Parallel Universe

I'd been rehearsing this moment for hours, and I had outlined a hundred different scenarios. Mr. Jensen once tried to tell us that there existed somewhere a set of parallel universes, unreachable but real, where every possibility came true; whatever didn't happen here happened somewhere else, each option unfolding in a separate universe. But in this one world, at least, the outcome that morning was reduced finally to just this one version. 

-- Karen Thompson Walker, The Age of Miracles

Maybe in some parallel universe there is a Breanna who lives in an apartment that doesn't make her cry on a daily basis. Sadly, it isn't this one.

Halifax, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

Okay, to be fair, it isn't so much the city that is bringing me down. In fact, I really do love this city. It's more like my apartment. Not even the whole apartment, really just the mouse problem. When I say mouse problem it sounds like we have one mouse. We don't. We have several. We have a mice problem. I kid you not, while editing the photo for this post I saw two scurrying through our hallway. This was a slight improvement over finding one in my breadbag last week (try picking up a loaf of bread to make a lunch for work the next day and finding a small beady-eyed rodent staring at you from inside the plastic...actually, on second thought, don't do that, it is a rather scarring experience), but is still not really okay with me. I've tried naming them, since this was a suggestion someone gave me when it came to dealing with the spiders that really liked my last apartment and it actually proved to be a useful tactic. It's not really proving so effective with the mice though. Harold, Tom Thumb, Hunka Munka...really, I just don't want to be living with them. On the bright side, I am writing this post with a poodle sitting in my lap, and while she doesn't actually care about the mice until they are dead, I feel slightly more confident as long as she is nearby.

The Brutal Mechanics

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Cow Head. The sign briefly points, a small road branching, winding among dunes and I want to follow it, imagining long-legged piers, sand spits trailing houses into the sea, but the pavement unrolls smoothly pulling me north, motion itself a tunnel, a spell, and I miss the turn, my chance of seeing Cow Head the way so many chances beckon flickering past, the streams, the little graveyards fenced with sticks, and high on a gravel beach a man spreading nets, his single boat perched on a spruce pole ramp and I want to talk to him, follow into his words, find him alone at dawn launching himself off the earth's edge, I could do it, stop here, let this be the spot it starts, rock, sea opening to whatever they really hold, but I don't, he's gone and I'm still zooming on, the car packed with bedding boots maps and the camera ready for use, I take the hills and valleys in a swoop as though the force it took to tear me away from home has not yet spent itself, and I just grip the wheel and go.

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The brutal mechanics of having a wish come true.

(John Steffler, The Grey Islands)

Sometimes life is hard. This is not the same as saying that it is bad. In fact, sometimes the hardest things in life turn out to be the best for us. The past month has been hard. Really hard. There have been adjustments, and setbacks, and rejections. There have been failures, and sickness, and sadness. There have been heartwrenching situations with friends, the kind where there is nothing I can do, but I want so badly to be able to do something. I think pretty much every day I say (usually out loud), "I don't want to be a grown up." I have, at times, wondered why I didn't just move back to Edmonton.

Don't get the wrong idea. It's not like my life has become some kind of catastrophe. There have been moments of exquisite happiness, and love, and wonder. There has been satisfaction, and contentment, and the feeling of being in the right place. There have been some excellent times with friends. And when all else has failed, there has been a dog to make me feel incredibly loved. Every time I drive the highway between Halifax and Wolfville, or take a walk near the ocean, I say (usually out loud), "I love living here." I have, at times, wanted to stay here forever.

It's been a while. And honestly, this blog might become much more sporadic. And it might become something entirely different than it is right now. I've been mulling some things over in regard to it, so we will see what shape it takes as time goes on. My life is shifting a lot right now, so it seems only appropriate that the blog shifts right along with it.

Hazy, Lazy, Crazy Days

I'm kind of over summer. I want to wear sweaters, and flannel, and pants. This  happens every year at this time. I'm such an autumn addict that I always long for it before it is really seasonally appropriate to do so. I am also like this with Christmas.

However, if I must be subjected to summer for an appropriate length of time (at least according to some people), I would like it to look like this. A lake, and a book, and a dog, and some friends, and a camera. We escaped from the responsibilities of theses for an hour or two yesterday afternoon, and I got this shot. I love it. When I think of late summer, this is the kind of sun-soaked, hazy image I come up with.

Give Me Fog

If I had to pick a favourite weather-related phenomenon, it would probably be fog. I think it is simply gorgeous. Every time I come across it I feel as if my heart and soul are deeply satisfied. There are very few weather patterns that do this for me. I am not one of those people who always wants sunshine and heat, I only enjoy snow for brief periods of time, biting cold is only okay when I can curl up inside with friends or a book, rain is wonderful until I have to walk a long way...but fog, fog and I are always friends. Sure, it wreaks havoc with my hair, but I love it anyway. I love the mystery of it. I love the comfort of it. I love the staggering beauty of it.

When I left the pub last night the entire town was blanketed in fog. It was beautiful, and I wished with everything in me that I had my camera with me. Since I didn't, I just walked home as slowly as possible, enjoying every second of it.

Tiny Concrete Slab

There is something about summer evenings that just calls for time spent relaxing outside. Unfortunately, I really have no outdoor space to speak of here. My door opens into a little parking lot behind the house. I do have a tiny square of concrete though, and I have taken to treating it like a porch. I haul a dining room chair out there and read or write or talk on the phone. Tonight I decided that the addition of some candles would be a good idea, so I got some cheap tea lights and put them in some mason jars. They are rather gorgeous actually, and I have become a big fan. Plus, super budget-friendly. I'm excited for the new place though, since it actually has a deck. I'm excited to sit out there as summer winds down and fall rolls in. For now, I am happy with my tiny concrete slab and my mason jar candles.

Sudden Downpour

Today was a day punctuated by sudden downpours. These were the kind of short-lived soakings that normally only happen in movies. They are the reason people speak about the heavens opening up. Part of me wanted to run out into the street, stand in the deluge and let myself get soaked. I don't know why.