Cat Jahnke Mews

Here I go again with another one of those vague diplomatic emails.  Sometimes I crave the freedom of an anonymous blog; it would be a very therapeutic way of dealing with the many stressful situations one encounters on tour.  But instead I choose to mask the details of what made me upset, and speak in grand hypothetical questions which I’m sure are soothing to no one but myself…

Let’s begin:

First of all I just want to ask: what grade are we in?  How old does someone have to be before they can just suck it up and deal with pesky nuisances without whining about “starting a petition”?  There are so many injustices in this world that need representation.  Why waste your stamina tearing someone apart instead of acting like an adult and accepting the state of affairs as they are?

Would you get your neighbors to band together to oust the renegade on the block who only plants yellow flowers?  Is that worth your time?  Because if it is, you’re a rabble-rouser and you do no good.  Don’t fool yourself in to thinking you’re a hero.  (Now I’ve got THIS song stuck in my head…  Rabble Rabble…)

Hmm… maybe all this junk just happens to inspire me and you’ll get to sing this blog post when it comes out on my next album…  ☺

Enough of that.  But if you have a spare moment, send me some good vibes because I’m feeling a little shredded over here…

On a happy note, someone thought I was 15 today!  Sweet!

Love and kisses to all my good peeps…

10/7/07 – Day Off, Calgary

My life is like the earth shrunk down to the size of a ping pong ball: smooth. There could be huge mountains and valleys of inconvenience, turmoil and even downright misery, but, in the grand scheme of things, there’s very little I could honestly complain about.

Then I hear about the Canadian Food Grains Bank and wonder how personally we should take Thanksgiving. There is so much in my little bubble of a life to be grateful for and I feel ironically guilty for having the opportunity to be so grateful! When even the farmers, ESPECIALLY the farmers, are starving in other countries, or are being taken advantage of right here in Canada, I feel like there’s no amount of gratitude that could pay for my standard of living.

And so my appreciation seems petty. I don’t even have to be concerned with injustices that would touch my life today. I can worry about wildlife habitats being underfunded, I can worry about the sale of resources that should be available to everyone for free, I can worry about the environment, the potential for war, the family unit. All of this worry is made possible because I have so much leisure time that isn’t spent worrying about getting fed, being sheltered, staying alive.

Thank you for a delicious brunch buffet brought to us by some generous parents, thank you for an outlaw exploration of the airplane hangar where all rockstar dreams come true, thank you for an amazing family Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of our tour away from home, and most of all thanks for an educational evening learning about the Canadian Food Grains Bank and how much I have to be thankful for.

Bon Voyage!

It’s even louder when you turn it on…

Hangar Rage

Before the Bounty

10/6/07 – Quincy Marie’s, Airdrie

Tonight was my last show in the Calgary area during this tour. It feels inaccurate to define this past week as part of my “tour”. It’s more like I’ve temporarily moved to Alberta and I’m just gigging. And I even get Thanksgiving Sunday and Monday off! That’s not nearly uncomfortable enough to validate my “Road Warrior” badge.

This cushy situation is coming to an end on Tuesday, when the real character-building mountain-driving begins.

All week I’ve been meaning to get a picture of this field of Wal-Mart cargo trucks; it is seriously acres and acres of 24-hour/day movement. This was my last chance and it proves that we need a new camera. How could I have let this photo opportunity pass me by? And not only should it depict the grotesquely large fleet of consumption transporters, but I actually had a clear shot of Big Foot. Well, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. It MIGHT have been just a plain old werewolf… Either being equally as frightening as my intended subject matter.

The best (and loudest!) midnight snack

10/1/07 – Ironwood, Calgary

As a singer/songwriter, I do my best to be approachable. I want people to relate to my music and so I want people to relate to me. One of the benefits of having a roadie along for the ride is that I can spend my time after a show meeting and talking with folks, instead of packing up.

Despite the weight that I place on interacting with supporters, I’m sure they all understand that there is a level of intimacy that can never be attained in a five minute, post-performance, venue’s-closing-in-half-an-hour, kind of conversation. My brain may be scattered because I can’t eat my dinner until after I play. My attention might be interrupted by CD sales or gear inventory. BUT I STILL TRY TO BE ME!

I have a huge problem with talk for the sake of talk, for strategic flattery, for false confidences. If you want to be genuine, I’m grateful for kind words. If you want to tease, I’ll laugh at your sugary insincerity. But don’t try to sell me dishonesty; there’s no bang for the buck.

Anyways, it was another good night at the Ironwood: familiar faces to sing to and AMAZING food (holy cow their soup is killer!). I got a kick out of the colored lights.

At the Ironwood

Along the way I’m encountering numerous new flavors of water, from clorine to mold to egg. Why hasn’t anyone thought of bottling a series of Canadian city tap waters! It would be the equivalent of Bertie Bot Jelly Bellies… Yuck.

I was curious recently about the “flavor” of Winnipeg’s water. How had it become so strong? I’m not a fan of buying water; it seems to be a resource that shouldn’t have to be purchased. Like air! I came across the Water & Waste section of winnipeg.ca and was quite shocked:

“Do we meet the Canadian drinking water quality guidelines?
Yes, most of them. There are more than 80 guidelines for drinking water quality. Winnipeg supplies good quality drinking water, and usually meets these guidelines. However, we are not always able to meet the guidelines for turbidity, odour and trihalomethanes (TRY-hal-oh-meth-aynes).”

Read more about trihalomethanes and it’s “possible link” to cancer HERE.

Then last week in Winnipeg, several homes were flooded with wastewater. Click HERE to read an article describing the situation:

Now tell me I’m going crazy, PLEASE, but does this mean what I think it means?!

“…a city crew that had been working on a nearby pumping station apparently failed to reopen a gate that would have allowed wastewater to flow into the Assiniboine River.”

No wonder our water tastes like sh*t.

In other news, I must reiterate that I absolutely adore my job. There are bad days, and there are good days, and it was a good day here in Revelstoke at the Hillcrest Hotel. Beautiful view, beautiful room, beautiful food. I’m so grateful to Chantal for hosting me tonight; I can’t wait to come back!

We specifically asked for a room WITHOUT a jacuzzi…
The things we have to put up with on the road!

Growing up as a doctor’s daughter I was accustomed to grateful patients obviously demonstrating their appreciation to him in tangible ways. There were always more presents for dad under the tree at Christmastime. It was clear by their actions that his charges cared a great deal for their doctor.

In fact, while I was in high school I volunteered at a thrift shop and during one memorable coffee break I popped into the lounge while some elderly ladies were discussing their health. They each insisted that their doctor was the best and even confessed to having a wee crush on him. Turns out they were all talking about the same man: my dad!! What an uncomfortable coincidence!

In any case, I was proud of my father and became used to the idea that doctors were all nice people who genuinely wanted to help. I would rage at folks complaining about the medical profession in general: impersonal analysis, insensitive conduct, and just plain malice. Doctors, it seemed, weren’t allowed to have bad days.

Then I came to Winnipeg. For years now I’ve been searching for a doctor who had the time to listen to and track a history, a creative doctor who treated the patient and not just the symptoms. I’ve been repeatedly disappointed.

Of course there have been the few who have stood out and made me feel safe and cared for. But for the most part, a universal boredom seems to have taken over the offices I’ve visited and I’m left wondering if it is a question of overworked physicians coping with a paranoid public, or just plain indifference.

Today, however, my spirits were buoyed. I had been dreading my early appointment. Not only was it at my usual bedtime (8:45 am) and therefore challenging to attend, but it was regarding an issue that, while not life-threatening, was still upsetting. Curiously, I have never felt more soothed by a so-so diagnosis. My doctor was gentle, compassionate and sensitive.

It’s easy to stare at the negatives, and I think we are all on our toes waiting for criticism. I once called a restaurant after having food delivered to tell them how delicious it was. I kept saying, “It was so good! Sooo good!” The man, distressed, said, “The food was no good?” “No!” I said, “SO good!” He was confused by my compliment, expecting no feedback but complaints.

I am thankful for the opportunity today to feel wrong about my recent disillusionment regarding a potential trend in our health care system. I’m sure I will be frustrated again, but right now is good. And so I’m off to eat a bushel of apples…

I was tossing my disc with the kids today when a HUGE dog came streaking across the field toward one of the little ones. It was terrifying! What can you do?! Fortunately it was just being mischievous, trained to follow the Frisbee, but we didn’t know. I’m very glad we weren’t playing baseball because I would hate to be responsible for a sudden combination of adrenaline and wooden bat. That would break my heart. And potentially some tiny kneecaps…

Still, dog-lovers – if you’re taking your “sociable” pet to a school playground, and it can knock over (or scare the pee out of) a child, KEEP IT ON THE LEASH!!!! I’m very very grateful that no one was hurt, that no animals were injured during the course of my afternoon, but my absolute favorite disc was chewed to pieces. I’ve made people wade into rivers to get my disc back to me! The last I saw of this one, it was still in the dog’s mouth. It was a sad goodbye…

Seriously though, if you can’t control your dog please don’t set it loose near any innocent bystanders. Besides folks being afraid (or annoyed), some are deathly allergic. Hives don’t care how cute your dog is.

P.S. I don’t mean to sound controversial. For the record, I love animals. I just love my stepson breathing more.

Highs and lows today, guys. Highs and lows. Dave Foley had his arm around me earlier this evening while his lovely sister-in-law, Barb, directed the spontaneous photo-shoot. I was instructed to pose a la Sarah Jessica Parker (one foot in front of the other, boobs out, fake smile) and Dave did his best enthusiastic gay husband face. Unfortunately the first one didn’t turn out and I think he tired of the game by pic 2. I’ll have to work on my charm.

I wonder why I find it so difficult to equate the man who shook my hand with the man who has entertained me for years. I can recall hundreds of actual moments in his life. I can probably remember more specific sentences he’s spoken than he can. But he’s just a guy… with a nephew… If only we could all be best friends with our favorite comedian, musician, actor or athlete. There aren’t enough hours in a lifetime…

And now join me in the depths…

Without tossing around excuses OR taking any blame, I’d like to come clean and express disappointment regarding my NXNE showcase tonight. It was like walking backwards down an escalator without using the handrail. Once again I thank the good Lord for blessing humans with a knack for repetition. Muscle memory: my saving grace. XXX XX XXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XX XXXXX XXXXXXXXX XX $$$ XXXXXXXXX XX XXXXX XXX XXXX XXXXX ‘XX XX X XXXXX XXXX XXX-XXXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXX X XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XX XXXXXXX XXX XXXXXX XX XXX XX XX XXXXX XX XXXXXXXXXXXXX! (<~ Edited for diplomatic reasons) It’s transferred unprofessionalism. I think I’ve had enough. Fool me once, etc…

To everyone who enjoyed the show, thank you very much for your encouragement. To everyone who didn’t enjoy the show but said nice things anyways, thank you very much for your encouragement but you don’t need to lie about my baby. I’ll make a prettier one soon and we can ignore the last.

It would be helpful if my will more often accomodated my ambition. I had fully intended to visit a local park, toss the disc, get some exercise, but I saw very little sunlight today.

I don’t need an independent study to let me in on the fact that getting off one’s ass is better. If there were a medium to bet on human life expectancy, no one would wage five cents on the couch potato. So why do I sit so much?

Why do people smoke so much? Why do we carry grudges for so long? Why do we stay up so late at night?

There are foolproof ways to easily raise our quality of life. But exercise and vices in moderation and forgiveness and a regular sleep pattern all take commitment. And like I said before, my will is weak.

Hmmm… Maybe there’ll be an informercial on later tonight that will sell me a pill to solve all my problems…

Thanks to the amazing folks at Mocha Cabana for hosting me this evening. The enclosed patio was beautiful and the blankets made it cozy. And even though I was surrounded by four walls, the omitted ceiling allowed me to get that fresh air I had aspired to breathe!

I wonder about our human desire to progress. What would we do with perfection? It seems that the landscape of our country comes pretty close to Eden and yet, between the pristine places, there are pockets of development that could only mar, never improve.

Who wouldn’t want to live in a house with that view? But should we be allowed? A log cabin on the side of a mountain is pretty innocuous, but a Home Depot down the road supplying necessary insulation and concrete just knocked over an entire forest!

Nothing can ever be finished. A city is never done. I think human mobs crave change, not perfection.