Wednesday, April 24, 2013


Yesterday, my first day of FREEDOM, I spent a lot of time thinking about my future. Of course, I had a million people asking what I was going to do next, and while Australia looms far ahead for next winter it's this summer and fall and right now that I'm unsure of. Then, as I was getting ready for bed, I found this little essay on Thought Catalog and it made me shiver a little. Especially the part that talks about the importance of self-educating, even when done with University. All of the sudden this huge wave of fear and panic came over me, and I realized that it was a fear of "not-learning". Of not-growing, of not being educated, of falling behind, of becoming stupid, dull, of forgetting. Right after this realization I slammed my lap-top shut and forewent my nightly ritual of watching Mad Men, and instead picked up the book that has been sitting beside my bed for months (Ghost Train to the Eastern Star, Paul Theroux in case anyone was wondering).

I love to read. I disappear, take on a million personalities. I don't know why I haven't been reading lately; maybe TV and movies are just easier. But enough. Now, no one else is in charge of teaching me. Now, I am no longer a passive sponge who just by the simple act of sitting in a classroom will be inundated with knowledge. Now, I will have to search for myself, teach myself, grab knowledge and experience anyway I can. I will have to actually read those BBC articles (instead of just skimming straight to the food or fashion ones), and critically think about them, and compare them with Al Jazeera opinions, and come to my own conclusions. I will have to actively search out relevant information about science and the past, and I will have to choose to read that book, rather than veg in front of the TV.

If I have learned anything from school, I guess it's that education should never be over. They've provided me with the framework for learning, the training-wheels, and now I am on my own. Wobbly, for sure, but hopefully the practices I form in the next few months will in conjecture with the habits I've gained over the last 5 years work together to ensure that my mind never weakens or becomes witless, and that a genuine love for growth and knowledge will arise.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

It feels like winter will never end. I am taking out my exhaustion from preparing for final exams and working too much on my hatred of the snow and below freezing temperatures.
Last night I burst into the kitchen through the back door, and proclaimed to my roommates: "This year, this is it. Winter isn't going to end. The snow will never melt. It will never stop snowing."
The stared at me blankly, forkfuls of food paused enroute to mouth, conversation interrupted. I continued:
"I'm serious, guys. It's so cold and windy and dark out there that I thought my head was going to explode. My ears ache. I'm done with this."
Robyn spoke first. He said, "Are we talking about the same thing here? Today was gorgeous. It was sunny and crystal clear. The roads were bare."
Kristyn chimed in with "Of course Spring will come, eventually. It has to. I promise you it will come soon. Next week is supposed to be above zero!"
For some reason though, I couldn't believe her. We got our first snowfall in early October this year, and I want to see something green and growing. Instead it is filthy black ice and blankets of snow. In April. I just can't take it much longer.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013


Hot summer, with mosquitoes thick in the red gold air of late afternoon. Everything is heavy, languid, weighed down with residual heat and lazy words.
She sat on the front steps, getting the last of the sun from the West coming in between the neighbours houses. It lay like a blanket over her bare legs and arms, and who wouldn't revel in that feeling? She had a cold beer in one hand, a book in the other, and her dog at her feet. Happiness, deep and wide, consumed her belly.
But there was that niggling hole. That little worm of restlessness, of discontent. It wasn't enough. What she had, who she was, where she was headed- it was not what she needed, what she desired. How to put it into words- when she was Good, she was very, very Good.
For a while, at least. When she was doing everything she was supposed to, had all her relationships lined up in a row, all her accomplishments polished, all her kind-hearted selfless acts acted, she was joyful for a time. But. She became bored. The restlessness increased, her pacing up and down of hallways, kitchens, streets, became faster and faster, her sense of control seemed to slip away, and soon she was like a frantic dog locked in a car- barking nonsensically, panting, frantic, afraid.
When she was Bad, she was Horrid.
And so she would run. She would go out with friends and sprint ahead, jump on things, jump off things, smash plates and bottles, flirt and tease and laugh inappropriately. All the things she had formerly prioritized as important she would analyze and come to the conclusion that in the long scheme of things they really didn't matter. What mattered now was movement, and connections, and stretching yourself until you collapsed, and stretching those connections until they snapped, exhausted, sweating, crying, laughing, shouting, whispering. Enough with stillness, enough with calm, enough with peace.
Enough of sitting in one place.
Sitting in the sun, on a early summer evening, she was happy. And for then, and for now, that was enough.