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.
One day I will own a historic home.
I can't get over how gorgeous historic buildings are. I could spend so much time photographing them. The incredible details are so striking. Old buildings have something that just doesn't exist in new buildings: history. They tell stories. They somehow hold parts of each person involved in building and inhabiting them. They are a physical manifestation of countless memories. I almost feel like they are alive sometimes.
One of the perks of living out east is that history is much more present than it is out west. It's just a logical consequence of the way in which Canada was settled. I told Lycidas, my dear history-loving friend, that the east is steeped in history, and that you can't help but find it, even if you aren't looking for it. There is a connectedness with history that is tangible when you are out here that just doesn't exist in Alberta.
It might be an actual house, it might be an apartment in a historic building, but one day I will own a historic home.
Apartment Story
The National
Be still for a second while I try and try to pin your flowers on.
Can you carry my drink? I have everything else.
I can tie my tie all by myself.
I'm getting tied, I'm forgetting why.
Oh we're so disarming darling.
Everything we did believe
Is diving diving diving diving
Off the balcony.
Tired and wired we ruin too easy.
Sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave.
Hold ourselves together with our arms around the stereo for hours.
When it sings to itself, or whatever it does,
When it sings to itself of its long lost loves
I'm getting tied, I'm forgetting why.
Tired and wired we ruin too easy.
Sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave.
But I'll be with you behind the couch when they come
On a different day just like this one.
We'll stay inside till somebody finds us,
Do whatever the TV tells us,
Stay inside our rosy-minded fuzz for days.
We'll stay inside till somebody finds us,
Do whatever the TV tells us,
Stay inside our rosy-minded fuzz.
So worry not.
All things are well.
We'll be all right.
We have our looks and perfume.
Stay inside till somebody finds us,
Do whatever the TV tells us,
Stay inside our rosy-minded fuzz.
So worry not.
All things are well.
We'll be all right.
We have our looks and perfume.
I am exhausted, but I still have a paper to finish. The National has been the band getting me through this last stretch of insanity. This song seemed appropriate tonight as I slammed into the wall of exhaustion and had my end-of-semester meltdown. The lines "Tired and wired we ruin too easy / Sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave" are a perfect expression of this time of year. I'm tired and stressed so I fall apart easily. I have been tempted on more than one occasion to just collapse into bed fully clothed. I am impatiently waiting for winter to leave (sadly, it is supposed to snow the next couple of days).
