Sometimes little details can make even the most mundane things pretty...
So, this is a rather disjointed post, but it has some important information, so bear with me.
HERE'S THE REALLY IMPORTANT NEWS: As the final step in the "rebranding" of my blog, I am finally changing my URL. It is going to be changing to http://breanna-girl.blogspot.com as of Sunday. So, if you read this blog on a regular basis and want to keep doing so, I suggest you update your bookmarks, etc. Don't worry. I'll remind you again before it happens.
In other, less pressing news, I just started a second blog which is more focused on my writing. Having a photography blog has been so great for my practice of photography, that I figured having a writing-related blog might do the same for my writing. I'm inspired by Ring Them Bells, so it's going to be a bit of a hodgepodge, but I think it shall be lovely. You can expect some mini creative pieces, some of my own poetry (so rarely shared on here), random thoughts in very particular language, links to things you need to read or watch or look at...basically anything creative that I can't quite get to fit on this blog.
I know I'm at Just Us too much (or, perhaps, just enough) because...
The baristas know my drink order. Including the ones who have been there less than 3 months.
I have no problem just working without buying a coffee if I bought a coffee to go earlier in the day. Similarly, I have no problem buying one coffee and then staying for several hours.
When it isn't busy, one of the baristas will bring my drink to my table rather than just call it out.
I am willing to leave all of my stuff, including my computer and camera, unattended while I run home to get something I forgot.
Oh the perils of having a fantastic coffee shop nearby...
I bought some watercolour pencils last week and have been having so much fun playing around with them. Last night I decided to make some of my experiments into little note cards to send to friends via snail mail. I have a pretty big collection of stationary already, but there is something extra sweet about sending something handmade.
It has basically been summer here the last couple of days. Today I got my latte iced and it was delightful.
I've never really liked spring, but for some reason, this year, I'm basking in it.
The grass is getting greener, the coffee shop garage door has been open for several days in a row, and all of us who have been hiding in our apartments and offices and houses are beginning to emerge into the sunshine.
There's something magical about the first days of spring. The sun starts to warm up, the breeze becomes gentler, and suddenly the nice is unleashed in people. Not that this is abnormal in Nova Scotia. People are just plain friendly here. More on that another day.
It's odd though. Not having slogged through a horrendous winter this year, I feel as if somehow we haven't earned all of this.
My hold on sanity is a bit tenuous lately. I'm living on a latte and a prayer.
[In case you aren't a musical theatre dork and therefore the reference is lost on you: the phrase "living on a latte and a prayer" comes from "Just Another Day" in Next to Normal]
Walking was not fast enough, so we ran. Running was not fast enough, so we galloped. Galloping was not fast enough, so we sailed. Sailing was not fast enough, so we rolled merrily along on long metal tracks. Long metal tracks were not fast enough, so we drove. Driving was not fast enough, so we flew.
Flying isn't fast enough, not fast enough for us. We want to get there faster. Get where? Wherever we are not. But a human soul can only go as fast as a man can walk, they used to say. In that case, where are all the souls? Left behind. They wander here and there, slowly, dim lights flickering in the marshes at night, looking for us. But they're not nearly fast enough, not for us, we're way ahead of them, they'll never catch up. That's why we can go so fast: our souls don't weigh us down.
-- Margaret Atwood (Found courtesy of a dear friend.)
I write to Gabby about how I wish I could just take everyone I love with me wherever I go, and how it feels like my heart is scattered across the country. She writes back with words of understanding and wisdom: "I know the feelings that are torn between place and people though...if I could pile up all the ones I love and cart them away to my farm in Ontario, I'd be in Heaven on earth. The very idea of it almost hurts it would be so fantastic. But I will stay here, you will stay in Nova Scotia (for the time being, at least!), and my family will stay in Ontario, and we will continue to feel our hearts torn between places. Because that is the path that we have chosen, and one of the burdens we must bear."
I find myself missing Montreal. I find myself missing Wolfville when I'm not here. I find myself missing Alberta. I find myself missing Toronto, and Paris, and Dublin, and London. Sometimes I find myself missing places I have never been.
I constantly want to be somewhere else. Yet, I constantly want to be exactly where I am. I constantly miss people. Yet, I wouldn't want to leave the people I have here in order to be back with the people I have left.
I wonder what all this torn-ness is doing to my heart, to my soul.
