Elevators and Deliveries

I have been doing deliveries downtown for the cafe for the past two weeks during the day, in addition to my other jobs. It's odd to be amongst the dead-eyed office workers, wearing sweaters and long pants because of the air conditioning, while I run around in cut-off jean shorts and messy hair from the wind outside. It's very much solidified what I already suspected- that I could never work in a typical office environment. There is something about the lack of independence and troubled visibility of a bigger picture or scheme, the repetitive mundane tasks and the unclear hierarchy, all set under horrendous florescent lights and in a maze-like setting that just makes me think of purgatory, or how hell is portrayed in that movie "Wristcutters". 

Because most of the buildings I deliver to are government offices, I get used to seeing some of the same people every day. In particular, it hit me this week that this one building, North Petroleum Tower, is where someone I would very much like to avoid seeing works. It brought up these memories, and these thoughts, and because it has been 6 months since we fought and I blocked him on FB and told him to never call me again, I've had lots of time to bury my memories and thoughts and let them s******. Perhaps it's because it has been so long, but this week I've been able to rationally and quietly, with no great emotional investment, just mentally touch and probe these feelings. Perhaps that's why I had a dream about him last night, not a bad or a good dream, just a boring dream. Perhaps that's why this afternoon when I went to North Petroleum Tower to pick up our dishes, I had this dizzying sense that I was going to see him. As I approached the elevators, I thought I heard his voice but I shook it off as nonsense. Then I rounded the corner, and perhaps that's why I wasn't surprised when I saw him standing 15 feet away from me, by the doors. He was looking at his phone, and after the slap-in-the-face feeling of recognition, my gut reaction was to back up slowly, away, around the corner where he wouldn't see me. I took maybe two steps backwards when he looked up, saw me, and we both froze. If my face was mirroring his, it would have been horrified. 

So I moved forward. I wasn't sure how he would react, how I would react. All I knew was that this was an Awkward Situation, and if Nolan taught me anything, it was how to bury your true feelings and behave like an adult in Awkward Situations. 

The conversation must have sounded somewhat normal. I hope so. I believe so. I don't know how long we chatted for, but afterwards on my walk back to the elevators I felt stunned, numb, unreal. 

At least now that initial encounter is out of the way. Next time will be easier I know. But the thought that kept looping through my head for the rest of the day, and even now, is how small E-town is. How tiny our world is, and how powerful our thoughts seem some days. 

May

It's a little frightening, this living in limbo. Uncertainty. Going to the lake, of course, helps to centre things a bit, and you start to remember what is really important in life- family, loved ones. Books, card games, hard work, relaxation. Good food. Icy snow-melt swims. Walks through the woods with conversation about everything, while acting like children swinging sticks and throwing rocks in rivers. The 11 hour drive makes it almost a spiritual destination, where you must encounter trials and tribulations in order to reach your peaceful, holy destination.
Coming back, my brother and I spent almost the entire 11 hours listening to radiolab podcasts, and that helped the time fly.

It's green here in the city. My house is dark, now, with any light filtering in the windows yellow and jungle-esque. It would sound damp and verdant, but this is E-town, and therefore we haven't had rain in weeks and the gardens are dry and dying, and the whipping winds blow dust-devils of dirt in your eyes. It's an odd combination to behold. Life, trying so hard to thrive, and the elements tortuously denying them what they need.
Today might rain though.
Last night was my first shift at Fort Ed park, and I rode my bike there and back. Coming home late was terrifying, because I took a riverside trail, and there were no lights. I kept on imagining shapes jumping out of the woods, and then half way up the hill my pedal broke and I felt panicky. I never saw a single soul, but that wasn't comforting- instead, it made me more wild-eyed and twitchy. I don't think I'll take that route again.

Post-Education

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.

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.

24

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.
But.
Sitting in the sun, on a early summer evening, she was happy. And for then, and for now, that was enough.

23

"I was 21 years when I wrote this song.
  23 now, but I won't be for long.

  Time hurries on,
  And the leaves that are green turn to brown."
(Leaves That Are Green, Simon & Garfunkel)

I used to get anxious when I thought about the future. I remember sitting on a swing set with my cousin Jacq at the end of a long, hot summer day, and talking about our fears of entering grade 7- the year before we entered high school. I think I was nervous to have a locker, and to find my classes, and to be in a school with children as old as 18- who I guess aren't really children anymore, when you reach the legal age of voting.
But then it just naturally happened. One day I was going to the new school, and I was with my friends and a bunch of kids I didn't know, and everything went smoothly. The transition was easy.
The same thing happened with university. One year I had no idea what to expect. I didn't have a clue what a "major" or a "minor" was, or why I had to "declare" one, or why the Engineers had such a nice new building and I was stuck in a 1970's nightmare with asbestos in the walls. Then, about half way through my third week, everything fell into place. This was fun. I could talk to strangers, make new friends, learn such fascinating subjects.

Right now I feel the same way about the future. I have no idea how I am supposed to deal with my taxes, or find a fulfilling career, or even push out babies one day. But if I have gained any wisdom whatsoever from my past, it should be enough to know that when the time comes about for these things, I will find the strength and the courage and the humour to navigate them with grace and humility.

I'm turning 24 soon. People now make fun of us in our early 20's. You know nothing, they scoff. You are still barely formed human beings. You have no idea who you are and what you want. And I do, and don't, agree with them. Yes, maybe I am still learning new things about myself every other week, and yes, maybe I make mistakes more than you do. I still have a long way to go to figure out everything about myself and the world. But, I know what I want.

I want to be near to my biological family, and my chosen family. Maybe this doesn't mean geographical location, but that's not all that nearness entails. Family and my closest friends are the most important things in my life. When I am on my deathbed, the classes I took and the jobs I held and the money I hoarded will mean nothing. It boils down to love, plain and simple. Giving it, and receiving it.

I want to give joy to those around me. More superficially, I want a home full of flowers and laughter. I want to see more of the world, and discover how everyone is the same, and yet unique. I want to crusade for peace. I want to not stand idly by when wrongs are being done. I want to find the strength to do the right thing even when it hurts me.

I want to stay up all night sometimes, eating cake and drinking beer with my friends. I want to see more sunrises. I want to slurp noodles from a bowl of pho and laugh at the noise. I want to be held tight at night, and I want to be happy with being alone at night too.

I want to stretch my body to its limits. I want to feel whole in my skin. I want to feel every molecule of my being tingle when I jump off the dock after laying in the hot sun into the navy depths of the lake. I want to sail around some PNG islands and become tanned from the sun, and strong from hard work, and bleached from the salt water.

"I've discovered that there are only ever two reasons why anybody does anything: there is fear, and there is love." (Sister Julienne, Call the Midwife)  I want to do things out of love, not fear. I want to have children, and I want to not be frightened by the amount of love I feel towards them.

The Bright Side

Guys, this is a short, darkly humorous video that one of my best friends (and roommate) (who is also super talented) (and funny) (and so sweet and generous) (and girls, he is siiiingle!) and his buddies Josh and Kev put together for this Edmonton comedy challenge, just for fun. I did the make-up for it! Plus I'm in it! Watch it! Like it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nhZuiW5dMU&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-nhZuiW5dMU