When all the noise fades away

Friends. Coffee. Sunshine. Work. Good news. The past three days have simply been good. And that is something I haven't been able to say as frequently as I would like lately, so it has been extra delightful for all of the noise in my life to fade away for a bit so that I could just enjoy myself.

Hard Choices

Decisions. I am not good at them. And I seem to have found myself in a position where no matter what I choose it feels wrong. Of course, this also means that no matter what I choose it feels right. I am not sure what to do with this. Unfortunately my trusty pro-con lists are failing me. They balance out, making them as unhelpful as consulting the ocean and its ever-changing tides or looking for the truth in the strange combination of seagrass and acorns.

Old Haunts

Despite the fact that I am technically living in Halifax now, I seem to be spending a lot of time in Wolfville. I miss the place. Also, Halifax and I are having a rough go of it, so I often want to escape and try and think things through. And, of course, I have no desire to spend my days off in a mouse-infested apartment, and Wolfville seems like as good a place as any to get away rom that situation. I had a couple of days off at the end of the Thanksgiving weekend and came out here. My friend's family adopted me for dinner on the Monday night, and basically for all eternity with an open invitation to stay there any time I want, and it was lovely to be around a family. On the Tuesday evening I wandered down to the train tracks with my camera, and it felt like a homecoming. The light was beginning to fade, but the colours of the turning leaves were incredible, and I spent about an hour walking and taking photos. Sometimes going back to old haunts is exactly what I need. Although I am slowly acquiring new haunts in Halifax, it is a long and arduous process. It's nice to have a place to come back to where I can just slide back in effortlessly.

I should probably apologize if this post isn't the most coherent thing ever. I'm deep into SSHRC proposal writing and have very little brain power left for anything else.

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.

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.

Impromptu

An impromptu photo-taking trip to an abandoned barn with A this afternoon. I am really going to miss that girl.

Drowning

I am drowning in a metaphorical sea of secondary sources right now. For every source I read, I find three more that I ought to read, so my "to read" list is growing rather than shrinking. And despite the fact that this list is ever-growing, I have read so many books and articles at this point that I can no longer remember who said what.

I'm hoping that the feeling of being completely overwhelmed and the regular occurrence of mental breakdowns means that I'm at least sort of on track to finish this thing around when I'm supposed to.

Let's go on an adventure!

Thursday and Friday were full of adventures, which made for a rather delightful end to a week full of theory readings for my thesis. On Friday three of us jumped in the car on a sunshine-y blue-skies day, rolled down the windows and went for a drive. We originally intended to find one particular spot that we've heard really good things about, but instead we ended up getting lost and just driving around. Along the way we found this building that was absolutely falling apart, so we stopped to take some photos.

These are the kind of outings I associate with summer. Good friends, good weather, and nowhere in particular to be. I'm hoping for a lot more of these kinds of afternoons this summer.

Things That Might Go Wrong

Things That Might Go Wrong

John Steffler

I was trained to be cautious:

my father always there

two steps ahead of my every move:

"If you hold it like that it'll slip....

Now what are you going to do with it?...

I saw a guy try that once and it tore off his arm."

But I go beyond such rote-learned caution.

I am creatively cautious, exquisitely

sensitive to things that might go wrong.

Quicker than any computer my mind

scoots down dozens of possible turns events might take,

spotting the dangers,

clucking warnings automatically as a hen.

Now, lying in bed, I listen as

my young daughter goes to feed the dog.

Not in his water bowl! I think to yell.

Such a nag, I tell myself.

Always your fretful plaint rotting everything.

Poor kid.

Still free. Purely happy getting his food.

Keep out of it.

You'll make her hate you in the end,

look back some day and see

you were the hole that let in doubt and fear.

Even when there's no rattle of dry dog food,

even when I hear the dog slurping his breakfast

I don't say a word.

I lie grinning, victorious,

having checked all the dangers

and dodged the worst.

All of your wallowing is unbecoming

Come Back Down
Greg Laswell (feat. Sara Bareilles)

Come on now you good friends, are you waiting this one out
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
Look around you, you're the only one dragging this out
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of your wallowing is unbecoming
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here

What you set out to kill off has been gone some time now
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
Head out any further and you might just forget how
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of your wallowing is unbecoming
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here

All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of you wallowing is unbecoming
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here
You've gotta take it on your own from here
It's getting pathetic
And I'm almost done here
You've gotta take it on your own from here
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down
You've gotta come back down


If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I like my singer/songwriter artists, and that I am a serious fan of Sara Bareilles. So, I ask you what could be better than one of my favourite singer/songwriters teaming up with Sara Bareilles? Pretty much nothing. Plus, at this point in the term, sometimes I could use a reminder not to wallow. And frankly I would rather hear it from Greg and Sara than from someone else.

A little somethin' somethin'

It's my birthday in 3 minutes!


Just a little somethin' somethin' for you all to enjoy. This is one of my favourite shots from a photo walk I took in early December.

Can't Go Back Now

Can't Go Back Now
The Weepies

Yesterday when you were young
Everything you needed done was done for you
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone, what can you do?

You, and me, walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

You know there will be days
When you're so tired that you can't take another step
The night will have no stars
And you will think you've gone as far as you will ever get

You, and me, walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

Yeah, yeah
Go where you want to go
Yeah, yeah
Be what you want to be
If you ever turn around
You'll see me

I can't really say
Why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end the only steps that matter
Are the ones you take all by yourself

And you, and me, walk on, walk on, walk on
Yeah, you, and me, walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can' go back now


I think if I had to pick a theme song for 2012, it would probably be this one.

Last One Standing

I am now the only person in my program at school. It was never a big program, but the other two, for very good reasons, left over Christmas break. This was a weird realization, and to be quite honest the reality of it hasn't totally set in yet. I'm trying to make the best of it. After all, it's not like there is anything I can do. I just have to keep on trucking. But I'm also feeling a little bit exposed and insecure and just a little bit scared. I've always relied a little bit on my fellow students to keep my sane and grounded. There have always been people who could commiserate over stress levels, and that always made me feel less crazy. There have always been people to talk me down from the precipice of full-on panic attacks. So going it solo is a bit scary. It's like having the training wheels taken off before I'm really ready.

Hello Grad School

Hello grad school, I'm Breanna. You're a bit scary, but I think I like you.

I kind of ripped that sentiment off from a friend. He just started law school, and wrote the same thing (substitute law school for grad school) as his facebook status. It made such perfect sense to me that I had to steal it for here. I hope he doesn't mind.

Orientation was Tuesday. Met some great people. Even though I was completely overwhelmed by all of the stuff I am required to do, in the end I am feeling far more positive about this whole experience. The excitement-fear balance is now tipped toward excitement.

Looking Crazy

I took this photo on my sojourn to Waterfront Park, before I started throwing rocks in the mud. As I was standing there taking photos a guy who was walking his dog came up to me and, with no preamble, said "Once you've seen one mud flat haven't you seen them all?" I explained I was taking a photo of these bolts and we laughed about it, but I didn't explain that I had indeed just spent the last 15 minutes of the mud flats. Who would have guessed that wandering down to the mud flats would garner so many stories?


This little exchange left me thinking. How often do people see me taking photos and think I'm totally crazy? Even I occasionally think I must look crazy. I enjoy looking at things in new and different ways that others might not see. If this makes me a little crazy at times, then so be it. Especially if the result is a shot like this one.

Nine

So, if you follow me on facebook, allow me to apologize now because many of the photos I'm posting on here will probably be things you've already seen. Hopefully you are okay with this. And maybe you'll see some of these photos in a new way, or I'll pull out something that didn't strike you when flipping through the photos. Who knows?

The other day I wandered down to Waterfront Park, which right now isn't waterfront at all. It's basically a bunch of mud. It was still pretty cool though. I was sitting there, reading a book and sipping a coffee when this little girl came up to me and asked me to watch her stuffed dog for her. I said she could leave it on the bench with me and I would make sure it stayed safe. Well, she was really chatty and before long I knew she was nine and lived a couple of streets away. She was spending her afternoon doing something particularly kid-like: throwing rocks into mud. She would clamber down the sides of the pit and grab some rocks, haul them up to the lookout point and then throw them over the edge into the mud. She loved the sound it made and the way the mud splattered really far when she made a good shot. She also really loved the big rocks. I was amazed by the size of some of the ones she was moving. I mean, this kid is nine and she was picking these ridiculous rocks and then refused to give up before she actually got them to the lookout deck. Before long she had roped me into helping her. So for the next hour or so, the two of us climbed around gathering rocks and then throwing them into the mud. I felt a little silly at first, but then I started to enjoy myself. Sometimes as adults we forget how much fun the most random activities can be. We feel weird. We wonder whether we should be doing this, whether we could get in trouble for it. Sometimes it's good to let loose and just throw some rocks into some mud.

Also, something about how this girl talked and the fact that she was nine (and therefore turning ten sometime) made me think of "On Turning Ten" by Billy Collins. I could just imagine her saying the things in that poem. Maybe that is part of why I was uncharacteristically comfortable spending the afternoon with her; it felt a bit as if we were kindred spirits of a kind.

Here I Am

Well, here it is. The reason I have moved across the country. 

I have arrived, vacationed, and returned. And I now have internet! Although I don't yet have furniture, and let me tell you that an air mattress is not the best all-purpose piece of furniture.

Today I wandered around campus and took pictures. It is so gorgeous. The architecture actually made me tear up. I am starting to get that tingly excited feeling about going back to school. Eeeeeeee! (That was a squeal of excitement in case you couldn't tell.)

The Smallest Things

It is rarely the big decisions that affect us. It is, more often than not, the little ones.

We sit there sweating over the list of pros and cons, about whether we should live in the country or the city, buy the Apple or the PC, take this job or that one. We fret, and agonize, and come to terms with what we think, and then fret some more, and change our minds, and then, finally, we take a big deep breath and come downstairs one morning and announce what we are going to do. And we think it is so big, and important, and monumental, and earth-shattering. And it isn’t. Not one little bit. Everything changes and then - nothing changes.

It is never the move to the country or the decision to have kids that change everything. It is the dinner parties. The little things that you didn’t think twice about. It is the girl you sit beside on the bus without even noticing - the bus ride you took on a whim.

The big things, it turns out, are in the small things - the ones you can neither prepare for nor plan.

And what should we do about that? Nothing, it seems. Mostly, I think, it means we should relax and go with the flow or, better, with our hears. Our hearts know the way, and the trick, it seems, is to follow our hearts. Because if we do, everything will work out all right in the end. And if it doesn’t? Well, you know the answer to that. That just means it’s not the end.

("Small Decisions," Stuart McLean)

Finding comfort in these words as my life tiptoes towards massive change. This is one of the things I love most about literature: it's unparalleled ability to speak directly to the circumstances of your life whatever they may be. The importance of small things should not be lost on me, a lover of all things tiny, like these bitty blue flowers that were growing in Cape Breton last time I was there.

Hit the road, Jack

Well, in just under 9 hours I will be hitting the road in the pre-dawn darkness as choir tour kicks off. I'm actually pretty excited. I'll be gone for the next 5 days and there won't be anything new on here. If you are feeling really deprived and are missing my virtual presence, why not check out wander through the archives?

Ten Things...Let's get out of this town

In general, my flight instinct is a lot stronger than my fight instinct. As soon as things get hard, I want out. Life gets stressful and I start dreaming about being anywhere else. This is only compounded by the fact that I really do love to travel. Consequently, I spend a good amount of time thinking about being other places. I daydream about what my life would be like if I lived somewhere else. This longing for other places often finds its way onto the blog. Here's ten posts that reflect a yearning to just get out of this town (and, yes, that is a reference to the Carrie Underwood song):

1. Wanderlust
2. I love the places I ain't ever been to
3. Sometimes I feel I've got to run away
4. Daydreams of Paris
5. The Siren Song of the City
6. The Power of Suggestion
7. Sunset on the Harbour
8. Getaway Car
9. When words fail
10. Fields