fallen far from the tree

Nesting November

2010-11-23T16:39:00.001-07:00

Let's see... thus far I've baked bread and muffins, made borsch and chili, and have hidden in doors because the wind chill has been a lovely -36. What on earth kind of winter is this going to be?

Oh, I've also bought local, because November is Buy Local Month. It's hard not to when you're surrounded by craft fairs. The Make It touring festival came through Calgary, and is hitting Edmonton this weekend. The Royal Bison sale is in Edmonton this weekend too. Plus the Handmade Mafia booked a bigger space last weekend. If I have a chance, I also want to get out to the Alberta College of Art and Design annual sale. What more could a person want than some amazing local art? ... or a new dress or calendar, or bibs for all her friends' babies? There's much insanity going on here craft-wise. It's great fun.

I once knew a man...

2010-10-23T19:49:00.001-06:00

"Five years later, I still think of you as one of my biggest regrets. I wish I'd had the courage to have made more than just memories of casual friendship with you."

Ah, regrets. They're such funny things. ... and they can grow to haunt us if we're not careful.

Do I live here yet?

2010-10-13T20:48:00.004-06:00

I haven't decided if I'm a Calgary person or not. It seems like I ought to be, since I'm living here and all... but I just can't quite bring myself to admit that I do indeed live here. People say "Welcome to ____" and I want to fill in my home town, not this place. I feel like I am a stranger in a strange land, and I only come from the other major city here... It is not as though I crossed an ocean to move to this place.

But the differences are still night and day. The mountains are so close here, and as a result, community is a lot harder to find. (that is not an excuse, I realise, community exists, it just hides better, and that is no reason not to try to find it) While people in Edmonton stick around and do things in the city, people in Calgary run to the mountains. And then you have the politics. There's a reason they call my home city "REDmonton". You wouldn't know it for looking, but Edmonton is far more liberal than Calgary, which, when you step back, is a scary discovery. If Edmonton is the "red" commie-liberal-socialist city, Calgary is so far right wing as to be abortion-protesting, fiscal-policy-slashing, separationists. That's right, separationists. There's a reason the Wild Rose Party was formed in and around Calgary, it's a hotbed of anti-Canada, anti-federal thought, governed by foreign (mostly American)-owned head offices and run with money, that mostly comes from and goes to America. So OF COURSE they want out of Canada, OF COURSE they're anti-tax, anti-social system. ... and then you add to that the fact that the provincial capital is in Edmonton, and they're anti-government as well, because, well, they dislike Edmonton.

Moving here is like showing up at the opposing team's stadium, dressed head-to-toe in your team's colours.

I don't tell people I'm from Edmonton, but it invariably gets out, because I'm clearly far more left-wing than the majority of the people I work with (how I got the job, I don't know). I'm an environmentalist... still a minor role here, where money talks, and you listen to the money (so if environmentalism means more money, they'll do it, but only then). I'm a social-service-supporter. ... and I'm a big fan of THE MORTAL ENEMY of all Calgarians: the Edmonton sports teams. Yes, there is a pretty entertaining inter-city rivalry going on. In Edmonton, it's fun and games, we cheer for the good guys, the green and gold and the copper and blue, and the red and silver and red and gold (ironic, yes? ... the anti-red city has all-red sports teams, even the Calgary Cannons were red, as are their replacements) get nary a clap from us. ... BUT here, it's so much more than sports team versus sports team. If the rivalry stayed on the football field and the hockey rink, I'd be okay. I wouldn't talk football, and I wouldn't pull out my vintage Oilers jersey, but it doesn't stop there.

... and it doesn't stop with the true-born-and-bred Calgarians, either. The rivalry is adopted by all the new-to-the-fold out-of-towners striving to belong in this corporate city. The people so vehemently critical about Edmonton haven't actually been Calgarians, they've been Torontonians, or Vancouverites; people who moved here for work. ... and perhaps they're just missing their own metropolitan paradises where cultures can intermingle and the red of everyone's necks doesn't have to be hidden with shirt collars. I don't understand it. People who have no past history of the inter-city provincial rivalry continually scoff at the "City of Champions" monicker adopted by Edmonton because of the tornado that came through in 1987. It's cited in blogs rather frequently and was actually announced by our then-mayor Laurence Decore in 1987 (more here and in Wikipedia... so it MUST be true! ) ha! ... but do Calgarians believe me? Absolutely not, most particularly not the non-Calgary-born Calgarians who have no idea about the tornado.

Anyway, apparently I do live here, and I kind-of hate it. I'm hoping the hate disappears as I find people who actually don't mind being friends with an Edmontonian. ... Surprisingly, more of my friends FROM Edmonton and from university are moving TO Calgary. The thesis of the observations I've heard is that the greatest thing about Calgary is how close it is to the mountains. ouch. If I've traded a city of community and volunteers for a city of weekend warriors who'd rather ski than build connections, I think I want out. But we'll see. There are options coming up in this work I do, and I've got a refreshed resume and new outlook to match. Fun times.

Clearly, in my lamenting of my relocation, I have neglected to lament just how much work I've been doing, and how that has cut into my experience of this city. I too have fallen prey to the "but the mountains are so close!" logic, and I've spent a good number of my weekends visiting with people outside of my new city's boundaries. My weekdays, well, let's just say they're more "workdays" than "weekdays" and the idea of going out to explore, on my own, in a new city after 9pm on a Tuesday just doesn't appeal to me. We shall see. In the meantime, I'm trying my best to turn my apartment into an oasis. Progress is slow, but promising.

The living room, looking out to a north-facing balcony and dumpster view. Yes, that is a "vintage" late 70's/early 80's couch and chair. The laz-y-boy is from 1974 (I have the brochure/warranty). The only 'new' thing in the space is the set of nesting tables, and they don't look new at all.

My "workspace" when I work from home, and my bookshelf, overflowing with things to read, when I have time. The print on the walls is from an Edmonton artist, and it's a print of Calgary, go figure.

The couch. The art on the wall is: 2 prints of said close-by mountains, a sketch I did in highschool of the tree behind my workstation when it was much shorter, and a metal cut-out forest done by Little Monkey Metalworks.

My dining area, with red chairs I'm dying to repaint, vintage linen tablecloth and a painting I bought in Paris.

The rest of my space is not photogenic enough just yet. ;)

Jovanotti Love

2010-09-16T21:39:00.004-06:00

Alright, so I suffer from a slight adoration *cough* of the musician whose lovely song I posted last time. He's just so scruffy-sweet and perfect. And the fact that he's a politically-minded pacifist, vegetarian, charmingly bearded and super tall ... not to mention that his music is constantly evolving... well, what more could a person ask for?

One of his more recent ones is this: Come Musica

There's just something so endearingly lovely about a sweet love song and choreographed excavators, don't you think?

And this one: oh so lovely, by an Italian director, and I think part of a movie. Baciami Ancora. Kiss me again. ... this one is less than a year old.

... and this one, just for fun... from 1997. He's so cute and effervescent. But you have to watch it on You Tube: Bella.

Ha, apparently I've written about him before... probably more than once... I am developing a Jovanotti tag category. whee!

... I just wish I could find his cds over here!

rethinking

2010-09-15T23:34:00.002-06:00

I don't hardly ever post here. This one will be short. I moved cities. I changed jobs. And change has happened again. August was the month things got shaken upside down. September, things are starting to settle anew, and I am left with questions. My questions are, of course, things like "Do I want to do this?" and "What am I doing here?"

So... as a result of the turmoil and my thoughts, I'm coming to some, shall we say, interesting conclusions about my career direction. Namely that the path I am currently on is likely not the one I want to stick with. It will do for the meantime. I am finding it interesting. BUT it is not making me happy. I don't feel like I am contributing in any sort of meaningful way, or using my abilities in a way that works for me. I don't know what's going to work for me, though. So part of my current strategy is to stick with this for a while and see how it goes. As my father said back in April, when I was packing to move: if it all falls apart in a year, at least I'll have had the experience. And I agree. There's too much interesting stuff going on to not want to see what happens. BUT there's also a fair bit of detachment. I haven't had time to get involved in this community. I haven't had the energy or availability to build my friendships in this city either. There is a large void, it is frustrating.

My job has gone from small cog in small clock to one of two cogs in a tiny clock. ... which is fine, except that I don't necessarily want to build an empire. My goal has never been to build someone's personal wealth and influence. (which is definitely something I'll have to look at when it comes to my own personal financial plans!) I want to build community. I don't have time to build community, and my job isn't fulfilling that desire. ... which leaves me with hardly anything at all to go on in the meantime, since I am currently without connections.

Anyway, all this thinking led me to my favourite Italian song. ... as often happens. (and one would expect no less when one understands that the lyrics include phrases like "vertigo is not a fear of falling, but a wanting to fly") I think I'm getting ready to take that leap. ... or at least I am more ready that I have been in a long time.

Anyway, my favourite Italian song: Mi Fido Di Te by Lorenzo "Jovanotti" Cherubini (with lyrics and Google translation following)

Sadly, embedding has been disabled... you will have to visit YouTube, but I promise, it is a beautiful song.

"Case di pane, riunioni di rane
vecchie che ballano nelle chadillac
muscoli d'oro, corone d'alloro
canzoni d'amore per bimbi col frack
musica seria, luce che varia
pioggia che cade, vita che scorre
cani randagi, cammelli e re magi

forse fa male eppure mi va
di stare collegato
di vivere di un fiato
di stendermi sopra al burrone
di guardare giù
la vertigine non è
paura di cadere
ma voglia di volare

mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
io mi fido di te
ehi mi fido di te
cosa sei disposto a perdere

Lampi di luce, al collo una croce
la dea dell'amore si muove nei jeans
culi e catene, assassini per bene
la radio si accende su un pezzo funky
teste fasciate, ferite curate
l'affitto del sole si paga in anticipo prego
arcobaleno, più per meno meno

mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
cosa sei disposto a perdere
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
io mi fido di te
cosa sei disposto a perdere

rabbia stupore la parte l'attore
dottore che sintomi ha la felicità
evoluzione il cielo in prigione
questa non è un'esercitazione
forza e coraggio
la sete il miraggio
la luna nell'altra metà
lupi in agguato il peggio è passato

mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
cosa sei disposto a perdere
eh mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
mi fido di te
cosa sei disposto a perdere"

"Bread houses, meetings of frogs
old people dancing in chadillac
muscles gold wreaths
Love songs for children with tails
serious music, light varies
rain falls, life goes on
stray dogs, camels and wise men

maybe it hurts and yet I must
to stay connected
to live in one breath
to lie above the ravine
looking down
dizziness is not
fear of falling
but want to fly

I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
hey I trust you
What are you willing to lose

Flashes of light, a cross around his neck
the goddess of love moves in jeans
asses and chains, murder for good
the radio turns on a piece funky
bandaged head wounds treated
the rent is paid in advance of the sun please
rainbow, more for less less

I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
What are you willing to lose
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
What are you willing to lose

anger surprise part actor
doctor who has symptoms happiness
evolution of the sky in prison
this is not an exercise
strength and courage
thirst the mirage
the moon in the other half
wolves lurking the worst is over

I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
What are you willing to lose
eh I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
What are you willing to lose"

Whirlwind summer

2010-08-11T22:02:00.003-06:00

I am... spending this summer in the strangest of ways: hiding in my apartment, begging for cool air during the week days, and running like a mad, wanderer towards the sun in the hopes that it'll slake my thirst during the weekends. I don't know what this is. Perhaps I am feeling the crazed cabin fever of working in the city full time. Perhaps I am falling victim to the apparent truism of living in cowtown: the best part of city living is just how close it is to everywhere else. ... except I'm not really taking full advantage of that. I have gotten out to the mountains less than a handfull of times this summer. And I'm only recently starting to discover the outlying (but fantastic) communities and areas. I desperately want to travel the Cowboy Trail.

What have I done this summer? Attended the Calgary Stampede rodeo, Hiked to the Plain of Six Glaciers, visited the Millarville Farmers' Market, attended two folk festivals, and spent a weekend throwing horse shoes and enjoying a family reunion.

... all the while, I'm starting to be called a *gasp!* Calgarian. ... and have ended up vehemently denying that fact. It will take a vast many years for me to adopt that label. ... just as it is taking me forever and a day to remember that "home" is now here instead of there; though really, home has always been there.

My apartment is slowly becoming somewhere I actually like... but I need to address the last few remaining boxes, and actually lay claim to my storage space in the basement. Getting rid of all the suit cases and some of my rubbermaids of field gear and camping supplies would be a good thing.

... field gear. Oh, how I long to be out in the bush. It is funny. I feel like that oft-used phrase "you can take the man out of the x, but you can never take the x out of the man"; except, well, obviously I'm a woman. ... and the x for me appears to be field work. More and more, I am finding myself wrapped in thoughts, particularly at the doldrum hours of the afternoon (2-4pm). Thoughts of what I'd be doing if I was out in the wilderness somewhere. A large portion of the time, I feel glad that I have found something positive like this job to keep me going, and to remove me from the death risk of surprise anaphylaxis in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, however, I don't care. I'd take on all the wasps and hornets (and bears and cougars) in the world, just to spend another week outside. ... though I do remember just how exhausting the fear was. Bears and cougars are one thing. I carried a shovel, and bangers, and a knife and often bear spray. Wasps and hornets are a complete other. Being helplessly unable to do anything, not even breathe, and also hundreds of kilometers from a hospital (or tens of kilometers from a reliable road), well, that's something else entirely, and I couldn't put my coworkers through that risk any more. There were too many close calls, and I don't want to be the epinephrine-fuelled burden I would be were things to go wrong.

But damned if I don't miss it. I'm going to have to find some way to get involved in winter or late spring outdoor work, as a volunteer, or as a casual weekend adventurer, just to slake my thirst. I miss it so much. In truth, I miss it enough that I am second-guessing my decision. It's not as though I'm an amputee, it's just an allergy, and it's just fear on the off-chance that I'll stumble upon a wasp/hornet nest and get stung somewhere important like my face or throat. No, forget it, it's too stupid, but can you see how one would get wrapped up in this sort of thinking? Being OUTSIDE! ALL DAY! Oh, how I long for it. The urban, concrete jungle is just too depressing.

Anyway, those are my ramblings and musings. Here are some photos of the other ramblings I've done:

The Edmonton Folk Music Festival main stage during the day. It is hosted on a ski hill in the heart of the city.

The massive, multigenerational quilt from my family reunion. It was assembled for our millennium reunion in 2000. Were we to do it today, there'd be more rows of squares to add.

Bull riding at the Calgary Stampede

The Plain of Six Glaciers hike near Lake Louise in Banff National Park, Alberta.

Forget-me-nots on the trail to the Plain of Six Glaciers

So... I moved... and disappeared from this space entirely

2010-07-02T22:55:00.002-06:00

I moved. I left my home city and have re-settled (sort-of) 300-ish kilometres to the south. It has been a hectic couple of months. I moved at the end of April. I am now into my third month of living here... My apartment still has boxes that need to be unpacked! And I have a monumental list of to-do's that aren't being done.

I've also been monumentally lazy in the house-cleaning department. I don't know how or why I haven't had the initiative to get unpacked. I look at the boxes, and the mess that comes with not having things put away and just get frustrated, but damned if I don't want to sit down and watch a movie instead. What a lazy ass...

Then again, I spend all day at work, often late, trying to wrap my head around my new responsibilities. It's been a lot to take in lately. So often I end up sitting in my chair at the end of the day wishing I didn't have to walk home, didn't have to cook supper, didn't have to do anything. ... which explains why I've been SO lazy on the homefront, but I still dislike my laziness. Hopefully soon.

Hopefully soon I can stop travelling all the time and actually spend time HERE, in the city and in my apartment, figuring out where I want to hang my pictures, adn where I want all my stuff to go, and what I still need to buy and how to arrange a good cleaning schedule and all that fun stuff. What a life! ha.

I don't mean to say life isn't good. ... though it wouldn't hurt if I had someone as lovely as Lloyd Dobler in it. ha. John Cusack sure did good in his early career.

Who could say no to his earnest devotion? ... and the fact that it's not creepy either!

Anyway... I digress. I get home and watch movies occasionally. ... particularly smarmy love movies like Say Anything. Life is pretty good.

The job is pretty good. The people I work with are rather great. The people I work for have been treating me well. I have been learning a ton, working really hard, and feeling overwhelmed in a good way (there IS a difference). ... and getting whisked off to other climes from time to time to meet a bunch of talking heads and get in some serious work. I saw Davis California at night because the meetings took all the daylight hours. I saw what one can see of San Francisco from the Bay Bridge... I saw cornfields in Ames Iowa, but did not manage to see the record-breaking 15 foot tall garden gnome. And I have yet to walk or bike to the river in my new, adoptive city.

These things will come, in time, I'm sure.

Anyway... some photos, and a Peter Gabriel song to leave you with... because Lloyd Dobler has stolen my heart (and he didn't give me a pen).

Moving day:

Iowa's corn:

And my favourite farm field photo:

And my favourite Peter Gabriel song... if only Lloyd Dobler was here!

The week of cake and changes

2010-03-27T10:04:00.004-06:00

So... it's the 27th today. And thus ends (and starts) a week of monumental change in my life... and the end of a month that never really had a lion in it (despite warnings), unless it was more of a sheepish lion, like this guy:

But anyway, life has been an adventure this week... an adventure that has taken me for a ride such that I have not finished all my work (or focused on it) the way I want/need to. Which means this weekend is going to be CRAZY! But anyway, the reason for the craziness (in part) is that I have a paper due on the 31st (i.e. Wednesday) that I need to edit. And I NEED to work on it ASAP since it's about 130 pages long (aaaaa!). I have most of the edits already noted, it's just a matter of going in and fixing things on the document file on my temperamental computer. Oh, do I love computers!

This, however is only part of the craziness. Other parts have ranged from birthday celebrations prompting me to make two different cakes:

A Buttery Chocolate Chip Pound Cake

and a Flourless Chocolate Cake

Both from the Fine Cooking Chocolate magazine supplement. They were both fantastic. I would gladly make both again. Though I might opt to make flourless chocolate cupcakes instead of the cake. I only had an 8-inch round cake pan instead of the called-for 9-inch round, and thus had extra dough that didn't fit into the pan. So... I made cup cakes (5) out of the leftover, and they baked up much more evenly and nicely than the cake, I have to say. They also didn't form huge structural fissures that made the presentation less desirable. Don't get me wrong, the cake was to-die-for in all its chocolate-fudge-like dense glory, but the cupcakes were so much more pleasing somehow, both aesthetically and flavour-wise. Anyway, two cakes in a week is a lot. Add to that even more with a goodbye potluck for a friend, and an as-yet-to-be-celebrated birthday today, and I am NOT sticking to any semblance of a diet this week (unless there's one that says "eat cake, all the time"! But whatever. I'm sure the stress of the coming month will make up for it all, somehow.

That's right, stress. I have just experienced the weirdest confluence of events ever. Not only am I finishing up two contracts for two branches of government at the end of this month BUT I am starting a new job (yay!) less than a week later... in a different city. Why I signed on for this, I don't particularly know other than the offer is decent, the job sounds exciting, I am at the right point in my life to up and move and shake up everything, and, well, no body else seemed at all interested in hiring me. Stupid ego, always getting in the way, I looked at the offer of employment and thought "they want me to work for them, yay!" instead of being more rational. ... rationality hasn't fully sunk in yet. I'm still in the daydreaming stage of "gee, wouldn't it be nice to live somewhere else for a while" instead of figuring out the hard realities of rent and moving and new landlords and learning a brand new transportation system and directions and blah blah blah blah blah. My life is going to be turned upside down. BUT it's only a 350-ish kilometre move. I will be so tantalizingly close to home that I can come visit on weekends if I'm ambitious, and I won't miss out on any of the major holidays even if I don't get much vacation time.

Argh, I'm not supposed to be thinking about this right now! I need to focus on my impending contract deadline instead, and producing material for that, not dreaming about the apartments I'll be touring immediately after Easter, or the new boss and coworkers I'll be meeting. Thankfully I have a good contingent of friends in my soon-to-be new home, so I won't necessarily be lonely. I'll get to rekindle my best friendship from elementary school, and I'll get to spend time with a friend as she experiences new motherhood. (of course, this is supposing that I'll be able to visit etc. but I'm guessing that they'll welcome me since I was invited to both their weddings! haha!) Aaaa, my life is changing in ways I still don't even know! New job, new city, new circle of friends, new landscape, new everything. ... thankfully with the anchor of my past and my family not that far away, though. I don't think I could do this if I had to move to Ontario instead of simply Calgary. There are perks to being only 100km away from the mountains, in a city of equivalent size to Edmonton, and of equivalent draw to a large number of my friends. I have promised to keep a couch available for interlopers, whether for hockey games or stampede or skiing adventures. This looks to be the start of a very interesting new adventure for me.

spring is here, somewhere

2010-03-23T20:38:00.006-06:00

So, it is spring time. At least that's what the calendar suggests. Albertans know better than to count on it, though. Gardeners and farmers, in particular, know better than to assume that the equinox means spring has sprung and the grass will surely soon be growing. I suppose, if you give "soon" a more objective understanding, you could say that, indeed, "soon" the grass would be green and growing again. ... if by soon, you mean sooner than back in January. ha! We still have a month and a half more-or-less. Luckily farmers have developed planting regimes to embrace the winter here, and winter wheat, a fall/winter-planted grain has the benefit of growing immediately after the soil thaws instead of waiting for the soil to be first plough-able. Most gardeners don't get to be so lucky. We wait until the thaw is upon us, the soil is workable once again, and only THEN do we start to turn the earth and throw down seeds for the summer of plenty. It really is a feast and famine cycle up here. ... as far as nature's bounty is concerned. Though you can cheat a little if you use cold frames and start planting indoors in February or March.

Anyway, not the point of this. It is officially spring. And, as is wont to happen up here at 53 degrees, Latitude, it snowed. There's nothing quite like knowing Nature has a sense of humour. First weekend of spring? Of course you need snow! Fresh, moist, dense snow, not unlike walking on cookie dough, just in time for Monday morning. The flakes started falling fast and thick around 1am, and by morning commute, a good inch and a half had hit the ground in my neighbourhood, more in other areas. Everything was amok in, well, muck, and slush, underlain with surprisingly slick ice. With the sun rising earlier (hooray daylight savings time and equinox!!), it made for an absolutely breathtaking morning commute. ... even if it was snow-saturated!

Today the thaw has started anew, and the fields are re-browning, and the roads are accumulating mud. These, of course, are sure signs that spring truly is on its way. But I won't count on spring until the grass starts to turn green and the aspen have let forth their sap (which I am starting to smell on the wind in small quantities). The birds are returning, I hope this snow wasn't too much of a shock. The Canada geese are slowly re-conglomerating, and the nuthatches have started up their mating calls from my neighbour's tree.

In order of my day, yesterday:

The shrubs at a local park. Snow-covered branches getting lit up by the rising sun.

Snow-coated trees at the bus terminal.

Strong winds coated signs to the point of illegibility in some cases.

My walk home gave me views of neat rows of chaff in the fields.

Snow encrusted wind breaks.

Charmingly pastoral scenes.

A loading-up of grain.

and a barn being divested of its possessions.

and having things pulled out of the roof?

Amazing what a few days does

2010-03-17T22:36:00.004-06:00

The March lamb is certainly looking upon us with favour lately. The last few photos I posted on Monday were from March 8th. By today, the 17th, the landscape looks completely different. While spring remains one of my favourite times of the year, it quite often falls into the depressingly drab category, colour-wise. Once the brilliant white snow starts to melt (or often, in our case, the muddy grey snow, coated in winter's roadside sanding efforts), all we're left with is frozen earth, chilly mud puddles, a multitude of ice and sad, dry, dead brown grass.

Or, well, dead, brown everything. It often takes a month-ish of freeze-thaw, teasing snowfalls, sleet and rain to freshen the air and wash away the snow mould. Only THEN does the world take on a fresher hue, and that mostly comes from refreshed air and the opening-up of rivers, lakes and ponds, as their masses of ice finally start to melt and yield landing spots to the geese who've started to arrive (according to my excited friends who've been lucky enough to see them). The first signs of green often come from planted crocuses and daffodils in peoples' front lawns, or the much more feral greening of the poplar and aspen bark as the trees begin to thaw, swell and photosynthesize in their trunks and stems before it's safe to push forth with new leaves. The scent of aspen and poplar sap, freely running, is, for me, a sure sign that spring is finally on its way. Birds can be confused, daffodils and crocuses aren't from here and don't understand the ways of our landscape and unrelenting weather, but the poplars and aspen actually know what's going on. The buds are starting to swell in the trees, and the first signs of trunk swelling are showing through in the more urban, sunny clumpings of aspen. They're whispering, but soon... soon spring may be upon us. ... or it'll snow and we'll be reminded that we can only safely sit outside at the end of April because, of course, this is Canada, and the 53rd parallel is not a tropical paradise. But one can dream!

Anyway, photos!
Building off of the last two from Monday's post, here is that same windbreak today:

Here's another of the empty field:

The barn now has an enormous meltwater puddle:

(instead of how it looked last week)

and even the trees are starting to get in on springtime...

you can't see it, but those buds are swelling! (plus I couldn't resist posting a photo of that sky and the drifting, wispy clouds)

The last week of winter!

2010-03-15T21:08:00.004-06:00

February was mild, and March has come in like the sweetest, fuzziest lamb I have ever met... if I'd ever met a lamb worth remembering. ha!

In recognition of the end of Winter (according to the astronomical phenomenon of the Vernal Equinox), I'm going to try to post photos this week, representing the changes we've experienced here, the lengthening of days, the melting of snow, and the delight of the beautiful, blue sky.

Today, is a look back at what's already been this winter. Photos from delightfully sunny and warm days in February and March. Days when I went skating with friends, or walking home from work in my shirt sleeves.

I'm not holding my breath, but maybe there'll even be a photo of a migratory bird returning from its winter vacation home some time over the week. There were ravens at the farm I walk through on my way home from work. Ravens and crows in addition to the rats-with-wings pigeons that live there eating grain all year round. The weather's changing if the ravens and crows are flying through the city! ... although, granted, the best harbinger of spring is still the influx of waterfowl that represents the predicted thaw of winter ice on rivers and lakes and ponds.

I am thirsting for the day of pelican and crane migration, nothing is sweeter than seeing those flocks circle and glide on thermal updrafts so high above the ground that you have to hold your breath in order to hear them. Their bold white and black wing patterns (pelicans) are the only thing distinguishing them from puffs of cloud in the sky, and the trilling calls (cranes) announce their enigmatic presence somewhere aloft. Another month and they should start coming back. I can't wait!

An empty skating pond in January:

That same skating pond on Valentines' Day:

An open field and windbreak, full of footprints from long walks with the dog:

The beginnings of serious snow melt in March:

Our garden is thawing out, the snow mould is starting to wash away. I cannot wait for spring!

My obsession with trains gets fed...

2010-03-14T09:43:00.012-06:00

As I've said in the past, I have a thing for trains. Our family's cabin (my grandparents' intended retirement home - prior to my grandpa dying of cancer in his 60's) was on a moderate-sized, shallow prairie lake on the CN Rail mainline. Trains passed by the lake like clockwork. Trains passed a crossing right next to the tracks, and had to sound their horns every time they passed our piddly little lake. The gap in the trees as the trains rumbled past on the tracks allowed for the plaintive call of the horn to echo across our anonymous lake. It added a sort of structure to my idyllic childhood days spent poking under fallen logs, jumping over the creek and chasing wood frogs. It also added spice to our nights when I was particularly young as my cousin, in his fledgling years of learning to speak and walk prior to being able to chase around like us "older" kids (two and a half years makes a difference!), feared the train, miserably. He was a second beacon, often going off in fearful screams during the wee hours of the night to the distant, barely audible train horn while we were all cozily nestled in the cabin, fast asleep.

The media has been doing a good job of feeding my love of trains. Okay, scratch that. THE MEDIA doesn't really give a shit about trains. CBC Radio loves trains. My Sunday radio programmes love trains. Michael Enright (a nerdy-elite sounding, slightly short and paunchy Colonel Sanders look-alike) has a Sunday radio show, aptly called The Sunday Edition, and today's episode is conveniently taken from his cross-Canada (Halifax, NS to Prince Rupert, BC) ride on the various VIA Rail passenger trains that dissect our nation. You can probably find the episode or highlights thereof on the CBC podcast page, ooo, or here on his blog from the train trip. Even while he talks about things only peripherally related to the rail (Nova Scotia's resistance to Canadian Confederation for one), the background noises are clearly those of a rumbling train. Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe (available for podcast here) has also broadcast episode(s) from the train. His is a radio variety show, with musicians who perform, including the lovely-voiced Reid Jamieson, who played this fantastic and slightly haunting song: Rail. The Vinyl Cafe, too, had the rumbling, and squeaking sound of the train in the background, throughout. So, radio delves into discussions about the train. I love how one seemingly obsolete medium is talking about another seemingly obsolete medium.

Obviously I'm not the only one who's drawn into the lure of train lore. There are yet others like Olivier Barrot and Alain Bouldouyre, Frenchmen apparently lured by the mystique of Canadian winter and the Gilles Vigneault line "Mon pays, ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver!" (My country is not a country, it's winter!) Most tourists I know of (save a brave Brazillian who learned English in Grande Prairie and some Aussies seeking to experience a "White Christmas") don't aim to travel to Canada during winter. Those two Frenchmen set out for a train ride in December and came out of it with this book: TransCanadian Sketchbook. It is a book steeped in idyllic watercolours of the streamlined stainless steel 1960's VIA Rail passenger cars and the Canadian landscape. They rode from Toronto to Vancouver on THE CANADIAN, the great dotted line connecting the Great Lakes with the Canadian Shield, the Prairies with the Rockies and, ultimately everything to the Pacific Ocean.

I finally made good on my love of Canadian trains. I've ridden the EuRail trains, slept on the EuroStar hyper-expensive but luxurious over-nighters (between Zurich and Berlin, there was lots of shunting trains around random rail stations), but had only a very vague memory of riding the VIA passenger train from Edmonton to Jasper as a four-year-old (I ran up and down the aisles and chased another little, rambunctious kid). That taste was not enough, how many four-year-old (but still remembered) experiences are? So, I bought myself a ticket on a momentously fortunate instance of post-employee strike nation-wide ticket sales. How could I say "no" to a 60% discount on a train ticket? In the end, it was cheaper than flying from Edmonton to Vancouver, AND I got to see the mountains from a very different angle than driving down the highway. I perched in the dome car for hours on end, knitting, staring out the windows, watching the snow, and the fog envelop mountain vistas. I fell asleep to the gentle rocking of the train car. I met some incredibly strange people, some fantastic people, and was even (really poorly) set-up with an RCMP officer. Oh, it made me laugh! And I took photos. The goal wasn't to get to Vancouver, it was to experience the train ride, and I certainly feel like I did. Hopefully these photos can attest to that.

Leaving the Edmonton area in November sunrise

Approaching the Eastern Slopes via Hinton

The retro-luxury of the 1960's designed dome car seating

Wind storm in the distance (Roche Miette is on the right)

Paused in Jasper for an hour, with fresh snow!

Hugging a mountain slope, leaving Jasper (Jasper tramway perched in the clouds on the right)

Vancouver's Station: Pacific Central

And... coming home, with a brief stop in Jasper for more photos

One of the beauties of a trip like this is that it changes your perspective, about people, about Canada, and about what you see as you travel down the rail line. It also reinforces some very strongly-held beliefs about our nation, much like the fantastic Arrogant Worms song, Rocks and Trees:

My country's bigger than most,
And if asked I boast.
Cause i'm really proud,
So I shout it loud.
Though our numbers are few,
We will welcome you.
Although we don't have history,
Gold medal winning teams,
Heroes or prisoners, world famous volcanoes,
Still what we've got's glorious.

Cause we've got rocks and trees, and trees and rocks,
and rocks and trees, and trees and rocks,
and rocks and trees, and trees and rocks,
and rocks and trees, and trees and rocks,
and water.

Just watch it, it's so much better live!

Baking as therapy

2010-03-07T17:25:00.003-07:00

It is amazing how, in times of stress, I revert to baking. My grandma died: I baked pie to cope; I baked a lot of pies that summer. My thesis deadline drew nearer and nearer: cookies, muffins and chocolate scones (particularly when the statistics got to me). No paycheque in two and a half months: cookies, muffins and rice casserole all came out of the kitchen this weekend. Yep, that’s right, no paycheque for 2 ½ months! I am BROKE! I am thinking of seeking some financial assistance from the Bank of Mom and Dad right now, actually. ... and trying to work, but taking a much-needed sustenance break.

I love that I’m figuring out how to only spend about $30-$50 on food per week, but I do not love that I have no option BUT to spend less than $50 per week. I also do not love not having rent money in my account, or finding out just how harsh credit card fees are, and not being able to pay them. I’ve already played the blame game (it’s probably 60% them, and 40% me), so now I’m trying to meet the deadlines and get the cash so I can go on with my life. ... my life that has taken a serious nose-dive of late.

I really don’t know what to do with myself. I’m applying for jobs in earnest, and yet I hear nothing (there will be a cold call or two this week). And this contract: e-mail just doesn’t work, and I can’t get them on the phone because we’re in different time zones and I work nights. This is awesome. Oh, and it gets better. I have a second job (hence the working nights schtick) working days in a lab. That one hasn’t paid me yet, but it is going to, soon (not enough to live off of all by itself), and it is also going to end soon. Other than figuring out my taxes, April looks like a whole lot of nothing.

In fact, April looks so blank that I’m scared of it. It’s like it doesn’t exist, a black hole (like life after 30 when I hadn’t yet reached 21). April looms so large, that it is hard not to focus on it, and how there are only three weeks left in March, leading up to it. I am caught on a hamster wheel. I need to do all this work, by the end of March, and I know my body is angry at me for staying up late and stressing out etc. etc. etc. but I NEED to do it or I won’t be able to pay rent. Why is that not enough motivation though? Why is it that instead of getting all gung-ho and working on things, I bake, or shut down, or get really angry and fester? I know that part of it is that I have already gone through school twice to get to this point, and I am still being treated like an undergrad. And I NEED to treat this like I treated my undergrad work: it’ll be over soon, just get it done by the deadline and who cares what happens next. ... except that’s so unprofessional. And I know that a certain part of me is just too angry to care anymore; that I was jerked around and so now I feel like it doesn’t matter whether I do the work or not. But I NEED to get this done. There’s money riding on it. Money that would get me through April, May and June... or at least pay off my visa and get me into May! Arghh!

So I baked. I baked muffins: apple-pecan muffins (adapted from the Joy of Cooking) with cinnamon and sunflower seeds. They’re “healthy” too because they’re whole wheat and got an extra boost of ground flaxseed in them. I’m working backwards: the muffins were the most recent things to come out of the kitchen. I also made Mexican Rice, courtesy of the Best of Bridge Winners book (the best of the BoB in my opinion). I added more stuff to it though, and thought it was hilarious that some rice was already turning to mush while other pieces were still hard-centered, but such are the perils of tall-pot stovetop casserole cooking, I suppose. It has all evened out since then into a big rice-y tomato and pepper mess with a bit too much chipotle! I made it for a potluck, but still have enough left over for a whole week of lunches. And I also made peanut butter cookies (which chilled in the freezer while I was making the casserole). I made the enormous 5+ dozen cookie recipe that I just love to eat and share. A bunch went to the potluck, and a bunch will be going to my dad and brother, and then a bunch will probably make their way to work tomorrow.

I’ve been experimenting with my muffins and all the left-over, slowly over-ripening fruit and veg in the house. These muffins were made from three old Ambrosia apples (smelled to ensure no mould contamination), and though the Joy of Cooking suggests using 1 ½ cups of them, I had much closer to 2 cups. So, I boldly substituted away, using whole wheat flour instead of white, adding ¼ cup of flaxseed meal and a bunch of sunflower seeds in addition to the chopped pecans (or walnuts, I’m saving my amazing Okanagan walnuts for something more deserving) the recipe called for. They’re a little over-moist: too much apple, not enough flour, I guess. Next time I’ll add more than just ¼ cup of flax. That will probably work. I am not sure when or why I started experimenting with muffin baking, but I’ve come up with some really entertaining pseudo-healthy hybrids like those apple ones. My other standby favourite, which I might have to make soon, are zucchini chocolate muffins, taken from the Company’s Coming cookbook line. Actually, it’s a Company’s Coming- Best of Bridge hybrid, I took two recipes and combined them: I adapted a zucchini muffin recipe and my all time favourite cake to mix the two, and healthify it in the process. Whole wheat flour, flax meal, any kind of seed I have on hand (sunflower, pumpkin, more flax), a bit of cocoa, 1 cup of zucchini and a handful of chocolate chips to seal the deal. Fibre, fruit and fun all in one! (whoa, nerd, sorry)

I wish I could convince my doctor that these aren’t going to kill me. It’s not like I eat more than one at a sitting, and I sure as heck don’t use a pile of sugar, butter or oil in them. The apple ones call for just over ¼ of a cup, and the zucchini ones call for about the same, maybe a little more. I still think Michael Pollan has the best line of all when it comes to healthy eating: Eat food, not too much, mostly plants. And I’m doing my best to stick to it. ... except for cheese... mmm cheese!

One last look at the Olympics, and then back to our regularly-scheduled Canadian navel-gazing

2010-03-04T19:23:00.007-07:00

I love listening to the CBC. During my current daily routine of 6 hours' lab work, followed by evening attempts at paper writing, it's been the one cheerful, edifying constant. The Olympics were a blast to "watch" through eyes and ears of CBC radio journalists and their half-hourly news and sports standings updates. I kind-of miss that. But, thankfully, in true CBC fashion, the post-Olympic navel-gazing analysis has run most of the week, and we'll be back to the regularly-scheduled "What does it mean to be Canadian" navel-gazing next week, I'm sure.

The radio has provided me with an unending source of entertainment, information and opinions (not to mention a few new french words and some musicians to look up) while I grind soil samples, or sort data and clean lab glassware. It's also made me more aware of what's going on in the world, current event-wise than I would otherwise be, since I do not subscribe to a newspaper and I don't chase down internet news on a regular daily basis. The half-hourly news updates, and the news shows like The Current have kept me in the loop, and I've had more than my fair share of politics to digest this week, in addition to the Olympics run-down, thanks to the new Throne Speech and budget announcement. I still don't understand why we need to create a parliamentary focus group for the purpose of changing a line in our national anthem. Is it really worth that much effort, or do the MPs already miss spending their time pointlessly milling about?

Anyway, the title of this blog post suggests that I need to do more than navel-gaze.

A couple of articles reached my radar on Monday. Or, more specifically, a couple of negative American Olympic summary articles. Gilbert LeBreton from the Fort-Worth Star-Telegram (that's next to Dallas, TX) wrote a couple of scathing reviews of the Olympics as hosted by Vancouver. You can read them here: In these Olympics, Canadians only paid attention to Canada and Offending Canada wasn't intentional.

Suffice it to say, I got angry. You can't expect an entire nation of people to let you get away with comparing them to Hitler and the 1936 Nazis. So I didn't. I e-mailed Mr. LeBreton, who describes himself as a descendant of Acadian heritage, and, I don't know, therefore able to make fun of Canadians because he's part-possible-former-Canadian himself? I told him a whole bunch of things, but mostly that it was unreasonable (and unwise) to compare Canadians to Nazis given the WWII history we all experienced, that Canada was involved in the Allied WWII efforts for far longer (and at much greater sacrifice) than the Americans, and that comments like his were likely to open wide rifts in sentiments between Canadians and Americans simply because of the seriousness of those Nazi accusations. I also told him... well, why don't I just re-post some of the e-mail?

Dear Mr. LeBreton,

Maybe it's just me, but I didn't think the "Rah-Rah Canada" theme of the Vancouver Olympics fell into the category of outright jingoism. If I'm not mistaken, we gathered together as a nation to host the world and celebrate all that makes Canada great, not to cultivate a patriotic fervour leading to overt aggression and xenophobia or creating some sort of combative foreign policy. In fact, I'd contest that we were trying to do the exact opposite by welcoming the world and being boisterous (if loud and proud) hosts. Sure, we wanted to prove that Canada could actually hold its own on the world stage, but by no means was our poorly named "Own the Podium" programme designed to declare Canadian athletic supremacy, and I don't think that's what we did at these Games. Unlike Berlin in 1936 (ouch, seriously, insulting and callous, what were you thinking?), there was no "the Aryan race is the best" simulacrum or any goose-stepping. From the vantage point of a tv viewer outside of Vancouver, I saw a lot of airtime dedicated to people like Lindsay Vonn, Thomas Ulsrud, Sven Kramer, Apollo Ohno, the Norwegian domination of cross-country events, and the Korean and Chinese women's battle for glory in speed skating; and that was on the Canadian television networks.

Obviously I'm biased, I'm one of the masses against whom the article and its poor apology has been written; but you don't come in to someone's house, enjoy the hospitality, tell everyone you've had a great time and then take a dump on the lawn when you leave (and then try to make up for it by telling us you gave a busker your pocket change). I also think Canadians (just like every other nation) deserve to pay attention to their athletes, first and foremost, but you can't say we didn't notice the others out there. In just about every event I watched, there was discussion of the most talented competitors (as I've mentioned above), no matter what nation they were from, and the medal hauls from "star" athletes of all nations. I also highly doubt that American media coverage of the Games expended vast amounts of energy and airtime to discussing other nations' athletes over their own.

As for Nodar Kumaritashvili, a number of international luge competitors are raising funds for the "dead luger's" family, and I saw a fair amount of respect for him through the mention at both opening and closing ceremonies' broadcasts as well as newscasts that included footage from his funeral in Georgia during the Games. For a large portion of the Olympic Games, in fact, Kumaritashvili was a footnote on many of the broadcasts I watched; the sombre starting point, and a touchstone for so much that did happen. I'd actually like to suggest that his death was a more poignant and commented-on incident (as a reminder of the honour we had to pay to those who've fallen) than the bombing victims' deaths and suffering during the Atlanta Olympics; or at least media coverage of the two events would have us draw that conclusion. Don't forget that the VanOC and IOC cannot fully comment on his death for reasons of liability. One would think, in a litigious nation like the USA, that people would be used to that sort of caution.

...

As a tourist, I know that I've attended events, and visited countries and seen things through a very specific set of lenses. Perhaps that was part of your problem with the Vancouver Games. I know footage of the Torino games included lots of green, white and red from their flag, and the Utah Games had vast constellations of red, white and blue stars. For a nation constantly referred to as "the United States' little brother", I can see how you were suprised that we took on such a solidly red and white hue during the past two weeks, and I can see how that could be jarring enough that you missed out on the other highlights of the Games. If you'd taken off those blinders, you'd have noticed a number of large Olympic flags in the crowd, even during the semifinal hockey games, and you'd have noticed that Canada was happy to have the whole world there with us.

...

I'm still sticking to my house guest analogy: if you're going to come on in and enjoy the food, the party, the company and all else, maybe you shouldn't complain that the hosts kept their family portraits on the walls. Like all the other Olympic Games you've attended, you are there by the grace and good wishes of the host nation. They all intend for you to have a good time and take full advantage of their hospitality. I'm sorry the 2010 version of Canadian hospitality rubbed you the wrong way, but can we really help it if we're proud of our home and the people we put forth in the competitions? Please don't forget that we're going to be neighbours for many years to come, no matter how many maple leaves got waved in your face or how many chants of "USA USA" were loudly echoing through the various sporting venues (did you attend any curling?). It would be good if we could still remain friends as nations. Your article and apology rebuttal are not helping maintain that relationship.

Congratulations to your athletes on a very well-deserved record-setting medal count.
A very disappointed Canadian."

And then he replied to me:
"Dear Alison:
Thank you for taking the time to respond to my column. It was a great email, and I promise you I'll take to heart everything you wrote.
I'd also like to personally apologize to you for using the 1936 Berlin
Olympics analogy in trying to make my point. It was a poor choice and I regret it.
There were many exciting and memorable moments in the Vancouver Olympics, and I hope these are the ones that will linger when the cheers of those three weeks finally fade.
Best wishes to you."

I was a little surprised to get an actual e-mail from him, to be honest. And, the cynic in me thinks that last paragraph (not best wishes, the one before it) suggests that nothing's changed about his view, and that he'll still look back on the Vancouver Olympics with a bitter taste in his mouth. ... though maybe now it's also because of the backlash from his articles (the comments on the website are phenomenal, albeit more angry and combative than helpful). {Aside: apparently he truly is apologetic, he was interviewed by a Calgary Herald writer on Tuesday}

I don't know exactly where I stand on this issue. I think his use of the Berlin 1936 comparison is incredibly baseless in the sense that no one should be compared to Nazis unless the comparison is also taking into account all the atrocities and the crazed xenophobia they instigated. BUT I can also kind-of see his point (if it hadn't also been true of the Sydney and Utah games). Vancouver was a sea of red and white. ... it was a polite, well-behaved sea, but a sea nonetheless, and the maple leaf became far more prevalent than any other symbol around. Though, from the stories posted elsewhere, there were a vast number of foreign visitors who also picked up wearing the maple leaf (or at least the mittens), and I highly doubt there was active boo-ing of people wearing other nationalities' insignia. It was a party; a primarily red and white party with lots of maple leaves, but there were smatterings of yellow and blue from the swedes, lots of red, white and blue stars from the USA, and a whole host of other colours dotting the wave of canadiana. Is it fair to accuse the Canadians of outnumbering the foreign guests on their home turf? I don't think so. It would be like accusing a family of outnumbering their guests at Christmas Dinner.

I think the big thing we can take away from this is that this particular writer expected us to maintain our separate-identity-less America-clone appearance while he was visiting, instead of embracing our own national identity with such an upwelling of pride. I'm glad we disappointed him.

You can read some great reviews of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics by American Journalists here: Canada is a Winter Games wonderland and Leaving behind a thank-you note from the NBC Brian Williams (not the CTV Brian Williams, I got confused, and laughed!).

The Total Perspective Vortex

2010-03-03T22:49:00.005-07:00

When you are put into the Vortex you are given just one momentary glimpse of the entire unimaginable infinity of creation, and somewhere in it a tiny little mark, a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, which says, "You are here."

Oh Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy... how I love thee.

And so, with that total perspective vortex in mind, I am pressing onward. My problems are likely minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Riding high on the euphoria of Olympic dreams and sporting achievements, I kind-of forgot about my second job. Ha. Scratch that, my first job, but the non-paying one. And it's not that I forgot, it's that I pushed it aside in a surge of unprofessional vindictiveness and anger. I'd had enough. I was tired of being treated like I was invisible. Who waits four weeks for edits on a 30 page report to be happy with "remove your opinions and use simple sentences" as their only tangible editorial advice?

SO, now I have the unfortunate job of rapidly finishing up the paper(s) while also working my second paying job. ... the job I took because this first one - the one that could feasibly help me move forward in my career (had anyone actually cared enough to work with me on it after they hired me, ugh) - failed to meet its own deadlines and pay me. I know the landscape of the working world has changed dramatically over the past twenty years, but one would hope that everyone would be aware of that... to the point that they'd understand that contractors need to be treated with timely respect if their cooperation is desired.

Forget the whole business of money and paycheques, I don't like being treated like a scrap of paper meant for the recycle bin. This contract has taught me that absentee employers are bad news, that I should not enter into agreements unless there is more framework and cooperation presented at the outset, and that I should be wary of inflexible parties when making agreements, despite voicing my own legitimate concerns. So, here I sit, in debt, with a computer I bought for the purpose of fulfilling this contract and building on my professional writing abilities, a stack of non-edits to complete (ugh), a looming deadline, stress out the ears, a 30-hour a week job to pay rent (paycheques are starting to come soon!) and a very compelling desire to scream at the top of my lungs.

This is not sustainable. I have to revert to undergraduate work levels, burning the midnight oil, rushing to "class" in the morning, running off of caffeine and sugar (which is going to wreak havoc on my poor brain, ugh) and hoping I can actually pull this off, flying by the seat of my pants. ... all for an end-of-month deadline so that I can get paid the money they owed me at the end of January.

... and then what? I sure as hell won't be pursuing any further work with those particular people. Fiscal year end is going to make both my jobs moot, and I have NOTHING coming up on the horizon. I'm applying to jobs like crazy, but that doesn't mean I'll get anything, and I'm starting to panic. Do I have to re-apply for a loan from the Bank of Mom and Dad? I HATE doing that. I love buying my food for a week and spending less than $30, but I hate that I am running out of the money to do even that. How is this a life? How is this what I ended up with after graduate school? It's not like I'm failing to market myself, I'm applying for jobs all over the place, but they seem to want engineers, not biologists, or they want biologists with 10 years of experience, not 5.

I had a dream a while ago that's stuck with me because it seemed so absurd but still poignant. In the dream, I was discussing my "situation" whatever it was (dream rememberances, if they happen at all for me, are always really vague, so I don't remember the circumstances that led to this discussion), and the person I was talking to told me that instead of digging a trench that was a mile long and a foot deep, I'd done the exact opposite, creating a mile-deep foot-wide hole. It was suggested that I stop digging, because even trying to dig up wasn't going to lead me anywhere useful. That was my dream! My own subconscious is recognising that my current approach to life is not working. It's not providing me with any solutions, but at least it's telling me to stop digging my very deep, narrow hole!

Anyway, here I stand, a tiny little dot, a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot in my personal, mile-deep hole wondering what on earth I should do to get myself out of this mess. I feel like I have no time, no money, no future and no direction. I'm not sure if I'm hoping someone will throw me a rope, or if I'll eventually figure out how to make footholds and climb out of the hole myself. I just need to get moving, and stop digging. I don't think it's worth attempting to tunnel to the other side. Whatever's there is WAY too far away right now, and I'm digging blindly. If I had the benefit of the mole-machine technology, and a GPS, maybe it'd be worth an adventure down the hole, but I'd still like a map or some sort of idea what I'm tunneling in to.

Yes, I realise, all this whinging is the product of someone who's had way too much opportunity thrown her way, and being puzzled by it all. I don't feel like I've squandered what I had, instead, I feel like what I had was part of an ephemeral spring, and only recently have I realised that it was going to (and is) dry(ing) up. As a result, I am trying to figure out how best to adapt to the drought and move onward, or where the next watering hole is, and how to get there. They are, most certainly the problems of a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, and every time I remind myself of that fact, I think of how I should be volunteering more and spending more of my time making my community better... and then the practical me-centered voice jumps up from the hole I've dug and says "wait until you have time and money to do something first!" This situation is not tenable.

"There is power in the collective experience"

2010-02-28T11:48:00.002-07:00

"It feels good to let your heart show."

So says this analysis of the Canadian Olympic sporting experience. It's a good misty-eyed video of Canadian pride and nationalism, with a bit of navel-gazing, to boot. ... so, truly Canadian, I guess?

A golden Olympics for Canada?

2010-02-27T23:40:00.004-07:00

On the eve of the last day of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics, it seems to me that Canada has both met and failed at its own expectations. The Canadian Olympic Own the Podium (OTP) approach to achieving best-ever Olympic results did not live up to the initial demands of, what, 34 medals? Are you kidding? For a nation of a scant ~30 million (given the landmass), our current 25 is a phenomenal achievement. It is something we should be proud of, and never ashamed of. The Canadian public has been witness to some formidable performances, inspiring in their bravery (e.g. Joannie Rochette), their determination (e.g. the Kevin Martin curling rink's gold or bust approach), and their outright enthusiasm (e.g. Jon Montgomery's surprise Skeleton gold and fantastic post-win victory walk through Whistler). But we were also witness to anger (Pierre Leuders' frustration at the crashes and heavy snow on the bobsled track, though he was happy with a 5th place finish), more frustration (from Denny Morrison and some of his fellow speed skaters who were locked out of the medals until tonight), and the heart-wrenching sadness displayed by those who felt like they'd let their country down (e.g. Mellisa Hollingsworth's tearful apology to the entire nation); or worse, the let-down the Canadian Olympic Committee gave to our most phenomenal chance at breaking the disability barrier, and encouraging even more young people to take up sport (Brian McKeever, the legally blind cross-country skier will not be in the 50 km men's mass start Sunday morning).

Now, I don't know if our country should be apologist about this sort of stuff, or wave our maple leaf flag proudly. It's a mixed bag. It has been a mixed bag since Vancouver first decided to put in a bid for the games. There are still contentious land claim issues in the areas surrounding Vancouver, and it took a lot of appeasement to get the native communities on board with the Sea-to-Sky highway construction, and the various other development projects required for the games to run without a hitch in the Whistler area. There are a lot of housing issues in Vancouver, and a lot of denial about the marginalised populations found within the city. The red tent city that was put up for the games only roughly masked the issue, while the rest of us all pretend there weren't one-way bus tickets purchased for a number of people (or that the rest of Canada hasn't purchased one-way to Vancouver bus tickets for a number of people either). The green-washing campaign is a mild success (as it was, I'm sure, in Lillehammer (who builds Olympic venues next to bird sanctuaries, really?)), but there will likely be odd ramifications as a result of it. Sure the Skytrain was expanded, but a 2.5 hour drive from Vancouver to Whistler (not to mention traffic jams) is hardly eco-friendly.

The successes, though? An overall peaceful games; no violence has broken out (knock on wood, one day to go). Ample back-up and contingency plans made sure things followed through no matter what the problem (be it a broken ice resurfacing machine, or some glitchy hydraulics, or very unfortunate weather patterns). And, if luck has it, the Canadians in the crowd might actually come away with a better sense of themselves, despite the foreign press sniping from Great Britain and Russia, both of whom, surprisingly enough, are set to host upcoming games. Our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, apparently had to make a special request in Parliament that Canadians be more blatantly patriotic during these games, waving the flag a little more, donning some red and white and getting out there to cheer on our nation (so says Tom Brokaw at least).

As someone who was in pre-games Vancouver (November), it was clear that big things were afoot, but just how big, it was hard to tell. I would never have anticipated the spectacle and the splendour that's been on display, and it is heartening to think that such a great product could have been made in Canada. Hopefully we'll be able to take this and roll with it. The debt will also be rolling with us (to the tune of what, $2 billion?), so why not the guts and glory as well? The teamwork, whether from the construction crews, or the nation-wide RCMP force that was cobbled together for ceremonial and enforcement detail (gotta love the red serge) has been simply phenomenal. If nothing else, I hope there's some glue left over from the games, and that it might just make us all stick together better, and choose to work on our problems and issues in more collaborative ways than playing the divisive blame game. The evidence is there: our athletes got together in ways we would never have expected, coming out to cheer each other on, and reporting on each other's results while in the midst of their own games; if they can support each other, why can't our whole country join together and do the same? And why can't it be about more than just sport? We strive for excellence in sport, and we can hold on to our athletes (or shame them when they leave, like the now Australian ski Olympian), but our brain drain problem is still prevalent.

Canada has a long way to go. Let's hope these Olympics are a sign of better things to come in the future, be they proper solutions to housing and homelessness, or respectful resolution of land claim and Native Peoples' rights (and access to education and clean drinking water etc.), or to solving national issues of promoting and supporting our home-grown talents as athletes, as actors, as artists and as all workers. Perhaps, hopefully, we'll start to recognise that "made in Canada" can be world-class and that striving to own the podium should be expanded to something broader and more far-reaching (and maybe more inclusive). The overall standings suggest that Canada has one of the highest levels of top ten performances of any nation at the Olympics. THAT in and of itself is and should always be a source of pride for our athletes. THAT should be what we strive towards as a nation, whether in the arena of sports performance, or in, say, medical practice. We may be an enormous slice of land with a scattering of people, outnumbered by the U.S. state of California, but we should always remember that we can band together and work towards common goals, and that it isn't bad to root for the home team.

Rough Go

2010-02-24T23:41:00.003-07:00

Wow, I'm having a rough time of things lately. I have two jobs... and I have no money. I know I've developed a bit of a spending habit lately, but it's not outlandish (e.g. a magazine here and there, some new cosmetics, and yarn). The real problem is that I'm not getting any money in. I have been completely left out in the cold by my one employer. I never would have suspected the government to be so completely bungling about such things as meeting deadlines. Yes, I realise I SHOULD know there would be bureaucratic delays, but a 4 week delay for a 1 week turn around is unacceptable and incredibly unprofessional. As a result of the delay (and my resultant lack of inspiration to continue, and very real need for money NOW), I have landed myself another short-term job that works on a wage-basis and will thus give me a salary every two weeks... after I've worked for them enough to get back into the system. And the original project languishes as a result. I NEED to get the job done. It would be so great to get paid for my work, but I don't even feel like it's possible any more, and I still have a month left to get things done.

Everything feels so incredibly hopeless. I might as well be jobless, despite my constant working. My roommates treat me like I am jobless, and well, why not? I don't have any money, my debt is growing higher and higher, and I will not be able to pay my rent on time this month. February, of all months... the shortest one of the year, the one with so much hope for gold for Canada, and so much sunshine and glorious warmth here... it's all but empty and hollow for me, personally. Yes, I mostly have my health (though I'm fearing a potential return of bronchitis - third time's a charm maybe?), my wits, and an ability to work, but these contracts both end at the end of March and I will be left with a whole lot of nothing. Hopefully I'll be able to pay off my debt and cut up my credit card or something... probably just lock it in a box somewhere. But that's all just short-term. What I really need is a JOB. A real, live, tangible job that runs 9-5, and lasts more than three months in duration. I feel like I'm wallowing in self-pity, but I don't know what else to do. I will find something to do (i.e. a job somewhere, anything) if I can't find real work, but that doesn't solve my problems, that just lets me feed, clothe and house myself. Sure that's important. Right now it's top priority, but I really, REALLY want to feel engaged in my work and my life. I'm tired of feeling like I would rather just tune the whole thing out.

Oh, how I would kill to have a good job. And yet every time I go looking, I feel grossly inadequate. And that scares me. Here I sit, with two degrees and a decent amount of experience under my belt and I can't manage to find a $45000/year job that I qualify for. ... or that I qualify enough that it feels like I have a chance to actually get in on applications... ugh.

This was supposed to be my "free" year. I started a word of the year worksheet via Christine Kane, and the word I came up with was "free". It seems apt. 2009 was a year of finishing things and starting anew, of holding on to what I'd built for so long, of not letting go when I should have, of getting stuck in ruts, and feeling trapped at times. It was a good year all in all, and it opened my eyes a lot, but there were certainly times where I wish I'd been able to cut loose from everything and float off. So perhaps 2010 as a "free" year is a reaction a bit too far over from 2009, but we shall see. That's what these sorts of things are supposed to be like, right? Free. Free from debt, from fear of failing, from undue expectation, from frustration, disappointment...

Freedom comes in so many different ways. I'm not really sure I know what's going to happen this year, but I really want to cut away from all the raw disappointment I'm feeling lately, all the suffocating anger and frustration and resentment. I want to take a fresh breath of air on every morning and think about how I am free to decide how the day goes, how it will help me reach towards my goals and how I don't have to do things just because other people (or me, myself) expect me to, but because I should want to do them. And hey, maybe I'll even manage to free myself of some old constraints, misgivings, hesitations and encumbrances. ... and hopefully some of the extra stuff I've been hauling around but never use.

Olympic Fever

2010-02-18T18:11:00.003-07:00

Forget work... or well, forget serious work. I have found myself a temporary part-time job for 30 hours a week so that I can pay rent while working on my other "more serious" contract job that hasn't paid out yet. ... yay. The perks are thus: I get to work with real, live human beings who I enjoy talking to, I get to work outside of my house and my bedroom (yay!), I get to talk with a boss who actually likes and respects me instead of trading e-mails with one who couldn't care less about me, AND I get a paycheque. Oh, the real perk right now is that I'm working in the lab, which means the radio is on, and I get to hear about Canada's Olympic progress.

Seriously, who's concentrating on work all the time right now anyway? The Olympics are on during work hours EVERY DAY, and these are athletes that, in some cases, curl at the local curling rink (SERIOUSLY!!! GO TEAM MARTIN!!!), or that went to the same highschool (as is the case with my roommate), so who's working 110% right now besides all our athletes? My workplace went so far as to provide a link to the federal government OTV (Olympic TV) website where we can watch streaming video on our lunch and coffee breaks without sucking up excessive bandwidth. Mostly, because I don't have a television myself, I've been watching streaming feed from the internet (the Canadian primary broadcaster) where I can see all the curling events and other highlights from the day. It's a great way to nod off before bed, AND I get to learn more curling strategy. Yes, curling, I'm a convert. My Dad took me to a game during the Canadian Olympic qualifications, and I've been playing in a rookie league for the past year. It's so fun, and challenging. I like how it's both a mental and physical game and hasn't become the emotional drain softball was when I was a kid playing in the city championships...

Plus I get to watch the hometown heroes.

Team Martin plays at the curling rink attached to my university, and also the one I've been taking all my curling lessons at. I know I've seen them play, but I really wasn't paying attention. It's hard to really see what's going on (particularly at the beginning, when I didn't understand the game all that well) without having an overhead view like the TV provides. But they're from our rink, and they're in the Olympics, and they're chock-full of talent. The lead and second are spot on with their shots and sweeping, and the third is also a skip so there's twice the strategy working in the team's favour, though, really, Kevin Martin is such a whiz... it's like he's the chess computer, Deep Blue playing against everyone else. ... or maybe he's Garry Kasparov... either way, phenomenal.

No matter what, it's been so entertaining, and engaging to cheer on all the red and white and maple-leaf-clad athletes representing Canada in our neck o' the woods. ... despite the wonky weather and the malfunctioning doobie-looking Olympic torch, I think Vancouver is doing a bang-up job of the event. ... even if I'm getting a really bizarre view of the games this year: government-sanctioned tv feeds with minimal commentator presence during the day, schmaltzy radio shows, video recaps and internet updates are the only ways I've seen anything Olympic-ish as of yet. I'm thinking of stealing some couch space at my parents' place on the weekend, just to get a more conventional view of things!

Anyway, back to live, streaming Can vs Sui men's hockey!

A recap of 2009

2010-01-22T00:17:00.002-07:00

I know, I know, we're three weeks in, but it's still January, so I can get away with this. I think this year might very well (or at least the first couple months, we'll see how long the trend lasts!) be a year of renewal, reflection and reworking. ... with hopefully a fair few more blog posts than 2009.

Anyway, a list, 'cause I like lists. A list to recap 2009:

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Resigned from a job because of allergies, got dumped and wasn’t sad about it, acted as a witness for insurance purposes.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn’t make any resolutions last year. This year, I don’t really want to call them resolutions ‘cause those are made to be broken. I’m kind-of hoping to call them life goals since I want them (increased activity, healthier lifestyle) to last for much more than just one year, or 3 weeks or whatever it is...

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
I don’t think so. 2009 was not a year of baby-birthing for my friends. 2010 will be, though.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
That was 2006, and enough people passed away that I’m hoping no one else needs to go for quite some time.

5. What countries did you visit?
Just the USA, and only for a week.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
More money saved up. A stable form of employment that lasts more than a few months... hey, maybe even one that extends beyond one fiscal year? Please? Space for myself.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
The 30th of January – the day I submitted my thesis to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research, and therefore officially completed all obligations towards my MSc. (academic or otherwise). The 19th of September – my best friend’s wedding day.

8. What were your biggest achievements of the year?
Defending my thesis and standing up for myself versus my supervisors at their discourteous worst. Landing contracts (twice) to work on federal research papers for national publication.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Underestimating myself and failing to sell my talents as a result.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Bronchitis, twice. And enough resulting bacterial infections from the way antibiotics mess up the entire body that I was essentially under the weather for about half the year.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A green purse and wallet, a solo train ticket to Vancouver and back, and a pass for the Folk Festival.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
One of my good friends who is going through a divorce.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
My now ex, and another friend of mine who has since gotten married. Though they did not behave in appalling or depressing ways together, they both individually left me appalled and depressed.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Vacations and supporting me while unemployed.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Folkfest, which delivered, as always; seeing my cousin at Christmas, which turned into a dud ‘cause the USA wouldn’t let him leave; riding the train, which was wonderful, but maybe not worth all the hype.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
I can’t think of anything.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you
i. happier or sadder?: both
ii. thinner or fatter? Hmm... let’s see... I blame the sedentary office work and high-fat/sugar snacks and beverages I consumed. ... as well as my lack of willpower.
iii. richer or poorer? I am no better or worse off, financially, from where I was last January, oddly enough. (which is lame, I would have hoped that a year of working would leave me with a few pennies to my name instead of the sweet nothing I have)

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Meeting new people. Organising my life. Applying for jobs. Saving money. Spending time with friends. Knitting.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Feeling guilty. Dwelling on things. Prolonging relationships that weren’t going to make it. Eating crap food. Getting sick.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
With family and friends, eating way too much and laughing a lot.

21. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Nope.

22. What was your favorite TV program?
True Blood and Being Erica; I obsessed about the first, but found the second to be more rewarding to watch.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
I try my best not to hate, but I do despise a number of politicians in ways I didn’t before.

24. What was the best book you read?
American Gods by Neil Gaiman, I’m pretty sure I read it in 2009. If not that, then one of the myriad Paulo Coelho books I read (like By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept).

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
2009 was the year of minimal music purchase. Folk Fest finds: Jill Barber, Slaid Cleaves, Arrested Development (seriously), Ben Sures, Fred Eaglesmith and Chuck Brodsky (listen to Letters in the Dirt – amazing).

26. What did you want and get?
Some really cool travel memories, a train ride through the rockies, a pair of Fluevog shoes, and some lovely new friends.

27. What did you want and not get?
A place of my own and the job to pay for it.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Up was fantastic, though Moon was so stark it’ll never escape my memory and The Brothers Bloom had plot twists and whimsy beyond expectation.

29. What did you do on your birthday?
I got my hair cut by my cousin’s girlfriend who shares my birthday and gave her flowers and earrings. For supper, I went to DaDeO, a local Cajun restaurant with my roomies and a couple friends... it was pretty low-key since I was still dealing with bronchitis.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A job I liked that lasted more than three months and paid well. ... or a relationship built on mutual respect, trust and understanding. Ta-da!

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Uh... finding clothes that accommodated my changing physique (from weight loss to gain to loss to gain to hopefully loss again) and that are colourful and slightly more, I dunno, respectable and formal than your average logo t-shirt.

32. What kept you sane?
My friends and family, the outdoors.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Halloo... John Morris, the curler, only in December, though. Earlier in the year, I’d have to say Gerard Butler, who was replaced by Vampire Bill from True Blood (though Stephen Moyer isn’t really what I’m looking for, somehow his vampire persona just, well, worked for me).

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Bloody stupid governmental inaction (and denial despite all the funding and research they give to climate change reduction initiatives) on climate change, and the related (and inane) carbon capture and storage “project” that most companies have actually backed out of because it’s NOT FEASIBLE despite the Alberta government’s earnestness at giving away $2 billion to work on it instead of emissions reductions. Oh, and healthcare reforms akin to the dissolution of public healthcare in this province.

35. Who did you miss?
My cousin, who was completing a bachelor’s degree in the States. A couple of friends who moved away.

36. Who were the best new people you met in 2009?
My summer work crew friends.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
Honesty is the best policy; and the biggest part of honesty that EVERYONE needs to work on is being true to themselves.

Null?

2010-01-07T15:40:00.005-07:00

What does one do when the assigned job is overly depressing? I am an environmentalist by nature (a tree hugger, an earth-lover, whatever you want to call it), and I have chosen to actually work in the area that my passion centers on: preservation and conservation. ... and the science behind all of this, of course ('cause there's nothing I am if not nerdy).

But this science/environmentalism passion often ends up leading me down dark and disappointing corridors. What do you do when Al Gore's extended PowerPoint presentation and chosen project collection (Climate Crisis) is old hat to you? What do you do when things like this movie Home make you feel like the world is starting to take notice but that it will all be too little too late? What do you do when something like this soon-to-be-shown-in-my-home-town movie Collapse feels more like the appropriate next step to take and that following Al Gore or the seemingly eloquent francophone Yann Arthus-Bertrand on their madcap fossil-fuel-guzzling international promo campaigns about climate change and human destruction of the planet? ... not that I'm necessarily ready to go all hermit-like and dig a foxhole of my own to avoid the impending market destruction Michael C. Ruppert is forecasting.

Ok, enough blather. My point is this: I am writing a report on the state of the environment (in all its many guises), and the resounding consensus I have gathered from the scientific literature and my peers is that our future is decidedly grim. Our wildlife, our natural ecosystems, our entire resource base is facing serious hardship in the near future. I'm skimming reports for other jurisdictions and coming up with the same general feeling. There is little hope when the status levels are "declining" or "undetermined" or "poor", trends are "?" or "-" and the stated confidence level is "ø". Seriously, " ø". Null?

I know, I should be glad that we are finally taking notice and that Canada is actually taking steps to recognise that there are problems with what it sees as the "True North Strong And Free" ... Because it is not so free any more, it is girded by industrial development, and stained with the disasters of past indiscretions. We can only move forward by acknowledging our failures and trying to remedy them before it is too late... and we have to hope that it is indeed, not too late. I still can't get over the null confidence though. There must be hope somewhere. Perhaps that will be my personal goal during this assignment: find the silver lining, the hope amid the looming shadow of failure and despair.

And hey, it says something that our own government is no longer muzzling people over the use of such sticky phrases as "cumulative effects" and "climate change". Progress is being made!

new beginnings

2010-01-03T13:26:00.004-07:00

October to January is only four months, right? That beats 7! Maybe I can actually do this this year... or something more resembling a blog than a sporadic mind-dump.

2010... a year of potential and possibility... a year that's starting off just like grad school all over again. I am starting a new job right now (yes, it IS Sunday, but when your first deadline is the 10th and you have 30 pages of content to create, every day counts), and my new job has me working from home in my bedroom at the same desk I have been finishing my homework since I was in junior high school. The bedroom has changed, the furniture has not. I love this desk, but I don't like being an adult and working in my bedroom in the same general living configuration as being an adolescent in a family home.

There might be perks to working at home, but I assure you most of the people who espouse these perks are either living some alternate utopian lifestyle OR they have already made enough money (or their spouse/partner has) to allow them to not be share-renting a house with three other people and living such that the only available work space is the same room they sleep in. I have literally returned to my adolescence. What I wouldn't give for employment stability, steady income, respect and enough wage to afford rent in my own space, or at least a slightly less-shared space. If I could share this sort of space with two other people instead of three, or a smaller space with only one other person, I would have room to spread out, and we wouldn't all be bumping elbows.

Sunday work, although potentially joyfully productive, is mired in the difficulties of everyone staying at the house. Everyone staying at home means the couches, coffee and kitchen tables are NOT work spaces, and that there more than likely is some form of raucousness going on... which is not in itself a bad thing. But it is a completely other thing when attempts to work are interrupted by roommate mating habits. AND Sunday means that the best I can hope to achieve outside of the house is a bustling coffee shop; the libraries just aren't open, particularly immediately after the holidays. I'm not prepared for that just yet. My new laptop is still too new (protective plastic coating still on the external cover), I don't want to spill a latte on it (EVER!) and I just can't figure out the logistics of working on a paper, with supplementary resources all around me while working in a public space with small, cute, round cafe tables.

At this pace, I shall find myself back in the cavernous arts library at the University starting tomorrow. The heating works better, the hushed din of academic conspiracy drowns out random thought, and it is much easier to dive into productivity than it is in my bedroom with the stacks of laundry, unread books and dusty windowsill begging for a good cleaning. I still cannot understand how my motivation for completing this project on time (in addition to earning money) includes the perk of "I can clean once I'm finished!" Obviously I am desperate to do just about anything besides my work. ... like blogging.

Anyway, roommate resentment aside, I ought to get back to work. I just need to find myself some appropriate white noise with which to drown out the moans and giggles (yes, seriously). The work I am doing is really compelling. It's about all the things I like to discuss and learn about: ecosystems, wildlife, biodiversity, conservation, climate change, human development etc. ... and the potential impact of this particular document is much greater than anything else I have ever worked on or contributed to, even the godawful paper I've published in the Forestry Chronicle industry journal.

Apparently I've been talking about trains, time, television and IKEA a lot?

2009-10-14T22:06:00.005-06:00

I plugged my blog url into wordle and got this:

you wanna try?

I am going to attempt to be a more productive poster on here... maybe eventually ACTUALLY attaining my once-a-week initial goal. I say this every autumn and then I forget about it as winter melts into spring and summer pulls me outdoors. I haven't even uploaded all my summer photos on to flickr yet! (but that's neither here nor there, I need more computer memory first)

Anyway, onwards and upwards, and hopefully I'll return more than once every 7 months!

The Sundance Channel has some cool stuff

2009-04-01T22:03:00.005-06:00

So, I don't have a TV. Not at all. I got out of the habit of watching TV while in grad school partly because I didn't have any time for it and partly because I moved out and didn't own a TV any more. Now, whenever I go places, the ugly black box most rooms are organised around just doesn't interest me. Or, well, not nearly as much as it used to. I am not compelled to watch television any more.

Which makes me miss out on some really interesting stuff, like horrendously bad hockey, or the Olympics, or television news, or CBC TV's Being Erica (which I watch online from time to time, it's too good to actually miss out on!) or things that we don't get in Canada anyway like the Sundance Channel.

I only just discovered the Sundance Channel today, via BITCH magazine. I realise that this connection may seem strange, and, well, maybe it is. But I have discovered so much new media, new knowledge in general, really, from feminist media like BITCH and BUST magazines. ... including relearning how to knit, actually.

... which ties back into the whole television business, since not having a TV actually makes it more difficult for me to knit because I need SOMETHING to distract me enough that I feel like my idle hands are a problem. And, well, that doesn't really happen when I'm watching a movie with my boyfriend (I think he'd be insulted)... and my bus rides are too short to do much more than a few knits or purls, maybe a full row if I'm lucky... so I've run out of knitting time. ... which makes me miss television ever so slightly, and I need to find a way to fill that void other than reading blogs on the internet (because, despite the great enjoyment I get out of reading all sorts of blogs (food, knitting, crafting, satire etc.), none of that perusal allows me to knit while I'm passing time).

Anyway, the point of this blog post: the Sundance Channel. I need to explore this website more! Not only did it give me this:

a, uh, "useful description" of my seduction style, but it has the most fantastic video collection ever: GREEN PORNO short films by Isabelle Rossellini. ... her fantastic accent adds so much joy and titillation to these enormous paper sculptures and human-interactive films about copulation. That's right, they're all about sex. ... if you're a whale or a barnacle, or a bee, or the most erotic-seeming of all: a snail. They're hilarious short films! And so fantastically made. After watching the Science of Sleep, I'm enamoured with the paper sculpture idea, and the dream-like quality of these shorts (I wasn't so enamoured of the Science of Sleep... like Waking Life, I think it's a movie that requires on to be half-asleep in order to accurately understand it). Anyway, they're fantastic little films, and supremely educational... like how awfully non-aerodynamic whale penises are, or why hermaphroditism is such a good thing for earthworms!

Surprisingly enough, televsion sometimes has gems hidden amongst the awful advertisements, loud, obnoxious sportscasters and "reality" shows.

on trains and memories

2009-03-15T00:50:00.006-06:00

I still haven't rectified the lack of March photos...

But I've been busy. And I've been catching myself thinking about things from long ago. Maybe it's the fact that I'm now staring my future in the face and I can't figure out what to do, maybe it's just that I can hear the train at night while in my room, trying to go to sleep.

I miss the train. Trains and water bodies...

Okay, so granted, that's not the correct water body, but it's still a train. Our family cabin, on a tiny speck of a lake between Edmonton and Edson, was on the CN Rail main line. ... which means there's constant train traffic. Or, well, not CONSTANT, but... you get the picture, there were a lot of trains. I loved the train. I loved hearing the horn sound, and the echoed rush of cars and wheels over steel tracks. I loved the way the sound was amplified as it rung out across the lake. And every time I hear a train, I think of that.

Thankfully I don't think of my poor cousin, who, at the age of two, couldn't hack it with the trains. Sure, everything was fine during the day, we were playing, and there's so much fun to be had in the sand piles and grassy lawn of the Lake that your average toddler hardly bats an eye at the sound of the train horn. BUT at 2am, it's a different story, there's nothing saving you from that awful "twain" and oh did we all begrudge him his fear. There's nothing quite like being woken up by a 2-year-old with an irrational fear of trains EVERY TIME the train went by (and it went by more than once an hour some nights. Eventually we would be able to convince him that the train wasn't going to hit our cabin since we weren't on the track, but it took a lot of talk sometimes, and a lot of tears and anguished screams too (which kept us all up).

But, as I said, thankfully that's not what I remember. What I remember when I think of trains is the absolute stillness of everything. That twilit calm that settles over prairie water bodies. The cackle of grebes and the distant clunking of what I always assumed was a coffee urn over a fire (I never did find out what the sound was)... That and the clunk of our wood stove. I think of those memories when I think of trains. And I miss them so much, and want to wrap them around me like the greatest of all blankets. But I can't, they float in my head like so much flotsam on the shore of the lake. And I want to chase after them, scoop them out, with each sounding of the train horn, but, like the horn call itself, every memory is fleeting, living but for a moment in my mind, before it is flushed back amidst the other scurf washing up on shore. And I drift off to sleep in a mixture of indistinct memories and thoughts of what's going to happen in the coming months.

Where has time gone?

2009-03-09T20:55:00.007-06:00

Wow, it's almost mid-march. And here I am hoping to go see Caesar before the Ides are upon us (ha, lovely, Julius Caesar is playing here, with some of my favourite local actors up until exactly the ides...). At any rate, I don't know where time has gone. I passed my thesis defense, ran into a mad scramble of editing and printing and submitting before the submission deadline not two and a half days later, and then got hired a week and a half post-defense on a six week contract... of which I am now smack in the middle. And it's going, and I'm... writing a paper. deja vu.

I don't know what's happened to time. I feel like I have time, and then suddenly three days have passed and I have no socks or underwear to speak of, nor time to do laundry. I am sleepy and still wanting to hibernate, much like that poor, reluctant Punxatawney Phil. Alas, I am no "groundhog" and instead of hibernation, I have to pay bills... so work! On a cool contract, and with some fun people and great subject matter. Who'd've guessed I could possibly ever contribute to a report on national biodiversity? awesome!

But anyway, that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is to show that I have taken all of three photos in February. And NONE in March so far. NONE! Okay, so I took more than three in February, but there were only three subjects, and I don't like most of them, so it ends up being three photos. They show you a bit of what I was up to, but not much, to be honest. Basically it says I took time to look at the sky at least once, and then there was a lot of cake. Lots and lots of cake. Seriously. Just look:

Early February gave us a lovely full moon, that showed itself before sunset. ... which is nice. I like looking at the moon on the background of a periwinkle sky...

And then cake:

For my boyfriend's birthday. He said he liked chocolate zucchini cake, and since it's MY FAVOURITE, who am I to refuse? :)

and...

The weirdest cake ever, for my roommate. The roomies conspired to make an enormous ginger spice cake and I was in charge of turning it into an insect... hence sklaarbog, the cake. (or pill bug, for those of you who don't know of the IKEA plus toy...) He has shoestring licorice antennae and feelers, and candied ginger eyes. And there is enough cream cheese icing there to probably cause a diabetic coma if you aren't careful!

But seriously, that's it. Three lousy pictures. And March, so far: NONE. I have to do something about that... namely do something worthy of photographing, or be outside when it is worthy of photography (which is difficult with an office job, let me tell you!). *sigh* I never realised how nice it was to have the flexibility of grad student life! hahaha, except the pay stunk and the hours were horrible... And, to be honest, on this contract, I can work when and wherever I want, so long as the work is done on time. So who am I to complain? I just have to WORK!

totally coveting

2009-02-16T13:58:00.002-07:00

so... I went to IKEA last weekend with two of my friends who REALLY wanted to deck out their places in high style. Or, more to the point, they needed things like picture frames, a chest of drawers and curtains, and I was the car driver with trunk space to spare. So... we went. And I bought stuff too, of course, because who goes to IKEA and doesn't buy anything, really?

I bought plates that are "decidedly 70's" according to everyone, but they go so perfectly with the decidedly 1970s green-flower-trimmed white corelle dishes I already owned (and are ubiquitous in all the thrift stores), so how could I resist, really? ... add to that the fact that my FAVOURITE colour in the whole world is just about exactly that colour and it was a surprise I left with only 8 mid-sized plates and one big serving bowl!

The ubiquitous olive-flowered "crazy daisy" Corelle dishes...
and my new IKEA Trivsam plate

The things I really intended to purchase: a knife sharpener and a bedspread, I had significantly less luck with, but I eventually did find a knife sharpener, and the bedspreads, well... I'm torn. I bought one and took it back. It was too bland, and disappointing in its coarseness. The one I truly covet is just a little too expensive and doesn't go with anything else I own (most particularly the bed sheets that it MUST go with, because I am not buying any more bed sheets for a very long time!), but it is oh so gorgeous. ... so I am left with nothing, and feeling the absence a little too much I must say. I did, however, score some rather impressively outrageous fabric, though. ... which I intend to make into pillows.

The duvet cover I want, but will likely never own due to price and colour compatibility ("Andrea Satin")

IKEA's Saralisa fabric, aka my new pillow covers.

And, in my search for the care instructions (online IKEA wandering = temptation beyond all reason) for washing said outrageous fabric, I came across this and now really want to make it into a bedspread... why didn't I think of THAT when I was in the store running my hands across it adoringly?

the newly coveted fabric:

the bizarrely named Stokholm Blad. Seriously, I think this is love. Line drawings of leaves?? How could I NOT buy this? And it's only $7/m, and 150m wide, which will end up being less than my muchly coveted $70 gorgeous purple duvet cover non-matching pre-made option.

I should just never talk

2009-01-19T20:14:00.005-07:00

So, I was watching this:

and thought it would be great to post it on my facebook page... So I did, saying something along the lines of "thankfully I don't have computer problems, but I do still feel like 'whoopa whoopa whoopa whoopa' right now." And lo and behold... with two days until I practice-present my exit seminar (1/2 hour presentation on my WHOLE THESIS) to my lab group, and one week and two days until my actual official thesis defense, my laptop power cord has decided to make strange noises and produce excessive amounts of heat (versus normal).

So... PANIC! I am now off to see if London Drugs stocks a reasonable facsimile for me to use in the interim while I contact (*ahem* find) warranty people, and finish my thesis... 9 days... AAAAA!

if only procrastination was a feasible form of employment

2009-01-18T14:11:00.006-07:00

I should be working on my exit seminar. But instead, I am going to copy and paste a meme I've read on countless blogs over the last little while... Except I think the line "things you haven't done and don't want to" is a little harsh. There are often things that I just don't think about doing. ... like I would never have said I absolutely WANTED to go to Hawaii, but having gone was really lovely. ... so I'm not shutting the door on my plain font listings. I've also added [square bracket comments].

Things you’ve already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven’t done and don’t want to - leave in plain font
I've double-fonted some stuff... things that I've already done, but want to see/do again. Because sometimes once just isn't enough!

1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower [again and again and again!]
6. given more than you can afford to charity
7. been to disneyland/world
8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sang a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited paris
13. watched a lightning storm at sea [wanting to see it depends on how close I am]
14. taught yourself an art from scratch [woo hoo knitting!]
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables [have in the past, want to again]
19. seen the mona lisa in france
20. slept on an overnight train [more like tried to sleep]
21. had a pillow fight [... broke the record player needle too!]
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden a gondola in venice [though I'd like to try actually poling it too]
29. seen a total eclipse [lunar, yes, solar, no]
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplaces of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community
36. taught yourself a new language [Italian, by immersion, it was great!]
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied [oh, to not be a poor, starving student!]
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen michelangelo’s david in person [want to go back!]
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful geyser erupt [from the middle of the forest no less!]
43. bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistine chapel in person
50. been to the top of the eiffel tower in paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkeling [and I should again]
52. kissed in the rain [snow, yes, rain, no]
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theatre
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited russia [particularly Volgograd, for some odd reason]
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies
62. gone whale watching
63. gotten flowers for no reason
64. donated blood [though I'm not sure they'd take me, and I'm pretty scared actually]
65. gone sky diving
66. visited a nazi concentration camp
67. bounced a cheque
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar [does roe count? if not, I guess I'm lying!]
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in Times Square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guard in london [I'd like to pay better attention if I see it again]
77. broken a bone
78. been on a speeding motorcycle [that'd be fun once]
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper
85. read the entire bible
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox [so PLEASE, no shingles, it's terrible]
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. lost a loved one
94. had a baby
95. seen the alamo in person
96. swum in the great salt lake.
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee [wasp yes, bee, no.]

Interesting... This could lead to all sorts of introspection!

But, instead, I'm going to leave you with this:

random blog survey thingy

2009-01-17T14:53:00.002-07:00

I just stumbled across this poking my nose in on the other blogs that participated in the Week of Colour (I love looking once all the photos are up!).

It was a short survey, and regardless of my misgivings has some interesting commentary... but of course my "rainbow" is shaded brown, I'm all about nature and getting my hands in the dirt!

Your rainbow is shaded brown.

What is says about you: You are a deep thinking person. You appreciate the roughness of nature. You feel closer to people when you understand their imperfections.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

week of colour: consolation red day!

2009-01-17T14:05:00.003-07:00

yeah, there really is no such thing, but I took too many photos of red things to not post them. Or at least some of them... Today is the kind of day that lends itself to photo-scavenger hunts, but unfortunately, after getting home from the farmers' market and lunch, I don't have time for that any more, I must work! So, it's consolation red day for two reasons: that I took so many red photos, and that I'd MUCH rather be out wandering about taking more photos than inside working on my exit seminar.

At any rate, I loved the opportunity to focus on detail, and start noticing things more. I shall do my best to continue that trend in the future. I just about always put my camera away over the winter, because a) so much of it is dark, and b) so much of it is indoors that I forget to take photos entirely. The week of colour, however, reminded me that there IS a lot to see, even in the neglected indoor places of my life.

photos!

coffee can on my book shelf, holding random stuff.

red books from a whole series of literature classics my grandparents used to own

a chair-so-uncomfortable-you-can't-fall-asleep-in-it at the campus library

said library

the appropriately red heart institute (and a yield sign)

icicles on the eaves of a local church

week of colour: plaid/stripe friday

2009-01-16T13:58:00.004-07:00

Okay... I slept in. It wasn't intentional, and, in all honesty, I didn't *actually* sleep in, I just didn't get going until WAY later than intended. This week has been both a flurry of activity, and a slow daze for me. I submitted my thesis to my committee, settled on a defense date, and have been trying to (now) convince myself that I need to make my exit seminar presentation... because I have to give a practice presentation of it on the 21st next week... one week from d-day, which is then two days from thesis deadline for the grand faculty of graduate studies and research. Either I get it all done and submitted on the watermarked 50% cotton paper by the 30th of January, or I fork over an extra $1400 in tuition. D-day approaches! aaa! And yet what have I done today? Printed off a copy of my thesis for faculty approval (of formatting only), and that's about it! Oh, I had a divine half-cinnamon bun and fruit salad brunch with my lovely boyfriend, and I got caught up on the grad student gossip. Yep that sums up my day.

Were it not for the Week of Colour, I'd probably be getting less done! And I have to say, I'm loving noticing things. It is absolutely marvelous that I am now wandering around taking note of things like the fantastic striped corduroy trousers I saw one woman wearing this morning as my guy and I walked to our brunch restaurant. I still say I need a consolation red day though. Despite not particularly loving the colour red, I totally thought Leya had posted red in her list of days over at Curious Bird, where all the other gorgeous blogs are linked (go check 'em out!). Alas, I was wrong, hence my lacking of blue on Monday. So maybe red will be getting a consolation Saturday post 'cause I took so much of it.

In the meantime, my three stripe/plaid photos!

My grandparents' plaid wool/mohair blanket from Scotland... which I now love, but used to hate 'cause it's so darned itchy! It makes a perfectly delightful warm lap blanket for sitting on the couch, or a shoulder cover for reading in bed.

My grandfather's old hankies came in all sorts of polka dots and plaids. These were two that were going to get lumped in to the red photo day. But hey, plaid works! There's also a red and green and a blue and red plaid hankie to match the yellow and red one here. My grandparents had awesome hankies, I may have to post more photos of them later. Who knew you could get souvenir handkerchiefs?

As it turns out, this is the homage to grandparents day for me in the Week of Colour. This is the table cloth where I'm living. My roommate's master-weaver grandmother made it for him. It is gorgeous, and we show our love and appreciation for it by spilling milk on it, and dropping bread crumbs and various and sundry vegetable bits.

As an aside, I have completely confused my boyfriend with this week. He has access to (and regularly checks out) my flickr pages, but he doesn't know about my blog just yet. So he's looking at this week's photo uploads with quite the quizzically-raised eyebrow. I don't know what exactly to say, other than to laugh at his confusion. I'm so mean!

Week of Colour: pink thursday

2009-01-15T09:37:00.002-07:00

I used to despise pink. Being the only girl in a family of boys (with a grandma and aunt who loved all things girly) meant that I got all kinds of pink stuff regardless of how loudly (or often) I railed against it. eventually they caught on, but it took years, and I think my parents had a large role in communicating my distaste for pink to others. Then... since the end of my undergrad, I somehow magically turned back towards pink. Granted, not baby pink, but serious raspberry and deep stain-your-lips cherry. It's in my clothes much more than I ever anticipated, and I'll find pieces of it in other things too. It's amazing what happens over time!

Anyway, none of my photos for pink thursday are clothing, but I thought it was funny all the same. Severe hatred of pink to actual enjoyment (if not seeking out) of the colour.

My grandma embroidered table cloths for my aunt, my mom and herself. The corners are coated in ornate roses like this. Elsewhere are curlicues of gold filligree, or french knots of tiny white flowers. It's beautiful handiwork. (even if my flash was a little intense!)

Anyone else remember this game? Hungry Hungry Hippos was a blast when I was 5, but now... it's too darn noisy. Even if the kids playing it are just loving it. What happened? When did I get old? hahaha! I didn't think 26 was old enough for "Be quiet! Stop making that racket!"

Winter sunrises are ALWAYS gorgeous. And I think part of that might very well have to do with the fact that I'm awake for them! 8:30am is most definitely an easy time for me to catch a sunrise. (Granted right now I'm just as likely to still be in bed, too, but whatever, at least I don't feel like the sun has been up for HOURS!)

a question

2009-01-14T16:16:00.002-07:00

The National Galleries of Scotland have joined Flickr (which is super super cool in and of itself), and I was perusing some of their images when I came across this one:

and the title for this image is: "Captain Robert Barclay-Allardyce, 1779 - 1854. Celebrated pedestrian.

What I would like to know is how does one become a "Celebrated pedestrian"??

That is a title worth pursuing, if you ask me!

Week of Colour: yellow wednesday

2009-01-14T09:34:00.005-07:00

Ironically (?) enough, last night, totally unrelated to any photos of yellow, I got Yellow Submarine stuck in my head as I waited for the pedestrian crossing light to turn in my favour and let me run home in the cold. It kept me in motion, so as I didn't get too cold, but boy, I must have seemed strange standing in the dark at 6pm humming "we all live in a yellow submarine!"

Anyway, today is yellow. I have three photos. I'm glad I planned the colour excursion in advance a little and found images for this on Sunday (for most of the colours, really). And I say I'm glad because I haven't had the time of late, and the lighting is quite disappointing. With the sun rising at 8:20am and setting at 4:40pm, there just isn't enough time, and it's so grey with all the snow we've been getting... When the clouds are thinner, the light is marvelous, but right now, it's a little dim.

So, photos:

I'm making a baby hat for a little one who is due this week (I should really get on that, wow!). It's nice to be knitting again, after such a long hiatus. You'd be surprised how much a thesis sucks your time away! (and then not having tv makes it hard to find idle hand time for knitting, too!)

I have a bendable giraffe that I've had since I was a little kid. Bendable toys are great (and I think highly underrated as toys). This guy has followed me ever since childhood, hanging out on boom box antennae, and various lamps. He's now on a lamp by my desk.

The Wild Rose Brewery is a local brewing company (well, ok, so our civic rivals, but whatever). They have really neat-looking bottle caps, like their logo is made out of neon light tubing... and just enough yellow to be legitimate! They also have creative beer names like Velvet Fog, and Wraspberry Ale.

Alright, there you have it, happy Wednesday everyone! Colour week has been fun, and I've absolutely loved looking at everyone's photos. I can't wait until Friday comes for all the plaid and stripes... it'll be like we're in Spaceballs... that whole sequence where they hit warp speed, then yellow, etc. and eventually Plaid!

the Week of Colour: purple tuesday

2009-01-13T10:37:00.005-07:00

There's no purple tuesday song... Ruby Tuesday, yes, but not purple... alas, photos only. And today I had a difficult time. I have two with designs for a third coming later (I hope!). So, without further ado, (preambles take time, and I have to head to the dentist soon!), my two purple photos. The third photo ought to appear mid-way through the day.

My mother's amethyst ring, which she gave to me years ago, saying she never wore it, and that it was bent anyway... And then I wore it to Ukrainian Christmas dinner at my aunt and uncle's place last Wednesday and my mom had no idea it had ever been hers! *sigh* mothers! hahaha!

Yarn! I haven't bought yarn in a while, and then I went to my LYS and browsed, and found myself coming back to this purple thinking "this is exactly what I need." I don't really like purple, you have to understand, but I have a winter jacket that is 100% purple (on sale, really warm, things just sort-of happen sometimes), and ever since I got it, I've been trying to reconcile my lack of purple love through knitting things that compromise: a little purple, a lot of brown and green... that's my goal with this yarn. I'm thinking a triple-strand loose-knit (these are GarnStudio skeins, just shy of sock-weight, so I can do it!) on big needles. Not only would it be warm, but I think the colour combination would be great! Or maybe I'm misguided... I'll post the rest of the yarn some time after colour week, if you really think it's heinous, let me know!

Photo number 3 will come later today!
*edit*
photo 3:

no, I wasn't planning to take a photo of a toothbrush today, but, seriously... how fortuitous is this? I was on my way to the dentist, having forgotten to brush my teeth this morning, and so I bought a new toothbrush and scrubbed away in the parking lot... taking a photo before defiling my new purple find. And no, I didn't dig through the racks to find a purple one. I was actually planning on taking a picture of my mittens, but meh... toothbrush will do just fine!

the Week of Colour: blue monday

2009-01-11T23:03:00.010-07:00

I am participating in a lovely idea courtesy of Leya of Curious Bird. I've always admired her visual sense, and her crafty abilities, and finally decided to join in on the fun. She has kick-started a week of colour. And since I'm trying not to dissolve into a giant puddle of thesis-related paranoia, I thought I'd play along and try to keep a sense of creativity amidst the otherwise crazy and overly systematic thesis finalization process. I've set myself a goal of three photos per colour/theme per day. We shall see if I actually manage to make that work!

woo!

So, the whole shebang starts off with blue Monday. And, to be honest, I kind-of left the blue to the last minute. I wasn't thinking about it. Blue is just too easy for me. Everything is blue. My drawers, my clothes, my socks, my storage bins... but none of that is creative or fun. And none of that is conducive to nice photography. Plus, let's be honest, who wants to see a stack of blue jeans or a really pill-y navy blanket that I love to death but... well... love doesn't translate into good photos! So, I only have two photos today. I'm already falling short of my goal, aaa! hahaha! But I'll make up for it. Just wait 'til after the photos.

an enameled blue necklace from Burlap Sac that I bought at the folk fest this summer and still can't decide if I'm keeping or giving away.

and my blue Swatch. I didn't realise that the "S" in Swatch stood for "Second" instead of Swiss... I guess I need to have another watch then, eh? ;) As my most pricey (and longest-lasting for the amount of work it goes through) souvenir from my solo European adventures, it's been good to me for 3 full years now, only one battery change required, and I wear it every day. ... and I'm not nice to my watches!

Conveniently, Leya chose Monday to be blue, and, well, there's this lovely Jeremy Fisher song called Goodbye Blue Monday (this is just a sneak peak .wma link), but it takes Youtube a long time to load it and it's slightly fuzzy-sounding, so if that fails, check out Cigarette instead! I wish they had Goodbye Blue Monday in full, it's a great song.

Goodbye Blue Monday:

my hiatus - an update

2008-12-22T16:25:00.003-07:00

I'm still on hiatus, I guess, but I'm trying to take some me-time over the holidays this year, so there will likely be a couple of posts on here to catch things up.

It has been an exceedingly busy semester, busy and lethargic in fairly balanced spurts, really. I've slept like Rip Van Winkle, and I've worked until the star wheel has spun all my familiar constellations out of view. My thesis is nearly complete, and my supervisors are gunning for a finish soon. ... which suggests that I ought to start searching for a new reality, and a new future for myself, whether or not this M.Sc. materialises or not.

BUT, above all else, I am alive and breathing, and I've had my fair share of fun amidst the stress, writing, medication and brain adventures. These stories may well come out in the next week or two, too, we shall see.

2008-12-22T16:07:00.006-07:00

Leaving the prairies behind, a short trip to the mountains, at the beginning of September brought me some much-needed fresh alpine air, and good family time. It was unfortunately also marred by incredible thesis work and pouring rain. BUT you take the good with the bad and make the best of it. I worked quite well since I didn't have the distraction of a messy bedroom, or unlimited internet access, and then spent most of my time with the family playing games and walking around the (rather chilly) mountain resort community.

It was full of montane views and stunningly proximal snow, as well as pine beetle-killed trees all around. Gorgeous and sad, nature and yet not all at the same time.

I wish I'd seen the alpine plants, but everything was in senescence. What was left was just a little willowherb and some prolific thistle. All else were in seed, like the black-seeded rushes.

I wish the trip had lasted longer, but even the momentary escape into the (not so) wilds was great for refreshing and forgetting about living in the city, even if only for a moment or two, and even if I brought my laptop along.

no. 19: recharge?

2008-08-13T00:20:00.006-06:00

So... I went to the folk fest this past weekend. I love the folk fest. It may be a physically exhausting weekend (um, four days), but it is well worth it for the amount of sonic joy that I get out of the whole experience. And the joy comes in many forms, from seeing old favourites, to discovering something new, to being so surprised by someone you never thought you'd enjoy... All of that happened this past weekend.

Main Stage Saturday night

For instance, at a FOLK music festival, I would a) never have invited Chris Isaak to play and b) never have expected to be so wowed by his performace. But there you have it. The man in a pink sequined suit has a knack for blowing expectations out of the water. He was fantastic, and his pink suit left me speechless... forget the human mirror-ball suit he changed into for the encore. I've never seen someone sparkle so much.

The Pink Suit!

The whole Chris Isaak spectacle.

His voice, and stage presence, not to mention between-song banter and ability to relate to the crowd. I've never seen someone do so much crowd ego-stroking and sound so honest. Granted, I know a lot of musicians take one look at the hillside from their bottom-of-slope position and say that it looks like they're staring at the night sky (once it's dark, people light candles that twinkle like little stars). I love it too... but it's still great to hear out of such an iconic person as Chris Isaak, the man who once opened for Roy Orbison...

And then Saturday's closing performance was such a fantastic dance and joy event that I will be forever thankful that Michael Franti keeps returning to our humble fest. ... even if I couldn't help but feel empty when he sang "Is Love Enough?" ... because right now, I don't feel like I can "love some more" and that was a rather sad revelation to make amidst the joyous dancers. But I think, with a bit more recharge and renewal (which the folk fest definitely helped), and a lot more sleep and better medication, I might actually make it back up there to a place where my heart wells up and overflows again... Or at least I can so hope.

Aside from the musical joy and unexpected introspection, there was a lot going on at the folk fest this year that really made me take pause. It was... special. Not necessarily special-wonderful, though I'm sure I could argue that, but really, just special.

For instance, how many shooting stars have you seen fall to Earth? Friday (I think) night, we witnessed one as we sat on the hillside listening to the main stage. It came out of nowhere, streaked incredibly brightly through the sky, flashed a bit and then seemed to burn out. My friend and I looked at eachother in awe and confusion as someone near us exclaimed "a shooting star!" ... we rationalized that we should have heard it, and for it to be so bright and so close, it must have been a flare. ... but no, it was a chunk of a meteor, burning brightly as it hit the atmosphere, leaving the largest streak of white light behind it that I've ever seen. (A friend I ran into on Sunday who works for Environment Canada looked it up, just to be sure) And when it burned out, I swear you could see the last little piece of it turn from white hot light to blue to orange... how could you possibly see something like that in a falling meteor? Apparently it was a lot farther away than perceived, but, well, the eyes can't interpret things they don't often see. It was phenomenal.

So, Friday: shooting star. Saturday: lightning storm that I swear was going to remove me from this Earth once and for all.

Now, I don't know about the average person, because if life has taught me anything, it's that normal odds don't apply to me, I get strange occurrences, and rare events. And right now I'm operating on the "third time's a charm" mentality when it comes to lightning. That's right, I've had two close calls. One, when I was 5 or so, I was playing in the back yard with a friend when a bolt hit the ground right next to us. We jumped into eachother's arms we were so terrified. White light and a noise that rent the air... It looked like a solid white waterfall cascading straight into the ground... at unimaginable speed and force. The second occurrence happened when I was about 8 or 10, we were weathering out (ha, sorry for the pun) a tornado warning at my uncle and aunt's place in eastern Saskatchewan. I was bored of being indoors, but the rain had started, so I was watching it through the window, with my forehead up against the glass when a bolt again shot to the ground very close by outside, the force of which pushed my body away from the window and brought my forehead banging back onto the glass (which thankfully did not break!). Now I'm waiting for the third. Two close calls... what will number three be like?

The lightning storm that hit our city Saturday night built up fast. Sure, you could see the storm front in the distance and knew that something awful and nasty was headed your way, still there's not much you can do at the folk fest except ready the rain gear and tuck your belongings under a tarp. As my friend and I were huddled under another tarp, laughing at the pouring fat drops of water that kept running down our arms and legs, the lightning kept creeping closer. It wasn't just a few flashes of cloud-bound sheet lightning either. These were full-blown forks striking the ground, and they were getting closer every minute. ... and there's nothing quite like sitting on a treeless ski hill sheltered by a sheet of plastic to remind you of how vulnerable you are to the whims of Mother Nature. And then we suddenly went from *flash one-one-thousand-two-one-thousand ... seven-one-thousand eight-one-thousand boom* to *flash one two BOOM!* And I thought for sure someone had been hit on the hill, it was that close. I was checking phone messages after the evening had finished (I buried my cell phone in my back pack to make sure it didn't get wet), to find that my cousin had called during that crazy blast of electrical storm, and had actually recorded the strike during his message to me. Thankfully no one was hit, including me, and the storm blew over in another ten or so minutes, leaving us with nearly clear skies for the Michael Franti dance-fest that ensued.

But that lightning storm made me wary once again, and I wonder when/how that third strike will occur, and what will happen... if anything. I already watch clouds, and I'm already cautious, throwing metal rods out of my hands under the worst conditions (and believe me, I've been in bad situations with lighting before, including carrying a pack full of lightning-rod-like metal "pigtails" during field surveys), but you can't be constantly vigilant, and sometimes things just happen, despite any effort to the contrary. I just wonder if it ever will for me, or if my odds are too high for that, ha!

It makes me watch the clouds a lot more than I used to, that's for sure. Particularly after a close call such as Saturday.

At any rate, I have come to count on Folk Fest as being my recharge, my source of renewal (in at least some small way). And it was this time too, but it also reminded me of all the things I need to do to make things work better for myself outside of taking time to sit and passively enjoy music (and perhaps fall asleep on grassy hills). Things I need to start doing, like thinking about what's right for me, regardless of everyone else, and how I need to reconnect with so many of my old friends - friends I invariably see at folk fest and then never again until the following year, if we're lucky enough to cross paths at the massive festival. Things I definitely need to work on if I really want to find lasting renwal.

no. 18: my brain, and a hiatus

2008-07-31T22:01:00.003-06:00

So, I may or may not have alluded to this in the past while, but I've, um, been going through some adventures lately. Lately... whatever, it started in November, with a somewhat alarmed assistant optometrist at my yearly check-up. Followed by a follow-up visit in January, a pass-the-baton relay visit to an opthamologist (with really lovely eyes, thankfully, considering how long he stared into mine...), a CT scan, a further pass-the-baton relay step to visit a neurologist, a lumbar puncture, and finally diagnosis. I have a neurological disorder called Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension (IIH for short, because no one wants to have to say all of that all the time... I say it because I'm a nerd).

According to the scant information I can find, it is a "disease of the overweight" ... seeing as it tends to afflict overweight people (primarily women of reproductive age) more often than people of 'normal' weight. BUT it doesn't necessarily go away with weight loss. Um, oh, right, odds... so, rates of incidence are on the rise, but really, when you have a less than 20 in 100 000 chance of getting something, odds are you usually don't. Unless you're me... Who developed the hairy fruit and veg allergies? Who got an inguinal hernia... as a woman? ... me... unlikely, rare afflictions... yay! what else can I get? Even Multiple Sclerosis is more common than this.

It often goes away all on its own, sometimes with weight loss, sometimes just because. Sometimes it sticks around for many many many years. Sometimes it goes into remission and comes back and goes away and comes back... like Canadian Snowbirds visiting Florida for the winter.

I've found an informative, if British, website: www.iih.org.uk, which is also affiliated with a support group that I am joining. So far just lurking has been enlightening. Perhaps not encouraging, but reassuring at the very least. And it's nice to know that my current dosage of medication (1000mg) is nothing near the upper limit some people are taking... and I'm reassured by the performance of the drugs at this level.

For those of you hoping for the briefest of synopses, IIH is an elevation of the fluid pressure in your brain. The symptoms, from what I understand, are not unlike altitude sickness, and the meds are, appropriately, for altitude sickness. That would explain why I didn't have very many problems while vacationing at sea level in Mexico this past February. I've known there was something off for well over a year, perhaps a year and a half or two years, actually. But it is difficult to explain to your doctor that being unbearably exhausted all the time, having nasty headaches and a whooshing noise in your ears is anything more than depression when all of the above are driving you crazy. (ok, my doctor was driving me crazy too, but that's beside the point)

I am attempting to lose weight (outside of this whole neurological disorder thing) and have lost 20 lbs since moving out of my parents' house a year ago (go me!). It'd be nice to see another 10 to 15 drop off, and then my doctor can shut her yap about being overweight or on the border at all, and maybe focus on other things like why exercise is important in addition to portion control (holy crap do I want to hit her sometimes, but I'm not violent...). The loss of 20 pounds, however, haven't resulted in any reversal of neurological fortunes for me. In fact, I think things have gotten worse.

Ok, I can't say that for sure. Maybe I'm noticing it because the drugs are working and I just haven't gotten the right dosage yet. The lumbar puncture/spinal tap made me realise just how non-normal I had been for the past who knows how long. Suddenly my head wasn't pushing out all the time... suddenly I didn't have a constant whooshing noise in my ears... they took my cerebrospinal fluid pressure down from 270mm to 150mm. Talk about a difference. What I wouldn't give to be normal like that again. And the drugs are helping. For the most part, I feel ten times better than before. But there are days where they obviously don't work, and I'm in such excruciating pain I can't focus. And then there are days where I think the drugs are working but I'm so exhausted all I want to do is sleep (like this afternoon, oddly enough), or I can't make my eyes focus on anything, or I can't focus on anything, or I'm at a loss for words, or I can't walk in a straight line. And I can't explain it other than to say "I have a neurological disorder" and hope people accept it.

Sure, it's not a brain tumor, it's not Multiple Sclerosis, but it's definitely not normal life either. I feel so dumb. I feel like all this working on a masters' has been for nought, because I'm going to get out of here with (or maybe without) a degree and not remember anything of what I did. ... or not be able to communicate it. I went to field school this spring and finally realised how much I LOVE teaching, but I'm worried that this... problem... is going to take away my ability to think on my toes. As I said to some people, it's like the smart person in me is being smothered by pillows, and I'm left floundering by myself. I guess I could knit. ... and not talk, but I'm not a good enough knitter for that to be my work-life. Not talking, however, is about right, right now, actually. ... which seems strange given what a chatterbox I normally am.

I just don't know. What I do know is that no one really gets it, because there's nothing to see. I still look just like I always did, I still sound the same, I just... fall asleep at my desk all the time, and I clutch my head in pain. Oh, that's the other thing, headache medicine doesn't really do anything. I've been advised (on my IIH-controlling meds) to avoid salycilates, which leaves me with Tylenol, I guess... and nope. So I just muddle through, and cry a lot. ... but I sure as hell don't get a lot done, and my supervisors, well-meaning though they are, don't know the half of what I'm going through. I guess I need to have another 'talk' with them.

shit, this is not a pity blog post. Don't pity me. This was supposed to be a "this is what's going on right now" post, but, well, I guess that is what's going on right now. Don't pity me. Or if you do, don't tell me about it. I really just want to walk away from everything right now and start over. Hell, I'd even wait tables or work as a cashier. ... just something that's not this. I've been having a reoccurring thought about the possibility of parallel universes and what my parallel universe selves would be like. If they'd have this problem too, or if they'd have different problems instead. ... and what I'd opt to live if I had that sort of choice. Minimum wage worker, no education, no savings, no future, entirely clean bill of health... or masters student, industry connections, promising future, debilitating headaches...

I'm really quite worried about what's going to happen next. ... because I KNOW I wouldn't have been able to get through the past 6 to 8 months if I'd been working a regular desk job, forget field work. Then again, the three weeks at field school were the greatest three weeks of 2008. I was full of energy, happy, and well-rested (despite only getting 5 hours of sleep a night most of the time). But I can't legitimately look into that kind of work knowing how exhausted I am all the time right now. I feel like I'm walking into the future blindfolded, and I don't know if the road ahead disappears into a gravel path, a stream or a straight drop-off.

... and on that happy note, obviously I've gone on a hiatus. I shall continue this hiatus for the forseeable future, as whatever time I do have, I am trying to devote to thesis work, not other stuff. And some days, the only words that come out are "I hurt" and those, well, I hate typing those. This was supposed to be a blog about crafty fun and tree hugging, but I guess, it's really just about me, and well, right now, I am about this neurological disorder (among other things). Hopefully soon I can return to prattling on about those other things. Until then, I may only post pictures at random intervals, just so there's something here to look at.

a photo mosaic because I don't actually want to write right now

2008-06-14T16:20:00.003-06:00

I am... three-ish months behind updating this place. whoops. Apparently I got busy. I will... eventually get around to it, honest. In the meantime, I got bored and did a meme.

... and the link to the page where it was made:

Taken from the Flickr group thegame:

"I am not sure who started this meme but here is a pool to add yours to. Spread the word. And I would most definitely like to know who started the ball rolling. Their mosiac should be the icon for the group. Tag your creation with "thegame".

Created with fd's Flickr Toys. bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php

The concept:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd's mosaic maker).

The Questions:

1. What is your first name? - alison
2. What is your favorite food? - nectarine
3. What high school did you go to? - Scona
4. What is your favorite color? - green
5. Who is your celebrity crush? - Johnny Depp
6. Favorite drink? - Ginger Beer
7. Dream vacation? - Backcountry camping
8. Favorite dessert? - zucchinni chocolate cake
9. What you want to be when you grow up? - teacher
10. What do you love most in life? - friendship
11. One Word to describe you. - diverse
12. Your flickr name - alison fell

ok, except the thing kinda bombed... I'll post the mosaic later... whee.
this is the mosaic maker link.

no. 17: in need of a push

2008-04-01T22:20:00.003-06:00

I am slowly coming to the end of my rope. I have next to zero motivation to write my thesis (sad, I know, but my favourite part is coming up with the things to research, not explaining what I found), and all I have left is a bit of statistics and a whole lot of writing. Actually, I'm un-motivated in a NUMBER of categories. I'm in this weird limbo-land of confusing hints and non-hints from people in whom I think I might be romantically interested. And above all else, I have a confirmed diagnosis.

So, after, um, two months of elevated concern, results. A CT scan of my brain revealed nothing... which is great news, actually. Not having a tumor is always a good thing. And, quite frankly, had the scan revealed calcifications behind my optic nerve-eye connection, none of that would have explained away the whooshing sounds in my ears or the near-constant headaches. So, a neurologist was called in for additional explorations. And she requested a lumbar puncture. I know, I know, yikes, spinal taps are scary. But, truth be told, the actual tap procedure, aside from some momentary foot numbness when a nerve brushed the needle, was not bad. It was mildly awkward to have so many people staring at my back (the radiologist had a resident and an intern with him), but the procedure itself was ok. It was the aftermath of it that had me reeling. I had to lay on my side for something like 15 minutes. I got bored, but I also tensed up all my core muscles... to the point that it took a good three hours for them to un-tense and become sore. I thought I was going to fold in two it hurt so much. So, needless to say the next week was spent sleeping off incredible lower back pain. It was so bad I could hardly stay seated for more than 20 minutes the first three days. I am over that now, woo hoo!

The results of the test - which I could more-or-less have told (and did) people right after the test were this, officially learned from the neurologist mid-last-week: I have "mildly elevated" intracranial pressure. I was sitting at a surprising 270mm of water. Normal is anything under 200mm, but apparently pressures can be as high as 600mm (I kind-of think a person would be incapacitated by that point, or blind). The radiologist had the assignment of collecting 5ml of fluid for testing (just in case I had meningitis or something), and then let an additional 5-ish drain off to lower my pressure, lucky me! Had my back not been miserable, I felt golden. There was no wooshing in my ears of the blood and pressure, my head didn't hurt one bit, and I somehow felt lighter. That has since changed as my body rebuilds that pressure (for whatever reason, that's the beauty of having an "idiopathic" condition, no one knows why it happens). And I have been assigned a medication commonly given to those suffering altitude sickness. Thus far it makes me dizzy (not exactly a good idea if you're a mountaineer, one would think), my toes and fingers tingle numbly from time to time, and I get a bitter aftertaste in my mouth with some foods, but otherwise it seems to be doing the trick. I don't hear the wooshy noise in my ears as much, and the headaches are lessening. It's a gradually building scale of medication, and I had to chop a bunch of pills in half for this and the next week, since I'm to take 1/2 a pill for breakfast this week, and 1/2 a pill for breakfast and another 1/2 for supper next week, and then I graduate to a full pill... leaving me with a leftover 1/2, hmm... anyway, whatever, it seems to be working and that's what really matters, even if I AM dizzy and cookies don't taste all that exciting any more (sad sad sad).

I seem to like writing in reverse of my original lists. So bear with me, now about the 'romantic interests.' More like pipe dreams, really, but whatever. At least there's pseudo-hope on the horizon. I have not spoken to the person who makes me feel like Brer Rabbit since the initial e-mail disaster. And I feel better for it. He's tried sending me stuff, but I really... let's just say "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." On the other hand, the one I'd like to snog, well... I feel like I'm shouting into the abyss, not even an echo comes back... or a wisp of wind. It's like he doesn't even get my messages or e-mails, or maybe I'm the one who should be getting the message. ... which is fine. In the meantime, I've run into old friends. More precisely one old friend via the social networking disaster/boon that is facebook, and another acquaintance whom I think was more of a friend-of-a-friend at a recent concert - I feel bad, he remembered my name (*sigh* that's a good sign, right?) and I couldn't remember his, or where we knew eachother from (what a heel). The first one gave me his number out of the blue, and happens to study in the same field I'm in (though I'm at a more advanced level... whatever), and the second is working on the revolution from the inside, and we've become facebook friends. I dunno... I may move at the pace of a snail, but there are still encouraging signs making their way towards me. I think. I think.

Unmotivation in a number of categories, let's see: finding a job post graduation, finishing off my mittens and other various knitting projects (that nightie is still at the beginning stages, because who has time to knit lace when there are blogs to read and movies to see and sunshine and just about every other procrastination tool out there?), finding an apartment or whatever to rent when my lease runs out here in June, filing my taxes one doesn't get refunds if one doesn't submit, figuring out what the hell it is I'm doing with my life. The list goes on, I won't bore you.

And the thesis. Let me say this now so it's out of the way: I hate statistics. I understand why they are useful, and why one is expected to use them in scientific explorations, but that doesn't make me like them. I am thoroughly flabbergasted by the extent to which one has to manipulate data in order for statistical procedures to "work" and the juggling and manipulation one has to go through in order to make sense of everything that comes out of the analyses. As for writing, I don't know when it happened, but I seem to have become one of those people who gets hung up on the niggling, unfinished details instead of creating the matrix in which to stuff those details once they are done. So I am wasting hours trying to mess around with my data such that it works, creating graphs and making diagrams instead of writing something, anything, whatever. I really need to get going on this stuff too. It would be delightful to have my methods and results (ha!) done by the end of the month, even just partially, and then to have time to read papers and write introductions and discussions while chauffeuring students through the forest... Oh, wouldn't that be nice? But nooooo, I can't get myself going. Tonight, right now, magic... I am writing a blog instead of working on my thesis. Really, I just need to spew some (as one of my fellow thesis-writers says) "word vomit" on the page and get the ideas flowing. At least then I'd have something. ANYTHING would be good right now.

It's like cabin fever times ten, only this ain't no cabin, it's a paper, and I HAVE to finish it. My future more-or-less depends on it.

no. 16: look what we've allowed to happen

2008-03-22T08:43:00.002-06:00

it saddens me that I come from a place that has allowed this to happen:

where the extraction of oil comes at a cost of one barrel of oil for every two removed. where human life is marginalised to the point that young rig workers are being housed in sub-standard prison-like conditions, drug use and prostitution run rampant, and the people who used to live happy lives in these cities and towns prior to the boom now fear for their lives while driving the highways, and can’t go out at night without worrying about being molested. where our political leader electioneered a promise to look into down-stream health concerns (of massively elevated incidences of cancer) only if we voted for him. where the strip mining can be seen from the moon. where the world’s largest sulfur pile is not even visible in these photos. where propane cannons explode at regular intervals to prevent birds from landing in the oil-slicked sludge. and where the revenue from these ’investments’ is being taken out of our country by the big companies, and what revenue we, the people living here, are supposed to be getting has been mis-managed, not collected, and hardly at all invested.

I am ashamed.

From TreeHugger:

Environmental Defence just released a new report on the Alberta Oil Sands, calling it the most destructive project on Earth. DeSmogblog gleaned some facts from it:

-Oil sands mining is licensed to use twice the amount of fresh water that the entire city of Calgary uses in a year.
-At least 90% of the fresh water used in the oil sands ends up in ends up in tailing ponds so toxic that propane cannons are used to keep ducks from landing.
-Processing the oil sands uses enough natural gas in a day to heat 3 million homes.
-The toxic tailing ponds are considered one of the largest human-made structures in the world. -The ponds span 50 square kilometers and can be seen from space.
-Producing a barrel of oil from the oil sands produces three times more greenhouse gas emissions than a barrel of conventional oil.

More pictures here, courtesy of the Globe and Mail, and Edward Burtynsky.

no. 15: holy chocolate batman! I've been ganached!

2008-02-24T13:24:00.004-07:00

So... one of the chain bakeries that has an outlet near my parents' house (Cobs) makes chocolate hot crossed buns. Hot crossed buns being my favourite lenten treat. Only, in recent years, I've found there's something about hot crossed buns that doesn't agree with my stomach, and in the interest of maintaining digestive peace, I've had to abstain. (Don't think that counts as giving up something for Lent though... since they're only available during Lent...) So, instead of indulging in that particular yeasty, chocolate and candied fruit treat, I've discovered the deliciousness of their chocolate scones. Well, really, triple chocolate scones... cocoa dough, chocolate chips and ganache drizzle. And they're entirely too tasty for words. Were it not for the cost of these indulgences, I'd probably consume them for breakfast, lunch and supper. Alas, on my student budget, I cannot justify the much-needed endorphin boost of this purchased chocolate breakky... so I started searching them out on the internet, looking for a home-made alternative. I can, however, justify the purchase of flour, cocoa, chocolate chips and the occasional small carton of heavy cream... because they're all good for so much more than chocolate scones. Enter this recipe from Orangette, and you have the makings of a divine Sunday breakfast. One that kept me sated until 1pm, actually, and I ate one scone with a bit of honey dew melon...

the 7 un-eaten scones still sitting in the baking tray... waiting for the ganache to set.

The recipe indicates that it makes 6 large scones. Little did I realise they would be THIS large. My poor tummy cannot handle such a generous size at breakfast every day (though, being sated until actual lunch time instead of hearing the digestive growls at 10am would be a good thing!). I cut it into 8, and I guess I'll save the monstrously huge ones for weekends or days when I opt to work from home, and then don't have to worry about waddling the 20 minutes to the office... Next time, I'll cut it into a good 10 or 12 more friendly-sized delights. And they ARE delightful: chocolate upon chocolate upon chocolate, and then (not so artfully) drenched in ganache - of which I still have a decent amount now stuffed in my freezer.

Surprisingly, though, this is not my only ganache adventure of late. I've been staring at the scone recipe in my moleskine weekly planner (best sale purchase ever, tiny enough to fit in my purse, big enough to hold all I need, and exceedingly affordable) for about two weeks now, and the ganache recipe kept calling out to me: "all I am is cream and chocolate..." "you know you wanna..." so once I'd bought the ONLY available size of cream carton at my grocery store (1 L), I knew I had to justify the purchase of that much extra dairy... and decided to toy with the chocolate I have lying around... and started to experiment with microwave ganache.

It is thus that I discovered the easiest and tastiest mid-week dessert ever:
Throw some chocolate chips in a bowl, sprinkle a scant dusting of cinnamon and clove powder over them, and then pour to immerse (without fully covering) with heavy cream. Throw the whole shebang in the microwave for, um, 45 seconds on high, and while that's bubbling away (make sure it doesn't boil over, what a mess!), wash and slice an apple into finger-friendly pieces. Take the bowl out of the microwave, stir until fully blended and enjoy your tasty treat! Best easy dessert ever, and it is truly up to your discretion just how much chocolate sauce you make this way.. and what fruit you dip in it... melon is also tasty, as I'm sure would be berries of any kind. The clove-cinnamon combo just adds an extra little something, my favourite cake of all time has the clove-cinnamon-chocolate mix, and so whenever I have that combo, I think of happy memories, family suppers and birthday cake.

mmm... yes... chocolate... the perfect start and end to any day.

Related to all my chocolate consumption, winter, at this point, is really pulling my spirits down. And I'm trying just about anything to avoid the nasty late-winter slump (perhaps to the detriment of my wasitline, but we'll see). As the sun continues to rise earlier and shine for longer, I AM picking up some cheer, but it is slow-coming, even after a brief sojourn to the beach. On a whim, the other week, wandering our leanly-stocked farmers' market (lots of crafts and dried goods, little in the freshness department, as one would expect), I found some not-exactly-inspiring cilantro, but I KNEW I had to have it. If there is a herb that can evoke memories of warmth, humidity and sunshine, it is cilantro. I'm not even sure why. I used to hate the stuff. Thankfully, I've changed my opinion. Cilantro and cumin, both of them pull me into their pungent embrace and I am suddenly thinking of rich greens, and beaming sunlight... maybe it's genetic... my Mediterranean ancestry calling out to me through my taste buds... maybe it's just the subtle imprinting of guacamole and hummus memories... who knows... but if ever there's a way to shake the winter blahs, it's through this stuff...

And, after throwing it in my chili leftovers, and a pot of tomato pasta sauce (yum, what a refreshing combo!), the flagging last bits were screaming out for attention; as was a can of chick peas at the store last night. Somehow chickpeas as an impulse buy rather perfectly describes my personality. haha! And it is thus that my rag-tag hummus was born.

yes, that's my lunch.

I didn't realise until I'd gotten home that a) I only had a lime, and no lemon, and that b) my roommate didn't have tahini, like I'd thought she did. So... improvisation! Come to think of it, I have never actually followed a recipe for hummus... maybe a combination of two recipes together at once, but never one all by itself, and never any of them to-the-word. The can of chickpeas was rinsed and thrown in a bowl with two chopped cloves of garlic, about a half-teaspoon of every relevant-seeming herb on hand: cumin, paprika, chili powder and coriander, a tiny pinch of salt, a very healthy spoonful of cashew butter (who needs tahini anyway?), and all the still-green cilantro, roughly chopped. Over it was drizzled the juice of half a lime, and some unquantified amount of olive oil. Then I pulsed it all with my roomie's stick blender. Stick blenders, it would seem, are not good friends with chickpeas. There's something too thick about their consistency (and I was NOT adding THAT much oil to the mix, as much as I love olive oil). But, after much fretting and pulsing, it was mostly mixed (I'm still finding the occasional chunk of garlic or a completely missed chickpea, but that's what food adventures are about!). And upon letting it sit, VERY aromatic. As a result, I am in love! This is one of the best hummus(es?) I've ever made, even if it's going to keep me from talking to people for fear of bowling them over with garlic breath. Served drizzled with a little extra olive oil, and lightly dusted in chili powder, or just as is, it makes a great topping for pita bread, and the little bit of pita-hummus-ham sandwich I made for lunch today.

If it weren't for the three gorgeous eggplants I bought yesterday waiting patiently on my counter for me to pay attention to them, I might just throw in the towel and stop cooking for a while... nothing is going to be as rewarding, fortuitous or fun as these adventures... though I AM craving ratatouille, so I guess it'll be okay.

I was going to blog my latest knitting projects, too, but I think I'll save that for some time later... food is enough for now.

no. 14: alright, I get it

2008-02-19T13:18:00.002-07:00

The universe has made it very clear to me that, where some people get things handed to them in particular directions, and some in others, I have an interesting path to walk.

I've always worried that I've taken the easy route through this whole school-university-life business... But even the easy route teaches lessons. And what the easy route has taught me is that I need to not take things for granted. It has also taught me a lot about what appears to be easy is actually anything but when you get right into the thick of it. There's a lot to do in the middle of easy, and whether it's exciting or drudgery, it must all get done, even if you start off not knowing what you need to. So, the life-school easy route is one thing. All my school/job decisions have been easy ones, and if I've sold myself short or overstretched myself, I've always learned from it and gained experience from it, in order to make better decisions in the future. What hasn't been easy is the rest.

I'm 25, relatively active and healthy-eating, but definitely more sedentary (and a little to piggy at the (even the healthy parts of the) buffet) than I ought to be. I've paid for that in some respects, though recent doctor's visits suggest that I'm moving in the correct direction... except that it's not enough to be gradually reducing one's BMI to the below-25 set. There are other things that determine one's health. Things like recurrent long-lasting headaches, and alarming optometrist reactions to views of my retinas... And even though the opthamologist I met kept saying I was a healthy, "not morbidly obese" (not obese at all), young woman, those words aren't reassuring when something is wrong... only I don't know what that something is just yet. And the fears were brought forth with the words of my GP. Things like pseudotumor cerebri (excessive fluid on the brain) and Multiple Sclerosis are not ailments one often likes to think of in the midst of the twenties. And not that I know what I have, if I have anything, the string of tests and scans to which I will be subjected should hopefully point in some sort of direction... even if that involves an eventual lumbar puncture or other medical treatment. This, while not being easy, is difficult only in the sense that I need to learn to cope with it, since I cannot perform a CT scan on myself, nor any of the other tests etc. that I must undergo.

What is being VERY difficult right now, and difficult in a way that is entirely up to me, is my, uh, personal life. Now, I'll be the first one to admit, I don't have much of a personal life. Yes, I have a whole raft (or, well, a nice raft armada, really) of friends, but friends are one thing. I cherish them all dearly, and value their presence in my life like I value that of water and my favourite fresh fruits. But they are not exactly the people I want to take home and snog. Well... not most of them at any rate. And this is where the difficulty begins.

I have a friend I'd like to drum up the courage to say that to... the "I want to take you home and snog" part... and I am (drumming up the courage)... excruciatingly slowly. Snails move faster than me. But I also have a friend who I think would like to say that to me, and I REALLY don't feel that way about him. Not one iota. Perhaps once upon a time in our 5 year friendship I might have been directed towards those feelings, but now is not that time. And as I like to think, but haven't said, that ship is not even in harbour, forget setting sail. hell, I don't think the ship ever found harbour, it was blown off-course a fair bit too early.

So, I did what any well-meaning person whose forgotten the taste of stuffing their foot in their mouth does. I said something. Not to the one I want to snog, THAT would have been a good idea. No, I said something to the one I don't want to snog. Well, okay, it's a little more sticky than that... a good metaphor would be that of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby**, in which Brer Rabbit encounters this character whose impassivity bothers him to the point of altercation and eventual self-tarring. Not that either of us are guilty of impassivity in this case, but instead that the altercation has left me further embroiled in this stupid lump of tar and turpentine. Further than I ever thought possible. Because he's a friend I'd like to keep as a friend, I deal with fairness in information-giving. When one asks, I usually answer honestly, even if the questions are uncalled-for or off-base. So he asked me if I was having a CT scan... I said yes. Rather private personal health information, but he asked, so I answered. And leading from there, I became standoffish and defensive and really did the body language thing to say as much too (short of just getting in my car and driving away, which I should've done.). So I later e-mailed him and called him out on it. (hello Tar Baby) He apologised for it, and made note of some distance I'd created between us, and cited my recent medical adventures as the likely and understandable source of that distance.

Had I left it at that, the tar baby would have just been something I'd greeted and passed on the side of the road, much as Brer Rabbit should have. Alas, I did not. I've been gaining this sense lately that there's a lot more going on than what my friend has been admitting. And not, like, illegal behaviour or anything, but feelings left unsaid. In fact, they're palpable. It's as though there's an enormous elephant in the room and I've finally decided to say something about it. So I did... I responded and said I didn't want him to be led astray into thinking that I created this distance between us because I was undergoing some sort of bizarre medical adventure. I said it was because, in a very passive-aggressive way, I didn't want to fuel any more potential feelings in him. Because the last thing I want to do is lead someone on, when there's nothing to lead them towards. (and this would be where I started punching the tar baby) So, yes, I basically told him "hey, there's a huge elephant in the room with us" and he responded to me with "yes there is, you're partially to blame for it being there, and it's not going to leave any time soon." (good Lord, there's a lot of tar here) So, I'm stuck. I don't want to say anything more... not for a long while, because I really do want time and space from him, and I want him to not like me that way. But I don't think it's going to be that easy. I just don't know what the best course of action is from here. Do I continue fighting this stupid tar baby? Do I sit in the sun and let it bake off? What did the rabbit do?

hmm... Brer Rabbit had Brer Bear throw him in the briar patch and ran away... to come out scot-free again, combing the tar from his fur. I don't know if that's going to be possible in this situation. At the very least, I need to not punch/kick/hit the tar baby any more. But how do I get thrown into the Briar Patch? and who is my Brer Bear?

Anyway, that about says it all. This elephant has been stepping on me for a while, and I'm tired of being smacked in the face by its trunk. I needed to say something. I just don't know how to get rid of it. I don't even know if it's in my power to get rid of it. Though, I can see myself kicking it to death... It makes me feel awkward, embarassed and actually, hatred. I HATE that this is happening. I valued his friendship, but the elephant is very much likely going to kill it, or maybe eat it for breakfast. Whether it's a painfully drawn-out msn conversation, or a lunch I didn't want to have (and made feeble excuses to try to discourage him), or a christmas present I didn't reciprocate (because I'd say I didn't want anything and I meant it), or all the hugs I don't want to freely give to him, but he asks so forcefully, and I'm too polite to say no. Is that politeness though? Is it polite to wait until the elephant is too big to fit through the door and leave? I think it's my politeness that's, in the end, allowed the elephant to feed and grow.

So, I'm leaving the room. Whether or not that's the appropriate solution to the problem, I'm trying to shut the door on him and his elephant. While, thus far, there is no Brer Bear to throw me in the briar patch, I'm trying my best to throw myself into it. ... at least I hope I am.

and maybe, somewhere in that briar patch, as I comb tar from my skin, I'll be able to drum up the nerve to talk to the guy I actually do want to snog... because I think there's a chance he feels the same way too.

** Alright, before you call me a racist for using the Song of the South in any such format, let me just make my point: as noted previously, I think, I was exposed to a lot of older children's reading growing up (e.g. Little Black Sambo), and though perhaps initially these were very racist stories, I never saw them as such. Growing up in a multicultural city, neighbourhood and school, I learned from the beginning that colour, heritage and race denote nothing of any particular differentiating importance such that one colour (etc.) should be better or worse than the other. ... it also helps that my mother's of mixed racial heritage. So don't take my use of the tar baby as some sort of resurgence of racist imagery. I am using it only because it figured prominently in my childhood - as did all the stories of Brer Rabbit, Bear and Fox, and the Briar Patch in which they battled - and it's poignant when one looks at things in terms of the sticky situations we (un)wittingly throw ourselves into.

no. 13: uh

2008-02-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

I have NO idea what to do with myself when I'm done school (finally).

Do I (if I get it) take the one year tropical internship with NO pay?
Do I just bugger off for a while, burning my inheritance on a backpacking trip?
Do I search for some sort of job with or without health insurance and employment security, but a better paycheque than anything I've ever had?

how much should I let money dictate this?
how much should I let my heart dictate this?

Oh, I don't know any more. Here I am supposedly in the thick of things, thesis-wise, and instead of being fully immersed in thought surrounding my experimental design, and reading papers of studies similar, I am instead hemming and hawing about what I'm going to do when I'm done. Or, well, really, in the fall, whether or not I'm done, it would seem. Yeah, that's right, I'm thinking about September already, and it's not doing me any good!

This blog is turning more into a me blathering to the void than expounding on the joys of knitting and hugging trees. I guess the forefront of my thoughts belongs solely to my concerns for the future. I'm sure my warrior pose will be all out of whack these days (I guess I'll find out tomorrow)... pulling too far forward (into the future). So, sorry if you're reading this thinking "where's the knitting??" my heart's just not into typing about knitting, even if I have made a pair of mitts and am in the midst of a pattern-free pair of hand-warmers.

Anyway, my regularly scheduled ponderances: what am I doing with my future? I went to Mexico for a week with my parents. And the leaving left me wanting more. Maybe because each time I travel I meet people who are far more interested in me than the people around me here at home. Maybe because I was immersed in warmth, a near 50 degree temperature difference from my current surroundings. Maybe the sunshine (and tequila) made me drunk and a little too wistful. But, actually, I spent a lot of time thinking... what else does one do on a beach vacation with the folks? There's only so much hanging out with the parents a person can take, and thusly I wandered the sandy beach a lot. And in my wanderings, in addition to seeing tons of birds and a few whales from the shore, I did a bit of soul searching. Admittedly, often enough I let my mind wander into fantasy, but I did get down to a little business... like what do I want to do when I'm finally finished my thesis?

just watching the waves often won out over all thinking...

And thus far, my decisions aren't so much decisions as they are me casting my line into the vast ocean hoping something might take the bait on my hook. Though I'm also afraid I'll catch a) the wrong fish, or b) a really huge fish I'm not prepared to battle out. While, on the one hand, I don't really just want a sardine, I'm also not sure I'm ready for a whale... I guess I'm hoping for a nice, medium-sized tuna, or maybe a salmon. Yeah, salmon. That's about where I'm sitting right now. I don't feel like battling a tuna. But the meaty value of a salmon would make me happy. Plus they're just such lovely fish. And let's face it, where a sardine would maybe give you a snack, and tuna would keep you fed for the rest of your life, salmon is probably just the right amount of fish. Good for a long-haul, but not huge enough to make you so fed up you'll never want to eat fish again. I guess that's what I'm hoping for: a medium effort, medium-pay, medium commitment kind of next step.

heer fishy fishy!

So... what are the salmons I could possibly catch in my life? Do I have any? And that's where it all falls apart. I've come across a few nice looking jobs lately, for Parks Canada, and for Greenpeace, but neither of those really says "this is what you're looking for." So, thankfully (I guess), it's a good thing they're hiring for NOW and I really shouldn't start looking for anything earlier than September. What's scaring me is that I impulsively (alright, not fully impulsively, it's been incubating for a good 4.5 years already) applied for a September internship with an international field studies program. Yeah, that's right, an internship. Probably something I could've done coming out of undergrad, maybe not something I should aim for coming out of grad school. Not to mention the nonexistent pay. But at the same time, it's situated in the tropics and near-tropics, and room and board are covered. So, experience, fun, adventure, food and shelter, plus year-round warmth... for one year... is it worth it? Will I get it? Will I want it if I get it? At least I'm applying. Other than that, I'm not applying for jobs. I think I'll let it go a few more months. I'm not worried in the least. Perhaps it's the thought that there will be something for me when I'm ready for it (do I get things handed to me THAT easily??), or perhaps it's the thought that I really shouldn't push beyond what I'm supposed to be doing right now.

Things are just getting... difficult for me. It's so busy, and so disconcerting at times. And I get so discouraged, not because I'm not making progress, but because this is no longer what I want to do. I don't really love research. I love learning, but not the statistical testing and publication that come hand in hand with research. So, the life of an academic is probably not mine. And that's fine. What did come as a bit of a surprise was that, in my committee meeting this week, after an impromptu presentation of my research design and methods, my committee all informed me that I ought to be a teacher. I guess I'm good at something, even if it's not *doing* but instead *teaching.* Still... that's a daunting enough idea in its own right. How does one decide to become responsible for the knowledge accumulation of other people? And how does one not become buried under the weight of that responsibility?

Forget the fact that I'm not even sure it'd be a good idea for me to teach... anything. I don't know anymore where my aptitude lies. Or, for that matter where my heart lies. Maybe I really do just need to bugger off somewhere and burn my inheritance so-to-speak... let my heart talk to me frankly, and come to some sort of agreement, that might in the end produce a little bit of job security and health insurance. Or maybe not.

or maybe I just need to find somewhere with a big, beautiful sunset every night...

no. 12: the need to flee

2008-01-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

I don't know if other people get this, or if it is, truly the curse of a commitment-phobe, but every now and again, I have this overpowering urge to leave, to just get out, to up and go. I suppose it hits mostly when my responsibilities get the best of me, or when I'm overwhelmed with a certain sense of ennui, almost as if I've run into the doldrums and want out, at any cost. I feel as though I have panthers caged inside of me, pacing, urging me to let them out, urging me to get myself out. And if I don't do it soon, those panthers are going to pace themselves right out of existence. Or, more matter-of-factly, they are going to pace themselves into butter.

Okay, I'm mixing metaphors, and imagery in my head... So, as a child I was exposed to the kinds of stories children of the 40s and early 50s were exposed to. Credit my grandparents for that, and no, I thankfully didn't develop any of the nasty prejudices present in a lot of the children's literature of those days. But, I've been wrestling with an image in my head for the last while, trying to piece out what exactly it is and where it came from... thus the glory of the internet: one does searches. So, the 1939 Merrie Melodies cartoon A Day At The Zoo provides me with my image of pacing panthers... amazing how accurate the cage:animal ratio is in that clip to how I'm feeling these days, and the story of Little Black Sambo (please mind the horrid computerized piano music, there's a 'pause' button at the bottom of the page) provides the pacing animals turning into butter... hence the combination.

And it is thusly that I feel: as though, if I don't get out soon, there will be nothing left of me to get out. But the question remains, where is it that I should go, and what is it I am trying to get out of/away from?

I am getting better (I think) at trying to deal with some of this. I actually do get out - weather permitting, one would be foolish to set afoot now in the -24C windchill and seemingly perpetual darkness - and try to vent my... urges. But it is difficult. Winter weather makes it that much more challenging to sort through the caged panther mentality because we really are caged panthers, all of us. There is nowhere to go but our homes, or places of work or commerce. Everywhere you can go has some sort of implication associated with it, whether that of work, or domesticity or purchase obligation. The summer allows one to languish, and flee at all hours, comfortably, to a place of no particular predisposition, since the entire outdoor world is suddenly available. No such luck in winter. I went for a walk the other night, for reasons of at least getting the panthers some air and not just sitting and growling, turning closer and closer to butter. But, alas, winter is so much more confining, even if the atmospheric temperature is obliging enough to allow one to wander at 11pm with a down vest, light toque, a few sweaters and some knit mittens. There is nowhere to go. The sidewalks can be treacherous, even under the best conditions, forget near-melting temperatures, and thusly the roads are off-limit since cars need all the room available for their own purposes. And so, I tried a trail, figuring it was a little more out of the way, and cars couldn't careen off and hit me. But that too became treacherous, under-maintained, sloped and too isolated to assuage thoughts of angry mothers, even if the silence did me some good. So I walked, and so I got followed by a not-so-happy dog who barked and barked. But that didn't bother me so much. He stood his ground so long as I stood mine and kept my face towards him. Though the panthers weren't too pleased, and wished further to leave and avoid struggle. Cages often make one feel vulnerable despite having strength on your side.

So, the walk did me some good, staring down a dog, staring down the river valley, feeling as though the moon was watching me through her cloaked, cloudy hiding place, and getting enveloped in swiftly falling snow. I love the sense of silence and stillness imparted upon me when I stargaze (or, on more cloudy nights, moongaze). Winter nights are perfect for such ventures, too, since the sky, ever black, is home to the bastions of cold nights: Sirius and Orion, my winter touchstones. And seeking Mars in their realms this last while has been nearly meditative for me, if only it wasn't so otherworldly cold right now, I'd be out there scanning for their mythic presence as a form of reassurance. Perhaps reassurance partly because they are still there and I am still able to see them as the traverse the skies above us, and partly because Orion seems to be making a second home on my arm, in various slowly developing moles, my skin is producing the famed hunter in melanic effigy; he really just needs a right leg and bow, as well as the sure-to-be-following dog-star, Sirius. What can I say, but it makes me feel connected, somehow, though I'll never truly understand why a constellation is being replicated on my upper arm. Perhaps nature isn't as random and chaotic as we all assume (or maybe chaos isn't as random as we assume).

But my attempts to convene with our stellar deities hasn't removed my urge to flee. It's such a base instinct in me right now, it takes much (aside from the c-c-c-cold weather) effort to curtail any fleeing actions. Perhaps I should let it work in me as it would for a while and see where it leads. Maybe, just maybe, this need to flee isn't about physically removing myself from this place, but changing this place into somewhere I want to be. Though, fat chance of that happening. Maybe I should concentrate my efforts on making it easier to leave when the weather and circumstances make such an endeavour more enticing. Yes, maybe I should do that: prepare myself to pack up and leave. And no, not actually pack, just make it a lot easier to do so. Clutter is as much a cage as anything else out there. We shall see, perhaps there's hope yet for these panthers.

no. 11: meanderings

2008-01-17T23:20:00.000-07:00

I'm not truly sure how my mind works these days. I got a blog because I was tired of the blog formats at other places such as MySpace, and actually liked the idea of the internet anonymity. Granted, as always I am bound to be found by someone who knows me eventually... But regardless, not my point tonight. My point tonight is that I got a blog, and suddenly I don't feel like 'talking.' Or, perhaps it's not that I don't feel like talking, I just never get anywhere coherent these days. My mind wanders like someone lost in a vast, meandering Zoo... like the time I went to the Zoo in Berlin (first day in Germany) because I KNEW I wouldn't have to talk to anyone at the zoo. ha! see what I mean, I'm not trying to talk about the zoo, but there I go talking about the zoo... Vast meandering zoos are great because you can walk a path and stop at just about any point, only to find yourself with five options for new paths to take. That is approximately what my mind is like these days.

This meandering thought process has led to the start and near completion of a lovely turquoise calorimetry for a darling friend of mine, the starting of what will be a very time consuming (but hopefully gorgeous) lace nightie from the free lingerie patterns in the Spring 2007 Interweave Knits, and most of one mitten. All of this, mind you, has been started since I've decided I ought to buckle down and do some serious work on my thesis. My thesis of "beautiful data" according to my supervisors. My thesis that WILL NOT write itself, no matter how much I try and convince it to...

And, all in the same breath - it is, after all, only the 17th of January - I am trying to convince myself that 2008 will be a good year full of productivity and change. Productivity, I hope, in the thesis writing department, although knitting productivity is also good, just not of primary importance; and change hopefully in the thesis department... primarily in the form of "I will finish my thesis and graduate this year." This year is going to be a mountain of change. Whether or not the roaring noise in my head and all the surrounding headaches amount to anything more than some nasty migraines, the rest of my life is going to change momentously this year. I moved last summer, and my lease will be up in another 5 1/2 months. I doubt I will be staying on here, in this cute, "very me" house (according to my friends). While I love living in this neighbourhood, I don't particularly love living with my roommate, and the house is leaving much to be desired, most particularly modern windows that actually insulate. I'm not sure I'm prepared for the step of finding more roommates to live with, or living with a friend, but I know I need change, and perhaps I'll be able to find a small walk-up or something amenable to my income that doesn't involve me being the only person to shovel the sidewalks or mow the lawn. But moving aside, other changes are inevitable. One cannot be a student forever - at least not in this day and age - and my MSc is rather palpably drawing to a close, if only I could get my butt in gear and write! And thus, with that, (6 months ought to seal the deal on both house and thesis, I hope!), I am... off to the races? I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Like the Berlin Zoo, I have the rather distinct feeling that I shall just come to a stop on my path and find myself with five different paths to choose from as I decide to walk onwards.

So, I don't know. Perhaps I'll end up visiting the Hippos for a spell, if only because it's a warm place to stand, and the large, lumbering beasts are kind of interesting to watch. Or maybe I'll head off in search of strange breeds of livestock at the back of the Zoo compound only to find myself face to face with all the animals I am so accustomed to seeing - being from Canada, I suppose what's familiar to me might not be to a German zoo-goer - that nothing is new or exciting except the surprise of finding such a familiar face in such a different location. Or maybe I'll be drawn in by a gaggle of bird cages, their unique calls and flashy feathers enticing me, only to find, hidden just behind them, the most exciting of all, the vast and wondrous elephant exhibit, replete with dexterous trunks and glorious trumpeting calls. Or maybe I'll just set myself down on a bench overwhelmed with choices and fear that I'm not going to make the right one... wishing I'd picked up the visitor guide map at the entrance like everyone else, instead of trying to decipher signposts written in another language.

My mind, and my life, it would seem, are like a vast, meandering old zoo. And now, all I can think of are the beautiful carpets of brown leaves that laid across the paths at the Berlin zoo when I visited in November, 2005. A chilly time to visit an outdoor attraction, I know, but I was never one for convention, and it sure beats trying to hustle through the crowd of summer tourists in uncomfortably hot and sticky temperatures.

no. 10: a merry, gendered Christmas to you!

2008-01-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

well... all my Christmas celebrations have now officially come to an end. Ukrainian Christmas occurred (according to the Orthodox usage of the Julian Calendar) on the 6 and 7 of January this year. Presenting us with the ever present concern of just how much overeating one person can conduct in the span of a few weeks. Apparently, quite a lot.

Though, how can one resist when it is the only time there are vast quantities of Kutya (a honey-sweetened wheat dish to start off the meal), holubtsi (cabbage rolls), Kolach (fresh-baked braided bread), Nachynka (a sort-of cornmeal souffle) are available? Never mind a delicious turkey, stuffing, some perfectly cooked carrots, and tray upon tray of homemade dainties. I had resisted on ('normal') Christmas Eve, knowing the spread to come on Christmas Day, my aunt's peanut butter and chocolate covered maraschino cherrie s, but I had to cave-in and indulge last night. Like all Christmas treats, these delights are ephemeral too. It was so fantastic, and yet amazingly, I was hungry today. I have a feeling my stomach has grown accustomed to large quantities of feasting-foods, and will not appreciate my return to the typical "poor starving student" meal plan I'd been using prior to the holidays.

I love the holidays. Not only is there a lot of food to be had, but there are great bonding moments with family and friends, and there's an expectation that people take life a little more slowly, more deliberately and more attentively. There also seems to be a rather gendered division of Christmas festivities in all the events I attended. Who cooked the bulk of the food? The women. Who set the tables to overflowing with food? The women. Who collected the dishes and doled out desserts and coffee? The women. Who loaded the dish washer, and washed the pots and pans? The women. Alright, I'm oversimplifying. My father does an amazing job of washing everything from crystal to roasting pans, and is a huge help to my mother and me on Christmas Day.

Perhaps it's just Ukrainian Christmas where the the gender differences become entirely too apparent. The men bartend. The women set out dishes of appetizers and ready everything for eating, from the first course through to the last dainty desserts. And at the end of the night, when the boys and men have retired upstairs to watch the hockey game and check internet news, the women stay behind in the kitchen carving up the turkey leftovers, packaging up remnant stuffing and potatoes, and washing the seemingly insurmountable mountain of dirty dishes - whether too large, crusty or delicate for the dishwasher. One of my more memorable years actually involved the patriarch (though, truly the matriarch really does rule in these families) taking his delightfully tiny and new granddaughter on a walk-about tour of all things family and Christmas, from the tree to the table, taking a stop at the kitchen where all the ladies were busily cleaning up from the delicious supper. That was not the memorable part. What stays in my mind was the comment he made about how one day she would grow up, and like a 'good girl' would join the other women in the kitchen. And while I'm sure he didn't mean it in any specifically chauvanistic way, how could I not see it like that? There I was, on my third towel, drying dishes, while the only thing he'd done (and no, neither him nor I come from the host household) was help to carve the turkey... which it would seem is a most auspicious (if relatively simple and straight-forward) task.

Now, in all honesty, I do understand part of it. The women know the recipes, as they have been passed down from generation to generation by matrilineal line. But we all know dishwashing is a non-gender-specific task, so why is it that the very same women (particularly my aunt and her sister) who spent the last two days, and the week prior, preparing these traditional dishes have to then turn around and spend another couple hours washing? I really don't honestly believe anyone delights in washing dishes after the first hour of kitchen duty has elapsed. Surely, at the end of a cookie-baking session, there's a bit of sense of full-circle completion as the last bowl is rinsed clear of doughy residue, but no one relishes scrubbing a roasting pan. And all of us know that the more desirable thing to do would be sit and talk with your family, and enjoy that cup of coffee that's now coldly sitting on the crumb-scattered table. So why is it that the menfolk seem to have that privilege moreso than the women?

All this aside, I, of course, love my family, and will no doubt continue this odd holiday tradition of dish washing for many more years. And probably yet again failing to correctly pronounce the traditional Christmas greeting : Khristos rodyvsya!

no. 9: parallel universe

2007-12-30T01:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, I need to say this somewhere, so it's going here.

I went to see Juno tonight with some friends. And instead of just seeing a movie, I saw another version of my life play out on the big screen. (yes, I kind-of spoil it, so don't read too deeply if you want to be surprised by the ending of the film)

The main character, Juno, could have easily been me if I'd made different choices in my life. It was so eerie. Eerie and heartrending. I laughed, and I cried. Oh, did I cry. There were tears streaming down my face, probably equivalent with the girl on the screen by the end of the movie. I don't know... it was so strange.

And the choices she made, good and bad, gave her what she wanted/needed in the end, even if there was a "bump" along the way. And I am incredibly jealous of her for that.

I didn't think it was humanly possible for something like this to happen, because, quite frankly, I'm okay with my life, and the past is, well, the past, right? But when you're shown a collection of other options, and choices you could have made but didn't presented to you, with their outcomes, it's an entirely different story. I felt like I was being shown what could've been, and I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I think everyone carries around particular philosophies about the past being unchangeable, and how having regrets doesn't really do anyone any good because you can't run back and 'fix' things. Well, this was a total presentation of all my regrets in one place, and where they could've led me... and I wanted it. Because, in the end, she had love. She had the love I've dreamed of many a long night, the love I never had the guts to even try to get.

I cried because it was a sad movie (at the end), and because I wanted what she had, and because she ached the same way I would have ached had I been in her situation - which because of this eerie connection was all that much more tangible a possibility. The movie was so eerily similar to what could've been that I was in shock for an hour and a half afterwards. Actually, I still am. The boy she wanted, the school colours, what the boy did... spitting image. Not to mention how much of myself I saw in her... my quirky ways and sarcasm, even her father... while not spitting image, a reasonable cinematic facsimile. Had we not moved, it would have been our house and our neighbourhood too.

It all comes down to choices. And the choices I made pushed me further from where Juno ended up, and towards other avenues. Not that these avenues are bad, but that where Juno went wasn't half-bad either.

I just... I don't know. I didn't want to be presented - on the cinematic version of a silver platter no less (it's a fantastic movie) - with option g of all the choices out there, after I'd chosen to take option w. You should never be presented with a path you know full well you could've taken long enough after you cannot take it any more that it becomes tantalising. I'm going to spend the next week kicking myself for the choices I made, and the choices I just let slide by me. I could've done things so much differently from what I did. But the past is unchangeable, no matter how much I currently wish it was the contrary. And while I could take up running around in those circles of thought, it won't get me anywhere, and like Narcissus, I will slowly fade away through the obsessive effort.

But, for the time being, I am absorbed. This is not going to go away easily. Juno was option g of my life. An option I was fully presented with but decided against taking. And while, yes, it's fantastic to have done all that I've done in the option of my life that I have taken, there are large chunks of that g option that I want.

Large chunks that I want, and I don't know how to get now that I am where I am.

no. 8: the slow drag to new year's

2007-12-29T11:42:00.000-07:00

I am procrastinating doing everything right now. It's a frosty -16C outside right now, I don't feel like moving much, and those dishes in the sink just don't look that desperate to be washed. So, I'm in my newly cleared out room (read: all the junk got moved to the basement, I haven't become a neat and tidy person), staring out my non-frosted-up window 1 out of 2 isn't bad, right? at the snow coated world.

We have had so much snow since Christmas. It is at once both delightful and annoying. Where was this precipitation when we really needed it earlier this fall? Why does it seem like every time I leave the house, I have to clear off the sidewalk/my car? Why am I the only one shoveling all this snow? And where on Earth did that green John Deere bulldozer come from that just drove down my street?

anyway, short post, I just felt like posting... a picture and a meme...

1. Grab the book nearest to you, page 18, line four?
" - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu as un petit chandail neuf des Maple Leafs de Toronto, au contraire des autres, que tu vas nous faire la loi."

okay, really, it's just " - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu " but I can't just leave it at that, it's a kid's book after all.

From Le Chandail de Hockey, Texte: Roch Carrier, Illustrations: Sheldon Cohen
The Hockey Sweater, truly, a Canadian classic, and a Christmas gift from last year.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can what do you touch?
a cd on my bookshelf: The New Orleans Social Club - Sing Me Back Home

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
That is a very good question. That I watched, I'd have to say It's a Wonderful Life.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is
noon.

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
11:57 am. I guess I was close.

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
The rumble of our furnace in the basement. otherwise it's pretty silent. The snow does a great job of muffling noise.

7. When was the last time you stepped outside? What were you doing?
Probably a half-hour ago. I had to open the door for the mail man. Who knew they worked on Saturdays?

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
my flickr page.

9. What are you wearing?
light brown corduroy pants, wool socks, an acrylic v-neck sweater in a lovely mossy green and a tee from the Calgary Folk Festival.

10. Did you dream last night?
I don't know.

11. When did you last laugh?
this morning as I talked on the phone with my mother.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
green paint, two cork boards, and some pencil lines where I intend to hang other pictures.

13. Last person you talked to before you went to sleep?
my roommate

14. What do you think of this quiz?
meh

15. What is the last film you saw?
I went through a bit of a movie binge prior to Christmas - how else does one get knitting done? I think the most recent was Love Actually. lovely.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Land, tons and tons of land, or well, more appropriately, hectares. Forest land, grassland, rolling hills, maybe some waterfront. Land that no oil and gas company will be allowed to touch. Land on which I could live, grow a garden and hunt/gather from the forest to survive if we do indeed hit peak oil and/or massive global climate change catastrophy and lose our current way of life.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know?
you... whomever you are, don't know much about me, that's for sure. I really like to support local and/or Canadian producers above all else. I guess that makes me a bit of a protectionist.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you do?
easy, cheap and totally sound renewable energy for everything... so that we wouldn't have all the problems we currently have.

19. Do you like to dance?
sometimes. Though having a partner would make it a lot more fun. Granted, I do like line dances.

20. George Bush:
Has the potential to do great harm to the entire world.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Helen. Or the name that seems to be at the forefront of my mind right now: Ginger (could one name a non-red-headed child that?) or maybe Rowan.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Evan. I like names that end in 'n.' And truly, this makes me sound far more decisive than I ever possibly could be. I would hem and haw over a couple dozen names for both boys and girls, no doubt, unable to truly pick one until I met the little'un good and proper. Names that float around include Owen, Ethan, Nathan, Tristan, Steven (note the trend!), and the two familial names I've always thought would be great: Donald and William.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
yes, yes yes yes yes! There's a part of me that's still dreaming of working for the UN... somewhere deep inside. And I do, somewhat secretly still want to apply for the iisd internships.

24. What do you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
"Are you sure?" Um, no. That's what I anticipate God will say when I reach the pearly gates. And I'll probably respond with "I don't know." And then I'll be told to wait outside until I've made up my mind.

The other option I can think of right now is "What the hell were you thinking?" but that seems, um... really, uh, counter-intuitive.

And, now that that's done, I guess I should figure out why my battery charger isn't working.

no. 7: decorations, knitting frenzy and last minute everything

2007-12-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

Alright, it's been almost a month. wow, a month. I guess that's what happens when you mark papers and final exams, and have to do a mountain of sample processing, yay research! not to mention knitting. I haven't done this much knitting in quite some time, and I'm finding it difficult to a) stay motivated and b) stay seated long enough to get this last (and longest on-going) project off the needles and ready to be gifted.

Progress of late:
The BIGGEST TOQUE EVER

seriously, it's huge, I put it on, while wearing a bun and can still pull it a good 5cm away from my head on every side... but that means it SHOULD fit the person I made it for, with extra room, too!

THE SCARF THAT WILL NOT END

Okay, not that it'll never end, but that I'd forgotten just how LONG scarves need to be in order to be useful... It's from the Interweave Knits holiday knitting 2007, and you can find more of my notes on it on Ravelry.

MOM'S TOQUE, improved

yes, amazing self-photography skills, I know. But it shows off the duplicate-stitched snowflake quite well, I think, and now there actually is definition around these buggers, they're not just indistinct patches of white amidst the blue any more. yay! one present 100% absolutely DONE!

*phew!* progress is exciting. Actually progress in any general sense seems to be exciting, and I have tons of that right now. I had a meeting with my supervisors yesterday, in which they came away smiling saying I had "novel" information to present, yay! Now I just have to process and statistically analyse that novel information.

And, other things to look at. My roommate and I got a tree and decorated it, I'm so pleased. I helped my family decorate theirs on the weekend, and then we got ours on Monday - I carried it home in my arms from the tree lot - and decorated it Tuesday night. It's a tiny tree, only using one string of LED lights, but it has branches, full, green and beautifully scented branches that don't hold many ornaments, but at least look pretty. Our tree became a mix of folksy wooden ornaments, crafty goodness, and a punch of coloured glass balls for variety (and to lessen the red and white theme we'd have going without them)... crochet snowflakes and red beads make for a cute but slightly monotone tree, so I'm glad we could mix it up with some other fun stuff too.

Now, if only my baking and shopping were all done...

no. 6: not sure how I feel about this

2007-11-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

so I just took this fun little quiz at quirkyalone.net to see if I was 'quirky alone.' Meaning, I assume, am I the kind of person who's rather uniquely single... and my score was (drumroll...):

113. Very quirkyalone:
Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

Okay, so, what I don't really get is what this supposedly means - the number - because, surely there are other people like me, then. People who don't necessarily see life as a string of significant others. People who focus on other things rather than their single status. Though it does make me wonder. They say "you'll never find love if you go looking for it" (not sure who they are, but whatever, it's said fairly frequently), and I agree. BUT, if you don't look, how can you guarantee that you haven't passed love by without noticing simply because you've been too busy doing something else?

perhaps I ought to read the book...

Perhaps I need to open my heart a little more and actually give things a try. Though, in the same breath, what can I say? I don't find any of my compatriots to be the kind of people with whom I'd want to form some kind of long-lasting bond outside of friendship. I love my friends, but I am not about to take our friendships any further. And those that I've found attractive, interesting and the kinds of people I'd want to, uh, take further, well they're already with people. And far be it for me to become the 'other woman.' So... though I must broaden my circles, I'm not sure where or how... to meet these people that one happens upon accidentally when one isn't looking for love.

Pirates look for buried treasure, heck, they STEAL treasure... Love? I'm not sure it works like that.

and if it does, I don't think I want to be a part of it. I'd rather be me. Single, solitary me. Because I'm at least half-decent at that. I know what I like, I know how to get me into bed at the end of the night, I know the kinds of movies I'm going to enjoy watching, and I sure as heck try my best to be comfortable with myself... So maybe that's it. Maybe I AM quirkyalone because I'm okay with being alone... though it surprises me that it's such a shocker to people to be like that. Why is it not okay to be that odd one out - the single person in a room of couples. Not that I'm saying I like to be the only one without a partner in a room of partnered people; that actually sucks quite a bit. But there shouldn't be anything wrong with being by oneself. And I AM happy as being single, solitary me (until all my female friends start defining themselves by their relationships and talk only about their significant others, which leaves me with NOTHING TO SAY). I just wish it was a little easier to BE like this. You don't see television shows about single, solitary, happy people all that often. They usually are in search of more, or fall into more, very quickly. Not so much on living their lives the way they want to, on their own.

no. 5: Italy on my mind

2007-11-25T23:39:00.000-07:00

okay, I've discovered one of the many reasons why this autumn has been so agonisingly difficult for me, particularly as it related to productivity. Why, you ask? Because I keep reminiscing about the past and finding myself longing to be elsewhere. More specifically, longing to be in Italy once again.

The autumn of 2005, I ventured off for some travel and a little cultural enlightenment. Admittedly I didn't go far. Now I don't mean distance-wise, clearly I ventured a fair way's in that regard (nearly half-way around the world in fact), but I opted not to go too far out of my cultural comfort zone, choosing the more, uh, predictable world of Western Europe. Had I been truly adventurous like many a friend of mine, I would have gone for the backpacking through India, or the volunteering with development or environmental agencies in South-East Asia and South America. Alas, I was much more tame. I like to take baby steps, and not just leap out of my comfort zone. I know French, and so I started in France, and moved south to Spain before swinging a night train to Italy on what I felt was a (if partially small) leap of faith to WWOOF on an organic farm in the heart of Tuscany, near Pienza (the 'perfect city').

morning fog, and the view from the olive grove

the luscious hillside across from il Romita, the oil-press, where we brought our fresh collection of olives at the end of every day.

the rolling, cypress-littered hillsides of Toscana, Pienza is out of frame to the right.

I stayed at the farm - Podere il Casale - for four weeks, almost an entire month, and grew to love both the land we worked in, and the people I met. I started to feel as though I was adopting them as my family. It was a marvelous experience, and one I'd gladly repeat. In fact, one I've been craving this autumn.

the courtyard at il Casale, replete with ripening squash and the occasional peafowl.

the green-roofed long-house I slept in while working on the farm. It was a dream!

I miss just about everything about it. From the people, who were, on the whole, absolutely delightful; to the jaw-dropping landscape around me; to the food, the delicious food of which I am reminded almost constantly. (because nothing I have here compares to what I ate there). Of course, how could anything about an idyllic trip to the Italian countryside parallel to my land-locked and northern home? One has to allow for some (or many) discrepancies, but I'd hoped, after two years since my return to the land of ice and snow (ha! it's been so warm and dry... it's hardly believable), the memories would have faded a little and I'd not feel such a voracious need to return to the rolling hills and fresh green flavour of moments-ago pressed olive oil. I miss it so...

an olive tree ready to be liberated of its fruit

morning pause at the olives

collection in high-swing

our day's collection of olives, ready to be pressed

I even miss hanging from the olive trees, soaking my feet in the early morning dew, and shaking out the 'paracadute' weighted down with freshly picked fruit. We spent glorious hours in the sunshine, perched on ladders or draped from branches, combing the olives out of craggy, ancient trees. During this time, I learned Swiss folk songs (sadly, I've mostly forgotten them now, though), told tales of my field research assistant adventures, related to people on the subject of "what am I going to do now that I've graduated from university?" and laughed at silly jokes that made absolutely no sense once translated. Oh, additionally, I attempted to describe the phenomenon known as maple syrup to some perplexed Swiss and Italians. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life, not only because I was doing something so out of the ordinary, but for the people I met from all over the world - well not ALL over, but a fairly different collection from what I'm used to - and attempting to converse in French, English, Italian and a smidgeon of Swiss German. Mind boggling... but an absolute delight.

It makes me wonder, sometimes, why it was that I opted for graduate school, when deep down, there's a part of me that just simply wants to do something. To be actively doing something with my hands, with every fibre of my being, such that I am not sitting at a desk, in front of a computer, sorting through reams of numbers. And, in truth, I know, I'm not just doing that, but those reams of numbers are what legitimize my summers of counting trees in the forest. Yet counting trees in the forest is not nearly as ideal a contribution as I'd hoped for. I'd rather learn how to milk a goat - one of the friends I met on the farm had milked goats way up in the Swiss Alps during the summer, apparently Alpen cheese is a highly-prized delicacy, and boy is it a wonder to behold! - than sit at my computer day after day, pushing numbers.

But, like it or not, I do not currently have the funds, as pursuing this semi-albatross is a rather consumptive process for me. Perhaps one day (hopefully soon) I will find myself at the doorstep of that farm again, ready and eager to contribute to their harvest. Maybe next year.

no. 4: stalling

2007-11-24T13:36:00.000-07:00

I am supposed to be either writing my thesis, analysing my data or marking papers, and instead, all I can do is sit and think about knitting. Admittedly knitting has always been my (one of many) mode of procrastination, but you wouldn't believe my productivity of late. Thankfully it's nearing Christmas and I can somewhat justify it. Not like I can justify sleeping in because I'm exhausted and I'm in love with my flannel sheets, but still... I CAN justify that!

So, in the spirit of being proud of at least SOME of my progress (how can one be proud of putting root samples in the drying oven, woo!), I shall now show off my knitting, because maybe if I can be inspired to knit, I can be inspired to work on something else too... namely chapter 1.

this would be the toque on my paint-stained hand-me-down kitchen table

and to truly know what it looks like, me donning the toque for posterity (and the necessary craftster 'action shot')

Chapter 1... aughh! who am I kidding? there's no work happening today. I just... can't! Maybe I'll read a paper or two (I have 28 to mark, boy am I looking forward to being done with this teaching assistantship). Maybe I'll just have a nap and prepare for the anticipatedly delicious hand-tossed pizza supper my friends and I are having. Tony's Pizza Palace here I come.

snow shrouded spruce

2007-11-12T23:41:00.001-07:00

snow shrouded spruce
Originally uploaded by alison fell

Last year at this time, we had snow. We had so much snow, you couldn't walk though it without getting coated up to your knees.

What happened? This year, we've got nothing. Well, okay, not NOTHING, but the light dusting we did get is 100% gone now, and the piles of dead leaves are still hanging out on my lawn waiting for my roommate to get up the gumption to collect them.

I want snow. I miss snow. We need snow.

no. 2: expansion on a yoga meditation

2007-11-06T22:08:00.000-07:00

I skipped yoga last week. Actually, I think I skipped yoga the past two weeks. It's not something I'm too pleased about, but sometimes things just come up and inhibit ones ability to a) concentrate on yoga or b) fit yoga in to the rest of the weekly demands. So I skipped it. As a result, returning to it this week was very, VERY good for me. Despite my shaky beginnings, I was starting to feel more confident in Warrior poses I and III as the class went on. Warrior, being one of my favourite poses, always makes me feel good, but it also always challenges me. Warrior I is my least favourite of the warrior poses, arching my back is never the funnest experience, admittedly. But it is good to challenge yourself, and to do things you dislike now and again. I like to think it teaches perseverance, patience and a greater relishing of that which one does like. Warrior II, which we didn't do today, tends to be my favourite, though III could usurp, we'll see.

II has this way of centering me, of making me really focus on the here and now, but only because I've become conscious of its potential TO do that. I am the kind of person who likes to dwell on things, and likes to daydream. My head is either stuck in the clouds of what could be or what has passed and why I didn't do things differently. In Warrior II, one is supposed to, figuratively, be in the present - centering the head and body over the hips, in the center of two planted feet - and I'm always skewed in one direction or the other... unless I'm paying full attention. II is much like my thoughts: unless I am paying absolute attention, my mind is bound to wander in one direction or the other at the drop of a hat, and I am constantly having to pull myself back to center from the 'past' or the 'future' to think about the here and now. Warrior I doesn't have that complex challenge of balancing the past and future while staying rooted in the present. For me, Warrior I is all about the present, and III was all about flying.

Anyway, that is not my intended point of discussion. I intended to comment more on what came after the evolution of Warrior poses during class, during Savasana (corpse pose) and the subsequent seated meditation. Our instructor has us think on a couple things, meditating on each one at a time and then "letting them go" into the stillness of our minds. [It has taken me four years of practice (wavering, faltering, unbelievably unfaithful practice) to attain the tiniest modicum of stillness, and it is something I cherish.] She asked us the following today:

What do I like?
What am I thankful for?
Who am I?

Now, this SHOULD be easy. "What do I like?" I don't know. Lying there, supported by the floor, I was awash with... nothing. Images of leaves falling, water rushing over rocks, fresh air swept by but nothing solid came of it. My mind often fails to connect the tangible with concrete ideas. I'm sure the other people (we'd been given a little lesson on the "what do you like about your practice" angle earlier in class) were thinking "I really like downward dog" or "I like having chocolate cake for dessert," meanwhile, all I thought was "there are leaves falling." "What am I thankful for?" was admittedly easier, but I had to force myself to come up with something. My mind had a tug-of-war with intention. While I was being directed to think about thankfulness, my mental images were moving from falling leaves to water and breezes blowing off the water, through the grass and into my face. Eventually, we (my mind and me) came to the conclusion that friends (just the ones I truly love) and family are worthy of being thankful, setting aside the breeze and falling leaves, at least for a moment or two. And then the final meditative question, the one she leaves us with every class, and the one I always seem to come upon with a blank: "Who am I?" I am... falling leaves in a light breeze? Torn between the past and my future? She, in addition to the three questions she asked today, often has us center ourselves on our true being, that piece of us that has always been the same, never changing through everything we've experienced, from birth to present-day. That me is a little hellion of a smiling girl, obstinate and grinning widely as she races along.

But who I am? I don't know. Am I falling leaves in a light breeze? Am I a failure to turn thoughts into a tangible reality? Now THAT actually could make sense. Or maybe I'm just a cowardly student, nose pressed too tightly to the books to notice the world around me, and the opportunities I'm being presented. I am a masters student, I study trees, one particular species of tree, under very specific conditions, but trees all the same. And I do that, and I work on teaching ecology to other people. I say "work" because there's no way I'm good at it the way I am doing things right now. What else is there? I am a knitter. I like to think I'm a decent friend (though, of late, that's come into question as I become more and more cranky and hermit-like). I don't know. It's more than I could ask myself in one yoga session, perhaps more than I could ask myself in a year of constant yoga. Who am I? A fearful optimistic pessimist? Someone in need of a good talking-to? In desperate need of a change?

My conclusion for the meantime: A stubborn, obnoxious little girl still stuck dwelling on the past while I mull over options for the future, forgetting all the while that the present needs to be lived. I think I need to work on my Warrior some more.

no. 1: beginnings

2007-11-04T12:04:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's appropriate enough, here I am, starting a blog at the beginning of November, shortly after the pagan new year festival (Samhain). A time of renewal and beginnings, as apt as any, I guess. And one I sorely need. October was as dark and dreary a month as possible. Now, in truth, I shouldn't complain. The weather was glorious for a Canadian autumn. Not a wisp of snow, and barely a day that hovered near freezing, let alone below. Yet, the snowless, dry brown ground left me wishing for the depths of winter, the stark whiteness and brightness of glorious snow banks. Even hoar frost would have made me delighted, but nothing. Nothing until now. The first Sunday of November, and we have snow. Impermanent as it is, the beautiful virgin whiteness of it is breathtaking.

And it provides a source of renewal for me. Even without the much-needed Daylight Savings Time we've finally gained, snow gives me a boost. The glow, the freshness, everything about it (yes, even the shovelling) invigorates and encourages me. I only wish there was more. I'm sure, as I continue with this blog, there will be many posts about how I'm trying to move forward, how I'm trying to build on my life and my capabilities, and how I'm interacting with my environment. The environment is rather at the forefront for me, in my life. I study trees, and I have studied the environment for a decent collection of years now. The snow, to me, is a reprieve... for everything. The soil has not frozen here, and thankfully the sun will melt what little snow we've gained, and the moisture will visit the sorely starving tree roots deep down in the soil. Desperately starving in this autumn drought that's been delightfully easy for us humans, and incredibly hard on the trees.

At any rate, I must get going, I will likely be a weekly poster (depending on the demands of the rest of my life), on everything from knitting and kitchen experiments to environmental policy and my attempts at greening-up my life.