Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Last night I had the weirdest stress dream I have ever had. It involved participating in a group heist at a dance hall, being arrested by fake cops and taken to a jail which was actually a bar that we had to work in, having people try to force me to eat food I can't have, secret doors in bathrooms, and uncovering the fact that this was all an elaborate ruse to try to get me to buy the bar. There was a lot of running and screaming at people in the dream, and when I woke up I felt like I had spent the night running and screaming rather than sleeping. Not ideal.

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It's been a while.

I needed to get some distance from this blog, I think. Also, what little time I have between work, school, and a couple of other projects, usually finds me too tired to do much more than watch TV. And sometimes even that is too much and I just end up sitting and staring into space.

There are some big and exciting changes rolling out soon in terms of my photography. When's soon? When the big hand hits the 's' and the little hand hits the 'oon.' Bonus points if you get that reference. Honestly, I can't give you a firm date, and for now I'll still be here. Posting sporadically. Hopefully that's okay with y'all.

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Also, I really like this picture. Just, you know, in case you were wondering.

Twenty Thirteen

Generally speaking, I'm not one for resolutions and goals. Too often, I feel like chasing a dream is also chasing failure, and the risk is just too great.

I like Rachel of elephantine's approach though: listing things I'm looking forward to. It's kind of like a goal list, but feels a little different to me. So, in 2013 I am looking forward to:

Finishing my thesis. (I will do this, and it will feel fantastic when it is done.)
Opening an Etsy shop. (I'm finally just going to go for it.)
Starting a PhD program. (I really hope so!)
Getting serious about writing a novel. (I haven't told too many people about this one, but there it is. I'm working on a novel.)
Publishing some poetry. (Hopefully in more than just school-based publications.)
Taking up French again. (Super excited about this one.)
Learning more about photography. (My brother gave me a new camera lens for Christmas - whaaaaaaaat?!?! - and I want to take Apple & Arrow's lighting course.)
Travelling to Europe in the spring. (Dear budget, please allow this.)

2013, I have high hopes for you. Let's do this thing.

So find Dodge and then get out of it

That old restlessness is back, making my heart flutter like a caged bird.

Although perhaps that is more related to my cold than my wanderlust.

The Brutal Mechanics

•  

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.

•  

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.

Creative Deadzone

When I posted today's reading over on She Had Always Wanted Words, I wrote about how I have been in a bit of a creative deadzone lately. It happens every so often. Life just takes over and I find myself filling my time with laundry and grocery shopping and phone calls to the government - not to mention my thesis work and some social activities - and suddenly I just don't have the energy for creativity. It's not a lack of desire. It's more like a physical paralysis. I will sit and think, "I have some time. I should do something creative. Like write. Or paint. Or play piano." But it is as if the message doesn't translate from my brain to my limbs. Or maybe it gets lost, distracted by something shiny along the way. Who knows.

Anyway, the point of this post is not the deadzone itself, but getting out of it. It's been a slow process this time around. An afternoon walking on the beach and hiking in the woods which made me wish I had my camera in hand started it off. Then listening to a lot of Vinyl Cafe podcasts while wrapped in my favourite blankets and drinking peppermint tea. And finally discovering, thanks to said podcasts, the work of Michael Flomen. Stuart tells the story of visiting Michael Flomen's farm and seeing him work. He explains that he was introduced to Michael by a mutual friend who, when recommending Stuart go visit Michael explained, "He takes pictures without a camera...of things we cannot see." And, as Stuart says, "who can pass up something like that?" I certainly couldn't, and subsequently spent a blissful hour exploring some of his astounding images while listening to Katie Melua. And that was it. That was what finally jolted my creative muscles out of their paralysis. It feels good to be back.

For Most of My Life

I was having fun playing around with this photo, and I really like how this version turned out.

I don't really have all that much to say right now.

I haven't been sleeping well. I crawl into bed thinking I am so tired and am going to have an awesome sleep, and then, no matter how exhausted I have felt all day, no matter how long or busy my day was, I can't fall asleep. I've taken to listening to audio books - mostly children's stories: Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, The Chronicles of Narnia - in an effort to help myself fall asleep. I need something for my mind to focus on so that it will stop thinking so loudly. When I told my mother this, she said, "It reminds me of when we used to play music for you to fall asleep as a kid." I'd forgotten this little biographical fact. I distinctly remember though, that a) I couldn't fall asleep without listening to something, and b) there were nights when the tape would finish before I fell asleep, and I really hated that. Apparently, insomnia, like perfectionism, has been plaguing me for most of my life.

Apparently, I had more to say than I thought.

Flesh-knowledge

I want to feel what my father felt, Avery repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed on the Nile, what the marmisti know, what the blind man knows when he's on Ramses' knee. What my mother calls 'flesh-knowledge.' It's not enough for your mind to believe in something, your body must believe it too. If I hadn't witnessed  this particular pleasure in my father when I was a child perhaps I wouldn't feel the lack of it. But I do. I can imagine what a chemist feels when he looks in a microscope, how his mind can practically touch what he sees. Or a physicist who can feel an equation tearing molecules apart along the shear, like tearing a handful of bread from a loaf. Or the tension in a meniscus. The closest understanding I have of this is when I look at a building. I feel the consequences of each choice; how the volume works, how the building eats teh space it inhabits, even how it carries its ruins.-- Anne Michaels, The Winter Vault

I love it when authors articulate things for me in such an eloquent way. Because, honestly, despite being someone who adores language and has chosen it as her life's work, sometimes it refuses to do what I want it to or need it to. I love this description of the physicality of any sensation. It's something I know to be true for myself.

A Chandelier in Pieces

Lot 666, then. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained. We're told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it, and wired parts of it for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination. Gentlemen...

I watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera last Saturday with a friend, and was once again reminded just how much I adore the opening sequence to that movie. I get chills every single time I watch it.

Ps. No, that is not a picture of a chandelier, much less one in pieces. (Although, how cool would that be to photograph? Seriously, now I need to find a chandelier that is falling apart to take pictures of.) It's actually a close up of an old lighthouse signal light that is displayed in the Maritime Museum in Halifax. It's probably one of my favourite things in the museum.

Pickups

When I titled this post I was thinking of the word "pickup" as a play on a musical pickup (as in, "from the pickup to bar 32") and the notion of a pick-me-up. But then I realized just how many different word plays I could do with it, and, being from Alberta, I felt it was only appropriate to work in a pickup truck. Especially if it could be an old farm truck. Mission accomplished.

I've been writing a paper lately. Or, rather, I've been wrestling with a paper. And quite frankly, it has been kicking my butt. Seriously. Every time I think I've gotten the best of it, it throws a nasty left hook my way and catches me completely off guard. Oh well. It has to be handed in in only a few hours, so it will be done with soon enough. Normally while I'm writing I am big on folky singer/songwriter music. Or jazz. Or classical. But today I needed something upbeat and catchy. Something I could dance in my seat to. So I put together a little play list and thought I would share it with all of you. Just in case you need a pickup while you're working on end of the semester projects, or studying for exams. Or, if you are one of the lucky ones, celebrating the end of classes. I thought about doing this on Grooveshark or 8Tracks or something, but then I realized that a lot of these songs have awesome videos, so I just stuck with good old YouTube.

Lonely Boy - The Black Keys
This song never fails to get me dancing.

Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen 
It's. Just. So. Catchy. And the video is pretty funny.

Don't Let Your Feet Touch Ground - Ash Koley 
I dare you not to feel happier after listening to this song.

Stadium Love - Metric
You can't go wrong with Metric. I've had the Fantasies album has been on repeat today.

Home - Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes
Just enough country twang for me to love it.

Here It Goes Again - OK Go
An oldie, but a goodie. Plus, dancing on treadmills. (This might be what I imagine doing every time I'm at the gym.)

Hush Hush - Natalie Portman's Shaved Head
Another never-fails-to-make-me-dance-like-a-fool song.

Slow Motion Machine Gun - Pearl and the Beard
The ending to this song is such fun.

Black Horse and the Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall
I will always love this song.

Come Back Down - Greg Laswell (feat. Sara Bareilles)
I might be slightly obsessed with this song. And I might sing along to it every time it comes on.

Angels - The Wooden Sky
Love the foot-stomping opening. Love the tempo change.

King of Anything - Sara Bareilles
This is basically my theme song.

Vanishing Points

Maybe we are all moving toward our own personal vanishing points.

This implies a moment of dissolution, of being lost. It implies incompletion, the impossibility of finitude. It implies forward motion. And it's the motion that I'm beginning to think is important rather than the being found or complete.

Just because it's pretty

This photo has nothing to do with anything really. I just like it.


I thought I should drop in here and let you all know that I'm not dead. I'm just a student rapidly approaching the end of the semester. And since I'm trying to maintain a social life for the sake of my sanity, I've been a bit busy lately.

Let me hold your crown, babe

King of Anything
Sara Bareilles

Keep drinking coffee
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside

So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by

You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked

So let me thank you for your time
And try not to waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast

I hate to break it to you, babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save

Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So, you dare tell me who to be?
Who died
And made you king of anything?

You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
Swear you know best

But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
And ride off into your delusional sunset

I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction
But you'll never see

You're so busy making maps
With my name on them in all caps
You've got the talking down, just not the listening

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So, you dare tell me who to be?
Who died
And made you king of anything?

All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waiting for someone to tell me
It's my turn to decide

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So, you dare tell me who to be?
Who died
And made you king of anything?

Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So, you dare tell me who to be?
Who died
And made you king of anything?

Let me hold your crown, babe


Ever have a song that became a kind of anthem for you? That's what this song is for me. I listen to it on repeat. I dance around my apartment and sing along to it. If I had to pick a theme song that would play whenever I entered a room I think I would have to pick this one. Not because I totally don't care what anyone thinks of me, but because every time I listen to I'm reminded that I don't have to care what everyone else thinks of me. As lame as that sounds, it's something I'm still figuring out. Although, I've gotten a lot better lately. Some of my friends back home would probably be a little bit surprised to see me out here.

Meanwhile

I'm a big fan of the background, the stuff that isn't the centre of attention. I'm the kind of person who looks at the groom when the bride enters the church. The kind of person who will start laughing over a typo on a sign no one else is looking at. The kind of person who photographs light fixtures at a wedding reception. These chandeliers at M & E's wedding reception were stunning. Since I'm someone with a penchant for vintage, a love of luxury, and an adoration of light, these are pretty much my dream light fixtures.

Coffee and Oranges

Sunday Morning
Wallace Stevens

I

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound,
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.

II

Why should she give her bounty to the dead?
What is divinity if it can come
Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright, green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?
Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measures destined for her soul.

III

Jove in the clouds had his inhuman birth.
No mother suckled him, no sweet land gave
Large-mannered motions to his mythy mind.
He moved among us, as a muttering king
Magnificent, would move among his hinds,
Until our blood, commingling, virginal,
With heaven, brought such requital to desire
The very hinds discerned it, in a star.
Shall our blood fail? Or shall it come to be
The blood of paradise? And shall the earth
Seem all of paradise that we shall know?
The sky will be much friendlier then than now,
A part of labor and a part of pain,
And next in glory to enduring love,
Not this dividing and indifferent blue.

IV

She says, "I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;
But when the birds are gone, and their warm fields
Return no more, where, then, is paradise?"
There is not any haunt of prophesy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evening, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.

V

She says, "But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss."
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.

VI

Is there no change of death in paradise?
Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,
Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,
With rivers like our own that seek for seas
They never find, the same receding shores
That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Why set the pear upon those river banks
Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our colors there,
The silken weavings of our afternoons,
And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!
Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,
Within whose burning bosom we devise
Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.

VII

Supple and turbulent, a ring of men
Shall chant in orgy on a summer morn
Their boisterous devotion to the sun,
Not as a god, but as a god might be,
Naked among them, like a savage source.
Their chant shall be a chant of paradise,
Out of their blood, returning to the sky;
And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,
The windy lake wherein their lord delights,
The trees, like serafin, and echoing hills,
That choir among themselves long afterward.
They shall know well the heavenly fellowship
Of men that perish and of summer morn.
And whence they came and whither they shall go
The dew upon their feet shall manifest.

VIII

She hears, upon that water without sound,
A voice that cries, "The tomb in Palestine
Is not the porch of spirts lingering
It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay."
We live in an old chaos of the sun,
Or old dependency of day and night,
Or island solitude, unsponsored, free,
Of that wide water, inescapable.
Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail
Whistle about us their spontaneous cries;
Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness;
And, in the isolation of the sky,
At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make
Ambiguous undulations as they sing,
Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

Nights of Rain and Stars

I am naturally a night owl. I enjoy the middle of the night immensely. This is a good thing since I've become well acquainted with it in the recent past (not that we ever really lost touch, just that we were seeing less of each other than usual). So despite the fact that I've been swamped with and sleep deprivation is much harder to deal with when you can't have caffeine, sugar, or apples to help you stay awake, here are a few things I've been loving about these late nights.

1. Stars. You can actually see stars here, people. It's a crazy concept, I know, but so delightful.

2. Walking. I am really enjoying living somewhere that I can walk at midnight without fear of being stabbed or raped.

3. Rain. It's been rainy lately, and while this has its downsides, it means that the air is crisp and fresh when I'm wandering around at night.

4. An office. Or, rather, an office I can be in past 11. The building at King's closes at 11 and so you had to be out of the publications office by then. This was annoying. I now have a key card for the arts building and therefore have 24 hour access to my office. This rocks.

5. A library. Or, rather, a library open past 9. The King's library is great, but there is no way around the fact that it is a library at a small institution. It closes at 9. Not convenient for serious late-night work. The library here closes at 1 in the morning. This means that if I suddenly need a source from them, I can just pop on over at midnight. This also rocks.

6. Timezones. Most of my friends are still back in Alberta, which is three hours behind Nova Scotia. This means that even if I am awake at 3 in the morning, it is highly likely that someone back home will still be up and willing to chat. I always feel less desperate if I'm talking to someone while burning the midnight oil.

A Where's Waldo of Words

If you have ever lived with me, shared an office with me, been in class with me, or just been near me while I was writing a paper, you probably know that I am obsessed with finding exactly the right word for any given situation. I am literally uncomfortable until I find a word that I'm looking for. It's like The Princess and the Pea, if the mattresses were essay pages and the pea was an ill-advised word choice. It drives me crazy when I can't put my finger on what I'm trying to say. I search frantically through the thesaurus, I ask my friends, I ask random people who happen to be nearby. It can get ugly. And I'm not someone who is blessed with the ability to just leave it, move on, and come back to it. No. It bothers me. The wrong word dances around in the back of my head taunting me. It becomes like a game of Where's Waldo. One of the really hard ones. One of the ones where you kept spotting the same guy over and over again and had to keep reminding yourself that, no, that is not Waldo, but that other guy you keep pointing at. It is so frustrating. This obsession with finding "the exact right word" (as Ezra Pound would have it) has only intensified with thesis writing. I'm working on my proposal right now. It doesn't get a grade. It does have to get vetted by a committee. I am agonizing over every word choice because I have to clearly communicate my ideas to a whole group of people. It's a good exercise in articulation, but, man, it is tough.

When you are a little bit unsteady

Sometimes the best things happen when you are a little bit unsteady.

I am someone who naturally seeks stability. I think of instability and think of earthquakes and collapsing bridges. I often forget that sometimes it's okay to be uncertain, unstable, and just generally off-kilter. It's good that life reminds me of this every so often.

A man consumed by wanderlust

wanderlust noun [mass noun]
a strong desire to travel: a man consumed by wanderlust
- ORIGIN late 19th cent.: German, literally 'wander year'.


I think wanderlust is one of my favourite words in the English language. It is just so perfect. It describes the longing to travel, to be elsewhere, in the most particular way. It's not a complicated word. It only has one meaning. But the connotations whisper of Romance and adventure to be found. It's quite delightful. I've been rather afflicted with this particular ailment for years now, but like many illnesses it flares up more strongly every so often. The past six months or so have been particularly bad for me. That longing to go somewhere and experience something new has been so strong. I'm trying to think of moving as the ultimate fulfillment of this desire; in fact, I think that my perpetual wanderlust is what has made me choose a school so far away. And when I'm successful in considering the move as a grand adventure it becomes far more exciting than it is terrifying.

The Search for Safety

This weekend I had the great good fortune to go to my friends' wedding. It was an absolutely lovely day, ending in a very late hour and a half drive home. I've told you all before how being in a moving vehicle makes me feel rather safe. Well, this was just driven home on Saturday night. Life has been stressful lately. Apartment hunting, everything involved in preparing to move across the country, working two part-time jobs, and trying to maintain a social life has left me feeling like I'm one of those circus performers spinning plates. This isn't to say life hasn't been good. I'm lucky enough to really enjoy my jobs, I have some wonderful friends with whom I've had some grand adventures, and in general have been loving my summer. However, I've been stressed, and worried, and constantly on the verge of tears, especially lately. But for almost all of Saturday I was able to forget about all of that and just enjoy myself. And then about halfway home I realized this. I realized that sitting in the back seat, in the midst of conversations with my travelling companions, I felt totally safe. As if as long as I stayed in the vehicle with these people and we kept driving I had the chance of outrunning my worries. And in that moment I thought to myself, "Don't ever forget this feeling." Because really, that is what I am always looking for. I am constantly searching for people I feel safe with and people who I feel care for me. It was a rare moment for me to feel that way, and to be quite honest I didn't want the drive to end. I didn't want to have to climb out of the car and back into reality. But, alas, all such drives must come to an end. Since then though, whenever I start panicking too much, I try to recall that feeling. It's peaceful and calming, and is helping me cope just a little bit better. So, thank you to my Saturday travelling buddies. I don't think you know how much that trip meant to me. And congratulations to my newly married friends. I am so happy for you both.

O Canada

Happy (Belated) Canada Day!

I had a lovely day with my parents and two of my best friends, Gabby and Sally. Breakfast, a picnic lunch, an afternoon at the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village, barbecued steak dinner and fireworks...what more could you ask for? I had good friends, good food, sunshine, photo opportunities galore (I came back from the afternoon with almost 100 images), and fireworks (which, as a lover of light, I adore). Yup. Pretty great Canada Day. I hope you also had a great day.