Depth of Field

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)

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"

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

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

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

Waiting

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!

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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!

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

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

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

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?

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...