2 months from the one year anniversary of discollection take 1.

THIS IS  POST THAT I WROTE OVER 2 YEARS AGO.. I just found it and thought i might like to post it now. not sure why, but is there ever really a reason that matters anyways?…

Sitting in my shop on this cold Friday afternoon I am thinking of the months gone by … time spent behind the desk, meeting people, interacting, telling jokes, making friends, selling things, sewing. I feel nostalgic that the first year of business is going to be over, that there will never be another first year such as this. It brings me to question myself. Have a done all I can to make discollection have the best first year possible? Have i given, pushed, tried, worked enough? Do I have what it takes to go on for next year? Am i equipped to be the owner of a store? Oh my gawd, my head spins…..

What if the answer is no. What if I don’t have what it takes. What if I can’t do it. What if the store swallows me and there is nothing left to give.

I look out the window, its 4:35pm and the darkness has descended on my street and I believe the streets all through this town. The Christmas lights that should have been taken down two weeks ag0 twinkle at me, telling me the secrets of the passers by on the street. My ears pick up partial conversations as they stroll on past…..

I wonder why they didn’t pop their heads in this cute shop. Maybe I should repaint the sandwhich board. hmm.

I feel irritated as the “pjama lady” begs in front of my door again. Being in this neighborhood I know all the local bums, crackheads and downandouters. I have become jaded towards the need. I can not bring myself to pull out a quarter for them anymore…. I roll my eyes at the eager tourists handing out change like chicklets in cuba….

Has the neighborhood swallowed me?

What will 2007 hold for discollection, my little baby, my project, my lively hood, my dream… will we succeed? Can we make it.

The answer is yet to come.

Regina Spektor sings to me over the new Imac apple sent me to replace my decrepit emac, and I can’t help but wonder what all those students outside are carrying around in those rolly cases.


Don’t get me wrong, I have a soft spot for afew people on the streets out here. I know them by name, they are my gastown friends, we have chats and they come to visit me.

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