The Good Things

I am finally done my SSHRC application.

I move on Tuesday.

I went out for dinner with a friend last night.

I spent Thursday evening catching up with some good friends.

I am lucky enough to work in a store that is already kitted out for Christmas.

I have some really wonderful coworkers.

I am currently drinking a lovely soy rooibos chai latte.

And, yesterday, while I was walking, the wind was blowing giant autumn leaves all around me.

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.

Don't bend me or I will break

Wake Me Up
Norah Jones

Wake me up when it's over
Wake me up when it's done
When he's gone away and taken everything
Wake me up

Wake me up when the skies are clearing
And the water is still
Because I will not watch the ship sail away
So please say you will

If it were any other day
This wouldn't get the best of me

But today I'm not so strong
So lay me down with a sad song
When it stops then you know
I've been gone too long

Don't shake me awake
Don't bend me or I will break
Find me somewhere between my dreams
With the sun on my face

I will still feel it later on
But for now I'd rather be asleep


Do you ever find yourself listening to a song over and over and over again? I do this all the time. If I had grown up in the age of records I would have been one of those people who played a single until the record actually warped. For the past few weeks this Norah Jones tune has been the one on endless repeat at my apartment.

Stuck on You

Tonight I sat in one of the local pubs with a lovely person who is rapidly becoming one of my dearest friends out here. There was live music and good wine and delightful, meandering conversation. At some point our conversation turned to the future, to leaving Wolfville, and to the discomfort we both feel with that idea. This town is wonderful in so many ways. Of course it has it's problems. It's a small town. You run into people you would rather not see. Everybody knows everybody else's business. There's a lot of chatter, some of which is simply gossip. But it's also beautiful here. We talked about how this is the first point in our lives where when something goes horribly wrong our first instinct isn't to long to be back with our parents. There are places here that feel like home. I can go out. I can meet up with a friend. Basically, the things that would have made me feel like my world was ending only a year ago are now painful, but somehow more manageable. Thinking about leaving is unpleasant. This is a strange town though. Almost everyone here is in transition. None of this is permanent. Yes, there are people who actually live here, but for the most part people's time here comes with an expiry date. In some ways this impermanence is what allows for such a wonderful atmosphere here. Consequences are diminished somehow. But if the loveliness of living here is predicated on this transitory nature, then one can also outstay one's welcome. So staying sometimes seems impractical. How will the experience of the town change once all of my friends have left? We didn't really come to any conclusion, other than my feeble suggestion that perhaps we have reached a point in our lives where every decision we make means passing on something potentially wonderful. When I was trying to decide where to take my master's a very wise friend told me about her experience and said that no matter what decision I made I was always going to be missing out on something, but if I made a good decision then while I might wonder what would have happened if I'd chosen differently, I wouldn't be able to picture it any other way. I feel like this has become the case for every decision in my life. I just hope that I can continue to choose wisely, because right now I couldn't picture my life any other way.

Fundamental Differences

It's late, but for the first time in many days I am not up because I can't sleep. Or rather, I am up because I can't sleep, but I can't sleep because I'm immersed in something creative, not because I'm having a panic attack about my future. I've been trying to assemble some submissions for a particular arts publication, so I've been editing up some poems and trying to select and title some photos. It's fun work. I've noticed something as I've been doing this though: the quality of light in my photos has changed since I've moved. Partly this is just normal seasonal shifts, but I think it also has to do with place. The light is different here in some fundamental way. I like it a lot.

Bragging Rights

When I decided to move out east I was frequently asked "Why would you want to move there?" (Most notably I was asked this by someone who was considering moving to Saskatchewan for a retail job...I asked him the same thing.) Well, this post is for all of you Albertan folks who couldn't fathom why I would want to come out here. 
Consider today's weather in the afternoon: 
Wolfville: 3C
Edmonton: -26C with -43C windchill
Friends, this may not be why I moved out here, but I sure am enjoying it.


(PS - We do now have some snow. Not a lot, but more than this photo.)

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.

Light limited, light specific, light like a name

from "Lake of Two Rivers"
Anne Michaels

     3

Sensate weather, we are your body,
your memory. Like a template,
branch defines sky, leaves
bleed their gritty boundaries,
corrosive with nostalgia.

Each year we go outside to pin it down,
light limited, light specific,
light like a name.


Like any good academic, I have moments where school just isn't my favourite thing in the world. This blog is certainly a record of that, if of nothing else. Right now I'm working on my thesis. I have to hand in a chapter by Saturday, which is incredibly daunting and stressful if I think about it too long, but is also thrilling and exciting. Right now I'm working on my chapter on Anne Michaels, which means that I've been spending my time immersed in her magnificent poetry. The particular little excerpt from "Lake of Two Rivers" is particularly relevant for my thesis topic. And it captures a little bit of how I feel about light and nature and photography. Plus it is just blindingly gorgeous. On top of this I've been reading essays by Anne Simpson and Jan Zwicky to use as critical material in the chapter. It is moments like this that I feel profoundly blessed to be doing what I am doing. It is moments like this that I seriously contemplate taking a PhD because I don't know what else I could possibly be doing with my life.

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.

The way to fairyland

There is such a place as fairyland - but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; and that is the tragedy of life. On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over. Henceforth, they must dwell in the common light of common day. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again; and blessed are they above mortals. They, and only they, can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles. The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland. -- L.M. Montgomery

I love this idea. If you read this blog on a regular basis you've probably figured out that I'm rather fond of the idea of fairies and magic. After all, one of my all-time favourite books is J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy, and Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens is also way up there, so you can't really expect anything else. This is one of those little things that helps make me who I am, but that I avoid talking about with most people. It tends to make you sound like you're six if you start talking about how cool fairies are. So I would like to thank L.M. Montgomery for validating my affection for all things magical. And for reminding me that I'm not a totally bitter curmudgeon just yet.

Focus

Sometimes you just have to focus on one thing at a time. That's what I've been doing lately and it is helping me keep my balance.

What the Light Teaches

from What the Light Teaches
Anne Michaels

     4

Sometimes I was afraid to touch him,
afraid my hand would go right through him.
But he was alive, in a history
made more painful by love.

I prayed to the sky to lift our father's head,
to deliver him from memory.

I wished he could lie down
in music he knew intimately, and become
sound, his brain flooded by melody so powerful
it would stretch molecules, dismantle thought.


I went on a photo excursion today. I didn't really have time, but the weather was gorgeous and the sun was beckoning me to come out to play with my camera. So I obeyed it. It was the kind of light that begs to be photographed. The kind with weight. The kind with soul. The kind that has something to say. I'm a bit obsessed with light, and I realize that I might sound crazy, but I'm okay with that. If photography has taught me one thing it is that sometimes I have to get over myself and just sound or look crazy (I had more than one bemused look today from other people out enjoy the weather). As I was walking the title from this poem kept popping into my head. This is possibly my favourite section from this long poem. I know it's not about light, but I don't think that's the point. When you get this kind of light it has something to tell you about more than just itself.


More from What the Light Teaches.

It's here!

Fall, my absolute favourite season, officially arrived on Friday!

Here it came in with lots of rain and lots of good times with friends. The leaves have just started changing, and the weather actually feels like fall now. I can't explain how happy this makes me.

Looking Forward

Want to know one of the things I am most excited about for when I'm living in Nova Scotia? Four seasons. That's right folks, they have four seasons. Edmonton theoretically has four seasons, but autumn and spring hardly count out here. They last for about a week. And it's really a shame because they are such gorgeous times of year. Okay. They ought to be gorgeous times of year. Spring in Edmonton is mostly associated with brown sandy sludge all over, the emergence of garbage that has been under the snow all winter, and a really annoying pattern of thawing and freezing that means the city basically turns into a giant skating rink. That's unpleasant, but what really bums me out is the fact that we get gipped out of an autumn here. What we do get can be just plain amazing, but it is so short that for someone who is an autumn-lover like me it is rather disappointing. So, I'm super stoked to live in a province with an autumn that people rave about. I'm hoping for days like the one pictured above: soaked in golden sunlight and saturated with rich colours. I know it's only August, but I am already so excited for autumn that I can barely contain myself.

The Love of Coffee Shops

I love a good coffee shop. The music that walks the line between jazzy and hipster, the smell of coffee, the din of conversation punctuated by loud exclamations of delight or disdain, the overheard relationship drama, the variety of people, the random comments from people about my massive stacks of books on [insert appropriate paper topic here]...there is simply a vibe that a good coffee shop gives off that I can't explain but still adore. If you ask me what I would like to do I will likely answer that I would like to go sit in a coffee shop and talk. This is something I do with my closest friends as often as possible. I have a dear friend who is married and she and her husband have a standing coffee date on the weekends. I think this is delightful. As a student I have another level of appreciation for the coffee shop: they are also excellent places for me to hang out and do homework. This is particularly true if it is somewhere that I am unlikely to run into anyone I know. The downside with this setup is that inevitably I have to get up to use the bathroom at some point. This leaves me with two options. Option one: pack up all of my stuff and take it with me to the bathroom. Option two: leave my stuff at the table and ask someone nearby to watch it for me. The problem with option one is that I have a lot of stuff, so packing it up is not a simple process, and I don't want to lose my table (actual spread-out-and-study space is at a premium in coffee shops near the University). The problem with option two is that I have to figure out which of the random people in the coffee shop to trust with my things. This is the dilemma I was confronted with while working on my paper in Starbucks this afternoon/evening. I have come to the conclusion that coffee shop studying works much better with the buddy system in place. If there are two of you, then you will always have someone to watch your stuff while you run to the bathroom. This makes life much simpler.


This picture is from a couple years ago. My dear roommate, who I refer to as Gabby on the blog, came home with me for Thanksgiving and so naturally we went to Starbucks and chatted it up. Can you believe that before I took her to a Starbucks she had never been to one? Yeesh.

Cold and Grey

from The Grey Islands
John Steffler

scoured sky. wind
and open miles.
all morning we climb the bright
hills cresting across our course,
pitching us up, sledding us sideways
down, wallowing, walled in water.
                     quick. near us
and gone,
              slim birds flit low, banking,
twisting, skimming the closing troughs,
and I feel it,
                 know it a laughing
fact: the harder your hungry eyes bite
into the world (the island cliffs pencilled
in blue haze, and there, Nels pointing:
whale spray!
                 huge flukes kicking at the sun), the more
you spread your arm to hug it in,
the less you mind the thought of diving under,

eyes flooded, gulping dark.

...

what can we do in such elements?

rock hills only recently
softened with green, some moss
and boggy hollows

vast migration of cloud

the wind in invisible glacier
wearing the island down

I keep warm burning
bits of a house

the work of people who tried to live here.

...

not man's time here,
sun's time.
rock's time.
I begin to feel it.

days blink by - light
and cold flowing over - tide
breathing smoothly, evenly, I

slip between half-seconds, flash
light-beam pinball-style, do
ten thousand vanishing things
in a breath.

...

jagged island
island of noise.
the sea serious as ever, breaking
all that it touches.
wind tearing itself to pieces
pounces with all its weight, stops, flattens
grass again. tramples the waves.

the mountains cinder grey
cinder jagged
handsome as animals
hunt the passing clouds.
gathering trouble.

...

warm sounds: the gas lamp's
loud hiss

the stove snaps and flutters

outside
the wind
the cold wash of gravel and sea

John Steffler's The Grey Islands is one of my favourite pieces of Canadian literature. It was probably reading excerpts from this work in the second half of my Canadian lit class that sold me on Canadian literature. This is how my Can lit textbook introduces this work: "This mixture of prose and poetry describing a pilgrimage to the islands that lie off the east coast of Newfoundland's norther peninsula is the story of an individual seeking solitude. 'A way to corner myself is what I want,' he explains on the first page; 'Some blunt place I can't go beyond. Where excuses stop.'

I realize that I live in the middle of the prairies and as such am completely landlocked. Despite this I not only love these excerpts because they capture one of the qualities that I love most about the east coast, but because they capture a huge element of the Canadian relationship with landscape and weather. This is something I've been contemplating a lot lately since it is part of what I want to study in grad school. With the arrival of winter this week though (snow yesterday) I've been reminded of it anew.

I took this picture a couple weeks ago over the Thanksgiving weekend. I like how grey and flat the sky is and how much the red of the berries pops against it. It captures the cold perfectly. My mom looked at it and said it kind of looked like a piece of modern art, and she is right. That's probably part of why I like it as well.   

Crunchy Autumn Leaves

There is almost nothing that has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf. (Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, J.M. Barrie)

I dearly love J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy (as evidenced by my post about fairies). This semester I am lucky enough to be studying this novel in one of my classes. The copy that I have for the class also has Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, and naturally I read it as well, not because it was required but because I'm not about to pass up the opportunity to read more of the development of the character of Peter Pan. For those of you who don't know, the character of Peter Pan first made an appearance in Barrie's novel The Little White Bird in 1902. In 1904 the play, Peter Pan, was performed for the first time. In 1906, Barrie took the parts of The Little White Bird that centred on Peter Pan and compiled them into Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. Then in 1911, he published a novelized version of the play entitled Peter and Wendy. I've seen a stage performance of Peter Pan and have read Peter and Wendy several times now. This semester I read Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, so now all I have left to hunt down is a copy of The Little White Bird and then my exploration of Peter Pan will be complete. One of the things I find so delightful about Barrie's writing is his turns of phrase. He is a master at evoking child-like delight and wonder and fantasy. I enjoyed this personification of autumn leaves skipping down a park pathway immensely.

This picture is from Sunday afternoon when I wandered around my parents garden for a bit taking fall-like pictures. It was quite delightful. One of my favourite things about autumn is walking through crunchy leaves on a crisp but sunny day. Delightful.

PS - I hope those of you who are in Canada had a delightful Thanksgiving weekend full of turkey, friends, family, and long naps. For those of you who aren't in Canada...I hope you enjoyed your non-holiday Monday.

October's got those orange eyes

Broken Horse

Freelance Whales

October's got those orange eyes

But somehow I still lost sight

When you lifted the lid off of my pumpkin head

And kissed me goodnight

Should it be a thorn in my side

We never quite broke that horse

She slept in the cul-de-sac rye

Seven miles from my front porch

Bundle up and come with me now

Down the road to the burnt down barn

We could make a blanket of coats

And breathe our souls into the neighbour's front lawn

But oh God that look in your eye

Trouble that does not search words

It sprung from the biblical vine

And are waiting to return to the dirt

The stiches in your winter clothes

Your cello bows

We stole your hair to make them

We're sorry for the iron shoes

We nailed to you

And stuck you in the rain

Then you sprinted away

Sprinted away to where I don't know

God's moving in your bloodstream

Where the crossbeats aren't so slow

You swept all the red from my cheeks

I didn't hear you come back inside

And light up the gas in the den

And stand there in the thin winter light

But oh God that curve in your spine

A question mark

A doctor's sign was framed by the windowsill

And you saw something I did not in the night

You saw something I did not in the night

The stitches in your winter clothes

Your cello bows

We stole your hair to make them

We're sorry for the iron shoes

We nailed to you

And stuck you in the rain

And then you sprinted away

Sprinted away to where I don't know

God's moving in your bloodstream

Where the crossbeats aren't so slow

I first discovered this song a couple of weeks ago via one of little chief honeybee's Monday Mixtapes. I adore her mixtapes. They have introduced me to so many new artists that I am now profoundly in love with. The opening lines of this song seemed rather appropriate for October 1.

This is another picture from last weekend's trip to the river valley. I like how the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange on this particular branch. Plus the light was just so profoundly amazing for photos.