Laura Louise

Did you Hear?

2007-09-22T13:57:00.001-03:00

I'M ENGAGED!!!!!!!

So that's the news of the past two weeks! It took me a little while to get the news out. I was in Toronto, so I couldn't see friends and family right away. We were so busy over the weekend that I just managed to call my immediate family and one quick phone call to Kelite, my best friend and roommate. When I got home, it took me another few days to call grandparents and some other family members, good friends who live away, and then to see close friends who live in my area. By this point, roughly five days after we got engaged, I was able to send out e*mails to friends and then update my Facebook profile. (That is really when you know it is real!)

Since then, I have been doing some blogging, but not in this easy sense of coming to a computer and sitting down and posting. No, I've actually been creating a blog and website for the occasion. It is now my pleasure to introduce everyone to this new website, aptly called www.BestDarnWedding.com. I beg everyone to bear with the slowness of the site getting up to par. This is all very new for me, and so it is still in its developing stages (for example, there is no "Contact Us" page yet, and my blog doesn't link back to the main site). This will all come in time.

I invite everyone to come to the site and join with us in this exciting time. I am so obsessed with wedding blogs, that I kind of hope everyone else will be too!

Asparagales Iridaceae Iris

2007-07-01T14:40:00.000-03:00

Last Sunday was a little bit of a downer for me. I was supposed to make it to Sackville, New Brunswick to attend a luncheon that was held for my Aunt Judith. Instead, due to a malfunctioning phone, I was unaware that my ride had arrived and therefore missed this very special occasion. In 0rder to try to offset my lousy mood that obviously followed this tragic event, my wonderful boyfriend suggested that we go enjoy the lovely day at the Public Gardens. To preoccupy me, Dan gave us each a task: Photograph at least one photo to be printed.

Although I still don't have much faith in my photography skills, I chose one picture (please note; this photo looks much better on my computer than it looks on blogger):

I don't claim to be much of a flower connaisseur, but after a few minutes of Google research, I came to the conclusion that this flower is an iris. The word iris comes from the Greek word for rainbow. Iris was the Greek Goddess of the rainbow, a mythical messenger figure. She would slide down the rainbow, the connecting arc between the clouds and the sea; between earth and sky; between the gods and humanity. As the personal messenger of Hera, the goddess of women and marriage, Iris would travel down to earth and transport women to the afterlife.

The three upright petals of the iris, along with the tree drooping sepals represent faith, valor, and wisdom.

Out of the number of photos that I had to chose from, this photo in particular is special because of the symbolism. The faith, valor, and wisdom that is evoked upon looking at this flower are the same evoked thoughts when reflecting upon my Aunt.

The Iris

The gods painted the rainbow
With the petals of the iris
As a bridge to connect
Cloud and Water
Heaven and Earth
God and Men

The colours of the rainbow
The aesthetics of the iris
Is the beauty of the woman
With Faith
With Valor
With Wisdom

G is for Tea Latte

2007-03-07T20:12:00.000-04:00

I have half an hour before I have to be at a meeting, and I am sitting
her at the library totally procrastinating. Why? What reason do you
want? I'm thinking I can either blame it on:

Stressing about the fact that I have managed to lock myself out of two houses all at the same time today
My sore hip. One should really not carry so many things in a backpack. Does Robax help hips too?
Being tired. I have had way too much school work to hand in this week.
The dog ate my homework. Seriously.

So, seeing as I am sitting here in this place of study, just staring up
into the sky (yes, there is a skylight) and pondering about the fact
that my tank top is green, my sweater is green, my earrings and
necklace and that ring on my finger is green.... I thought I'd tell a
little story.

The other night at Starbucks, upon realizing that neither Amanda nor I
had ever ventured to try a Green Tea Latte (sorry, a Tall, Non-fat, No
whip, No phlegm, Stirred not Shaken, Tazo Green Tea Latte), I would try
one. In went the Melon syrup. In went the Matcha. In went the
water. In went the milk. It was an aesthetic masterpiece.

I took a sip. You always remember your first, or so I was told.
Truthfully, it was a thing of magic. I can't really describe what a
Green Tea Latte tastes like, because it doesn't taste like anything
else. Except Chicken. Everything tastes like chicken. In any case, I
liked it.

Amanda had a very different experience though. First, the smell was a little too much for her. She felt that in order to prevent the inevitable up-chuck reaction, she must first plug her nose before diving in. The truth is though, she has a phobia about getting liquid in her nose. She feels the need to protect her nasal passages every time she drinks. Just don't tell anyone. It is a touchy subject for her.

Unfortunately, Amanda doesn't seem to enjoy the taste of chicken (aka: Green Tea Latte). Seriously, how weird can you get? Once tested and tasted, Amanda followed her drink with a lovely rendition of "Oh My Gosh, It Tastes Like Grass. Seriously, it Tastes Like Grass". No sung would be complete without a dance: a hand-motion dance that is.

So next time you're feeling particularly green (maybe on Saint Patrick's Day perhaps?), head out to your local Starbucks and pick up a Green Tea Latte (it's better than Second Cup's version I've been told). Although it seems somewhat strange and out of the ordinary to drink something with such a hue, I haven't started glowing green yet. Nope, seriously. That's just the green socks.

*** DISCLAIMER *** ABSOLUTELY NO CHICKENS WERE KILLED IN THE MAKING OF THE GREEN TEA LATTE. IN FACT, THE HOT, STEAMED DRINK DOESN'T EVEN TASTE LIKE CHICKEN. YOU SHOULDN'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ.

Get Drunk

2007-03-01T14:54:00.000-04:00

As I normally do on weekday mornings while drying off from the shower, getting dressed, blowing my hair, putting on makeup, and packing my bag; I was listening to CBC Radio One this morning. I believe I was listening to the radio show The Current with host Anna Maria Tremonti when I head Charles Baudelaire's poem "Get Drunk" being read.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters;
that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's
horrible burden on which breaks your shoulders and bows
you down, you must get drunk without cease.

But with what?
With wine, poetry, or virtue
as you choose.
But get drunk.

And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the bleak solitude of your room
you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,
ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,
all that which flees,
all that which groans,
all that which rolls
all that which sings,
all that which speaks,
ask them, what time it is;
and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,
they will all reply:

"It is time to get drunk!

So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,
get drunk, get drunk,
and never pause for rest!
With wine, poetry, or virtue,
as you choose!"

And I thought, what a beautiful poem. What a wonderful way to start the day. What an incredible thought; to be drunk with poetry. There is something mystical about the way a poem seeps into your life and changes the way you look at the world; or rather, the way you wish the world to be. Dan told me I was a romantic. 'Tis true, and I wonder if that has helped determine who I will be in life. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

This is an escapist poem, and yet I feel guilty for even saying that. I feel guilty for writing about getting drunk, even if it be off of poetry, even if it be off of virtue, (and even if it be off of wine). I feel guilty for buying into the romantic escapism. Yet, I don't want to be guilty.

This is what I want. I want to be carried away by the wonders of the world. I want to be at the wedding where Jesus turned water into wine. I want to be in The Eagle and Child, drinking beer with the Inklings. I want to be engulfed by a world of virtue and beauty and aesthetics. Why can this not be so?

I always look forward to tomorrow: to the days that will be long and that will allow me to find the time to really submerse myself into these mysteries. But where will this passion take me? Will I instead find myself lost in the continuous, monotonous, ticking, of, time, that, push, us, ever, onward, until, we, go, no, further? No. NoNo. I will resist that. I will fall in love with the world around me. I will drink with those who have drank before. I will not hold back. I will not be a martyr to Time.

Hey, guess what?!

2007-02-20T16:47:00.000-04:00

You wouldn't believe it, but I started a vlog - that's right, a place where all the vlogs will be kept.

Check out vlogginglolly.blogspot.com to see how my Spring Break started out!

Coming Up for Air

2007-02-01T15:05:00.000-04:00

Hello blogging world. Well it certainly has been a while, has it not? Life works in funny ways, and I can never seem to get it to all line up. Not that my life is a mess, it is just that I can't seem to get it as straight as I would like it to be yet. It is like when you clean your room, you can throw all the mess under your bed, so your life looks straightened up, but you know there is a mess somewhere.Or, you can clean your room and put away all the clean clothes, launder all the dirty clothes, put everything in its proper place and make the bed. Or you can spend the entire day and night sweeping and mopping and windexing and scrubbing so that the room is sparkling. Then you spray a protective coating on everything and you don't touch it again (wouldn't that be nice?). My life, as it pertains to the bedroom metaphor is somewhere around option two. I'm working on organizing and alphabetizing (we all know I'm slightly OCD), I've put away the clean clothes and swept under the bed as much as I could easily reach. The problem is, laundry never stops piling up. And as much as I try to stop it, the corners of the room start filling with dust and my bed gets slept in. The worst part about it is that unlike my bedroom, my life seems to take much longer to get it organized and clean, but much quicker to get in disarray.

Let me take analogy to the literal. Basically I've been swamped. With the beginning of the semester I was determined to de-stress. See, I'm a stress-ball; a knotted, tightly wound, erratic, (albeit cute and colourful) bundle of stress. This has been an identity that has held true from the sleepless worry-filled nights as a child to the current restless nights. Clearly, it isn't as easy to clear up the stress. So here is what I have been doing:

No more rushing - As I'm sure my boyfriend will attest to, I get very agitated whenever I am pressed for time. I feel like there are things that need to be done, and if I do not have the time frame to work with, not only do I rush, but in my rushing I get frustrated. As an added bonus, in typical Jones fashion, I am usually late. This rings true for going to and from school. For the past two and a half years, I've been leaving for class at the very last minute, not because I am irresponsible, but because I don't give myself enough time to get myself ready. This issue has become a real problem since moving to Halifax because I have a further distance to walk to school. By the time I normally get to school, I am out of breath and tired and stressed. So, I have started giving myself and planning to leave the house ten minutes earlier than usual. This has allowed me to enjoy my walks to school while avoiding the worry that accompanies lateness.
School Work - I have come to realize that once I get behind in school, I can never hope to catch up. I can forget about what I missed and just focus on what is coming up, but I will always be behind. My goal therefore this semester is not to do things as they come, but work preemptively. Last weekend I was a week ahead of myself. Now with a novel and assignments coming up it is not as easy, but I have not missed a reading yet. Instead of sleeping in, going home between and right after classes, I am hanging out in the library as much as possible. With the exception of this blog entry, there are very few distractions and I can easily entice work.
Classes - I'm not going to lie, one of the hardest parts of university is ignoring the urge to skip class. It is easy to convince yourself that a coming class isn't going to be overly important and that you won't miss anything that the text doesn't cover. Despite these cunning ideas, every student deep down knows that you have such a greater success rate if you go to class, exams will be easier, and it is less likely that you will fall behind. With the exception of the very first day of classes, I have not missed (or been late) for a class yet. This hasn't been too hard of a transition, last semester I rarely missed a class. The very few I missed were usually because I was writing a paper that seemed so much more important than class. Luckily, my number two change will hopefully solve this issue.

So this is why I have been relatively nonexistent online, not to mention the part time job and the six courses. If this were a perfect world, I would have time to blog and to write personally. I would actually start vlogging again and I would even maybe take some pictures again (Dan has really been pestering me about this, but I don't have as much confidence in my ability as he seems to). As much as school is a big part of my life, so is my artistic side, and I have really neglected that lately. It is crying out for attention, yet I continue to ignore it. Dan put the idea of podcasting into my head, which now seems rather enticing. But the likelihood of this happening is fairly slim.

So, I will pack Mademoiselle Artistique (she prefers if you say that in a French accent) into my trunk and head down to Starbucks to get some more reading done. This novel won't just read itself. If I stay at the library anymore, I fear I might pass out. Really, library is just a fancy name for nap-hall. There was nap-time in preschool and now, it seems necessary once again.

If only cleaning a life could be as quick and fulfilling as cleaning a room. Unfortunately, there seems to be way too much floor underneath the bed, I can't seem to get the broom to reach.

The Dutch are taking over

2006-11-20T21:29:00.000-04:00

So, funny story: First of all, to get the connection straight, meet my boyfriend Dan:

And this is his roommate Matty:

For the sake of ridiculous pictures, this is their friend Igor. But Igor isn't a critical link in the chain of my funny story:

Surprisingly to all of us, Matty has got an actual girl to like him, despite his ridiculously hairy chest. Her name is Sarah and she is Fantastic:

Everyone has been really intrigued by her last name, and one Wing Night too many resulted in coming up with a fairly interesting nickname for Fantastic Sarah. When I found out the Dutch heritage of said last name, I made a little giggle to myself, and explained how I had a Dutch friend in high school we used to tease. I almost felt like asking "you wouldn't know Stephanie, would you?" but then I realized how stupid that would sound. Its not like every Dutch person knows every other Dutch person.

Tonight, as Sarah and I were discussing Paul's description of women and marriage in the bible, she said "I should call up Eva. She'd know." The first thing I thought was - Is there an Eva in EVERY Dutch family? Then I realized that none of her siblings were named Eva. "Who's Eva?" I asked. "My cousin". "What's her last name?" I asked?

This girl I've been hanging out with for weeks, this girl who had me over to her house to watch and Grey's Anatomy and CSI, this same girl who cuts open dead people in school is our Stephanie's cousin.

Its a small world.

Free Hugs

2006-11-03T16:11:00.000-04:00

Well, it was Jocelyn who brought to my attention the Free Hugs Movement a while ago. I watched the movie, and I started to cry. What is so incredible about this is that it makes us stop from our busy busy days and remember the beauty of hugs. There is something we forget when we start to become adults, and that is the ability to really truly hug. Just think back to those sometimes wonderful and sometimes not-quite-so-wonderful teenage years. At least personally, I used to hug so much more than I do now. And the hugs were so much more sincere. Why is that? There are some really memorable hugs and huggers in my lifetime. Bryn, you certainly are at the top of my list. Mike, you're there too. There is just something so wonderful about the feeling of arms wrapping around you, wrapping your arms around someone else, that is so pure.

On Monday, Oprah flew 'Juan Mann' to America so that she could get one of his famous hugs in front of 22 million viewers.

What is it that makes this a world wide phenomenon? Why is it that this was on Oprah and 22 million people watched? Why is it that the original YouTube video brings so many people to tears? It is because we as a society are in desperate need of a hug. We are a world full of stories who just need to be held and cherished. It is a touching story because for once, our media isn't consumed with people looking out for themselves, loving only themselves. Here is One Man trying to reach out to individual people. All the self love in the world will never be as fulfilling as a simple, sincere hug.

Watch the YouTube video, even if you have watched it before. Watch it all the way through.

Hug somebody today. Don't do it because it's the current 'it' thing to do. Don't to it because you need it. Do it because we all need it. Free Hugs. And I promise, the next time I see you, you'll get such a big, loving, sincere hug. Promise.

Code Name: Jack O'Lantern

2006-11-02T16:00:00.000-04:00

Two days before Halloween, I asked for help on deciding on a costume. Although I didn't take anyone's advice (although Bryn's was my ultimate favorite, and we couldn't go with MJ's suggestion because Matt doesn't seem to have his shiny pants), I did end up dressing up for Halloween with my other half. This is how it came about. Tune in later to see the pictures from the actual night).

Sorry about the shoddy camera work. If this doesn't make you go seasick, nothing will. (CLICK IMAGE TO WATCH). I had a really hard time getting the video on this site, so its in Windows Media format. Sorry, that was the best I could do.

click here to download

Barista Laura

2006-11-01T21:38:00.000-04:00

I now count myself as one of the employed. Tonight I walked into the new Starbucks on Queen and Spring Garden to pick up my coffee and tea passports, in which I am encouraged to try as many Starbucks drinks as I can stomach. Empire Theaters never did that. $3.00 off over priced combos doesn't serve as much of an incentive to buy lots of theater food, (not that you would want to anyway). But with Starbucks, I get STAMPS! It actually is like a real passport. I should put Adam's picture at the front of it and try to board a plane with my Starbucks passports. Maybe this new experience of trying all the coffee and tea that Starbucks has to offer will serve as a new blogging thread! I can blog about my initial impressions of each drink. That sounds mildly exciting.

Matty expressed a certain amount of animosity towards the Starbucks brand. Although he admitted that they served good coffee, according to him, in Europe Starbucks is as American (that means bad) as McDonalds (ouch!). I, on the other hand, really enjoy Starbucks. They have thoroughly sucked me in to the entire experience, and I love it. Now, I don't go so far as spending eight hours a day there like some people I know, but I enjoy the drinks they serve and the environment. The only way I could make it better would be to make the coffee fair-trade. Now, I am part of the experience!

**EDIT** I may be wrong on the fair-trade bit. As I read, it seems like they are at least partially free-trade. Yay Starbucks!!

When I Fall...

2006-10-31T00:32:00.000-04:00

Nine-point-eight straight down, I can't stop my knees...

My style of blog writing has changed dramatically since I first started this blog. It went from emotional writing to posting songs to religiosity to poetry to pictures to philosophical musings to insignificant babble to updates on my day.

Can't look below me or something might throw me...

Lately I have been all about snapshots of the happy times in my life and brief expressions of the upcoming excitement in my life. It has come to this because this is how I want people to see me. Honesty is overrated in the blogging world. In fact, you can invent a personality online. No one needs to know if its true or not, if the smiling faces are just an early Halloween mask. Even closest friends and family can't tell. It sounds like Laura, it looks like Laura, it must be Laura.

Look straight in the mirror, watch it come clearer...

This is not to say that I've been lying. The smiles have been and are real. The good times have happened, and they are continuing to go on. The internet is a strange vortex of information that sucks everything into it and never lets it out. What I write here will be accessible years to come. When I become Prime Minister, cheap journalists will reach back into the Internet Archives to retrieve what I said on October 30, 2006. And what did I say? What do I say? What do I write when what I say makes people believe they know my innermost thoughts? How do I portray who I am through a few words and snapshots?

Curse at the windstorms that October brings...

What do I have to say to be worthy? What is it I have to write to be respected and loved and taken seriously? What do I have to write to stop being a disappointment? I can't stop assumptions people will have. I can't help it if someone looks at a snapshot from my life and jumps to conclusions. This is why my blog has become somewhat vague.

I wish I could step from this
scaffold onto soft green pastures shopping malls or bed with my family
and my pastor and my grandfather who's dead...

I want to be known for my smile. I want to be remembered for the laughs.

I wish could fly

From this building, From this wall...

What would I do if I could fly? Where would I go? Would I escape this?

The painting's creating, and I'm just erasing. A crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece....

I'm not four years old anymore. I don't have the pigtails or the innocence. I don't play with dolls or preach to teddy bears. I am not a six year old girl anymore. I don't have the mushroom cut or the buck teeth that were just too darn adorable. I do not wear underwear that corresponds to the days of the week anymore. I am twenty. I am twenty. I am twenty and yet still a child? Who am I? Do I know yet? Do I have the choice? Am I free to take responsibility, am I free to be Laura?

They're frightened of jumping in case they survive...

I don't want to write about the elephant in the room. The beauty and tears and the sweat and the pain are sitting in some pit waiting to be told in a story. Will I tell it? Will it be adopted? Why can I not tell the story I am yearning to tell? Who do you want me to be? Tell me and I will invent someone that you can be happy with. You can come and read about her every day. She'll be happy. She'll have wonderful relationships. She'll talk about the things you want her to so that you can believe that she is really and truly who she says she is. Do you believe her? Will you believe her? Will you stop assuming?

And if I should try
Would you catch me
If I fall?

What are the words I need to say for you to believe that I am she? What pictures do I need to post? What stories do you want me to tell? When will love finally mean respect and support and trust and belief. I need to be believed in. Because without being believed in, I become just a fictional girl whose story is told on some fictitious blog. Believe in me. This is me; Halloween costumes removed. This is me, naked and aching and ever so tired.

When I Fall...

HELP!!!

2006-10-26T15:59:00.000-03:00

Its Thursday, and on Saturday night, there is a Halloween Party at Dan and Matty's place (if you're in Halifax, get in touch, I'd love for you to come!) Since I have been delegated to do most of the planning for this thing, I can promise that it is going to be one Spook-a-licious Shindig, complete with Halloween pingpong apparently.

The problem is - I don't have a Halloween costume!! I have to wear a Halloween costume because I could dress silly every day of the year, but on Halloween I have an excuse! Granted, I still have the dress that has seen me through at least two or three past Halloweens (including my grade twelve year, the last time I went Trick-or-Treating.) Although dressing as an '80s Prom Queen' has served me well, all the way up to the last time I dressed up in first year university, I think it is slightly redundant, and so I need a new idea. Remember, I only have two days to figure it out.

So, although it may seem like a cheap way to up my comments, if you read this, please give ANY ideas for Halloween costumes! (And for bonus points, think of a costume that can be 'coupled' since I think I am in charge of thinking of something for Dan too!)

"I'm bloggerific!" she said

2006-10-19T00:18:00.000-03:00

Well, I just finished my final assignment/essay that is due this crazy week that Satan built. Seriously, I had at least one major thing due each day this week. It is 11:15 pm and I can claim that I made it through this week alive. I just need to make it to French class tomorrow to hand in this composition at 1:00 and then I'm on the weekend stretch. The weird thing for me is knowing what to do with myself right about now. Needless to say, I am exhausted. The past two nights I have been awake since 3am working, and this morning I woke up earlier than usual so that I could meet Dan at his apartment before he left for work (I don't have my inkless printer hooked up, mainly because it is inkless, so I just use Dan's). I should just have my own key to his apartment I think. Anyway, Murphy seemed to have it out for me this morning as I realized after I got to Dan's house that I had e*mailed myself the wrong paper that needed to be printed. Instead of sending the paper, I sent the oral presentation that was prepared for another class today. I kept my wits about me until the presentation (which apparently went really well!) was over, and then I crashed. I think I lost everything that was remotely intelligent in me during my final class of the day, which I passively stared my way through. But its all done now. And I can't believe it is almost midnight. I am not used to going to bed this early anymore.

In my last post, I mentioned that I was looking forward to the football game between Mount Allison (who WON their game two weekends ago against StFX!!!!) and Saint Mary's that was meant to occur last Friday night. Unfortunately the Norwalk virus (Norwalk virus??... and it isn't just Mount A anymore...) hit campus, forcing the university to close and extracurricular activities, including Friday Night's football game to be canceled. This mean the highlight of my weekend became Dan and Matthew's Ping Pong Palooza party, where I engaged in making much-to-strong-for-everyone-but-Matty jello shots (or "jelly shooters" in Welsh), combining all sorts of deserts to make a super-delicious-and-not-at-all-nutritious blended ice cream drink, and losing at Ping Pong to someone who shares my name. All in all, the huge, ugly, in-the-way ping pong table seemed to be of some use after all.

So, for your viewing pleasure, and for that purpose only, here are the atrocious six pictures that were taken with my camera during the night.

Watching people try to do the solid jello shots from the iddy-biddy plastic communion cups really was hilarious. Somehow the women were quite efficient at the entire process, but the guys ended up spooning it. (One distinction of note was that one of the guys was as good at using his tongue as the girls, but I can't remember if it was Cole or Igor.)

Notice that Kennedy came to spread his love and the Norwalk virus.

We L-named Brunettes need to stick together to find a cure for the species known only as the "DAN" who preys on such innocents.

In which we show our best "Seeing Matty's incredibly hairy chest" faces.

Alright littlings. Its time I hit the hay, for the sake of my health. I have this weird, unknown (only because I haven't gone to a doctor about it) eye condition that seemes to flair up when I don't get enough sleep of when I am stressed. Right about now its about swollen shut (what a lovely image, eh? For those with a weak stomach: I'm exaggerating). I think my body is telling me to get off the computer and go to bed. Alright body, you win.

Saint Halifax Sea Moose

2006-10-13T05:29:00.000-03:00

Apparently I have a hard time calming down and getting to sleep at night. I just finally basically finished unpacking after living in Halifax already a month and a half - my room looks decently livable and hopefully I can finish it all by tomorrow. There will be a few big
plastic boxes that I moved in sitting in the middle of the floor that have nowhere to go for the time being, but at least it looks livable and homey. I now only need to figure out how I will arrange my frames with my posters on the wall, and fix the broken framed picture that fell when I first moved.

On Wednesday as I was finishing up a short essay due that afternoon, Keltie called to invite me to a Mooseheads hockey game that night. She got cheap tickets, so Matty and I (Dan was sick and had other plans) doubled with Keltie and Charles. It was a wonderful game. I was sure that the Mooseheads would destroy their opponents, the Saint John Sea Dogs, as their most recent meeting was a shut out. The first period looked like it would go that way; Halifax got two goals and made some wonderful saves. Saint John turned it around however, and the score was tied 4-4 after three periods had passed. After five minutes of overtime there had been no goals scored. The match came down to a shootout in which Saint John came out one shot ahead of Halifax. Luckily, I could still claim some pride from the win, even though I was rooting for Halifax.

The game was spectacular and so exciting, and it was so much fun to be out with Keltie and Charles and Matty.

Next up: MtA football game at SMU tonight!

Now maybe will I go to bed?

Giving Thanks

2006-10-10T01:48:00.000-03:00

Happy Thanksgiving! I am back to my cute little rodent infested Halifax apartment after a Thanksgiving weekend back home. Every family has quirks, but it is wonderful spending time with the people I love.

I meant to do schoolwork this weekend. I also meant to get a bunch of pictures from this weekend. Neither of these seemed to happen. Even though things have been so great since coming to Halifax, I haven't even got one snapshot of Dan and I or of Matty or of my roommates or of my cute little apartment. I was going to get the pictures this weekend during the thousands of turkey dinners and the family outings and the evenings cuddles with my snookums. Alas, the camera only came out once when we had our annual Brace family Thanksgiving Dinner- the one time a year when the greatest majority of our family comes together within one household. Although this even was still lacking some members of the family, we figured it was time for a long overdue group photo.

Butt Out!

2006-09-29T13:22:00.000-03:00

I am finishing week four of my Living in Halifax Adventure and it really has been great. I am feeling happy, really and truly happy, and it is incredible. School is busy and I've been working hard, but I am so glad I am here. I like being a Haligonian!

... except for one thing: People in Halifax smoke like chimneys. I have never experienced this problem before. Mount Allison didn't have a huge population of smoking students (or so it seemed). Everywhere I have lived in New Brunswick, I have been able to avoid the places where people light up. But in Halifax, they smoke EVERYWHERE! especially the sidewalks. What makes people think that they should smoke in public areas like this outside of their workplaces? No matter which direction I walk to school, I am inevitably going to pass quite a few people who are sharing their lovely habit with me. Yesterday, I somehow missed the smoking rush, yet even with no one standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital, there was still a cloud of second hand smoke giving me my daily dose of carcinogens.

I have never felt the need to condemn people based on their bad habits. Yes, if you smoke, its your choice. But if I had the choice, I would chose NOT to inhale your second hand smoke. So please stop smoking around other people! Please lock yourself in a garage where no one will ever have to deal with the effects of your nasty habit. Or at least, keep off the sidewalks!

How I Sit Through Lengthy Graduation ceremonies.

2006-06-25T21:38:00.000-03:00

This past week has been a pretty important one in the life of my family, and especially in the life of my sister. Amy's prom was on Wednesday and she graduated on Friday night. It is pretty surreal that she will be going to university next year. At least its not Molly yet, but for those of you who haven't seen her in a while, she just finished fifth grade and will be entering middle school in the fall, so she has graduated in her own little way as well.

I figured that vlogging would be a perfect way to give myself something to do during Amy's graduation ceremony. I don't really like graduation ceremonies because I find them long and drawn out, and I could think of millions of ways that these ceremonies could be shortened - like by raising the passing grade to an 85% or something. Yup. That would do it.

To all my faithful vlog readers (ahem), it is long past due since I have vlogged. I have a hard time finding time to edit in the summer what with my work schedule and spending time with my family. But if you are craving a little Laura time, you should check out my blog. I try to update it as much as possible. I was up to one entry a weekday a little while ago, but I have a few things to do at work now, and so that might start to become less often. Anyway, check it out when you're needing some Laura-Love.

I took some pictures of Amy during her grad and prom. A few of them are on the video. A few others need to be developed. I might show some off in the future.
Warning: Vid takes a few minutes to watch. It was important to me to keep all of this in it though, so please enjoy.

quality="high" width="320" height="256" name="movie" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer">

Watch the .wmv file

Heat Vision and Jack

2006-06-12T12:48:00.000-03:00

Okay, so this is not a vlog that I made, clearly, but it was a pilot program that Fox brushed over. I think you'll enjoy. I've heard it called The Greatest Television Show Not to Air. I think it is pretty darn awesome, what do YOU think?

I have been doing some renovations to my Xanga, and hope to soon do some of the same to my Blogger here. Basically, I am making a distinction between the two, making one distinctly a blog, and the other a vlog. As soon as I find the time to get around to figuring it out, I should even have easy access to click back and forth between my sites.

For he's a Jolly Good Fellow

2006-05-31T12:39:00.000-03:00

Due to a slight oversight on my last posted vlog, I failed to say a little blurb about Gregory "Dub" Wallace like I did with MJ, Carolyn, and Dan.

So, without further ado, and with many apologies, I will attempt to redeem myself:

Before I even met Dub, I had heard all about him, including a story about sleeping in jeans. I also had in my head an image of who this Dub fellow was from a picture of him giving the camera the middle finger (if I remember correctly) that my boyfriend had hanging on his wall. These were my first impressions, even before I had met the guy.

But I have since come to know Dub as one of the most romantic guys I have ever met. No one will ever top the "Will you McMarry me?" proposal to MJ that happened in the lovely McDonald's in Halifax. Seriously Dub, you certainly keep the bar high for my expectations for Dan!

Since Dub and MJ have moved, I have not had anymore nights spent in the Acadia bar, or eating Peel Pub wings which ended up causing food poisoning. Dub, you should move back - so what if Alberta pays more? Nothing is more fun than getting sick off of pub food with friends!

Too Bad I'm a Loser....

2006-05-22T10:51:00.000-03:00

There is a rumour going around that I have lost my mind. Or, maybe it is just me who is saying that. Either way, my sanity has been questioned a few times since coming home for the summer (or at least more than usual!) This might just be the icing on the cake, and I blame it on the abundance of work during a ‘long weekend’.

How much work is too much work? It isn’t too much if the money is there, is it? That’s one opinion. But money might not be as important as health. This morning, after waking up at quarter to five, I manage to faint and fall in the shower. Luckily I turned off the water right before I went out completely, and I wasn’t in the tub. Instead, I hit my head against the plastic-like shower walls, which give a little. Otherwise, it could have been bad news, especially since I was home alone. I’m feeling slightly better, but the light-headedness is still present, along with the headache from hitting my head when I fell.

Unfortunately, I made this movie before I hit my head. There is no excuse for my behaviour!

Watch the Video

(My plan for the weekend, before I was offered to work overtime for double pay, was to go down to Halifax so I could see MJ and Dub who travelled from Alberta, along with Carolyn who is leaving soon. I was really looking forward to going, but fortunately or unfortunately, I’ve been working long hours for good money and poor health instead.)

Why I despise video games

2006-05-11T14:26:00.000-03:00

I have expressed my dislike for games before. Truthfully, I don't have so much of a problem with it, especially because I know that people who mean a lot to me seem to like it. And I know the advantages of gaming - it brings friends together, it increases dextrousness and hand-eye coordination no doubt, and it increases computer literacy and apparently makes you smarter (I heard that one once.) It doesn't seem too harmful in moderation.

I also understand the disadvantages.

Today, as I logged onto my GoogleHomepage, I happened to click on one of the news links. I was appalled and re-subscribed to my hatred of video games.

Why are women degraded everywhere? On television, in the movies, on music videos, in music, in nuclear power plants! I was watching a vlog just yesterday on how even the vloggosphere is turning into a place where only the hot naked women are appreciated. Everything, everywhere, women are goggled at like fresh meat. And you don't realize it so much as when you work in an industry that is swarming with men. I believe that not all men are equal, but I tend to forget that some men aren't just talking to me because I have a great personality and a good mind.

There's an argument that women are just as bad, and perhaps they are - but the reason for this is because they are sick of being talked about like a toy, and as an act of rebellion, they are doing it right back. And honestly, when I meet a guy, the last thing I think about is sex or how luscious his body is.

This makes me angry.

Yer Late!

2006-05-10T20:24:00.000-03:00

So, you're right - I STILL haven't vlogged! (on this site anyway!)

What was that?! You should check out Dan and Laura's site? Well, if you insist!

Truthfully, I would totally vlog for my site too, if I had the time. This has been like one of my only opportunities online at home (I can't edit video at work, of course!) I am having some ideas though.

So, as you wait for me to finally get my act together and vlog, go check out what trouble Dan and I have been getting into!

(I also updated my Xanga!)

Courtesy of Zits

2006-05-03T15:48:00.000-03:00

(click on picture to enlarge)

Well, this is my problem... I've been having a really hard time doing anything blog/vlog worthy. Actually, that's not entirely true. My life has been extremely full these past few days, and I have been full of emotion, but it isn't the right type of emotion to publicize. I have even found the need to write over the past few weeks, and I have done a little bit of that, and hope to do more - but it just isn't blog writing.

As I have been exploring the world of video blogging recently, I've noticed how different my life is videotaped from my written life. I wish I could sit down and write a blog like Matty writes blogs, or like Dan used to. They write blogs that not only comment on the situation of the world, but that make you laugh as you read it! I am not that funny of a person. And I don't feel comfortable commenting on public events because I worry that I will be seen ignorant. I also don't feel much of a desire to write that way. Maybe it just isn't my style (although I don't know quite what my style is, being "style-less" and all.)

Vlogs are created and viewed in the same nature, especially for someone like me who is not as competent in that form of media as other vloggers might be. For me, a vlog should be interesting, and show the fun side of me. I was thinking about what Michael Tyas said in one of his vlogs, when he was commenting that no one who knows him in the vlogosphere knows his bummed out side because that's not the Michael that he vlogs about (pardon the paraphrase). And I think quite a few vloggers would be in this boat. As much as express and demonstrate emotion through some of my blog writing, I much prefer to vlog when I have something interesting and at least somewhat funny or happy to record. Lately however, I haven't found that opportunity. My one happy-fun-vlog tale was going to be about my new glasses, but that fell through, and now they just become another reason for me to be ticked off and stressed.

Maybe I should just sit down and force myself to vlog. I would do the same thing with blogging, but I suppose that is what I am doing right now! I don't know. I still don't think I can talk to a camera until I get out of this slump that I find myself in now, and that might take a while.

PS - I don't normally post the same thing in both my Xanga and my Blogspot. This is an exception. You should still try to check out both from time to time!

Laura's Super Fantabulous Chocolate Chip Cookies

2006-04-26T21:44:00.000-03:00

I made this vlog on Sunday, April 23rd, but haven't had the chance to get to editing it (or really doing much else on this computer for that matter) because Amy, my sister has been spending most of the evenings on the machine. I don't have too much of a issue with this, because it is mostly homework that she has been working on, which is certainly acceptable.

Another reason why I have been away from the computer lately is that I started my summer job on Monday (Monday and Tuesday were a chance for me to be re-trained) at Point Lepreau Nuclear Generating Station. Now, I worked this same position last summer as well, and so I am have not forgotten much from then, so I hopped right back today ready to go, and was actually somewhat busy. But, it is basically an hour drive to and from work in the morning, which means I have to leave the house by seven at the latest, and I don't normally get home until at least five. This makes for long days and early mornings. This should mean that I get to bed in good time at night so that I am not too tired to drive in the morning. So, I have little time to myself now that work is here. This means less vlogging, and less time to edit videos.

I'm sure you'll be hearing more about my Point Lepreau Nuclear Power Plant escapades in the near future, if only in blog form.

I cannot wait until I have my computer here from Sackville, if only because it is in need of a major reformatting. But my vlogging is also putting a lot of strain on the home computer. We have had it for about six years, and the video is filling up the C drive fairly rapidly. I'll need to burn them on some discs soon.

I have a few (two) ideas for future vlogs which I would love to get to sometime soon, but I don't know if I have the time to devote to it. One of them may just end up being an idea for a blog I guess, I just want to explore the issue, and I have no plans for images to go along with them. Maybe sometime this summer I'll get around to the big vlog idea I have. We'll see.

Anyway, on Sunday night, I had time to spare... This might have been the last time for the rest of the summer that I'll be in that boat, but you're definitely welcome to take a peek at my Sunday night:

Watch with Windows Media

Whats that? Another one?

2006-04-23T20:16:00.001-03:00

For those of you who have ejoyed coming to my site to check out the vlogs, and to those of you who like checking out Dan's vlog a whole lot (because his are even better than my lousy vlogs)...

There is a NEW VLOG in the vloggosphere for you to check out!

That's right! It's THE ADVENTURES OF DAN AND LAURA and it has a real easy site name to remember... just http://lauradan.blogspot.com. That's right, just lauradan.

You can even subscribe to it!

Yesterday's Vlog Part 2

2006-04-22T12:08:00.000-03:00

I started off yesterday's vlog with the explanation that since getting home for the summer, my days have not gotten any more relaxing, but perhaps slightly busier. This would be why I made a Part 1 and a Part 2 of my vlogs! So, here is Part 2!

When I got home yesterday afternoon after all the creepy Saint John sexual harassment, I took my other sister out for supper before her swimming lessons. She had wanted to try 'vlogging' too, so we decided to make one together! Here it is!...

Watch on Windows Media

Today's Vlog Part 1

2006-04-22T00:57:00.000-03:00

**EDIT** Audio Fixed! But now it is just Windows Media Player available. Maybe later I'll add the flash version.

Well, today, I took quite a lot of video. It seemed to be that type of vlogging day. But, it worked out that the first half of the video and the second half didn't jive and so I made TWO (or am in the process of making two!)

And this is PART ONE!

BIG NEWS today though! It hopefully will solve a lot of my most recent problems! (See my vlog for the BIG NEWS).

Watch the Video

"Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!"

2006-04-16T23:36:00.000-03:00

Happy Easter!

Well, it has been a busy Easter weekend, but a really special weekend as well. My little sister Molly got baptized today. I thought this would be an excellent beginning to the "Conversation God" challenge that Anthony created for his last Video Blog Week submition. What better way to start off my addition to the conversation with a video of one of the major symbols that is central to Christianity.

I also think that this is an interesting addition to my blog because when I was talking to some people about baptism, it seemed odd that a ten year old girl was getting baptized. "Isn't that a little old?" someone asked me. Some people only know about infant baptism, but there is also believers baptism. Here in this video is an incredible peak on one beautiful individual standing before her family and church and expressing her death and rebirth in Christ.

So, excuse the shaky hands and the brutal video quality that my digital point and shoot offers. I hope you can look past all of that.

Happy Easter.

Watch on Windows Media Player

(Song on video is How Deep The Father's Love by Joy Williams.)

(PS. Sorry, I tried desperately to convert this to anything other than .wmv. Unfortunately, this is the best I can do!)

Technorati Tag: conversationGod

Great Haligonian Smoothies

2006-04-14T16:34:00.000-03:00

This vlog was filmed a few days ago, and has been on Dan's vlog since. Slightly different edits, though this time!

And Eric, Dan and I do a way better vlog than you and Dan! Don't kid yourself!

Watch with Quicktime

Passing Time

2006-04-13T14:50:00.000-03:00

So, I'm sitting here trying to pass the time, listening to Tracy Chapman on my iPod and drinking hot chocolate. Its so hard to see this white box in front of me screaming for my fingers to add letters so that it says something interesting. But what does it matter if I add anything to this white void? I have a video to add, but I'm on the wrong computer for that right now. Video blogs are interesting, aren't they? They don't require any effort on the part of the viewer. As long as the video creators can entertain, the work stops there. But it takes effort to read the words I add to this blank space.

Once read however, it doesn't take any effort to assume.

I have been feeling so discouraged when it comes to writing lately. A professor told me I had no style. I have people who read what I write and tell me that it is too long. I have people who read what I write and give me hell about who or what is between the lines of each sentence I spell out.

Someday, I hope I can sit down and let my fingers dance along the keyboard so that somehow a story will come out that everyone will want to read. But, I fear that the psychosis that has given me my story will also be the psychosis that keeps me silent. It isn't until I sit with a pen in my hand or a blank screen and keyboard that I feel like I am finally looking into the clearest mirror ever. Everything else somehow clouds this person I know. Am I the girl in the photographs or the videos? I am always so surprised when I see myself in those mediums because I don't recognize the person there. I don't know what image I would recognize, maybe I don't even know the image of myself? I am an idea though. But the idea is never thought through. It is never realized.

I want to have memories. I was rereading a short story from my Canadian Literature class while preparing for my upcoming exam. It was about a writer who immigrated from India to Canada and wrote about his life in India more often than his life in Canada. The short story I was reading showed his parents commenting on his writing and being somewhat disappointed that it didn't speak more to his life in Canada. The father theorized however that it takes 10 years to really separate oneself from memory so much that you can write about it clearly. 10 years. That's half of my life. The past ten years are therefore still fraught with emotions so that I cannot quite understand them or their impact on my life. I have no memories I can write about, no memories I can turn into a story.

What would it take for you to enjoy what I say? Who likes literature anymore anyway? I am a part of such an attention deficit society that I even find the videos annoying and boring at times. Entertain me! Entertain me! I understand your point of view; I don't even like what I have to say.

But I'm just passing time, remember.

"They Say that I Can Move the Mountains"

2006-04-10T11:59:00.000-03:00

(click on image to enlarge)

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, the day which Christians celebrate the day Jesus entered into Jerusalem on a donkey to crowds who laid their coats and palm branches on the ground in for the donkey to tread on. Hosana means "save now".

Most of the crowd spread their coats on the road ahead of Jesus, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. He was in the center of the procession, and the crowds all around him were shouting,
"Praise God for the Son of David!
Bless the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Praise God in highest heaven!"

Matthew 21:8-9

For as long as I can remember, the churches I have attended have had Palm branches available on the Sunday before Easter. Children usually did a procession into the church waving the green, leafy plants. Even the adults would get a branch.

But there was always a difference between the adults holding palm branches, and the children who held them. Kids can make anything fun, including pieces of tree. And so, they play with the palm branches in church. They wave them around. They use them to dance. They sing Hosana! Hosana! Loudly, as if they were really a part of the celebrations when Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey.

The adults on the other hand, they try to quiet and calm down the children. The adults hold their branches at a modest level, not making a big deal about the whole situation. They are dignified and reverent. That's what church is all about, right?

They say that I can move the mountains
And send them falling to the sea
They say that I can walk on water
If I would follow and believe
With Faith Like a Child

"Like a Child", Jars of Clay

Maybe there is something we can learn from these children. Maybe we shouldn't be so dignified by holding our palm branches at our side. Maybe we should dance and sing and shout and wave or palms!

The he said, "I assure you, unless you turn from your sins and become as little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven."

Matthew 18:3-4

Please Stay tuned!

2006-04-07T13:24:00.000-03:00

Wow guys! Thanks for all the comments! Unfortunately, due to technical difficulties, there will be no more Video Bogging Week Vlogs ! But eventually more videos will ago up! So Stay tuned! Exams starting soon!

MtA's Last Class Bash

2006-04-05T00:56:00.000-03:00

Watch on Windows Media

Technorati Tag: videobloggingweek2006.

Okay, it is SLIGHTLY late, I'll admit! It's been a fairly busy day, and I didn't even go out tonight with my roommates! I did spend time with them at the house until about 11:00pm though, and then got to editing this thing. It's a little long, but bite me! :) I like it!

Plus, she's a little dangerous today. I actually took the camera out and did something different than the talking head routine (which was also dangerous if only for the fact that I had never vlogged before!) So, here is vlog attempt two! Thank you for everyone who commented on attempt one! It really encouraged me to do this again! And I am kind of enjoying it!

For those who don't understand why I am trying to be dangerous, it is the theme of this year's Video Blogging Week; the challenge which challenged me to vlog in the first place!

Also, check out this REALLY GREAT VLOG!!!

Wanderlust

2006-04-04T14:09:00.000-03:00

Sunday night, a night which was spent writing an exam while giving up my chance to go to the Junos, also was an opportunity for me to contemplate the act of writing. My philosophy prof gave us a "take home" exam which was to be completed and passed in online, and it required writing three essays. When you spend your night saturated in essay writing about philosophy, a mind is bound to wander. And wander mine did.

We had choices on the exam, but the fact of the matter was, no doubt at least fifty percent of the class were writing the same essay question that I was. This was interesting to me, because no doubt, we would all write something different. And then I though that even if I had sat down to write the essays at a different time, it would come out very differently than the essay that I was writing then. And that's what is interesting about writing. With simply 26 letters forming our English language, we form so many different words which in turn form so many different sentences and paragraphs and full works. Post Modernism claims that everything that can be done, has already been done. And maybe everything is a copy of everything else. But what I write, no one else will ever write that. The forming of my words are unlike anyone else's.

The ab-TH-urdity of Vlogging

2006-04-03T12:31:00.000-03:00

Watch the video

videobloggingweek2006

How is this for a first attempt? I have never ever taken video with my camera before, I have never ever edited video, and I have never ever sat in front of a camera and talked to it for this long (except for one formal interview once for a promotional video someone was doing).

What is the deal with this? I really don't even understand vlogging yet. But you can't be critical until you try, right?

Red

2006-03-17T00:03:00.000-04:00

Directional Confessional

2006-03-15T14:48:00.000-04:00

Writing is an interesting tool.

Sometimes I find myself sitting down at a computer, and picking up a story or two which I have begun in the past. Fiction is the only way I know how to enter back into the fairy tale world that helped me escape from all my childhood perils. I could be a princess or a detective or a pioneer or a mermaid. Innocence soon loses its naivete, and it became easier and easier to see through the happily ever afters.

Other times, writing is used to keep up to date through e*mails or blog entries. The more interesting these blurbs are, the better. Hyperbole is used and only certain key points are emphasized. It must be short and sweet, or it will be too long for people to care enough to read. Our internet and television generation have such a dumbed down attention span that it no longer matters what is written, as long as it is interesting and short.

Similar to the e*mail and blog outcomes of writing is the letter. This can be hand written or typed, sent through the snail mail or electronically, and usually an attempt is made to be persuasive. Letters are edited much more carefully than the life updates. Content is closely monitored so that the point comes across, so that a specific side is heard.

Where is the truth? Writing used to be so much more personal to me. Whether it was abstract or simply an outlet, I used to pour out my heart. Maybe this could have been taken as being overly emotional, an emo, angsty teenager searching for the meaning of life. But growing up doesn't seem to equal finding meaning. Does becoming an adult mean finally finding our way after being lost for so long? Everyone still seems to be seeking. That part of us just doesn't seem important anymore. We don't write about it anymore. And instead, we give a damn about how short and sweet and entertaining we are.

I do not know when I became lost. I do not know when I lost the ability to dream and to wish. I do not know when I stopped being a princess with the world at my fingertips. I do not know who I am now. I just see act after act, intermingled between this agonizing search process. I end up exhausted. I stand here, not knowing where to turn next.

To you, I am a fictional tale.
To you, I am a quick and entertaining.
To you, I am a persuasive letter that you read without knowing the author.

To me, I seem to have lost all the words.

BAM!

2006-03-08T11:18:00.000-04:00

In response to my blog on The Bachelor, I just want to relate a hardy "I told you so"!

Maybe This Would Have Helped...

2006-03-03T10:16:00.000-04:00

Losing Trust

2006-03-01T00:04:00.000-04:00

Last night was the final show of this season's The Bachelor. I must admit, I never watched more reality TV than I have this year. With five girls living in one house, you tend to sit down and watch whatever someone else has on the TV. So this season was my introduction to The Bachelor, and I only watched about two episodes in total (one full episode plus bits and pieces of others).

Last night, bachelor Travis, whose medical career was the only thing going for him, gave a ring to down home, kindergarten teacher cutie, Sarah, while California surfer hottie Moana went home heartbroken and embarrassed after spending weeks in Paris falling in love along with twenty-five other women - to the same man.

Episode six, second to last, Travis takes the three women to the most romantic places around the world and completes each date with an invitation to his hotel bed. After sleeping with three beautiful women, the bachelor complains about how difficult this whole ordeal is.

Although Travis did not officially propose to Sarah, as he gave her the ring on the chain; he is clearly intending for a further relationship. How, after spending weeks competing for the heart of one man, after he has given away so much of himself in such a short period, can she trust him? Around the same time that she first slept with him, so did two other women!

The Bachelor is all about competition and jealousy and heartbreak and a deterioration of trust. Reality TV doesn't just make mulch of entertainment, it makes a mulch of Love too. And we sit, and watch it, and love it.

Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all time

2006-02-24T15:57:00.000-04:00

Birthdays are a lot like roller coasters. You have huge expectations each time you step into the car; you want the excitement and the rush that the really big loop-the-loop Roller Coasters offer; you want the speed and the thrills. Expectations are huge.

Birthdays have all those same expectations. No other day do we expect all our cards to line up just right (except perhaps the day of our prom and our wedding). Every other day, we have Murphy's Law and sayings such as "Nobody ever said life is fair" floating around the back of our heads, smudging our outlook; but my birthday is "MY Day". It is all about me, when we celebrate the day I was born, and we eat my favorite kind of cake, we give birthday presents to me, ... Basically, not to mention all our selfishness, on our birthday, we have an innermost desire to feel extremely special by those who are special to us.

But every Roller Coaster is dangerous. There are safety harnesses which must be secure, there are operators who know when to start and stop the machine, there are warnings to keep those people with high blood pressure and weak hearts at bay, there are directions to keep hands and feet and other appendages in the ride at all times.

Birthdays have none of these safety harnesses accompanying them.

My birthday was just over a week ago, on a day which all other people despise! It seems that more people are alone on Valentine's day and the Valentine's-haters despise those who have a Valentine (even if their Valentine is miles away and they're alone too). Valentine's Day offers even higher expectations and attracts even weaker hearts.

I suggest that birthdays come mandatory with safety harnesses, warnings, operators, and directions.

Enjoy the ride!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

2006-02-13T17:40:00.000-04:00

Everything is alright.

2006-02-07T23:11:00.000-04:00

"I just want to warn you," Alicia told me as we walked to her birthday supper, "that you're going to cry on your birthday." Big tears. Twenty year old tears.

It's all going to be alright. Everything is alright. You're okay. Everything is going to be okay. Either God is a woman and she's talking to me, or the loudspeaker outside of Bridgestreet Cafe was blasting some strange self-help CD. I wonder who listens to that stuff. I wonder if that CD is in someone's stereo playing over and over every night, just so that the listener can be convinced by some electronic device that the world really isn't all that bad.

I wonder what went through each pedestrian's mind as they walked up and down Bridge Street, as the dim glow came from the closed storefront windows; Walking either to and from bars or pizza joints, expecting to drink away some repressed emotion or to eat away drunken heartbreak.

Everything is alright.

Twenty Year Old Tears.

Loudspeakers don't lie.

The Science of Art

2006-01-20T17:38:00.000-04:00

Art is Science made clear.

~Jean Cocteau

What is it that made me love science? I obviously had (have) a passion for the subject throughout the end of high school and the beginning of university, to the point where I still really enjoy learning about it. And yet, here I am now, an arts student. When I think back to Fogarty's class, or Beatty's class, or Gallant's class; when I think back to Astrophotography and taking pictures of nebulas and meteors hitting the moon; or Aventis and blended fish guts smelling up an unplugged fridge all summer; when I think back even to Wednesday's Anthropology class on genes and evolution, I am struck by this thrill of excitement! It certainly is not a desire to learn more math equations or name carbon bonds or understand formulas.

No, it was none of those things.

What I love about science is the intricacy of it all. To learn about science is to learn about how everything works together from the very smallest building blocks of our world, to the wonders of our universe!

http://www.scienceart.nl/Frames/HOMEpage.htm

http://hubblesite.org/newscenter/newsdesk/archive/releases/2006/01/

That's the great thing about it. Instead of pushing the science that I love aside, I have instead embraced it! That is what I fell in love with when I encountered my English and Philosophy classes. Art is taking the natural world, and looking at it in a way that isn't blinded with formulas and equations, but instead looking beyond that and finding beauty. I am not in any way denying our science around us. We are biological entities. But art is what lifts us above our biology. I believe that science unifies us with our humanity, but art attempts to connect us with the divine. Oh, how sublime.

This idea however presents me with a dilemma, one which I find myself at an impasse. If art really has this power to enlighten and evoke contemplation; if beauty is really something above our purely humanistic elements, then experiencing art should be much more of a sacred event than it is now. Instead, because of how easily art can be reproduced, we just glance over it. Anytime a photograph or a poem is added to my blog, I am further endorsing the mind set of our society to merely glance over to figure out what the quick and hard point is.

Maybe there isn't a point. Maybe art has no simple formulas. Maybe art is the language of the gods.

Success

2006-01-19T18:09:00.000-04:00

Old, stone staircase, what do you know
Of success?
You know the coming and going of seasons;
Summer, winter, autumn, and spring.
You feel the load of each freshman,
Stepping up to undertake the pressure.
You feel the steps of each graduate -
Walking out of one world and into another.

Oh, old stone staircase,
what do you know of success?
When I would rather sit on you
and weep,

Than walk one step further into this unknown place.

-picture taken behind the library at Mount Allison University.

Apples and Oranges

2006-01-08T19:12:00.000-04:00

I remember when I was just a wee girl (well, in middle school and high school), my dad used to tell me that someday, I'd be the type of girl that all the right guys would fall for. At the time, I felt ugly and lonely and would constantly wonder why I wasn't good enough to get a boyfriend. My dad told me that someday, the boys would notice the smart girl, who was beautiful to boot (I never felt beautiful, but Dad told me I was).

Now I stand, and look back with my 20/20 goggles, and realize that he was right. When Dan fell for me, it wasn't my looks that grabbed him. It wasn't my sexuality, or my flirtatiousness which caught his attention. No, it was when we started to talk about what was important to us; when I talked about my faith and my lifestyle, and who I was underneath my clothes, underneath my makeup, underneath my skin, and in my heart and mind.

So, to my sister and to the boys who are missing out, I give you this quote (I thank nc_martialartist for bringing the quote to my attention):

Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

I wish someone as beautiful as you could know that you're going to be so loved by someone. And don't feel bad about being lonely, but don't think that finding someone is the ultimate bliss either. You are beautiful. The bible speaks about Eve being the crown of creation, the thing that made it perfect. Some day, you will fell as beautiful as you are meant to feel. You are worthy to be loved for who you are, for everything you are.

I sometimes wish that we aren't always searching for constant reassurance. Sometimes we go above it, or find it in the wrong places if we can't get it how we want. But many times this desire just leads to pain. I wish no one had to go through the pain. I wish the difference between our emotions and our realities weren't like comparing apples and oranges.

Home

2006-01-06T15:44:00.000-04:00

Depth of Field

2005-12-22T00:30:00.000-04:00

Finding a gas pump in the middle of nowhere
Next to a bridge fallen from somewhere
Fueling my steps
My steps which take me from here to there
To the place where nowhere leads.
So give me my energy
To continue walking
Over sinking bridges
Which end abruptly.
Maybe I'll end up somewhere.

What You're Missing (or, What's Missing You)

2005-12-14T23:28:00.000-04:00

Dear Boyfriend,

While you're enjoying your two bedroom, four balconied penthouse near the beach, here is a little piece of home to remind you of what you're missing.

SNOW!!!

That 'good luck' that you sent to Molly really did her some good (I promise, I passed them along). Tonight she both played and sung beautifully. Since I was the only one home to watch her school Christmas concert, I brought the digital camera to get some pictures. Since you're missing Molly oh-so-much, we decided to make you feel as if you were sitting right beside me in the Lakefield Elementary School gym.

I am in complete awe in how all these grade four and five kids can play the violin so well! I got a prelude to a few of the Christmas pieces in the hospital last night when Molly played for Papa, but hearing the group of them playing is just beautiful.

A ukelale group came to play a few numbers (didn't compare to the violins of course!) and then, Molly came out once more with the choir. They sang beautifully, and such a wide assortment of Christmas pieces. I recorded 10 seconds of each Dona Nobis Pacem, one of my favorite songs to hum while wandering around the house alone. I managed to get some of rendition of 'Let it Snow' to send to Australia! Each song was beautiful, and many were harmonized or sung in round. You should have heard it! The choir sung at the Imperial Theatre here in Saint John sometime last week with choirs and orchestras from all around the area, and apparently it was a night of beautiful music. From what I heard tonight, I don't wonder why.

After the choir, I headed into the 'backstage' area to get Molly bundled up to walk home. (Seriously, a walk home here in Quispam is nothing like what you're getting used to in Australia, (other than the riots. We don't have to worry about our safety, just about how our extremities will react to frostbite.) It was then I suggested to Molly that we make sure you get to experience this night with us! She was thrilled with the idea. She also suggested that I take a picture of her and Emily, the friend which she is planning to make a scrapbook for! Emily recently gave her a Best Friends Charm bracelet that Molly was thrilled about, because it looks remarkably like the silver bracelet I wear around my wrist constantly. Behind Molly and Emily is the infamous Luke - the boy who tried so desperately to be Molly's boyfriend, and who in my opinion is pretty cute! (Molly put me up to saying that!)

Since we decided to have you see these pictures, we decided that I should be in a few of them. So, we took a lovely sister-picture just for you (and for me to have. You can never have enough sister-pictures).

We headed home, and just before curling up in the living room to start reading the second book in Madeline L'Engle's Time Chronicle, we decided to show you what Christmas looks like in our house (because you haven't seen it yet!). Remember, this is without my decorations on the tree yet!

Merry Christmas Dan! We all miss you here! Molly can't stop saying it, and I can't stop feeling it. Don't let the warmth of the sun make you forget about those who love you fifteen time zones away.

Love always,
Molly

And,
Your Girlfriend who loves you

"It's 3 AM I Must be Lonely"

2005-12-12T14:18:00.000-04:00

Question: What are normal people doing at three in the morning? Actually, what are normal people doing at three a.m. when they have a nine o'clock exam in the morning.

Not wanting to be out done by the norm, I was sleeping this morning at 3:00 a.m. however, I hadn't been sleeping for very long. I had quite a hard time falling asleep after studying and getting into bed at 12:30. I had Christmas carols running through my head incessantly. When I finally got rid of them it was Emminem running through my head, keeping me awake.

Finally I fell asleep. Finally.

Then, I heard a noise. I looked over at the clock. I read 3:00. I couldn't figure out what the noise was. It was coming from my computer. Still half asleep and groggy, I turned on the screen, and there was my Skype, going off. My moron boyfriend (I mean boyfriend who I love and miss!!) was calling me.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Hey! What were you doing?"

"?? SLEEPING!!!"

"Oh... What time is it there?"

I know it is hard to compute the fifteen hour time difference between him and I. But I was awake now. We might as well talk.

"Oh, I thought it was three o'clock in the afternoon. I just got home to Cassie's" he says. "You have your exam in the morning? Oh, well then you should go back to bed."

"Well, now that I'm awake...."

"Nope, go back to sleep!"

So, I crawl back into bed. Bring on the Christmas carols running through my head keeping me awake again... .... ....

Diagonal Crosswalks

2005-12-11T12:19:00.000-04:00

Despite Sackville pedestrians direct disrespect for vehicles, there is still one good reason to stand and wait for the pedestrian lights to signal WALK.

No Mount Allison student could survive in a big city. I'm surprised that many don't get run over first week out of university. We seem to forget that there is traffic, or run across the street anywhere at any given time. Lighted intersections are no different. If the cars have a red light and no one is about to turn right, then its fair game to cross, even if the walk lights say otherwise.

But, when the lights do say WALK, then you can walk in any direction. Including diagonal. All of the traffic is stopped for pedestrians in all directions.

Two days ago, Alicia asked me to meet her at Bridgestreet Cafe for coffee and lunch. I walked down to Bridgestreet and ordered a Hot Mint Chocolate and a broccoli and cheese quiche. As we sat inside this quaint little coffee shop, it started snowing. It has snowed already in Sackville this year, and once it stayed until morning, but by the time everyone woke to see it, the snow had pretty much melted. So here, out the huge picture window facing the Vogue theatre, were light snowflakes. After a few minutes, the streets and cars had a dusting of snow. And it felt like Christmas.

I wrapped my scarf around my neck and dug my hands into my mittens, and walked out into the snow. It had stopped by this point, but there was the new, crisp snow on the ground. As I walked through the park and along the path towards my house, I noticed the footprints. I always notice the footprints in the snow. My favorite part is stepping in a patch of snow where no one has ever stepped before. I'm making my own legacy through my footprint.

Along the path, there were three sets of footprints before mine. They were all walking in the same direction, probably together. They were walking in the same direction as me. It was not until I got to the end of the path that I came across a woman walking in the opposite direction. I wonder if she noticed.

That night, it snowed some more. I put electric Christmas candles in the window, and we turned on our outdoor Christmas lights. Through the street lights, it was evident that the snow was falling. It was not the blizzard-like conditions which were called for in Nova Scotia. But it was beautiful. The snow piled up, and we snuggled up into pyjamas with mugs of hot chocolate in our hands.

Now, the Christmas carols are playing, and the mug is still beside me.

On sitting in a coffee shop

2005-12-03T13:16:00.000-04:00

The sounds of chatter and prattle encircle the room. Each a story; telling a story, thinking a story, denying a story. They carry aromas which sift over everyone's head, floating and dancing like the aurora borealis. Dark and light roasts melding into one fragrance. To each her own blend of bitter and sweet to make up the taste in her mouth; the cup in her hands; the movements of her lips and tongue and heart beat.

As they sip simultaneously, she talks to him, she has curled up on the chair, a book in her hands; she hums to the melody in her head; she just sips and stares at the imaginary orchestra above her. Each she's united in taste, understanding each other so much and so little. She wants to graduate; she wants to make them proud; she wants to be loved; she wants to disassociate.

To capture this moment in coffee cups and travel mugs is to embrace their spirits. They come in and leave; ordering for take-out or staring for hours. Each remain in the rafters, until one day the roof with be torn off and the aromas will lift into the air; they will fly away.

And she walks out to be roasted, labeled as house or decaf or french or espresso. Instead of blending, dancing, singing, they will lose their aromas to the frangrance-less void of the outside world.

My Christmas List

2005-11-28T14:55:00.000-04:00

Waiting

2005-11-23T12:57:00.000-04:00

Silence the wind, we'll sit and we'll wait

Never knowing the next chapter

Does the prince get his bride?

You tell me this word, I've heard and I've heard

But this time it's different

This time its eating me from inside

And not someone on the news.

This time it's you, this time it's me

It's us

I used to be brought to tears

I used to hate it

But it was fictitious, It was the villain in other stories

But now, we're being attacked

Now it's real, and big, and menacing

Now we wait

What can be done when nothing is certain

What can we think, what can we know

There's a ghost in our future

Haunting each move, stealing our life

Sucking us dry

Nothing but this uncertainty directing our path

Nothing but our love holding this together.

Each roll of the dice brings us closer to the edge

We jump the spaces hand in hand

Hand in hand we'll be

Hand in hand we'll wait

For there is nothing else to do

Say No to Gaming!

2005-11-15T18:37:00.000-04:00

I've been told that despite my otherwise upbeat attitude, I have an aversion to the notion of video gaming. Although I try to sound sincere when telling friends to "have fun" while gaming, I can't help erasing that sound cynicism out of my voice.

So what is with this animosity consuming me? First and most obvious is the natural unhealthiness which gaming brings to ones life. "Over the last few years, video games have been linked to everything from shooting sprees and epileptic fits... . The latest study into the effects of gaming on the brain comes from Japan... . According to Professor Akio Mori, playing games can reduce activity in part of the brain, causing players to get angry and suffer problems concentrating." It can of course be argued that video gaming can increase reaction time (but hey, if you have no activity in your brain, then what point is good reaction time?) and the one I've heard most recently is to increase social experiences. But it indisputable that there is an incredible dark side.

Somehow I think that the general negativity which the media tends to put forth and that we hear all the time is not the real root of my disgust. Part of me, and a hypocritical part no less, hates the stereotype in my mind that I have of gamers. As one article I've read has suggested, a gamer is "a computer fanatic who will do (and spend) anything to have the latest cutting-edge hardware, and is absolutely single-minded in that rabid pursuit of the "best hardware money can buy". The "gamer" will do whatever it takes to get that extra 2 fames-per-second in the latest shooter game, just to have the slightest edge over his opponents (human or virtual)..." I believe the stereotype extends much further than this though. If I was to draw a picture of a 'typical' gamer, I would make the guy slightly overweight (either that or brutally scrawny) with over-baggy black tees or colourful button-up shirts. He'll have long black straggly hair pulled pack in a ponytail and he is twenty-seven, without a job, and living in his parents unfinished basement. Now, I cringe at writing all this because none of the people I know who play video games male or female fall under this category.

This clearly makes me a hypocrite, because my next "Gaming is about as great as having to pluck out my finger nails one by one" point is how stereotypical it is. So while I rant on, ignore the previous point. Most video games are marketed to younger children and teens (remember, it is those with the most expendable income that advertisers which to speak to. The 'whine factor' is one of the most effective ways to sell a product) and are generally played by young males. Yet these video games are "among the most violent and sexist material on the market today... where a player can make his "monsters" (male) pursue and threaten scantily-clad terrified young women". To add to this portrayal of women being the 'weaker sex', we also have another example of how 'sex sells'. From all the video games I have been introduced to, which I will admit is fairly limited, I have noticed a trend. Almost every single female character I have acquainted has had big busts and tiny waists. This would be one thing if the women were wearing turtlenecks and baggy jeans, but instead in each instance, the video game woman is scantily dressed. The feminine is presented as the ideal feminine archetype which is visible too often in media. It is nothing short of a sex-toy portrayal.

Sure, there is a stigma in our culture about gaming which those who don't game see fairly clearly. But I think for a girlfriend there is an even greater distaste for the gaming world. Due to an upcoming sociology project, I picked up November's issue of Maxim and found an interesting article entitled 100 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT WOMEN. It was a good attempt on the men's side, considering magazines like Cosmo have these littered all through their mags, and I've heard from men that they're always way too in depth and that getting a guy's attention is just so much easier, but having men put an effort on the other side is kind of nice. But I digress. Point being was that even a Men's magazine concerning "Girls. Sex. Sports. Games." can still understand a key point to a girl's psyche.

76. She hates your Xbox more than she lets on. Blow her off for some gaming and she'll soon stop wasting time on a dork like you.

In the past, I've been blown off for gaming, and I think this is the main reason for the sour taste in my mouth.

I am not going to claim complete ignorance when it comes to gaming. I've played Mortal Combat a few times (and won) as well as a few of those James Bond first person shooting games when Jil and Brad and I used to hang out (I was terrible at that.) Although I could simply pass off my dislike for the games as a negative hand-eye coordination problem, but that would be denying my ultimate feelings.

Cosmo also has a bit to say about why I probably dislike gaming in their Cosmo for your Guy section in December's issue.

Your ex had a few redeeming qualities, no doubt, but that doesn't mean your current flame wants to hear about them. In fact, an innocent comment about your ex's culinary skills or love of football could give your girl a serious complex. "When you kid about something a past partner did well or go on and on about a stand out attribute she had, it plants a seed in your present girlfriend's head that she doesn't measure up to this amazing Superwoman," says Bobbie Reid, author of Clueless: Real Solutions for Men who Don't Get It - and the Women Who Love Them.

Needless to say, of course.

Despite it all, I suppose that gaming in moderation is okay, (as it works with most things), however it seems that gaming can begin a slippery slope to addiction. Yeah, I've seen a few of those.

Who wants to keep the doctor away?

2005-11-14T16:15:00.000-04:00

On Friday's episode of the Ellen Show, the incredible guests Jennifer Anniston and Kenny Chesney (give me a country singer and I'll watch your show!) were accompanied by TV Guide's Sexiest Man.

My first conscious introduction to Mr Sexy himself was one night last year when I begrudgingly sat down to watch a show someone so desperately wanted to watch. As a smack to my stubbornness, Fox's House M.D. soon became my favorite show.

I say 'conscious' because surprisingly, I have met Hugh before. In fact, as well as being a British soap star, Hugh Laurie has littered children's movies. In 1996's remake of the cartoon 101 Dalmations, we saw Hugh play the infamous Jasper, one of Cruella's men. A year later, my sister's absolute favorite movie (and my least favorite) The Borrowers saw Hugh as the Police Officer. He even played a part in Spice World! I do remember him being the father in Stuart Little and soon, we'll be hearing his voice in the soon to come to theatres cartoon Valiant.

If you haven't already started tuning in to watch House on Tuesday nights at 10:00, then you're really missing out (screw The Amazing Race). And don't just watch Fox for the pretty face. The show is really great too! Mix CSI and ER (or Grey's Anatomy) and you have House. I'd also suggest catching the brilliant Hugh Laurie's British accent if you ever get a chance to. He sounds exactly like Matty! (Or maybe Matty sounds like him!)

*edit*
(Dan thinks I have a crush on both Hugh and Matty. Although they both have fantastic accents and are sexy to boot, I will only admit to being in love with one man.)

To His Mistress Going to Bed

2005-11-02T09:31:00.000-04:00

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor, I in labor lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with that wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
Now off with those shows, and then safely tread
In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven's angels used to be
Received by men; thou, angel, bring'st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.

License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds is to be free;
There where my hand is set, my seal shall be.

Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee.
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings, made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see revealed. Then since that I may know,
As liberally as to a midwife show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.

To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
What need'st thou have more covering than a man?

~John Donne, "Elegy 19. To His Mistress Going to Bed"~

Today, we are forced upon the notion that everything has overt sexual tones encompassing them. We are surrounded with all these confusions of sex for love. Yet, Donne catches the perfect vibe between the two. Instead of the erotic passion which hides the lines of love in most things we're used to, he harnesses sex within the borders of love.

The speaker and his mistress are slowly being brought back to a pure Adam and Eve state, before the fall. He is explaining the process of each covering being removed, each part of her outer beauty being shed for him to discover anew the beauty of her natural. There is no one else but the two of them. And he finds her beautiful beyond compare.

We are burdened with our self consciousness, with our baggage and our past stories. And yet, somewhere beneath everything we try to present, we are beautiful. Each mountain and valley is an intricate part to who we are. Maybe what we try to hide, are our greatest treasures.

Pieces

2005-10-28T09:46:00.000-03:00

Each of us is like one really complicated puzzle. There are pieces we can't find to put together, there are pieces which we are so sure go in a certain place, so sure they'll fit and that idea we have, so sure that we'll fit in the same picture. There are so many pieces which are hidden, pieces which are so crucial to the greater image.

They're lying around somewhere.

We cover each little piece up with images we think will be opaque enough to hide our facade. We cover the tear-stained cheeks with makeup, and the old pictures with new ones. We clutter up the pieces so that it is to hard to find. If we ignore them, then we are sure others will miss the point completely.

Because of this, we fail to know anyone. We fail to make relationships and to connect really. We're just pieces shoved into the wrong corresponding ones. And those which fit are no where to be found.

Oktoberfest

2005-10-23T00:02:00.000-03:00

Being friends with someone containing a newfound love for everything German, I found myself heading down to George's tonight for some good ol' fashioned Oktoberfest partying. Okay, I take back the good... and the old fashioned.... and the partying.

When we walked in the door, Robin managed to state, what is normally the obvious about George's "well, it looks empty".

"zwei Dollar" said the lady at the door to me.

"What?" I exclaim! "Five Dollars? Are you serious?" I figured this a pretty steep door charge. No wonder the place wasn't full.

Suddenly, Alicia steps in behind me.
"No," she says, explaining, "she doesn't take German. Laura, zwei means TWO".

I must admit however skeptical I was about going to a German society party at George's of all places, it was a pretty fun night. The evening was complete with sausages and ginger cookies (without the ginger) and apple strudel and German beer and best of all - real live Germans.

My most memorable part of the night however, occurred just as I was getting up to leave.

"Oh my gosh" I said excitedly to the two real-life Germans sitting with us "Do you know Schnappi?", to which I decide to break down into my very own rendition of Schnappi. To my sheer delight, they actually DO listen to Schnappi in Germany! Although George's didn't play it, I certainly got almost the pleasure of being able to share my 'love' of this songs with my new German friends.

To hear the most incredible song in the world, e*mail or MSN me, and I will certainly send you a Schnappi to keep as your very own!

TP Troubles

2005-10-21T14:11:00.000-03:00

I live in a house with four other girls.

Five girls, and ONE bathroom.

Although the girls at 33C don't necessarily use the washroom more than the average female (although sometimes I wonder about the size of my own bladder), it is incredible how quickly we go through toilet paper.

There will be days when I will change the roll twice in one day.

Understandable, females use toilet paper more than males would. I remember having this discussion with Dan and Matty one day in the grocery store when we passed the toilet paper aisle. It probably is a shocker to males when they start living with a female. Add that to the hassle of having to put down the seat!

The past few days has been one of those times when we have run out of toilet paper. For a family who uses SO much, having none for even the span of a few hours is rather inconvenient. At first, someone kindly offered their tiny pack of personal Kleenex, but soon an entire box of Kleenex surfaced from someone's room. At least Kleenex is soft.

On that note, I have to pee.

*NOTE* My apologies to Caitlin who's picture did not appear on this blog. You are a beloved roommate, yet one whom I have no pictures of. :(

Acadia's Homecoming, courtesy of the MtA Football team

2005-10-17T12:03:00.000-03:00

What? A post about my life? Nope, I don't believe it either. I tend not to do the whole "life update" thing. I think it is because I have a very low funniness level, making anything that I think is funny, completely and only understandable by MOI!. So, I fall back onto the random ramblings of a wandering mind.

But this weekend was so great, I think I will HAVE to do a "life update".

The ever consistent Mount Allison Mountie Football played against the Acadia Axemen for Acadia's Homecoming. Although a fairly close game (63-0) Acadia came out on top (I blame it on luck. They were clearly outplayed.)

Wolfville was swarming with the likes of 33C. Laura was there only for the game in the rain, but Caitlin and Keltie both went home for the weekend. So, not to be out done, I stayed the night as well.

Dan showed me around his old stompin' ground as we walked up and down the hill that Acadia is built on. I must admit, it seems like ever university (other than MtA, thank heavens) is built on a hill. Unfortunately, 33C happens to be on top of a hill, so I've screwed myself over either way. Although their football team leaves a lot to be desired, and their residences are no where up to par (Cutten, what Tiffany?), I suppose that students there could manage to enjoy their years stuck in Wolfville.

I got the chance to meet the lovely Dub and MJ, which was seriously a treat. I also met their roommate Cole, but only for a brief time. The four of us enjoyed a lovely supper at Paddy's (I have a hard time not putting an "O's" at the end of that), complete with Irish Cream Cheesecake. MJ and I used the commonality of her kinese degree and my football position as bonding grounds, as well as our New Brunswick roots (what a COOL province. Especially the Sussex/Saint John area.... oi).

The night continued and went great as our pool skills (what pool skills?) were put to the test as Dub and MJ challenged Dan and I to a couple games. Surprisingly, we managed to win the second (very surprisingly). A Toronto/Habs game was broadcasted, one which after the Leafs shameful loss last weekend was imperative to watch. Sports Center (I believe) said it best with their comment about the Leafs being seriously outplayed. (Sound familiar? This time its for real.)

The night ended with Scotskins at Matty's old place of work, (Matty, it was lacking without you). I really wish I was able to enjoy the delicacy, however that experience might have to wait for next time.

An eggs benedict omelet completed the fantastic weekend at Smitty's the next morning. Although the cab company left a lot to be desired, we had fun making fun of Dub's attempt to exit the building. "The doors are locked!"

Keltie, Caitlin, Caitlin's sister and I made the trip back to NB (with a stopover in Bayer's Lake, because THAT's not out of the way) and it was Home Sweet Home from that point on.

From Astrophil and Stella

2005-10-14T12:47:00.000-03:00

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That the dear She might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face or woe,
Studying inventions of fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;
Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows,
And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite,

"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write."

~Sir Philip Sydney, Astrophil and Stella Sonnet 1

Still, even in the 1590s, there was great distress surrounding how to express love. I have such desire to write, to show how deep and beautiful my love is. Love is not some sociologically constructed term. It has been around since the beginning of the cosmos, since the creation of Man and his beautiful counterpart. It has been confined in the cage of the heart, seeping out through the imprisoning bars in forms of words and songs and dance and paint. But they're only expressions of a greater malignant being, growing beneath the chest, clogging airways.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Not even comparisons can capture this something that you are to me. Shakespeare felt it. And he believed the only way to capture the beauty was to make it eternal, to put it in black ink and have it show up centuries later in some insignificant girl's blog. Whoever's hand this sonnet fell into is always going to be remember, we'll always be able to try to grasp her beauty and the love that she experienced. What do I have to make this eternal? What methods do I use to describe love? Has anyone come close. Ironically, this feeling that is encapsulated inside of me has chained all of humanity. It creates the most beautiful art, and yet slowly destroys the artist. We are nothing to love, we have no arms against it.

Indifference

2005-10-13T13:11:00.000-03:00

I stayed up all night working on a sociology paper. What with the stress of school, and the busyness of Thanksgiving I've been too hard pressed to take the time. I've been too rushed to sit, to contemplate, to remember, and to pray.

Stop.

I saw a cat get hit by a car today.

Stop.

It ran away. I don't know what happened to it.

Stop.

I am on my way out the door right now. My hair and makeup are done, my skirt is flowing, and my heels are high.

Stop.

My great uncle died a few days ago. Uncle Ted had been sick for a while now, going from bad to better to worse to dead. And now he is gone. How does someone just go away? Where're ya stain' Ted?

Stop.

On the sidewalk there are paw prints, hardened in the cement. I pass them every day as I walk the same route continuously. I never can walk right over them, each time I imagine the owner of such prints which walked through the fresh cement, leaving such graphic, material evidence.

There are now only pictures and memories and mascara stains on rosy cheeks.

Hush.

Everything Men Know about Women

2005-10-11T13:51:00.000-03:00

Last Friday I got my hair cut. It might be the shortest I've had it since seventh grade (wow - was that ever short). I got about half a foot cut of the length, obviously quite a huge change. Despite many encouraging comments about it, my boyfriend, trying to be as loving and supportive (eye roll) as possible, has refrained from commenting at all. To my statement that he doesn't like my hair, he simply says "I never said that"....

It is implied.

My dad never had a great track record while dealing with women either.

Although friends with many females in university, my dad did not have much of a sense of the female mind set. Understandably, he grew up with no sisters. One day, a friend of his was sitting with her friends complaining of "cramps". Dad to the rescue, decides to give her some friendly advice. "When I get cramps, I just eat some Tomato Soup, and that helps!"

A second time, my dear father, showing an incredible amount of tact, was asked the dreaded question by a date "do you think I'm fat?". Now, from a girl's perspective, this is a desperation attempt when feeling inadequate. So my dad, addressing such feelings responded with "No, you're not fat. You're sturdy."

Seriously guys....

If I Stay Lucky...

2005-09-26T21:59:00.000-03:00

We try so hard not to take anything for granted. We manage to instead live the majority of our lives in greedy selfishness. We celebrate holidays like Thanksgiving and Remembrance Day where we remember to sit back and realize how lucky we are to live in a certain country, with food on our tables and loving families surrounding us. Yet even still, we manage to wish we were somewhere else, waste what we do have, and treat those we love without the utmost love.

I for one, try so desperately to not take relationships for granted - be it family, friends, or significant others. I have learned the hard way that taking someone for granted merely takes away from the full joy in their relationship. But even when we try so hard not to, we fail and fail again.

Other times, we are blessed to have someone serve us a reminder...

It amazes me how I can believe that I don't take someone for granted and then still be shocked when someone reminds me how lucky I am to be loved by someone incredible. I am lucky to have found someone who thinks I am perfect for him, someone who supports me and who encourages me and who treats me like a precious jewel.

And then, even more surprising, a chain reaction happens. I find myself realizing how lucky I am on even more aspects, the most important is that I realize how much my Father loves me. You can't experience a developing love and not see how beautiful my God's love is. I believe that we learn true love from the example of Christ, and we understand this love more by experiencing beautiful, earthen love.

But that's all theory. That is all knowledge. It is the understanding which strikes a chord. That realization that I get after I realize how much He loves me for giving this to me. I realize how this Spiritual Being is not so far away as the outer distances of our universe, but instead, he wants me to be happy, and to learn, and to feel this special kind of love.

And I thank You for Loving me this much.

Home, Jeeves!

2005-09-19T16:45:00.000-03:00

I was walking home from my class on prose fiction today. The leaves on the underlying branches of the magnificent trees lining the sidewalk brushed my head as meandered by. (I really wish I knew anything about dendrology, and could tell you what kind of trees are scattered over campus. Calling an oak a tree does it very little justice. Even the title oak connotates much more than any description I could render.) The leaves on these trees were still monotonously green, all the coloured leaves presumadely blown off and drenched on the sidewalk during the weekend rain. The anesthetic aura no doubt originated from the overcast sky above me. I scuffed my Converse Chuck Taylors along the damp sidewalk as I disregarded the rust coloured leaf fragments adhered to the path ahead of me despite the fact that I was staring downward. The air was cool and crisp foreshadowing a resurgence of my jacket.

We all want to do something with our lives. I believe that is why we find ourselves at institutions like Mount Allison which allow us to specialize in an area to prepare us for the world which we sooner or later must find ourselves entering. But what happens when we (or namely, I) find ourselves stuck? Instead of growing up into these young adults with endless possibilities, we just realize that we're stuck inside this box which despite our growing, seems to be remaining static. It is a realization that can make one feel as if suddenly walls are closing in. Can we ever find something and be the best at it? I have no doubt in my mind that some people can. I am lucky to have great friends who will, or already have begun to excel at whatever they chose do in life, and I read about real people on the internet who are doing fantastic things. Good on you! Yet, where do I fit into the equation? What does one do when they feel like they missed that day in heaven where God handed out the talents? Maybe I was sick or something.

When we were little, we were told we could be whatever we wanted to be; a teacher, a pilot, an astronaut, the Prime Minister of Canada, or heck, even a fire truck. And now I find myself looking over an empty landscape. Instead of broadening, my opportunities have narrowed and I feel as if I have already failed. I try to shape shift to fit countless moulds, but no matter what, none seem quite right.

And yet, on I trudge.

As I walked up the street and approached my own, I looked up from the sidewalk, and saw the most incredible blue before me. It was such a vivid contrast between the dull grey around it. I turned the corner onto my street and felt a warmth upon my shoulder and my arm. The sun was taking every opportunity to shine through this cloudbreak. The sidewalk stopped looking so bleak, the trees started coming back to life, and as I walked into my room, the fragrance of lilies filled my senses.

Divine

2005-09-19T13:01:00.000-03:00

Coincidences and so-it-seems

Fail to approach the magic

The art in the sky and the love that we share

And somehow we fail

The thanksgiving, the love

All failed

Returning again and again

Finding once more the cross

Again the grace

Again the love

Summer has Come and Gone

2005-09-06T20:36:00.000-03:00

The scene was set perfectly; the blue sky lightly speckled with cloud-dust, the sun bright and warm yet seasoned with the crisp breath carried by the beginning of fall. Students walked on sidewalks beneath large mighty trees, their dignified arms outstretched to reveal elegant green dressing, sewn together one leaf at a time to form the most beautiful cloak to shame even the likes of Vera Wang. Haughty stone buildings towered above, creating a atmosphere of prestige and enlightenment and superiority.

I felt like I was back in grade two. My new backpack was still crisp and placed on my back, complete with all the accessories needed to complete a day at school; one binder with paper, two Papermate Comfortmate clicky pens, one mechanical pencil, a list of my classes' times and locations, one sweater, my house and mailbox keys, and my bank card to buy five hundred dollars worth of books later in the day. I was in new States-bought clothes, which mom forbid me to wear until school and I was feeling armed and ready for a day of beginnings which lay ahead of me, like a picnic blanket awaiting two picnic-ing lovers. I walked into the sun, into the fall school day, into the courtyards complete with picture perfect students, sitting under trees and reading text books. I wish I had brought the book I've been reading, or even better a laptop so that I could fade into the green grassy backdrop as well. The grassy hill in front of the pond was beckoning me to dive deep into the world of someone else, or too get lost in the sound of clicking as my fingers dance to create a gentle flow of magical words which somehow come from me.

The football field is the pinnacle of the fall atmosphere. I often wish I owned a working camera because I feel like I could completely capture the feeling surrounding my attitude towards this new year. I would capture it all, I would show you the maroon and gold painted uprights against a sky at dusk, an empty bench on the field with large bold "MOUNTIES" painted upon the aged wood. Just imagine a world of silence filled with the steady melody of football. I wish I could capture the players, wet and rained on against the dreary sky, solemnly looking towards the field, or the helmet left lost, sitting in the grass, next to the white yard markers. It is not the same feeling felt when watching Varsity Blues or Remember the Titans, but more real, more hopeful, more bold and beautiful and determined to look foreword and press on and stand upright.

One

2005-08-25T17:36:00.000-03:00

One path which two walk together
One grasp which two so hold
One touch to communicate
One feeling shared
One love

Can You Spot the Similarities?

2005-08-23T12:37:00.000-03:00

As I was going through some pictures, I found two that were remarkably similar.

One was from my recent trip to Halifax, when Dan and I were eating Sunday morning brunch and playing around with his camera.

The second picture I found happened to be a pre-Laura picture, one that he simply sent me along with a few others to show me what some of his friends looked like before I had the fantastic oportunity to meet some of them. This picture was amongst them.
Honestly, I sometimes wonder about that boy...

Another Friday Photography Bust

2005-08-19T10:01:00.000-03:00

Jon told me last night that I am a deep thinker. That means I know what my problems are, but I cannot fix them.

It is Friday again, and once again I have missed on the Photo Friday deadline for Violet. I do actually have a picture. Molly was my model again, and only the most beautiful girl in the world could have been in this picture. I did not like the pictures I took at first, but came to love one particular one.

I managed to download GIMP to edit my pictures, but something still is not going right. The effect I want to get still is not there, and I am a total GIMP gimp. Honestly. So, instead of linking to my site, I am just going to make it a personal project to finish this, or at least get someone to show me what I am doing wrong. It certainly is a frustration however.

This weeks challenge is a tough one for me. The theme is One, and yet I want to think of a way to make a picture unique. The truth is, my pictures look much better in my head. I suck at photography otherwise. I am either the stupidest person in the world, or the most determined to be keeping this up - especially without a camera!

Earlier this week I finally got my school schedule. I am more than excited for it. I think this will be a fantastic semester. I am taking a bunch of arts courses, which I am all extremely interested in. I hope that this year I will enjoy school a whole lot more than last year. I have high hopes!!

Cinq, Quatre, Trois, Deux, Un

2005-08-18T18:14:00.000-03:00

Sometimes it can feel like you think you're on a steady downhill track when suddenly the roller coaster turns upwards and instead of plummeting towards the ground, I am facing the sky; a clear blue with a few spatterings of clouds.

I have five more days of work left until I am no longer an Energie NB Power employee. That is Friday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Trust me, the waking up at 5:30 am will not be missed.

This leaves me two weekends before I head down to Sackville to 33C, my new place of residence for the next year. I am so excited to get down there. A few weekends back, Tiffany, Jocelyn, Brittany and I went out one Friday night. We had a great time out together, a Girls Night around the town in Moncton (honestly a great place to go out. When you live in Sackville, you learn to enjoy places like Moncton and Halifax). We spent the night at J's house and then obviously had crepes at the market for breakfast. For anyone who plans on spending a weekend in Moncton, don't miss out on the crepes! It is a Moncton-must! Tiffany and I jumped into the Jetta and headed down to Sackville, to 33 Charlotte Street, and checked out my room.

The room which I will be living in in this old, large house was painted dark blue/purple. Situated at the back of the house, with skinny little windows, walking into that room was like walking into a cave. So, Tiffany and I decided to paint it. Now my room is the colour of Evlyn's Eyes, a green which matches my bedspread. We also got a little bit of purple to paint my shelving unit above my desk, another colour which is found on my bedding.

BEFORE:
AFTER:

So now, with my room much more mine and some of my stuff already in the house, I am so excited to go back. Moving back also means seeing my Keltie, and my other roommates, Megan, Laura, and Caitlin.

So, on Sunday night, August 28th, I will be heading back to Sackville. Megan and Laura at least should be there, Megan getting ready to do her student council work, and Laura to do football camp. With me. Yes, I am actually going to do football this year, and I am thrilled that it is not up in the air anymore! This is one of the things in my life that is finally seeming to go okay. I had to decided if I should be a trainer or not, and there were quite a few complicated circumstances, and in no way can I know what the right choice was, so instead I am going to just be thrilled that a decision has been made and that this year, the Mounties are going to be better than ever! (Or at least better than the last few years... There is no where left to go but up, right?) Laura and I are both excited to not only be roommates, but to work together with the rest of the team!

Being a football trainer this year means I need to take a First Aid and CPR course. Yes, I made the mistake of putting it off because at the beginning of the summer, I was really dreading being a trainer. I thought that the only time I could do the weekend course was this coming weekend in Saint John. This was great, until the stress came when I realized that this coming weekend is one of the weekends I've been looking foreword to most of the entire summer. This was the Converge weekend. It is a young adult worship conference, with tenting and music, and speakers! I thought I would have to completely miss it until I found out that Moncton is offering a First Aid course on the next weekend, the weekend right before Football Camp starts. This means I can go to Converge. I am so excited to go. Not only that, but just now, my oh-so-cool boyfriend has decided to come with me!!!

Being able to go to Converge means that I will be able to pick up Amy from Wildwood! I have not seen Ames in about a month, and I miss her terribly. I am so excited to see her, and to talk to her, and to show Dan around Camp! This also gives me the opportunity to head down to Sackville on Sunday and finish painting my shelf, while showing Dan the place and setting some more things up.

Last night, I had a terrible night. Everything was going wrong. Today everything fell into place. I have so little faith. Thank you!

Indivisible by Two: Lily and Gillian

2005-08-17T11:07:00.000-03:00

Those who do not work during usual "work week" hours perhaps got the chance to view Good Morning America this morning on television.

There was a segment about Nancy L. Segal's book Indivisible by Two, Lives of Extraordinary Twins. And within this, was the story of Lily and Gillian.

When I was younger, and I lived in the big white old house next to the church in Sackville, we had a student live with us. She must have lived with us for a few years, and she became part of the family. Her name was Allyson. At the time, she had a boyfriend named Kirk, and both practically lived at the house. Mom and Dad would delegate Kirk and Ally with planning birthday parties, and so looking back on old home-videos from Sackville, it is normal to see little girls running around in party hats, playing games, and crying because they did not win, all the while Ally will be talking in the background, telling us what to do, and how to play games, or not to get upset. Mom would be making the birthday cake, and the camera would show Dad and Kirk, playing the little electronic hockey game, which they are still both going to meetings to get over their addiction.

Kirk and Ally got married and moved to Toronto (or Georgina?), where they both are pastors at a church. In Sackville, they were great with Amy and I, and so no doubt would be good parents. Eventually they realized their options were greatly minimized and decided to adopt. I love the idea of adoption. It is such a beautiful thing to see a child who is so in need of love come to know two loving parents. I have always had the desire to adopt a child, I hate the thought of how many kids are alone and unloved. But I digress. Kirk and Allyson began their plans to adopt a little girl from China.

This is where the story gets blurry for me. I have heard it a few times before, but right now am not clear on all the details. I do know however, that they brought little Lily home and made her part of their family. I remember meeting Lily for the first time. She was a beautiful baby, and oh so smart! Despite her living in China for the main part of her life (at this point), she was grasping English quicker than even normal Canadian children do.

Eventually, I heard the story about Gillian. Somewhere else in Ontario (this story would be so much better if I knew details), only a short drive away, another family adopted a little Chinese baby. Somehow, they met and came upon the realization that Lily and Gillian were twin sisters. The first time I heard this story, I saw pictures of the two girls together, when they were about three or four years old. They were both so beautiful.

Here is where Segal's book comes in. In one of her chapters, she tells Gillian and Lily's story, a story about separated twins being raised as sisters. I wish I myself knew more of the story. This morning, on Good Morning America, there was a segment about their story, which Kirk and Ally told their friends via e*mail that the taping in their house took 10 hours!

If you did not get the chance to watch television this morning, then pick up August 30th's edition of People Magazine where the story will be told again.

It blows my mind to think about growing up with a twin sister living in a different community, but it is great that Lily and Gillian are being raised as sisters. I think it is such a miracle that the two families met. Talk about a story with a happy ending!

The wheels on the bus

2005-08-15T13:26:00.000-03:00

I sometimes wish I had a great camera. Recently, I've been carrying a disposable point and shoot around with me, one with no potential to take great person shots on a moving bus.

I wanted to capture the people though, bring them home with me and dance with them. I slept most of the way on the bus from Halifax. Each time I woke up, passengers had exited and boarded the bus, allowing me to be surrounded with new faces each time I opened my eyes. By the time we arrived at the Amherst stop, I was wide awake.

A man walked on to the bus and sat behind me. He was a tall and lean, with an African face and a scruffy salt and pepper beard. His eyes were sunk and although not looking unkempt, he appeared as one who uses the bus as his only source of transportation. This man looked like he played a mean saxophone; alto no doubt. He looked like he came straight off the streets of Louisiana, from a nightclub where he performs just for the applause of the few who still come to hear him, and for the memory of the night he met his beautiful wife. She was young and fresh, with stylish black hair, a flowery dress, and a smile on her face. She was sitting next to her girlfriends around a table, drinking milkshakes out of straws, listening to the young man with the magical fingers making the saxophone sing. To him, she stood out. There was no girl as beautiful. As the girls got up to dance on the floor, he watched her, wanting to keep playing the music so that she would keep jiving, keep laughing. He also wished to stop so that he could hopefully work up the courage to walk down onto the floor and ask her what her name was and why she was smiling like that.

As he sat behind me, the man's cell rang. It was that woman from the club years ago, the girl with the smile who danced to his music, and who held his hand, and who kissed his cheek. "I love you, I'll be home soon" said the now older man, in his deep, raspy voice. This was the voice an old, black jazz musician should have, cool and beautiful and mellow.

Ahead of me, sat a woman, and across the aisle from her was a man. They were young, possibly late twenties, and on the aisle seat next to the woman sat a bassinet cradling a beautiful baby boy, no older than six months. As the mother held this baby boy, as she sung to him and held him and fed him and changed him, her love was so beautiful. And the Daddy looked on so proudly. "That's my baby" he said to the elderly woman sitting next to him. The newborn was so good and I barely heard a sound from him. But when he did cry, it was so sweet, so heartbreaking. As he leaned against his mother's shoulder, he looked intensely around. It must be overwhelming as a new person to this world, to drink in all the sights and sounds. He had big beautiful eyes, which sometimes caught mine, and a little smile would form in the creases of his tiny mouth.

I was surrounded by a tapestry of people. There were different colours, different styles, different sounds. It was beautiful and exciting, realizing how unique each life was, and how we managed to find ourselves on the same, quiet bus.

Complexity

2005-08-12T09:07:00.000-03:00

It is the complexity of a little girl's mind

As she is flying on the trapeze

Into the arm sof her fairytale prince

Soaring through the clouds

To her bed of soft dreams.

It is the complexity of a world

Where children go hungry

Where war does not cease

There is a craving for money

And murders for power.

It is the complextiy of how the two will one day collide.

So I missed this week's Photo Friday deadline by a day. I do not mind however, because this was the last picture taken by my not-so-good-camera-anyway before it died, therefore quality is less than par. I had the poem written last Friday, when the challenge came out, but I was fooling around too much with the picture on the crap-of-a-photo-editing-program we have on the computer at home. I uploaded it last night, but the poem was still at work. Way to go, Laura.

Perseid Still

2005-08-12T00:00:00.000-03:00

Tonight I found myself lying on the roof of my garage, staring at a sky filled with stars. I was out to catch a glimpse of the Perseid meteor shower. Unfortunately, my outing had to be cut short as waking up for work at 5:30 am is tough even when an early night precedes it.

As I stood there, a vast separation was formed between the natural and the unnatural. Man-made lights were blinding, yet dull compared to the glisten of the heavenly bodies. Cars rushing by in their attempt to speed up the slowness of time and get to their destination quicker deafened my ears to the song that the stars sang, the whisper of the trees, and the conversation between a mother and a daughter.

Everything but the beautiful faded into the distance and I began to realize an overwhelming sense of stillness. Despite my knowledge that our Earth is spinning on its axis at roughly 1000 mph, and that it travels around the sun at a speed of about 67000 mph, and that even our galaxy is spinning and our universe is expanding; despite my understanding that taking a picture of the night sky would result in the stars forming beautiful streaks across the image; despite all this, I felt remarkably static. Time had frozen around me, as had everything that exists within it. Even the trees seemed to be motionless, although the light breeze through their leaves reminded me otherwise. The sounds was like each tree had a secret to tell. Some secrets were tales of beauty experienced during the tree's ageless existence. Others were noble stories of the past; like fairy tales only more true and more real, and more magical. And finally, the youngest trees told secrets of the future, secrets that only trees can reveal; hopes and dreams which will eventually turn into reality. In turn, each was telling their secret, and they listened, and I listened. And the stars provided illustration, because tonight the trees and the stars were a team; neither wishing to outdo the other.

And then, a spark of brilliance would fly across the sky. Modestly, the stars continued on their imperial existence. The trees however, stood a little more proudly, stretching out their limbs as if to catch the falling star and cradle it. My body flooded with mystery and praise for what is beyond this artful masterpiece as I breathed in the sky laid out before me, framed with the shimmering leaves.

So I laid there, on my roof, with a ladder below me and the intense wonderful unknown above me, as I and the rest of this insignificant Earth were soaring straight into the bold remains of comet 109P/Swift-Tuttle. We are blessed with such beauty.

Religion and Retro 80's Earplugs

2005-08-11T10:32:00.000-03:00

My job here at Lepreau is WBGT Girl and Fit Testing Girl.

Fit testing takes all the challenge of pushing start on a computer and conversing with Nuclear Plant Employees (most of whom are men).

I have a Habs t-shirt hanging up on my cubicle. It is not my shirt, but was on loan to me because I love such an awesome hockey team. One of the men I was fitting a respirator on started asking me if I was a fan. He told me about the games he had seen, and the players he wishes the Canadians had.

"Sometimes, I think one needs to be religious to be a fan." I told him.

"Being a Habs fan IS a religion" he corrected me.

WBGTing is another whole ball park. It pretty much consists of me taking temperature of the Turbine Building. This Building is two things: Hot and Loud. Hot is taken care of by me. I make Work/Rest schedules telling the (wo)men how long they can work before they need to rest. Today, it is 105.1 F on elevation 98 (40.6 C). This is a 'No Work' zone, which is ironic, because I am doing work up there.

Loud is controlled by earplugs. There are the Classic yellow ones, in dispensers all over the building. These ones are pretty much little sponges that you roll up and put into your ear canal. I think these may once have been my favorite.Close to the door of my office, there is a dispense for little foam orange phallic shaped earplugs. These are longer than the yellow ones, and although not much different, I seemed to still prefer the Classic ones. That was, until the orange ones began to run out and a new, more EXTREME type of earplugs were added: THE Lasar Lite Uncorded Ear Plugs That's right. These Lasar Lites are fluorescent yellow and hot pink. They maintain the same foam texture as the old and ugly orange ones, but they are closer in shape to them as well. They're great. Now I walk around with pink and yellow stuck out of my ears. Not only do they remind me of a time when fluorescent colours were in, but they also completely clash with my red t-shirt I so happen to be wearing today. If only I was born a decade earlier.

Another Unknown Variable

2005-08-10T10:59:00.000-03:00

Maybe if you read some more
you'll understand me
Maybe if you go back to school
you'll figure out what's best
Variable X with Variable Y
You know stats, economics, psychology
Do you know me?
The equation is lacking and you cannot tell
So numbers make sense
to you
But they are all wrong
You are doing it right
academically
So I will run and dance
As you tie me up
Watching my steps to perfect them
All the while getting caught in the tangle

The Innerworkings of a Male Brain

2005-08-08T11:44:00.000-03:00

I came to realize something this weekend that I had no knowledge of before. I have always been under the impression that taken women are off limits. Apparently, I am so wrong.

"He is so flirting with you" I was informed one day, after recalling the earlier encounter with a guy from work.

"No he wasn't", I answered. "And anyway, he knows I have a boyfriend, so it would be a waste of time to flirt."

"Are you serious?"

I was. I was completely serious. I was however, informed about my mistake by not one, but two guys. No, guys do not see this as a problem. Perhaps it is a slight setback, but not a problem. If the guy really has his sights set, then he will get what he is hunting for. I was even told by one of the guys I car pool with that girls with boyfriends are sweeter, since the aspect of doing something in secret, closing in on another man's girl, and the all over wrongness of it is so tempting.

This should not have surprised me. Last year while working at the theatre, I became accustom to hearing the term M.I.L.F. on a regular basis. The first time, I had to have my memory jogged back to watching American Pie to remember what this vulgar term meant. I let it go, until one day my boyfriend used it.

The issue is that this term is so common that to describe a beautiful woman, one resorts to vulgarity.

"Profanity is the attempt of a feeble mind to express itself forcefully" ~Anonymous

Of course M.I.L.F. is just a term, however I have never been too keen with males telling me the women they would like to sleep with, especially those males who show a particular exclusivity towards myself. And that is the thing; the term states, whether the meaning is there or not, that the male wishes to sleep with the aforementioned woman.

Not only is this just a woman, but she is a mother. In this society we live in, not all mothers are married or even in relationships, and so I am not implying that women with children should not have an intimate relationships. Personally however, if someday you see me pushing a stroller down the street, there will also be a band around my left ring finger. To be called a M.I.L.F. would be not only extremely disrespectful to me, but also to my husband.

Women are beautiful, and yet part of that beauty stems from deep within, from her name, from her smile and her eyes, and from her personality. Women are attractive. But I find the constant referral to women as sex symbols and games intolerable. In this, I do not solely blame men, as women prove to be a part of the culprit as well.

I will let you know when I'm single again. For the meanwhile, when I tell you I am in a relationship, it means that I am off limits, and that I respect the man I love too much to consider disrespecting myself in such a way.

Photo Intensive Blog, Roll 1

2005-08-05T14:10:00.000-03:00

On Tuesday, I took three rolls of film into the Superstore Photolab to get them developped. My track reccord with developping film is nothing short of impressive; I never get it done. I have dozens of undevelopped film in my bedroom tracking back to at least the beginning of high school. These three rolls of film were no different. I did not know what was on two of the rolls, but I assumed it was recent films from university and the beginning of summer. How mistaken I was. I have no idea where the rolls I thought these two were have gone. The third I had just taken out of my camera about a week and a bit ago, and so I was a little more familiar with those.

Here, I give you a few shots from the recent roll. There were some pictures from Toronto, beginning with Day One of our trip. I really love this picture, although I do not remember specifically when it was taken. There were a few others, but those will be posted when I get around to writing the final installment of thee Toronto Story.

The weekend following the Toronto excursion, Dan found himself in Moncton. We had a fantastic time playing pool at Dooleys with Tiffany. Compared to me however, Dan has absolutely no pool skills. And don't mind the Tiffany picture, we had her out on a day pass. It was pretty nice of the institution to let her go. Sometimes, she really believes that she is a werewolf. We're all praying for her.

The Awful Truth

2005-08-05T08:43:00.000-03:00

On this morning's Good Question on CBC's Information Morning Saint John, the question was asked about how the english language evolved from Old Englsih to the Modern English we speak today. Being an English Major (I find that extremely fun to say!) I found the history of the English language condensed to five minutes very interesting, and the man explaining it was funny to boot.

The man answering the question made an interesting commentary on the shift of word's meanings. One of his examples was the word awful. He had said that when the word first came into use, it did not mean terrible at all, instead it was on par with our word awesome; awe inspiring; full of awe.

awÂ·ful ( P ) Pronunciation Key (Ã´fl)
adj.
1. Extremely bad or unpleasant; terrible: had an awful day at the office.
2. Commanding awe: Âthis sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneathÂ (Herman Melville).
3. Filled with awe, especially:
a. Filled with or displaying great reverence.
b. Obsolete. Afraid.
4. Formidable in nature or extent: an awful burden; an awful risk.

adv. Informal
Extremely; very: was awful sick.

aweÂ·some ( P ) Pronunciation Key (Ã´sm)
adj.
1. Inspiring awe: an awesome thunderstorm.
2. Expressing awe: stood in awesome silence before the ancient ruins.
3. Slang. Remarkable; outstanding: Âa totally awesome arcade gameÂ (Los Angeles Times).

It is quite interesting how two words so similar in syntaxopposite oposite in meaning.

We have a weird and wonderful language.

Comforter

2005-08-04T15:08:00.000-03:00

I have been avidly praying over the past few days. Admittedly, I have a hard time with prayer, it is not easy for me to do. I can talk, oh can I talk with people, but I find it hard to understand how to talk to an Almighty God. I cannot disbelieve. Nothing inside of my being will let me, but I can't seem to understand how to form a relationship like I would a father or a friend. I do not know how to tell God what is on my mind, or what worries me. It is all so insignificant.

A few nights ago however, God reminded me of something.

The Lord is good,

a refuge in times of trouble.

He cares for those who trust in him,

Nahum 1:7

Cast your cares on the Lord

and he will sustain you;

he will never let the righteous fall.

Psalm 55:22

It is always His Love which astounds me so much. The rest of it can be learned, but when His Love is experienced, it is something incredible. When I was a few years younger, I wound up feeling very much alone one night. I was tired and upset and as the tears rushed down my cheeks, all that I wanted was a hug. All of a sudden, I felt the warm pressure of arms being wrapped around you, the all encompassing feeling of being safe in someone's arms and of escaping whatever it is that is causing all the pain. But these arms held more comfort and more safety and more love than any others I had the joy of experiencing in my lifetime.

Somber

2005-08-04T14:07:00.000-03:00

Spinning images come

Backwards round and round

29.78 kilometers per second

Soaring through time

I can never force stop

Just onward and foreword

Instead of stopping

Resting

Loving

This is my first Photo Friday submission, and so bear with me as I get used to it. I do not claim to be a photographer any more than I claim to be a writer or a poet. But I will try, and I will love, and I will pray I improve.

The Number 1 Reason why I am Glad I will not be in Rez next year

2005-08-03T11:31:00.000-03:00

Back in April, a rival house played a nasty April Fools joke on my beloved Windsor. The house was crawling with crickets until we left after exams.

As the summer began, and I went back home, it was still a constant battle between me and crickets, until I thought that I had become successful in freeing my life from crickets at least.

Ant I could handle. Our house has an outbreak of ants every summer it seems, and although an abundance of ants seems utterly disgusting every time a cupboard door is opened, it is rather manageable.

But not the crickets. I was horribly mistaken when I had thought I could overcome the tiny vermin. Instead, I must have overlooked a few, who through Darwin's survival of the fittest managed to form some super colony of a new giant cricket species.

I found one prowling through my bedroom last night, its thick exoskeleton like combat gear. It was no match for my shoe and vacuum however, although it left a wicked stain where it was evident battle had taken place.

Although disgusting, I can deal with one. One cricket means that it could be a fluke. This understanding makes it much easier to sleep at night, however it was a false hope. As I woke up this morning, and rubbed my sleepy eyes out of its slumber, I saw another cricket, just as large and ugly as the first, staring up at me on the bathroom floor. I was NOT going to squish it with toilet paper. No, it was stronger than that. Somehow my mother was awake at 5:45 am and joined me, and the cricket lost its wreched life.

Every morning I listen to CBC radio one. I have been doing this since I was in elementary school. There has only been two exceptions to this rule; one was a time in early high school when I began listening to K94.5 - Moncton's Newest Music, and the second time was this past year at university because I shared a room, and normally woke up earlier than my roommate. On these summer Saint John mornings, as I wake up at 5:30 am, the trend is no different. I listen to the radio as I wake, I listen to it in the shower and while brushing my teeth, and I listen in the kitchen while making my lunch and eating my breakfast. This morning, I had somethingorotherCrunch in my bowl, and true to its name, it was making loud CRUNCH noises in my head. I got up to go turn the radio up, but instead directed my attention to the long slender thing on the wall behind it.

I was used to ants in the kitchen. I can grab a paper towel (or run upstairs to get some toilet paper) and manage to kill them. I do not even mind using my finger to kill a menacing ant. But a centipede! Bugs with exoskeletons really gross me out. They are much harder to smoosh, and make a distinctly disgusting cracking sound as they meet their end. There was no way I was letting this centipede run lose in my house, however. I looked over at the Paper Towel rack. Nothing. We have just returned from a camping trip, making it likely that the towel is still in the trailer. Instead, I bolted out the kitchen, up the stairs, rolled as much paper towel off the bathroom wall as possible in the shortest amount of time, and balled it up as I was running down the stairs. The centipede took about a minute to kill, all the while I was pushing this white gob of paper against the wall, praying that there was enough padding between me and the bug that I did not have to hear, or worst of all feel its demise.

I never claimed to be a fan of creepy crawlers.

When She Was Born They Looked at Her and Said...

2005-08-02T11:51:00.000-03:00

Cause even if we can't be together

We'll be friends now and forever

And I swear that I'll be there

Come what may...

I threw a CD into the player on my drive to work this morning. I needed to sing a little to get myself. It was just a silver unmarked disc, of which I have many in my travel case. I put it in, and heard the words, Of all the things I've believed in... I listen for a while to the CD as it passes song after song, Goodbye to You; Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye; Superman...; music that brings back floods of memories. Feeling sorry for the people in my car pool, I skipped the Backstreet Boys, but when the next song's lyrics touched my ears, I could not bear to hit the SCAN button. When you have no light to guide you/ And no one to walk beside you....

I was not a Hanson fanatic in grade six when everyone else was all about them. Isaac, Taylor, and Zack were never plastered all over my binders or lockers. But when the craze died down, I had Weird and Speechless and Yearbook playing in my player every night. At the end of middle and the beginning of high school, I put them in my shelf between the G and I albums I owned, not wanting to admit I liked the three "are you sure they are not girls?". Every once in a while I would pull it out, place the orange disc in the boom box, and be carried back to once upon a time (for the past is always a little sweeter when reminiscing).

Come tenth and eleventh, I was connected with a friend who appreciated the Hanson vibe as much as I. I did not need to hide the fact that I had all the lyrics written out on my computer or that I listened to it perhaps a little more than once a week. I was in the Middle of Nowhere with a friend who was right there with me.

Around that time, about a year or two ago, I was watching one of the late night talk shows when three guys walked onto the stage, singing an acoustic song. The sound was vaguely familiar, although I was sure that I had not heard it before. Their look was just as recognizable, as if I was looking through a frosted, tinted window at something I knew.

Slowly, the realization came to me. Was it really Hanson? If so, they have cleaned up, both their look and their sound. As the new album came out into stores in April of 2004, I was in the music store in Kings Square Mall, purchasing Underneath.
Suddenly, Here's to the Night came on the speakers. I will reserve my opinions on that song. Following that, Am I the Only One? by the BNL, geniuses that they are. This got my mind wandering to one of Bryn's most recent blog entries and the song What a Good Boy; admittedly one of my favorites. In fear of stealing Bryn's thunder, I must admit that this song would snapshot my life quite accurately as well. I find this especially true during times when I find myself at crossroads or attempting to grow up, when instead, I feel stifled.

...When you were born, they looked at you and said,
'What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl.'

We've got these chains that hang around our necks,
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same,
When temptation calls, we just look away.

This name is the hairshirt I wear,
And this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear
Bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
Be with me tonight,
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.

I go to school, I write exams,
if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out, does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget
'cause it won't take much for me to show my life ain't over yet.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange and everything around me stays the same...

Happy Birthday, Molly!

2005-07-29T14:44:00.000-03:00

Today is my beautiful little sister's tenth birthday. To believe that she has actually reached the 'double digits' is so incredible.

I was nine and a half when she was born. I was so excited to think about having a little sister or brother. She was supposed to be born on July 16th, but ended up coming late. Those few weeks of July seemed to just crawl as we waited in anticipation.

The night Mom went into the hospital, Uncle Bob and Victoria stayed at our house with Amy and I. The three of us (Amy, Victoria, and I) had a sleepover in Amy's bottom bunk bed, each of us squishing into the single bed.

At four o'clock that morning, she was born. I slept right through it, although the night before it had taken me forever to get to sleep. Was it going to be a boy or a girl. I tried to tell myself that I would be happy with either, but what little girl doesn't want a baby sister?

The next morning, up we rose. Dad came into the house and told us that mom had a baby.

"Well, what is it?"

Dad smiled.
"It's a ...... b...... girl!"

Now that precious little baby is a remarkable 10 year old.

There is no doubt that she is the cutest thing in the entire world,

She is fun,

She has the most incredible imagination,

She is friendly,

She is talented,

She is a fantastic sister,

And she has such a huge heart.

Isn't she beautiful? Happy tenth birthday, Molly. I love you with all my heart! It has been such an interesting ten years up till this point, and cannot wait to watch you grow into a beautiful woman!

Love, your big sister.

"It's a good Nuclear Day"

2005-07-29T13:26:00.000-03:00

10:00 came and I found myself standing in the Mechanical Maintenance shop surrounded by quite a few Lepreau employees (some who had already taken all the seats) all staring at a large screen. We watched Energy Minister Bruce Fitch (this would be entirely more enjoyable if I had a picture of him and my dad in high school or something) walk onto the platform and introduce Premier Lord and two guests.

Bernard Lord stood up and took his place at the podium. Both he and Bruce were saying positive things about Point Lepreau, however I did not want to jump to conclusions. Then, the Premier of New Brunswick announced the decision. They had decided to refurbish.

The crowd on the screen went wild. Everyone in the Maintenance shop was pretty silent, but I saw a few cracked smiles.

I think the government made the right decision. In the long run, this will be a much cheaper option than fossil fuels to say the least. I am mostly pleased for the 700 or so workers who make their way to Lepreau every morning for work. It would be a major loss for some of the workers.

After the newscast, the Health Physics department (of which I am a part of) had a "group hug" (meeting), and this is where I saw most people's reactions. Everyone was thrilled, and relieved. Being Friday, there were not a large amount of us at the meeting (about six or seven), but those who took today off were calling in, and asking about the results.

I found out at lunch that other departments had ice cream cake. Definitely more delicious than a group hug!

To Radiate or not to Radiate, That is the Question....

2005-07-29T09:06:00.000-03:00

In an hour, Premier Lord will be doing a news briefing, updating the media on the Future of Point Lepreau Nuclear Generating Station. I'll be heading over to the Maintenance shop where there will be a huge television set up for some of the employees to watch. I think the most interesting part will not be my reaction, as unfortunately I do not think I will be following my WBGT girl career opportunities.

When I tell people my place of summer employment, I always get the question of whether the government will fund us or not. Honestly, I have no sweet clue. I just go on what people around me say. Some of the plant workers believe it would be absolutely stupid to not refurbish, others do not have such a positive outlook. My mother thinks that the government will withhold all funding and let the plant run until 2008 until it dies.

The most frustrating part of the equation is that the government has been holding back on making a decision for so long. That is the main criticism that I have heard about Bernard Lord from New Brunswickers; if he actually comes around to making a decision, it will have been a long time coming, a time which was full of flip-flopping. "Better to make a bad decision, than no decision at all" said one New Brunswicker, who I carpool with. I do not know if I agree. Be as it may, PLGS has been crying for funding for refurbishment and waiting for the government to make up its mind for a while.

We'll see what 10:00 brings.

Say Cheese!

2005-07-28T13:04:00.000-03:00

Next time you see me, I'll have a new smile.

In second grade, after we had moved to Riverview, I was at a sleep-over at our church with the Pioneer Club program which First Moncton ran. Most of the time was spent in the church gym. Jillian, Katie, and I were, as little girls do, skipping rope, Jillian and Katie on either end, myself in the middle. Being seven or eight years old, I was not equipped with the mind I have now, and so I did not realize the ludicrousy of not wearing sneakers while jumping rope on a gym floor. Instead, I had my simply my socks on. As anyone knows, I am not very stable on my feet with industrial shoes on, let alone socks that allow easy 'surfing' upon sleek surfaces.

As all little girls know, skipping cannot go on forever, and so we eventually stopped, perhaps to give someone else a turn at the jumping. I stood on the rope. Katie, in a way any seven or eight year old child would find hilarious, pulled the rope out from under me.

KAPLUNK. Flat on my face I fell. I was not badly hurt, I probably had the wind knocked out of me.

I stood up. Should I cry? Did it hurt? Something had to happen, but I think I feel alright.

Someone pointed to the ground and gasped. People rushed towards me. "Laura, are you okay? Oh my goodness!" I had no idea why everyone was looking towards the ground.

I looked to where they were all pointing. There was something wrong with the floor. I looked closer. No, there was something on the floor.

"Laura, your teeth, what happened?" Pieces of my two front teeth were laying on the off white floor. I started crying. I picked them up, hoping that it could be fixed, scared of what my parents would say. I moved my tongue to the front of my mouth and ran it against my teeth. That made me cry harder, because there was a space which should not have been there. I could feel the air moving into and out of my mouth as I breathed, or moved. When something is out of place, it is unavoidably evident, and this is probably what caused me the most pain. Dad must have been in his office or in a meeting, or I called him. I remember sitting in his office, on one of his rose coloured LazyBoys and crying. The time we spent at the church seemed like ages to me, I do not recall what took so long, but eventually we were at the hospital, sitting in the waiting room.

I missed out on the entire night, but I was most heart broken about the dog show. Apparently, trainers came in and dogs did tricks, policemen brought in their dogs to sniff out things. And I was sitting on my Daddy's lap in outpatients, waiting for a nurse to see me. After what seemed like hours, a nurse looked at me and told me there was nothing I could do. I had to see a dentist. It was late at night, and our dentist was on vacation, so Dad got in touch with the on-call dentist and I had an appointment for the next day or soon after.

This was not the only adventure my teeth brought me on. Every once in a while for years they would break on me. I would be eating candy, or Amy and I would be wrestling. Eventually the dentist put pins in the back of my teeth to keep them from falling apart.

I've been told that my smile is one of my best features, and yet in the middle of my smile is the remnants of chipped teeth, getting discoloured and fading as the years go on.

In middle school, I broke them once more, and some friends started calling me Chippy. This was a nickname that I hated, and it would hurt more than anything. In early high school, I was explaining the teeth story,

"Oh, so that's what happened" one of my newer friends exclaimed. "I always thought you just didn't brush your teeth or something.

Because of this, my teeth have always been a confidence issue for me. That and my eyes. The cliche of beauty is always "blonde hair and blue eyes" of which I have neither. Instead, I have what has been affectionately referred to as barf-coloured eyes. Of course, I am essentially over both of these traumatizing events; feel extremely self conscious over my smile and my eyes, however the situation is still tender. The day my friend broke my heart and told me about what 'colour' my eyes were, my youth pastor said to me, "Laura, the man you marry is going to find your eyes beautiful. He will think ________ (left intentionally blank, because I cannot go marrying the first person who says this to me, especially if it is common knowledge in the first place)."

Today I will soon find myself leaving work and on my way back into Quispamsis to go to my dentist appointment. Unlike my boyfriend, I do not have dentophobia, however the experience is never my most pleasant. (My hunky dentist alleviates some of the stress.) Today, they are sautering my two front teeth, and rebuilding them, hopefully matching the colour and clearing up all the bacteria which is forming between the real and the fake teeth, possibly causing cavities. My dentist's wish was for me to get crowns (or something) on the teeth to cover them up. It would look as if I did not have a chip at all, and it would be the end of all my worries with them, however the insurance will not cover it. So I will be forced to endure the removing and rebuilding of my teeth once every few years until I no longer have any more of my own teeth left.

I would be much more inclined to go to the dentist if I could read or write while getting the work done. Instead, I'll be staring up at a Dora the Explorer poster on the ceiling.

DIMANCHE dans Toronto

2005-07-26T13:28:00.000-03:00

Sunday morning, we allowed ourselves to sleep in, so of course, I woke up as early as I could. I mean, on my one long weekend away from work at which I wake up at 5:30 am every morning, I decided to wake up early on the one morning I can sleep in. Brilliant Laura. When I emerged from my room to enter the real world (which was after laying in bed for a while relaxing, and a shower, making my immersion close to noon), everyone was already out in the back, swimming and enjoying the sun. It was a lovely morning. The weather all weekend had been beautiful, but that morning, the sun was out and warmer than it had been all weekend (for some reason, the major Toronto heat wave decided to leave us alone for that one weekend we were visiting). I had my new bathing suit on, and my hair in braids, and the heat of the sun just felt so good walking onto the interlocking brick patio. The boys were swimming in the pool and Bill and Ro were laying on the deck chairs. Dan and I joined them for a while, as I put on some well needed sunscreen (45 SPF, would you believe it?) and had some of Mia's delicious Spring Rolls. Eventually, we got warmer and the kids were getting a little more hyper, and so we decided to jump into the pool. Or rather, Dan jumped - I walked into the pool via the stairs, although the temperature was lovely.

"Everyone attack DJ!" said a voice from somewhere in the pool. Like a flock of seagulls are to a tossed Wendy's take out bag, all five boys ranging from two seven year old red heads to the fourteen year old, who almost equals Dan's size, swarmed towards him, grabbing onto whatever they could.

I stood back and laughed. Every time they needed reinforcement, I would cry "attack DJ!" or would render services by myself latching onto some part of Dan which was otherwise available. Kids were being thrown around the pool, everyone, except possibly Dan, was laughing.

That was until I head Dan say....

"Everyone attack Laura!!!" The twins and Blayne come rushing over as fast as running in water would let them. Luckily for me, the older boys were a little more awkward at latching on as tightly as they had to Dan, so they stood back offering what moral support they could muster. Working with a number of kids for a good part of the summers previous, and having a younger hyper-active sibling of my own, my kid muscles were pumped and ready! The children attached to my arms and back was no match for PYROPHYTAWOO-MAN! (That's right, the super hero of highschools past has been revived once more to battle, none other than the evil-water-dwellers).*

Soon, everyone was tired, and some were bloody, and the kids were ordered out of the pool and told to go inside and get dressed. This allowed Dan and I some quality pool time. As we got out, Dan insisted that he get the very pink towel. This may be because Dan has some sort of affinity to the colour pink, or perhaps that it was bigger than all the rest of the towels (I don't know, I'm leaning towards reason number one), but Jesse was appalled! He could not believe that lack-of-gentlemanliness he was seeing in his older brother! And so, Jesse handed the pink towel to me as I got out. I dried and warmed myself off with it, and handed it to Dan as he was getting out, stating "I was just drying it off for you". For some reason, he preferred a different coloured towel. I think he was just embarrassed that I found out his fondness for fuschia.

As we walked into the house, we saw bodies littered across the couches in the house. Not only were the four younger brothers sleeping in front of the TV, on the floor, or on the couch in the room next to the TV room, but so was Mia. This was such a cute sight, and I kind of wish we had a camera at the time, or at least bothered to take a few pictures.

As I cleaned up and got dressed for the day, Ro did Dan a huge favour and cut his hair, something that desperately needed to be done. Once he was finished, they joked about doing mine. This got me thinking, and I figured I did need a summer chop. Well, Dan did not like this idea. He did not think I would look good with short hair, and he liked my hair long and that was the only way I'd be pretty. This was his stubborn side coming through. So Ro did not cut it overly short, but I got rid of about four inches. It was a lovely cut. Of course, it looked better that day than it ever will again - I cannot style my own hair - but it is nice to have it a little shorter for summer.

With our hair freshly cut, we headed into the car to The Promenade Shopping Center. Seeing as I had not managed to buy much in the way of clothes on our trip to Vaughn Mills Mall the day before, it was nice to get one more shopping excursion before the end of the trip. I am not an avid shopper, nor do I even claim to like the whole experience much. In fact, I tend to avoid shopping at all costs. This trip, however quick it was - as we were trying to make it home in time for supper, was one of the best shopping experiences ever. Instead of having to pick out what may or may not look good on me, or stress about what does or does not fit, I let Dan play dress-up. I chose the outfits, I went into the dressing room and tried them on. A good percentage of the stress of shopping was alleviated through that. All that was left was feeling absolutely disgusting when something did not look good on, but there were few of those scenarios, especially at our first stop - The Gap. I bought about 200 dollars worth of clothes between the Gap and Old Navy (I had a gift certificate), and we left Old Navy just as the store was closing and just on time to make it home before supper.

Supper that night was steak. When Dan's father handed me the plate of barbecued steak, I was taken aback. This piece of steak could have fed my entire family plus fourteen starving Africans. I tried my best to eat as much as a could of it, but no matter how hard I tried, I just could not manage to eat very much. I honestly had the second biggest piece of steak, with Dan having the largest. We sat around on patio furniture out back by the pool as the kids ate inside. It was a lovely supper. As the sky began to get darker, and the kids started to get a little more rambunctious (that is how the trend tends to go), Bill and Ro and Laura went for a walk, and the twins, after their bath, started running around the pool. Clearly this is a 'what not to do' scenario, and so finally, catching both of them and convincing them to go inside, I led them up to their room to try to wind them down. Dan stayed outside, and got a chance to hang out one-on-one with Jesse, who was in the pool at the time, which I think was nice for both of them.

When Dan came inside, he found me, the twins, and Blayne (I think?) reading from a book of fairy tales. This was unlike any reading I was accustomed to. The twins were up and down, sometimes paying attention, sometimes watching the video game that Blayne was playing. Despite the constant buzz around me, I really enjoyed this time to sit and read to them. I fell in love with all five of Dan's brothers while I was visiting, and it was great that I could interact with them on a personal level.

The boys brushed their teeth, and Ro came up to make sure they were in bed. Dan and I went online to get the directions to the place we had to be the next morning. We had a hard time getting the internet to work on the three different computers that we tried, and we finally got into one, without too much stress involved. For some reason, I remember this part of the night quite fondly. Maybe it was because of the atmosphere. The computer was right outside the boys' room, and so the hall lights were out, with exception of a little coloured light casting pretty little blue designs all over the wall. It could have been the silence, after a long day of hanging out with five kids, whispers were a pleasant addition. It could have been talking to Sean, who seemed to be a tad quiet and reserved for most of the weekend. Or maybe, it was the fact that I was sitting on the lap of someone who I love, finally a time when we could sit and relax without a lot of action happening around us.

We just hung out together for the rest of the night, sitting on a couch and talking. Right before the quietness of the night lulled me to sleep, we decided to finally do our midnight swim, a concept we had been talking about for the entire weekend there. So we put our swim suits back on, and shimmied into the chilly pool. With the sun on the other side of the earth, the night was cool, but not cold. The water was not too uncomfortable if moving around, but we only stayed in the water for about five minutes before it became barely bearable.

I wasn't even able to have a quick shower before hopping into bed, I was too exhausted.

*I am the only one who finds this funny, with the exception of possibly Bryn, and even that I doubt. Just let me have my fun! :-D

Chapter TWO - SATURDAY (Part two: Tony and Tina's Wedding)

2005-07-25T19:31:00.000-03:00

Our plans for the afternoon were to meet Dan's Mom and Larry to go to a play that evening. The play began at four pm. A requirement was to look good for this event. Although Dan always looks good (ahem), he had not, like me, decided to dress up a little even for shopping. I suppose I am lucky, being of the female persuasion, that I can look good in a summer dress both shopping and at a wedding. Dan didn't think that dress slacks and expensive shoes were a good choice to find himself at the mall in. This was not supposed to be a problem, however, because of the bathing suit and the bubble tea, and the altogether lengthiness at the mall (okay, it was my fault), we did not have time to make the drive through Toronto traffic back to Dan's father's house to get dressed and back to Dan's Mom's residence. So, we just got into the car and drove to his Mom's.

We got there just in time, about four minutes before they had wanted to leave. It is a drive from Dan's mother's house in Thornhill (am I right about that?) to downtown Toronto, and so we had to leave early. Dan borrowed a golf shirt from Larry and we got into the car and headed towards the Big City. This is my first venture into the city of Toronto since arriving, and I was pointed out the CN tower every time we came in view.

"And that's the CN Tower, Laura!"

I must have seen that tower from every angle! What a treat!

The traffic in Toronto was fascinating for me. The weekend we were there, the traffic was not nearly as bad as I am told it can be, but that many different cars with that many different people in them is just wonderful. I am a people watcher and so it is grand to sit in my own car and watch everyone going to wherever for whatever reason.

Driving into the actual city was another incredible experience. Cars were going in every which direction. Packs of people where walking on the sidewalks, waiting for street lights, or walking in front of cars. There were rails on the street for street cars to drive on. Everything was in packs and crowds and flocks. So many cars, so many people. The buildings loomed over me. As were were driving into the city, I could see the skyrises from top to bottom, but as we got closer, they got taller and taller until I could no longer see the tops of them from my seat in the car, or even halfway up. It was then that the realization of how large everything in Toronto was set in. I was in a jungle of engines and cement and strange animals. It was beautiful, though; not dingy or dismal, but a foreign type of exotic, like a giant bouquet of wild flowers, each painted different colours, each with a unique aroma.

Downtown, we parked the car and got out of the car and headed into the Holiday Inn, which had doormen and everything. Up the stairs we walked (or rather, up the elevator we rode). We were on our way to the show Tony and Tina's Wedding, a dinner theatre like nothing I have ever experienced before. Our tickets were there waiting for us, and we arrived just in time, about five minutes early, leaving not too much of a wait time. Right away the actors started piling into this room which we were all standing in. Immediately they began introducing themselves and engaging in conversation with the patrons, continually in character. This was a wonderful charade and a completely different experience than I was used to.

We then wandered into the room where the actual play was taking place. The wedding happened, and then the reception. During the reception, there was lovely food, the actors came and sat down with us and talked with us or amongst themselves in front of us. There was dancing, in which the actors pulled you out of your seat to dance if you were not willing to do it alone. There were dances for couples, there were dances where everyone held hands in a circle, there were conga lines and the macarana, the YMCA and the chicken dance. This was the first time Dan and I had danced in a proper situation, although I must say, we take the prize in parking lot (car park for Matty) dancing. It was fantastic to be in his arms, close to him, as if the entire world was disappearing around us, and for one second it was just he and I.

Sitting at our table was a cute newly wed couple from the states. Dan first guessed that they were newly wed. Apparently they were being really sweet, him pulling out the chair for her and getting her food and all. I talked to her afterwards.

"Yeah, we've been married a little less than a year." She said. "Our wedding was nothing like this, though".

They were cute.

A few of the actors noticed Dan and I.

"If I was your boyfriend, I wouldn't let you out in public in that dress"

"You must be proud to have the prettiest girl in the room. I mean, my girlfriend's close, but don't tell her that she's not number one."

"You two must be so in love."

I had such a fantastic time, I laughed hard, danced hard, and had a great time with Dan, his mom, Larry, and every one of the actors. Dan's mom took pictures like it was nobody's business, and she loved to tell everyone where Dan and I were from.

"This is my son, Daniel. He came all the way from Halifax, Nova Scotia just for the wedding. And this is his girlfriend who is from New Brunswick. They're inter-provincial dating!"

Dan, his mom, and some cute groomsmen

I think Kiki's getting a little close....

Laura and Grandma Nunzio

She tried to set me up with her 21 year old grandson, Johnnie

Larry decided to dance with the pregnant bridesmaid

Dan had to pay twenty dollars to dance with the bride.

No, I did not go up to the front and dance to the YMCA with actors!

After the play, we walked downtown for a while, and headed to the CN tower. Unfortunately, there was at least an hour wait to get up the tower, and so we walked back to the car and drove to The Beaches. There, Brenda and I checked out this funky jewelry store, and I bought a toe ring, while Brenda bought me a bracelet which matched my sundress. Dan and Larry parked the car then came in to the store and browsed with us, but poor Dan had a headache and so spent some of the time outside. We then walked across the street to a restaurant bar and sat outside on the patio and talked and had a drink. The sky was growing pink as the sun started to set, and the Live 8 concert was playing on the TV behind us.

Dan and his Mom looking oh so cute and happy together, at the restaurant

As we drove home that night, in the dark, Dan's head was not feeling much better. By the time we got back to Dan's mom's house though, it was starting to feel better, so he was able to drive back to his dad's. When we got back, I tried to give my parents a call, but only got their machine, and then I think we went straight to bed. I am sure I passed out again after such a long day.

Self Loathing (NOT part of the Toronto story)

2005-07-18T13:01:00.000-03:00

I hate it. Why do I constantly put myself through this over and over again? It is like I enjoy this feeling I get? And I push myself through it again, and again. I start off, and it isn't really bad.

"This is normal. Of course this happened" I tell myself.

But then I get so deep, so far in, that I lose the strength to continue swimming. All this information rushes over my head and my heart like water rushing faster and faster over the waterfall, pushing anything in it's way along with the strong current.

And yet, I had a life too. I understand this. In my head, I can talk myself out of this ludicrousy. But the heart stays in this twisted position. It becomes tangled in the web that I am not the only one a part of. I believe you and I believe us. I just hate the promises and the sharing. Send me back to kindergarten. Send me to the place where they teach you to play fair. I have forgotten how to. Instead I sulk in the corner, wishing that I could play with all the blocks at once, wishing that I could be the prettiest girl in the room, hoping that someday, something will become of me.

Chapter Two - SATURDAY (Part One)

2005-07-15T11:02:00.000-03:00

This is all starting to blur in my head really fast, so I better get down to finishing this documentation. I wanted to have this done earlier, but got frustrated because I lost it all. Here we go again.

Saturday morning I woke up earlier than I would have liked. My head was sore from the night before because as I was so tired that I flopped myself on the bed. Instead of my head hitting the lovely soft pillow, it bonked on the wooden part of the fouton, giving me a lovely huge bump. This might have had something to do with how fast I managed to fall asleep that night. I fell asleep with ice to my head. By morning, the swelling had gone down a bit, but it was killer and the bump was still rather large. It might be for this reason that I do not remember much about Saturday morning. I think when we woke up, we got right to getting ready to go to the mall, shower, get dressed. We may have sat out by the pool for a little while watching the boys swim before heading out.

We got into the car (the Spyder - I apparently spelled it wrong a few times in Chapter one) and drove down to the mall. I do not remember the name of this mall - but it was the new one with the Bass Pro Shop in it - a store which Brenda, Dan's mother insisted we visit. Bass Pro was a fantastically large outdoor store, which made me want to go camping and be at Wildwood so much. There is a giant aquarium with big fish in it that you can watch. This aquarium is used to do fly fishing lessons with, although this was not going on while we were there.

The rest of the mall was huge as well, and we walked through it looking for clothes or sunglasses for myself. I got neither at this mall. My first expense was at La Senza, one of my favorite place to blow my money. Shopping is not my love, however underwear shopping is right up there with grocery shopping. So, I pulled Dan in with me, holding his hand tightly because he didn't want to be seen in that store unless everyone knew he was being dragged in by me. He got used to it in the end. I got a really great white pair of underwear that I think I managed to throw out by accident on the last day we were in Toronto. It was a shame, since I really needed a pair of white underwear for the new skirt I had bought a few days prior to the trip.

After La Senza, and after trying on a few sunglasses and hats, Dan and I headed to a restaurant in the mall for lunch. It was a fantastic place, a sports bar, but a lovely cool atmosphere to it. The restaurant was attatched to a bowling alley, which was really an interesting addition, but we didn't take the time to lace up some of those hot shoes and send a big colourful balls down a lane. Our lunch was delicious, I had a Caesar salad, and then Dan and I got a bunch of finger foods to share. I wish I could remember what exactly we got. There was Mac and Cheese balls, which was Macaroni and Cheese inside a batter (sounds healthy). I think we got some yummy barbecue chicken wings, and a type of flat bread with spinach and cheese dip. We did not even get close to finishing it. As a drink, I had this fantastic un-blended Pina Colada, which put me in heaven. It was so incredibly good. I tried to sip slowly to savour it, but the taste was out of this world. The drink came with cherries, and I had some fun with the stems afterwards.

Finishing lunch, we walked around the mall some more, a little faster than before. We had little time left, as the late afternoon we had plans we could not be late for. We did stop at Suzy Shier, until I realized that I had left my gift certificate in the car. Our last stop before running out of the store was at the bathing suit store. We had a blast picking out a suit that would fit and look okay on me. I ended up with this burgundy coloured one, which didn't seem to make me look too ginormous. Dan and I split the cost, but by this time, we were running late, so we hurried to the mall exit.

Right before we got back to Bass Pro Shop. Dan stopped.

"If we had more time, I'd take you to get some Bubble Tea. Remember how I told you about that?" I looked over. There was the Bubble Tea shop to my right. To my left, Bass Pro, which would be our exit from the mall. "But this might be the last chance we get to have it," Dan continued. I think he was having some major internal conflict.

I had never experienced bubble tea before. The store was bright and colourful and full of people. We walked in and I had to stand back to look at the menu. I decided on a fresh fruit cold drink.

"I'll have Watermelon please"

"Would you like the Tapioca Bubbles in it?" this was the intimidating part of the drink. But of course I had to try it.

"Yes please."

The handed me my pink blended drink with the floaty black spheres in the bottom of the cup. I look up at Dan.

"Here I go."

I take a sip, holding the straw in the middle of my cup so that I do not get any Tapioca bubbles. Not the first time at least.

"How is it?" Dan asks, eager to find out if I liked it or not.

"The watermelon drink is Fantastic!" I admit.

"What about the bubbles?"

I look ashamed. I take a deep breath, plunge the straw far into the bottom of the drink and slowly, very slowly, watch a black ball rise up my straw. In my mouth this mushy, chewy ball mixes with watermelon drink. This is a new feeling for me. Slowly I chew. I had no expectations of what this might taste like, no idea at all. And I was surprised. The taste of this chewy ball was sweet, but not overly sweet. I came to find out after a few however, that this was a rich sweetness. It was great. I was falling in love all over again with a pink drink filled with black beads and a giant straw. And now that I am home in New Brunswick, I miss it (although apparently Mom told me that there is a shop here in Saint John that sells them. I'll have to find out where this is, or my lust will grow too great.)

We walk out of the mall now, later than we had time for, but extremely happy. I felt like I was a girl in a summertime novel, wearing a cute summer halter dress, my brown hair long and down, held back with a long yellow scarf, and a cute boy's arm around my waist. We get to the perfect summertime-novel-convertible-car, and the wind starts blowing my hair back, one hand is holding this watermelon drink which tastes sweet like summertime-fruit and new like romance, the other hand is holding his.

My trip with DJ Daniel O'Rourke O. A Novel. - Chapter ONE - FRIDAY

2005-07-06T20:56:00.000-03:00

Yup, that's his name.

I cannot believe that Toronto happened. We came and went.

It was fantabulous. That's right - another new word. Just like boughten. Get over it.

So, as I said, on Thursday Amy and I piled into the Jetta and hopped on the road (mental image: car with bunny ears hopping). We drove until Sackville, with a stop in Sussex for a snack for Amy. When we arrived in Sackville I got a supper at le Subway to take on the bus, and a mirror to use for makeup and the like while traveling. Amy and the car got dropped off at Dan and Lisa's house, and I got a ride to the Irving to wait for my bus.

The bus was crowded, and the drive was long, but I sat beside a girl named Margaret and we talked the entire way, until she got dropped off at the airport. This provided me with some nice company to endure the trip with. She had been on the bus from Saint John, which I really pitied her for. Glad I had my car for the first half of the trip.

Dan picked me up at the bus station at twenty to eleven. I was tired by this point having only slept a few hours the night before and had been up since five that morning. I do not remember much more of that night from that point on. I cannot remember if I zonked out or if we stayed up late talking, but either way, it was a nice time, I know that for sure.

The alarm was set to go off at 5:00 am. It did not. Perhaps it was set wrong. You might ask Adam, as it seems that the alarm was unplugged when we got home, so I am assuming it went off SOMETIME. Anyway, our taxi was scheduled to get us at 5:30 I think. I woke up on my own at 5:10, I guess I have gotten somewhat into the groove of waking up early. I went over and gave Dan a kiss on the cheek. He looked over at the clock.

"Crap - the alarm did not go off".

Visions of missing taxis and planes and the expense of getting new tickets, or the disappointment of not going flooded my mind.

"WHAT?!?!" I yelled.

"It's okay, Laura. We just slept in for ten minutes, we still have loads of time."

Well, I had loads of time. Dan was not entirely ready to go. He ended up leaving some things at home. I just had to get dressed, do my hair, and close up my bag. We made a few bowls of Oatmeal, but did not have the time to eat much more than two half-spoonfuls, and I had to do my hair in the taxi. I also had to change my shirt in the taxi. This is one of my super-awesome-Laura-qualities: getting dressed without getting undressed. Yay ME!

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We got to the airport and did not have much time to wait around. We weren't rushed, but we weren't there for hours either. Our plane boarded at quarter to seven. Dan got our seats switched so I could have a window. This was so awesome for me, because it has been ages since I had been on a plane and it was as if I was experiencing this all for the first time. It was all so very exciting and grand.

We sat in seats 8A and 8B - and I got to watch Halifax disappear beneath the fluffy clouds, then watch the plane exit the whiteness until all I could see was perfect blue above a landscape of white fluffs. Dad had it right when he said it was as if flying low over the Arctic, as if the clouds were transformed into snow. It is precisely what it looked like. It was stunning.

I fell asleep on Dan's shoulder. I woke up just as the clouds were clearing and I could see something below me - possibly Quebec or somewhere in Ontario. My neck was sore - apparently my head had been falling off his shoulder the entire time. Every time my head fell, he would put it back. I guess I am a persistent sleeper.

I found it extremely interesting to watch the subdivisions below me. When Uncle Bob and Aunt Martha used to live in Ottawa, I found the subdivisions very intriguing then as well; such nice big houses crammed in as little space as possible, and yet they had lovely back yards. Houses looked so much alike.

From the air, this phenomenon was increased immensely. ALL the houses looked the same, so tiny, identical in size and shape. The backyards were laid out next to each other, as if a grid. The lots were one after another, in perfect lines on roads, back to back and side to side. When I first peered down, they seemed so small and so plentiful, I thought they were cars in a lot, rather than houses.

When we approached Toronto, and got closer to the ground, I could see swimming pools of such a magnificent blue colour. You could see where subdivisions were being built. It was such an interesting landscape, so beautiful from a birds eye view.

As we landed, my ears would not fully pop. The pressure in them was insane. Once I finally relieved them, we were landed and getting off the plane. As we went to get our luggage, which were very quickly off the plane, and one of the first to come along the conveyor belt, Dan spotted his Dad waiting for us. This heightened my nervousness a bit, especially since Dan told me about the likelihood of his dad actually coming out to meet us AT the airport was exceedingly low. Ro came too, which Dan said was also unlikely. He thought it was because they were excited to meet me.

Maybe.

Introductions happened and then we got into the SUV on our way back to Dan's Dad's place in Richmond Hill, north of Toronto. We drove up to a beautiful house, lovely and big on the outside. We got inaide and the 'VonTrapp children" met us on the stairs. I impressed all with knowing their names. Jesse, Sean, Blayne, Dean, and Liam. As soon as I got Dean and Liam organized, I had no problem the rest of the weekend telling them apart.

What sweet kids. I fell in love with them. I knew I would, eventually, but I never realized how quickly I would come to love Dan's family.

Jesse is the oldest, fourteen years old, and he seems like the teddy bear of the family. He loves his big brother so much, it is really beautiful to see. Jesse just seems so full of love. He is also such a gentleman. He could teach his big brother a thing or two.

Sean is just such a cutie. At twelve years old, he has that awkward teenager height. He seemed somewhat quiet, but I really hope that I can get close to him. He has a great smile, and I think he will definitely be one of those boys that all the girls have crushes on, but who doesn't realize it. Sean is a good kid.

Blayne is Molly's twin, I am sure of it. Both are nine years old heartbreakers, with energy coming out of the ying yang to boot. Both are such cuties.

Now we get to the twins - seven year old Dean and Liam. The little red-headed Monsters, "Satan" as Sean and Jesse so lovingly called one. What little personalities these two had. So distinct. When they are together the two play off of each other, that is for certain. They like an audience. Seperately however is a whole other ballpark.

Dean gave Liam the spotlight most of the time, He is the kid who is always there, but never right in the action. You'll look over into the corner, and there he is, playing his GameBoy. He was not as affectionate as Liam, but he wanted to play just as much.

Dan told me that Liam has a crush on me. He followed us around and would actually listen to me most of the time, if I really insisted. He was just the life of the party, the attention grabber. One night, while Dean was sitting on the couch nearby, and Dan was getting some drinks together, Liam and I went through years of photo albums. Liam was so excited to see everyone - all his brothers when they were little and especially to show me, and see DJ (Dan) when he was younger. He let me kiss him goodnight on the forehead after I read to him and Dean fairy tales.

Wow, each of them are so special. I cannot wait to get to know them more.

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After meeting the boys, and Honey the dog, Mia had Dan and I a lovely breakfast. This was nice, because we were both pretty starved after our bite or two of Oatmeal this morning. She had made us bacon and eggs and toast. It was restaurant quality! After breakfast, and a tour of the lovely house, we went out back and sat out by the pool as the boys tried to get DJ to swim with them. Unfortunately for the boys, we weren't able to.

Dan and I jumped into the Spier convertable, put the top down for giddy lil' me, who really got excited to drive around Toronto in a convertable, and drove to Thornhill (???) to meet Dan's Mom and LARRRRRY.

What a sweet lady Mamma O'Rourke is. She is beautiful and cute - two qualities which CAN go together, and her smile makes her face shine and her eyes light up. She has got a sweet personality! We sat and talked with them for a while, until Dan showed me around his house he grew up in. Although we did not mean to, we fell asleep soon afterwards, and had a lovely nap. I had not been feeling well anyway, so I ended up laying down, which is when the nap hit. Afterwards, we had a late lunch of Quizinos and got back on the road to Dan's Dad's house.

Back at the house, we got dressed up a little and the entire family headed over to the Country Club for dinner. Sean and Blayne came with us in the Spider. Both of them has girlfriends and I heard all about them. When we got to the Club, I sat between Dan and Blayne, Sean sat across from me, Jesse beside him across from Blayne, and Mia on the other side across from Dan. Beside Dan and Mia sat the twins, and Ro and Bill sat at the heads. Dean and Liam had a fantastic time teasing me and Dan about all his ex-girlfriends. They had already started earlier that night, and I played right along.

"DJ, remember your girlfriend _________?"

I look shocked. "Who is _________? Dan, you never told me about her!!!"

The kids (not just Dean and Liam) laugh. "And your other girlfriend _________!!!"

This goes on. I had a chuckle. At supper we started to talk about middle names. "What's your middle name, Laura?"

I laugh. "Guess!" I tell the boys. This is right after the ex-girlfriend teasing.

"L_________" one of them guesses (naming one of Dan's recent ex-girlfriend's name beginning with an 'L'. For those of you who don't know, I am part of a string of brunette L-names).

"Nope." I answer and laugh. "Close though!"

"L_________?" the other guesses another name of an ex that they remembered.

"Almost".

The twins look confused at this point. At seven years old they are having a hard time remembering past a few years. "Jesse would remember" Dan adds.

The boys think..... One shouts out "Louise!"

"Yes!" I say! Dan's dad and step mom laughed at this. That's right, a double L name. Laura Louise (hence the domain name ltwo.blogspot.com. L two).

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When we got home that night, I played a few numbers on the piano, Blayne showed Dan how he could play the guitar, then Jesse played a bit on the piano. The twins ran around, and I sat on Dan's lap. The sun was setting, and it was such a beautiful, relaxing night.

It was now that Liam wanted to show me pictures. I didn't mind, so we sat downstairs at the bar and pulled out photo album after photo album of the O'Rourke family, seeing pictures documenting the younger brothers' younger years. This also showed younger Dan - even some younger Dan when he was with Louise! (Gasp!). When Dan went upstairs I told Liam that the only reason I was looking through with him is that I could see pictures of his ex-girlfriends. Liam went and told DJ this - but that's okay. I thought it was funny.

At 10:30 pm, after all the rest of the boys had gone to bed, we finished looking through the pictures and the boys went to sleep.

Then, I promptly fell asleep. It had been a long, but fantastic day!

Come fly with me

2005-06-30T15:14:00.000-03:00

In a few hours I'll be in my '96 Jetta, heading down to Sackville with my sister so that I can catch a bus to Halifax.

Tomorrow morning I'll be boarding a plane for only the third time in my life, to head to the BIG SMOKE, as my boss so affectionately refers to it as.

It should be a fantastic weekend, complete with sun, swimming, shopping, meeting family, going to plays, Canada's Wonderland, etc. What an exciting Canada Day weekend!

My world is a flood - Slowly I become one with the mud

2005-06-29T20:03:00.000-03:00

The morning started out bleak and foggy. It was cold and you could barely see in front of you. Come this afternoon though, the sky cleared, and the sun came out. It was beautiful and nice to see for a change in Saint John. I was driving home from town today, and all of a sudden, the sky clouded over and and completely opened up. Down poured the rain. Fast and loud and a huge quantity of rain. It was beautiful. Romantic. I wanted to be in it and getting drenched with the overpowering cooling sensation of vulnerability. I stepped out of my car and heard the powering sound of thunder overhead.

The rain offers such a cleansing of my emotions. I feel like I can get them right out in the open. The feeling of inadaquacy can finally escape through the droplets of rain dripping off my hair and my face and my clothes. I can't escape from the thoughts running through my head, questioning who I am.

Who is this girl that you see
And why can't I see her?
Am I worthy of success? am I worthy of love?
There are so many comparissons,
So many things I am not.
The rain falls
it soaks me so that
I become translucent.
I step into the city,
a nameless face in a faceless crowd.
What part is me
Can you accept that?
What part do you leave behind,
Do you wish for me to be?

Ninja Turtle

2005-06-26T15:35:00.000-03:00

On my way home from driving my sister to work this morning, I had my arm hanging out of the window, feeling the warm breeze against my face, my hair blowing in the wind behind me, luckily not in front of my face. My sister was sitting in the middle part of the van, we were both singing to mixed CD I had in the player perfect for a warm summer day like today.

Being the safe driver that I am, I was concentrating hard on the road around me and saw something round and dark sitting on the highway. This is not an odd thing as many times you'll see pieces of tire or debris on the road, so I did not pay much attention to it. All of a sudden, the object began to move. Then I saw it - it was a turtle. Thoughts started going through my head, just as I am sure that poor turtle had many thoughts running through his head - I am sure he was seeing his whole life flash before his eyes.

I started wondering how long the turtle had been trying to cross the highway, it was moving at a terribly ssssllllooooowwww pace. Where was it going, and does it cross that highway often? Then I started wondering what turtle would sound like underneath the wheels of a 2000 Windstar. That was the thought that convinced me that I did not WANT to find out.

Just in time, I swerved out into the other lane of traffic. Fortunately, there were no cars close by me. I looked in my rear-view mirror, and could still see that blob of a turtle on the highway. I saw the red car behind me just miss it. The car behind him though, I couldn't say.

I hope that the fearless turtle made it to the otherside. If not, rest in peace dear turtle. I am glad it was not I who was the author of your demise.

My my my It's a beautiful world

2005-06-26T11:26:00.000-03:00

It is incredible how the thought of you

Can bring me to tears

Or force me to beam

This is a complete elation

A faultless bliss

Your laughter is addicting

Your drug far more potent

I could watch this beginning over and over

In anticipation of our next creation

Reminicing the last

And overwhelmed by the reality

A divine chance sweeter than chocolate

Purer than water

Beheld by us.

And the world becomes so beautiful