traditionalist viewpoint of what Shakespeare “should” be.

The acting, the singing, the sets, the costumes--all incredible, talented performers, directors, producers, set creators and costume designers. Even though I already knew this, it was this year in particular that made me realize Shakespeare is truly timeless. Bard on the Beach has proven that year over year, with their use of creative variety on the classic plays, they are able to capture an audience of all age groups and bring to life for us something we can relate to in our lives now. It just proves that what was written over 500 years ago is still relevant today, it’s all just how you interpret it.

I rave about my experience each year that I go, and will always continue to do so. Get out there and enjoy those performances--abandon your thoughts around the Shakespeare you learned in school and open up to a whole new world. I promise, you won’t be disappointed. And, maybe someday, there will be purse-holders in the portable washrooms...I think Hamlet said it best: ”Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.”

Ode to Dexter the Cat

It was 12 years ago when we first met on that Halloween day,
Who knew that a big ball of fur like you could steal my heart away.

There were many black cats at the shelter where I went,
Just one look from you and I knew my time was well spent.

They said you were chatty but not a noise did I hear,
So I bought you on MasterCard without any fear.

But in the car you started meowing and wouldn’t shut up,
You were chatty like me, just my luck.

From the start, you showed me how special you were as much as you could,
Especially on that day when you thought the deck railing you jumped on was wood.

Four stories you fell and survived to tell the tale,
The scratch marks are still there and the legend of 9 lives will prevail.

When Bodie the dog came home with us to stay,
You made it very clear you hated him by hiding away.

Quickly you became friends but when left alone together trouble was abound,
And when he got sick, you slept on his bed with him without making a sound.

A hunting instinct I did always for you wish,
The birds loved to tease you and and so did the fish.

But you were happy to let your rag-doll abilities of hiding things kick in,
So someday when I move and find everything you took, I just may grin.

Your love for food was evident, for an empty dish you did dread,
Always running to the kitchen when the word “treats” was said.

Making sure you were fed was never left to chance,
And as such, my party guests were always warned in advance.

You would hop on the table in a single bound,
Only to hear someone shouting “Dexter! Get down!”

And when you decided to eat bugs from the outdoors,
You always chose the carpet to be sick on versus the floor.

Your character and presence was something else indeed,
Preparing to move your bowels by racing around the house with such speed.

I love how you always had such a relaxed and easy slumbering day,
But made sure to run over my face when I was sleeping, because hey, that was just your way.

Often I thought you were trying to kill me in my sleep,
For several nights I woke up with you lurking over me like a creep.

Everyone laughed when I got rid of your litter box--I said just you wait and see,
And sure enough, after a few months of training, you used the toilet like me.

My family and friends have fond memories of you too,
For often you head-butted the ones that mattered to you.

You’ve danced to Thriller and scarfed chips during scary movie night,
You’ve peed on someone’s coat and once opened a door to give everyone a fright.

Your silky fine fur was abundant thanks to your mixed breed,
But it soon became the bane of my existence for there was fur where fur shouldn’t be.

All over my home, in the food, and on vacation,
How many times did I say “Oh my god, this is Dexter’s hair” with exclamation!

Over the years you gave me cuddles, hugs and plenty of drool,
I felt so lucky to have such a beautiful cat who was just plain cool.

But then the time came where I could see you were getting sick,
And I did everything I could to save you but nothing did the trick.

After you passed and I made your arrangements to get you back in my home,
I was asked if I wanted a keepsake of your fur, and laughed--little did they know.

I had to say goodbye to you and it hurt right down to the core,
You will be missed my sweet cat, but in pain you are no more.

Unconditional love is what you gave me and I loved you right to the end,
My memories of you will always stay with me, for you were my best friend.