I rolled out from under my nocturnal pile of three blankets, just as many pillows and two teddy bears. Somewhere between stumbling into the shower and boarding the train a jaunty spring slipped into my boots. If I wasn't worried about slipping on the damp pavement, I would dance down the street. I do have sympathy for my neighbourhood's other residents, so I try to limit the click of my heels.
What I love most about the morning is being able to watch the sun rise as I stand just inside the train doors. The sky is a milky gold and the scene illuminated by the glow is a bustling construction site; it's not exactly idyllic but it's my home.
December is Pause Month; everything takes a break and I permit myself plenty of inert moments. I want to bake piles of cookies, try some new cakes, knit until my room is bursting with colourful creations and read something that was not on a school book list. I will also write again, November is a trying month for university students here. I managed not to lose my mind but other things slipped to the side, but I go now to collect them.
There is plenty to look forward to, as there always is. A new project, discovering a new song or perhaps just doing much of the same but taking the time to enjoy it. I have enlisted my friends to kick me in the rear and force my to get my ears pierced - something I've been putting off out of fear for years. My theory is that if I tell enough people and then get it written here (if it's on the interweb then it's true, right?) I have no excuse to put it off.
It's time to get cozy, pull on some knee socks and throw myself headlong into winter. The sooner I accept the snow, the sooner I will be shooting headfirst down a hill on my trusty sled.
Welcome winter.
December 2, 2010
November 24, 2010
Eat a Cookie and Time Travel
I like titles that are completely (initially) unrelated to the work. When I go into a library or a book store I'm looking for intriguing titles, something that would spark my imagination and make me long for the story behind the covers. But enough about that, today I have joy.
I walk the same streets every, and at the same time I get lost in a new place every time. Maybe it's because I have the same capacity to hold things in my brain as a sieve does to hold water. But that isn't the point. The point is that when the sky turns grey I get to watch the day through my own hair. The wind was wicked today, so cold it made the part of my head that is behind my ears ache. November is liminal, everything is changing and no one knows if they should accept the misery of winter months yet.
Surprises abound on the single street I take to work from the gym-atop-the-mountain. I look down an alley between two houses and see the grass there scattered with many glittering pieces of glass. It was like someone broke a puddle. A few houses away, I wonder whether that brilliant turquoise door has always been there. I think with all the leaves turning fiery in the autumn, I forget to look at the houses. The townhouses are crammed tightly together; three storeys (or stories, if you're feeling poetic) topped with a slate shingle roof. As if noticing for the first time, I gape at the colours. Each house, even though it is pressed right up to its neighbour, has doors and window frames so gaily painted that they seem to have sprung from the rooms of children. Even on campus, I wonder whether I am going mad when I see the shade of blue which adorns the windows of an old stone building.
It get dark earlier every day, and soon the people will begin to lose their colour as well. The stain of the sun never lasts very long for those who do not retreat south during the holidays. But we can find colour in other places. Even though there has not yet been a permanent snowfall, the buildings are adorned with massive, glittering wreathes. At least scale is maintained. Trees and lampposts alike are bedecked in shimmering lights, and before long, snowflakes will add that last but necessary romance.
If I am to live in a country that is beset with snow for the greater part of the year, then I might as well find ways to enjoy it, right? Before long, the wind that blows tornadoes of leaves around my feet will soon be stirring sharper and colder things.
At the very least, it is not yet cold enough that my smile freezes on my face.
I walk the same streets every, and at the same time I get lost in a new place every time. Maybe it's because I have the same capacity to hold things in my brain as a sieve does to hold water. But that isn't the point. The point is that when the sky turns grey I get to watch the day through my own hair. The wind was wicked today, so cold it made the part of my head that is behind my ears ache. November is liminal, everything is changing and no one knows if they should accept the misery of winter months yet.
Surprises abound on the single street I take to work from the gym-atop-the-mountain. I look down an alley between two houses and see the grass there scattered with many glittering pieces of glass. It was like someone broke a puddle. A few houses away, I wonder whether that brilliant turquoise door has always been there. I think with all the leaves turning fiery in the autumn, I forget to look at the houses. The townhouses are crammed tightly together; three storeys (or stories, if you're feeling poetic) topped with a slate shingle roof. As if noticing for the first time, I gape at the colours. Each house, even though it is pressed right up to its neighbour, has doors and window frames so gaily painted that they seem to have sprung from the rooms of children. Even on campus, I wonder whether I am going mad when I see the shade of blue which adorns the windows of an old stone building.
It get dark earlier every day, and soon the people will begin to lose their colour as well. The stain of the sun never lasts very long for those who do not retreat south during the holidays. But we can find colour in other places. Even though there has not yet been a permanent snowfall, the buildings are adorned with massive, glittering wreathes. At least scale is maintained. Trees and lampposts alike are bedecked in shimmering lights, and before long, snowflakes will add that last but necessary romance.
If I am to live in a country that is beset with snow for the greater part of the year, then I might as well find ways to enjoy it, right? Before long, the wind that blows tornadoes of leaves around my feet will soon be stirring sharper and colder things.
At the very least, it is not yet cold enough that my smile freezes on my face.
November 14, 2010
Lost Moments
During this past week I've been doing a lot of walk-thinking. If I'm going to be walking a great deal then I might as well put it to productive use - reading while walking has its' hazards.
With nothing particular to think about the mind often turns to the abstract, and aided by music it can go nearly anywhere. As the mind wanders at the same time as I do, I fall to thinking of lost moments. It's those moments that we miss because we have other things to do, or because we move too quickly.
When I see a ticket to a football game lying at the edge of a sidewalk, I think about how it came to be lost. Did it fall from a pocket as its bearer hopped up the hill in celebration of victory? Or was it cast dejectedly aside? I would hate to think that the ticket was lost prior to the match, but if such was the case, what became of that night?
Walking along the top of a mountain gives way to thoughts of life elsewhere. The music piped into my head transfers graceful qualities onto otherwise mundane activities. I watched five people step off the sidewalk and sail between oncoming cars. How can jaywalking be beautiful?
I'm obviously in an odd mood when I think like this. But odd moods are the stuff of later brilliance, and we all need a little brilliance now and then. When I watch people going about their days from a distance, I feel like I'm borrowing their moments, and even though I can't remember all of them long enough to describe them, they become special to me at the time.
If some stranger's actions change my day in some manner, is it possible that unbeknown to me, some other person is taking one of my moments into their head and thinking about me for a split second? It's nice to think that I might not be the only one who ponders in this manner.
With nothing particular to think about the mind often turns to the abstract, and aided by music it can go nearly anywhere. As the mind wanders at the same time as I do, I fall to thinking of lost moments. It's those moments that we miss because we have other things to do, or because we move too quickly.
When I see a ticket to a football game lying at the edge of a sidewalk, I think about how it came to be lost. Did it fall from a pocket as its bearer hopped up the hill in celebration of victory? Or was it cast dejectedly aside? I would hate to think that the ticket was lost prior to the match, but if such was the case, what became of that night?
Walking along the top of a mountain gives way to thoughts of life elsewhere. The music piped into my head transfers graceful qualities onto otherwise mundane activities. I watched five people step off the sidewalk and sail between oncoming cars. How can jaywalking be beautiful?
I'm obviously in an odd mood when I think like this. But odd moods are the stuff of later brilliance, and we all need a little brilliance now and then. When I watch people going about their days from a distance, I feel like I'm borrowing their moments, and even though I can't remember all of them long enough to describe them, they become special to me at the time.
If some stranger's actions change my day in some manner, is it possible that unbeknown to me, some other person is taking one of my moments into their head and thinking about me for a split second? It's nice to think that I might not be the only one who ponders in this manner.
November 1, 2010
Post Halloween
I didn't dress up, nor did I attend any sort of party in which one wears a costume. I kind of wish I had had one to go to. I'm not complaining though, the Lad took me swing dancing. We stayed at a hotel downtown, it was nice not to have to leave before the last bus to the suburbs.
Seeing people who can dance much, much better than we can strangely did not discourage the Lad. In fact it made him try harder, which endeared him all the more to me. Even though I spent the better part of midnight complaining of hunger and sore feet I hope he knows how happy he has made me for agreeing to take up swing dancing with me. I should tell him - I might already have done so. My mind has been a bit more sieve-like than usual lately.
It seems as though Halloween gets quieter every year in my web of neighbourhoods. The children where silent by 7:30, having starting showing up sporadically at around 6 in the evening. Maybe it's just my mind inflating one of the most awesome holidays of the year, but I remember staying out for much longer, and there being so many more kids around.
Also, I'm not the first person to complain about this so I'll keep it brief. What is with the kid who's parent drives them from street to street? This is the suburbs, it's not exactly fifteen kilometres uphill between houses. At the risk of beating the issue any further to death, I'd just like to say that if you're going to consume tons of candy, might as well walk to earn it. That is all.
You might find that my postings have been a little more sporadic of late. As much as I'd like to say that will change for the better I can make no promises. Apart from the semester entering its' final, turbulent stage, I've taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Day 1, good start. I wrote to the daily recommended word count and still had enough energy to blog about it. This level of optimism will not last long.
My Cookie friend and I got together for another baking session. There was no camera but let me tell you, those Spicy Oatmeal Raisin cookies were gone by the end of the weekend. Gladly shall I share the recipe when I'm not so tired.
Welcome to November everyone, don't let the icy pellet rain bring you down. If you don't have that kind of thing... can I come live with you? It's cold here.
Cheers.
Seeing people who can dance much, much better than we can strangely did not discourage the Lad. In fact it made him try harder, which endeared him all the more to me. Even though I spent the better part of midnight complaining of hunger and sore feet I hope he knows how happy he has made me for agreeing to take up swing dancing with me. I should tell him - I might already have done so. My mind has been a bit more sieve-like than usual lately.
It seems as though Halloween gets quieter every year in my web of neighbourhoods. The children where silent by 7:30, having starting showing up sporadically at around 6 in the evening. Maybe it's just my mind inflating one of the most awesome holidays of the year, but I remember staying out for much longer, and there being so many more kids around.
Also, I'm not the first person to complain about this so I'll keep it brief. What is with the kid who's parent drives them from street to street? This is the suburbs, it's not exactly fifteen kilometres uphill between houses. At the risk of beating the issue any further to death, I'd just like to say that if you're going to consume tons of candy, might as well walk to earn it. That is all.
You might find that my postings have been a little more sporadic of late. As much as I'd like to say that will change for the better I can make no promises. Apart from the semester entering its' final, turbulent stage, I've taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Day 1, good start. I wrote to the daily recommended word count and still had enough energy to blog about it. This level of optimism will not last long.
My Cookie friend and I got together for another baking session. There was no camera but let me tell you, those Spicy Oatmeal Raisin cookies were gone by the end of the weekend. Gladly shall I share the recipe when I'm not so tired.
Welcome to November everyone, don't let the icy pellet rain bring you down. If you don't have that kind of thing... can I come live with you? It's cold here.
Cheers.
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