Martine Pagé

D’un rivage � un autre

Alors voyager, ce n�est pas aller � une destination, c�est compter le temps qui t�emporte d�un rivage � un autre.

Je n’ai ni le pied, ni le coeur marin, mais quand m�me, son beau texte m’a berc�e comme autant de petites vagues. C’est bon de vous relire, cher Laurent.

Il est question de voyage pour bien des gens ces jours-ci, et B. et moi ne faisons pas exception. D’abord, des amis californiens sont en visite chez moi depuis quelques jours. Nous nous croisons � Montr�al, tentant de reprendre la conversation l� o� elle s’�tait arr�t�e des mois auparavant. Nous y arrivons plut�t bien et �a nous surprend agr�ablement � chaque fois.

Ce weekend, c’est la famille qui se r�unit � Ottawa, chez mon fr�re, une nouvelle tradition qui compte beaucoup pour nous, maintenant que nos parents ne sont plus l� et que nous avons perdu nos pr�textes pour nous r�unir. Dix adultes, deux enfants, un b�b� et un golden retriever feront un d�jeuner sur l’herbe devant la rivi�re Rideau.

Et puis la semaine prochaine, B. et moi partons pour San Francisco, l� o� j’ai pass� toute ma vingtaine et o� des fant�mes de mon autre vie se cachent dans le brouillard. J’y retrouverai ma vieille complice et amie Jacqueline, une australienne qui a partag� avec moi l’exp�rience de l’�cole de cin�ma et nos premi�res tentatives de travail dans le monde de la production cin�matographique et du multim�dia. Apr�s plusieurs ann�es d’amiti� et de confidences, elle est retourn�e vivre � Sydney et je suis repartie pour le Qu�bec. Nous avons maintenu un contact �troit malgr� la distance et malgr� le fait que nous ne nous sommes pas vues depuis 5 ans. Je suis nerveuse et excit�e comme une amoureuse, d’autant plus que je vais maintenant rencontrer la fille de mon amie, une toute petite « aussie » de deux ans � qui sa maman essaye d’apprendre � dire « salut, �a va? », juste pour moi. Imaginez cette phrase, prononc�e avec l’accent australien par cette cr�ature. Je vais craquer, c’est s�r.

Ce blogue ne devrait pas trop s’interrompre puisque je ne serai jamais bien loin d’une connexion � Internet. On a beau faire dans le « social », on a parfois aussi besoin de refaire le plein de solitude devant l’�cran d’ordinateur.

TV bad, people good. Right?

Area man constantly mentioning he doesn’t own a television.

Another great parody from The Onion (linked via a comment on the What do I know blog)

It’s so funny how we always feel the need to apologize when we talk about something we watched on television. « Oh, I never really watch it », we feel the need to say. Because we know so many people are glued to their tvs, and we know we are not one of them, of course.

TV is okay. TV is not the devil. There’s good stuff on tv. Sometimes even great stuff (ER, documentaries, ID Maison – this last one is a plug for the tv show I worked for and which is still airing, by the way). You just have to know how to find the good stuff, and you have to know when it’s time to turn the tv off. I haven’t turned on my tv in over 5 days now (summer is not a good tv season for me). But that’s nothing to brag about. Right?

A cool attitude

Monday was the first day of the first Montreal canicule – there will be many more during the summer – and I felt discouraged. You see, I work from home, which is wonderful at any other time of the year, but when it’s 36C in my house (and it feels like 42C) and my sweat makes my fingers slide on the keyboard, I just can’t get any work done. Sleeping in that kind of heat makes you more tired than staying up all night, and I could imagine the long sleepless nights ahead of me. Bleh.

I had meant to buy an air conditioner for years now, but I never knew which model to pick, how to install it, and the portable models I wanted cost twice the price of the regular machines. But on Monday, on my way to a caf�, I walked by a hardware store and impulsively went in. They had one portable air conditioner left, a somewhat expensive model for my budget, buried behind a couple of regular machines. I asked a few questions to a very nice salesman who offered to get the box out for me, but I told him not to bother, that I would look up the info on the Internet first.

Later, I tried to work in a caf� but couldn’t concentrate – I can’t help but listen to the conversations around me. I knew there were very good chances that I spend the summer at home, writing a screenplay (more on this soon), and it was just too hot and painful. So I went home, called back the store to get the precise model number, looked up the info on air conditioners on the Web, called a few stores and realized that there more no more units left in the city (or so it seemed). So I decided to just go and buy the precious one I saw earlier. There was only one of them available and I had a feeling that the box might no longer be there when I would get to the store. Now, you have to understand that I’m not much of an impulsive buyer – who knows how long it would take me to make up my mind on a new model if the machine I wanted was no longer there?

I was right to be afraid. When I got to the hardware store, an annoying woman had the salesmen move all the boxes so that she could look at the air conditioner I wanted. Looking on in disbelief (and sweat), I listened as she was trying to convince the sales guy to come to her house, a few blocks away, to deliver the machine and install it for her. I was about to stupidly say something (those portable machines on wheels don’t need installation) when the sales guy recognized me, and behind the woman’s back, brought his finger to his lip to tell me to stay quiet. « I’ll pay you », said the woman, « can’t you come now and install it? » « We don’t do installations », he said, « and we can’t deliver right now ». She tried to get him to do it anyway, with her « I’ll pay you » attitude, and when he refused again she asked if he knew someone who would install it, and he said those kind of people were rare. I was trying not to stare at the box. If it had been lighter, I would have ran away with it.

After a few more arguments, the annoying woman finally left, and the two sales guys and the cashier let out a sigh. « I’ve come to buy it », I said. « I figured that much, that’s why I told you to stay quiet », said the nice salesman, who had tried to talk the woman out of buying that last unit. « How are you going to get it home? », he asked. « I was going to call a taxi », I replied. « We’ll deliver it for you », he said. He convinced the older, grumpier salesman to deliver it in his truck after the store closed. I thanked him profusely, got my credit card out, and went back home to sweat my last few drops.

When the salesman/delivery man arrived half an hour later, he got the heavy box out and told me proudly that this was one of the last units left in Montreal, and that every store had them in back order.

I felt like the whole hardware store staff was happy for ME to get this machine. I didn’t know them and only went in there occasionaly. Why did they care? But then I remembered how my mom had taught me how to be polite and respectful and I knew that my attitude with the staff of that store – not my money, or *gasp*, my looks – had something to do with the fact that I was going to be able to sleep through the damn Montreal heat.

So the lesson of this silly long post is: be nice to people. You will sweat a lot less.