A family was not on the horizon, nor even a spouse. A career of undetermined nature was skeptically anticipated, with much fear of failure. Technological advances were unknown, societal changes unimagined, and familial relationships questioned. With a future that felt as though it wouldn’t even exist, what was I to think? How does a person act when it seems that the choices and decisions of the present will hold no impact on the events in times to come? … if there even is a time to come.

When we had settled and completed the first tour, we descended into the Circus Maximus. Once a grand stadium, lined with statues and spectators, now nothing more than a grassy field; a large embankment on one side, a hill topped with ruins on the other. We revealed a frisbee, tattered and worn, it’s white surface marked with the scars of countless wayward landings. Across the circle it flew; to one side.. then to the other. Hand, fingertip, air. The waltz of the frisbee: A catch, a step, a spin, a arc of the wrist, another successful flight. We were carefree. The history by which we were surrounded embraced our dance, and we had no concern for the future. We were children of a new age, playing the part we were meant to play.

For everything I experienced, and everything that may be yet to come, this is what I will remember. The simplicity of centuries playing as one.

The future I hadn’t known in my youth was planned to be ill-defined. It was meant to be pursued… to be sought out, to be discovered. A simple act would reveal the present step, and no more. A white ghost floating through the Roman sky. It was made to fly, to be caught, and to be set free once more.

So shall it be with me.

Before I knew it, I was back home, packing my bag. Adding this, subtracting that, making sure I had all I needed, and nothing I didn’t. More friends, more goodbyes, one final sunset, and one more late night. It’s after 2AM, and I’m to wake in 6 hours to prep for departure at 1600hrs. I’m excited, I’m nervous, I’m anxious, I’m overwhelmed, and I’m underwhelmed, I’m tired, and I’m ecstatic. 24 years of experience. 4 months of research. 1 week of final planning. 1 flight, 1 transfer, and 2 meals. 1 amazing adventure, with 14 great friends, and 1 talented prof, in 4 beautiful cities.

Here goes nothing.
.. and by nothing, I mean everything.

Farewell Vancouver; Italia here I come!

Once I made it to the car, I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. Key in the ignition, sun roof open, I winded my way up through the depths of the parkade and onto the street above. I called up Norbert, suggested gelato, picked him up, and found a spot to park up the hill from Denman. The girl at Mondo seemed happy for the business, suggesting I try some raspberry cheesecake. We then headed to the beach I missed out on earlier in the day, to sit and savour the moment. The sky, half painted black by clouds from the west, glowed the shade of dark ocean turquoise I have always loved. It is that time of day, no longer evening, not yet night, and something past twilight. The city lights, contrasted to the deepness of the colour in the sky, with dark shadows of trees and unlit condos, and reflections of all on the water’s surface…. I’ll remember it. I’ll remember it as I walk along the Tiber. I’ll think of it when the overwhelming pace and complexity of Milano makes me yearn for tranquility. I’ll miss it, gazing out my suburban bedroom window at the fence 6 feet away, and the wall of the neighbouring house beyond that. I’ll relive it when I move back in a future that has yet to be decided.

****

Wandering the streets of the city snapping photos.
Walking the sea wall with gruppo5, then half of downtown and the burrard st bridge; all 16km of it.
Blading the sea wall and false creek, and then doing it again. 13km each.
Cherishing a final coffee at the park at 9am under the glowing spring sun.
Watching the sun set in a glorious show of colours, reflecting off the glass towers all around.
Singing and playing my best in a competition of Rockband and American Idol (and reaching a tie at 100% on expert) with a handful of great friends.
and Smiling every chance I could.

****

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus – Your Guardian Angel

Clouds scattered the sky as we crossed the 2nd Narrows into North Van. The towers of downtown, sparkling in the distance, were no match for the mountains drawing us north. We winded up through residential hills before reaching the final lot outside Lynn Headwaters. Now, I’m sure I must have visited Lynn Valley at some point in my youth, but if I have, I can’t remember. Either way, I’m positive I wouldn’t have hiked the same 9km as a youngster.

It started off pleasant. Sun venting through the treetops, highlighting the undergrowth below. As we ascended, ice chunks began falling from the canopy, waging warfare on our heads. We reached a lookout, providing a partial view of the metropolis below – the bridge crossed earlier, perfectly aligned with our current location. Back into the forest, the snow underfoot grew deeper as we continued, and our shoes doubled as skis down many of the slight dips and slopes. Dozens and dozens of photos later, we reached a clearing that lead towards the creek splitting the valley. The sun that had been playing hide and seek decided to hide once more, as snow began to fill the sky. 4ft snowbanks lined the path towards the water, beckoning childhood emotions within me. I resisted the urge to duck, or dig, or write in its walls, but the others weren’t so restrained.

The snow grew heavier and turned to rain as we made our way back along the trail that followed the creek. No longer sheltered by the forest canopy, we found refuge in the occasional tree well. Fellow hikers or park goers grew in number as we neared the end of the trail. It was getting to be midday, and families were out to take advantage of their day off. We were glad to be near the end of the return trip, having enjoyed minimal human interruption on our journey. As soon as we reached the map at the trail head, and crossed the final bridge towards the lot, the clouds parted and the sun celebrated our arrival.

I made it home, bidding farewell to my classmates before taking advantage of the hot tub on the main floor, and retired to my bed to rest. It was no more than 3pm, but my Good Friday was nearer to being a Great Friday.

****

Spotting rowers in the dark below the Cambie Bridge.

Enjoying fare dolce niente with the roommate.

Finding a new outfit to make Easter a little more special.

Singing my best in that new outfit to make Easter a little more memorable.

Leaving time between commitments to sit, ponder, and improve.

Appreciating, savoring, living, and loving every minute I get to spend in my room, apartment, neighbourhood, and city, before the approaching move back to Delta.
Zoning out in lectures to write, reflect, and share, and feel great about doing it. Sorry Zorana!

And then, as if it weren’t enough, a rainbow, bridging light and dark, reaches across the horizon from one side to the other. Surely the rest of the world must be in night, as we have all the power of the heavens on us in this moment. I yearn for my camera, to capture, to steal the world assembled before me. Yet I know the record would do the event no justice at all. So I sit. I leave my eyes open, to absorb the piercing rays, watching houses and hills and trees and mountains flash by outside the windows of the train. And then it’s over. Back behind the clouds, to guide us into the night. I know it will return again.

****

thank you for the time we shared.

when it was just you and me, alone.

your hand in mine, my head on your shoulder.
p.s. those days are gone.

when did you ever miss me?

how could you forget to want me?

when were you going to tell me
i meant more to you?

i thought you were mine.
and i was there when you needed me
but you never did.

you left me on my own.

p.s. i love you

did you forget what it meant?
because i still remembered,

but i had no reason to say it again.

i told myself it wouldn’t happen any more
then you’d reply and i’d find you,

i’d see your eyes and find hope again
just to be left in the background. again.

our love algebra; arrested development
.
you wouldn’t give me what i longed for.

you couldn’t even recognize it.

you won’t remember me when it’s over

and i’ll try not to remember you,

but that’s not so easy for some of us,

when love went unconsidered.

****

“…there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my life…” (american beauty)

****

the setting sun, on the 135 down the hill.

a murder of a thousand crows.

a healthy dose of live jazz and delicious eats.
friend, photoshoot, blue sky, clear water.

* * * *

Digging into the gas pedal after red turns to green before a long stretch of open road.

Climbing into bed and turning off the lamp each night.

Reading chapter after chapter of textbook after textbook, and enjoying it.


* * * *

The field study director needed our returning dates today before sending the info off to the school travel company. They’ll be booking our flights to Italia next week, for the field school this summer. I’ve planned to spend an extra 2 weeks after we finish up in Milano, likely to be spent making my way across the Riviera, down to Barcelona, then up to Paris where I’ll fly back home. Nearly 2 months in Europe. It’s going to cost far more than I have, and it will often be 12 hour days of interviews, research, and presentations, but it will be worth far more than I’ll ever admit. In the meantime, I need to concentrate on finishing projects and research presentations efficiently enough to find time to sleep, and maybe even hit the gym. When in Rome, … look as the Romans did? That’s the goal. Besides, no one wants to see a walking hanger.

For I am awaiting a multitude of unknowns. Some that have been planned in advance, and others that have developed over the past few months, or less. Some will challenge me and teach me, and some will surprise me. I will find joy, and I will find heartache. These things, I know.

A new light, a new year, a new perspective.

I stood outside the door, the heat quickly escaping me. Surrounded by shadow from a pale blue light, the moisture of my breath turned to steaming clouds as I enjoyed the stillness of the night.

Fields flew past, riddled with patches of dead grasses, painted with a thin layer of frost. Silhouettes of hibernating trees danced among the frozen air, suspended above the ground as if to erase the minor imperfections from its surface.

The bleak midwinter echoes in my ear, trailed by a choir of children’s voices.

I’m inaccessible without you here,

A hot shower makes me thankful.

it covers me. and covers me.

amazing love.

****

Dan, thank you for introducing me to the world.

Shore, thank you for letting me in. And for sharing.

RP, thank you for not giving up.

Bitt, thank you for being available, and thank you for reading.

Crick, thank you for listening, and caring.

DHon, thank you for not acting any different.

Qmom, thank you for so many kind words.

Warner, thank you for reminding me.

Marks, thank you for the emails, and the hours, and the pieces of you.

brock, thank you for hope.

<<<<

I don’t know. It’s likely a result of a drained brain from school stresses, but I feel like all my emotions are trapped inside of me. I see so many beautiful things, and enjoy the occasional evening of content, yet I don’t have words to describe them. I like describing my life. It helps me remember. Without words, memories fade.

Help me remember this?


~~~~

.

I will spend hours a week cloudwatching. Every time I enter a room, no matter where I am, if I’ve been there before, or if it’s the first time, I head to the nearest window to catch the sky. Think about it. Who would ever have thought tiny bits of water vapour make for such an amazing sight? Especially in the autumn, when the chilling winds carry these forms from one end of the sky to the other, like it’s some sort of atmospheric freeway. Sometimes they can be so high and such a bleached white you’d think God himself could be found riding atop, where other times they can be low and so dark it’s as if the sky had caved in.

Then there’s the rain. If you’ve spent any time in Vancouver, or Seattle for that matter, you know the rain of which I speak. For some, it takes a while to get used to it, while others never quite manage. Me? I love it. We had rain every day for the month of January last year, and into February. Most of the autumn and winter season is made up of long periods of rain, but that one was extra fun.

As I boy my mom would reprimand me for not using my umbrella when I walked home from school. I would carry it by the string, gently swinging back and forth, so I could enjoy the cool wetness in my hair. You knew it was a good rain when you got into the house and your hair had become so saturated and full of minerals that it dried exactly as it looked when it was wet. And when your sweater had grown a size too big, and your jeans had wicked up so much water from the ground that the dry line was just below your knees. What really made it great was knowing that after I got home, wet and moist, I could hop into the bath and mix it all together; hot and cold, stored and fresh; change into a clean pair of jogging pants and a good tshirt, and I was set for the rest of the day.

Did I mention the scarves? If there’s no other reason to love autumn, at least love it for the chance to start wearing scarves again. Well not just scarves, but sweaters too, and button-up coats. And mittens. The small knit ones that develop holes in the fingertips, that are soon stretched to make for full-blown finger holes.

The foggy windows in the busses and trains, making it a game to know where you are based on the stops and turns the ride follows.

The early sunsets, leaving more time to grab a hot apple cider and return to a good book on the sofa.

The relieved faces of fellow element-goers as they come indoors.

I heart autumn.

It’s not often that I’m able to recall dreams. I usually wake up, look at the clock, and get on with my day. If I dream, the memory must go through some winding passage and get lost in the disturbance of waking. However, for the past few days now, the imagery of the night before has stuck in my mind and left me curious. What does it mean? Is this some sort of inverted foreshadowing of future events? ‘Cause it doesn’t tie in to any real events that I remember from the past. Is my brain just putting together assorted thoughts and images from the day? Those eyes… absolutely consuming in their beauty..

* * * *

Today is the day I get to return to the passport office to pick up my renewed passport, complete with worstPassportPhotoEvar™. It’s a rule now. When having your passport photo taken, ensure it is the ugliest portrayal of you possible. It’s a story starter. No one likes it when people have attractive license or passport photos. Friends become envious. Strangers form opinions. But when you’re ugly, everyone can relate to you. Luckily it was easier said than done, because the fine photographer only took 1 shot, and I hadn’t even managed to look into the camera with both eyes by that point. Now that’s hot.

The reason I needed to renew my passport is because I am going on a trip. It’s a bit of a late birthday/christmas gift from the parents. They, younger sis, and I are going on a family vacation to Hawaii, sans older sisters. They’re off and married now, and they had plenty of family vacations to disneyland and such when they were younger, and we didn’t exist. Now it’s our turn. Thankfully we’re old enough to remember and take advantage of this vacation, which I’ll gladly take over trips to disneyland as a toddler.

I’ll miss a good number of projects at school, including in-class participation assignments that I can’t make up, but hey. I get to go on vacation. And I’m sure there’ll be wireless internet somewhere so I can keep tabs on my teammates and do the projects for them from the middle of the Pacific. Teamwork, right?

* * * *

I have a project for my Narrative in New Media class due next Tuesday. It’s the most open-ended project I have ever been assigned in my 5 years of university. “Make a narrative.” It can be done individually or in teams. It can be a poem, a short story, a comic spread, a storyboard, an animation, a song, a film. Whatever medium you so desire, as long as you tell a story. It’s awesome. But it’s due in a week, and so far all I have is the brief outline of a protagonist. My plan is to write a narrative, as told from two points of view, and record an audio track reciting said narrative, along with contributing background noises. Who needs visuals? I do visuals in every other class. This time I’ll take a break and stick to sound… imagination is too often suppressed these days. I’ll let the audience do their part.

I’ll also try to post it on here once it’s finished, but no guarantees

* * * *

For those of you who have never heard of Scott Mills, of which I will assume there are many, you must subscribe to his BBC radio 1 podcast, “Scott Mills Daily”. No one else has me laughing more regularly than mr Mills and gang. Plus the accents are adorable..