Invisible

The one creating, seeing, but never seen.”

The last few books I’ve read (well, not the one I started and set aside for now because I was struggling to get through it) have had certain lines or passages which struck a chord with me, often to the point of my taking a photo of the page so that I can go back and mull over it again later.

I decided last night to use this blog as my “later”, when I can.

The above line is from the book I’m reading right now (All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda), and it followed after a few particularly strong paragraphs describing sketches which all depicted only one lonely female as the central figure in each. The artist was also described as a young woman who was often alone, herself, and finished with the line at the top of this post.

I had, as a child, often wanted to be invisible; I would always try to not draw attention to myself, even as I desperately wanted certain people to see me, and notice me. Now as an adult, I don’t think about it as often, but some days I definitely notice an apparent lack of ability to see me in the other random people around me. The number of times I nearly get walked into (or actually do), or stepped out in front of, or spoken over…just…not seen nor heard. Treated as though I’m not even there. It’s been a running joke in my mind for years, but at the same time, it happens a lot. So often that I occasionally wonder if I’m actually that unnoticeable, after all. If my childhood wish actually came true.

There was an episode of (I think) Haven once where a girl felt so ignored in high school that she literally faded from view. She was still there, but no one could see her anymore. It was sad and fascinating at the same time. And not at all difficult to imagine being somewhat true.

I’m more of an observer than anything else. Always watching and thinking and processing and dreaming, but rarely doing. Rarely occupying the space I am in, or connecting to the people I am with. There but not there. Alive but not living. Present, but in a different moment slightly parallel to the one others seem to be in.

Experiencing my world from a distance of disconnect.

Canada at TIFF

Last night was pretty great, despite being so tired and sore.  I almost didn’t make it on time, actually.  It felt like everything was against me for a bit there.  It was a familiar sensation.  But I got there, just in time, and settled into our spot on the red carpet for TIFF’s Canada party.  Once talent started arriving, things got crazy busy and the time flew by.  We had some good interviews; many with people we knew, many more with people we didn’t.  All of it went rather smoothly, for the most part, but far and away my favourite responses came from literally every person of whom we asked the question, “What does Canada/being Canadian mean to you?”

I love the sense of humble pride that everyone expressed in this country, and that they all had similar yet different answers made me very happy.  Also maple syrup.

It was very cool, especially coming just days after people across the country were shooting footage for Canada In A Day.  It was excellent timing.

After a couple of hours of Periscoping interviews, it was time to head in and join the growing party.  So much Canadian awesomeness in one room is always a good thing, and while I haven’t really been to other TIFF parties, I am pretty sure this one would be a favourite.  Beer and cider and poutine and a freaking wine and chip tasting bar?  Come on!  The music was amazing and had everyone up on the dance floor.  Well, a lot of people, at least.  I’m more the observe from the sidelines type.

There was even a particular someone I was observing more than most, which was cool.

I haven’t done that in a long time.  Maybe being lonely but remembering when I wasn’t has its advantages.