Happiness is a line of gumdrops

Happiness is a line of gumdrops on the roof of a gingerbread house.

Happiness is an evening spent with a bowl full of candy, a piping bag full of icing, a goofy dog, and a friend you're so comfortable with that you have no need to filter out the weirder aspects of your personality.

Sudden Downpour

Today was a day punctuated by sudden downpours. These were the kind of short-lived soakings that normally only happen in movies. They are the reason people speak about the heavens opening up. Part of me wanted to run out into the street, stand in the deluge and let myself get soaked. I don't know why.

Brought to you by water

My life: brought to you by water. 

Last night I killed my phone by managing to get it into a sink full of water. See, I was texting someone while walking through my apartment, I tripped on one of my shoes that was sitting by the door, launched the phone across the kitchen/entryway, and got it into the sink full of soapy dishwater. Impressive in its own way I suppose. If I had been playing basketball it would have been a great shot. Anyway. The phone is deader than dead and I am currently waiting for a rather important call. Cue panic.

It poured today. And I mean POURED. Which was actually okay with me. It meant that I didn't want to go outside so I stayed home, cleaned the whole apartment, did some work, had a wonderful Skype date with Audrey, and listened to Elenowen's new EP on repeat all day (currently available for a free download at Noise Trade).

The rain came to a stop for a while around dinner, so I popped outside to take some post-rain photos. Sunlight + Water = SPARKLE. It was rather lovely.

So aside from the whole phone fiasco, things are pretty good here right now.

Impromptu

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

Plan-less

A few days ago, Audrey sent me a text message: "What did you want to be when you grew up when you were a kid?" The question stymied me, not simply because it was out of the blue but because I actually didn't know. Not, I don't remember, but as a kid I really didn't know. So I told her this and related an assignment I distinctly remember from some point in elementary. We had to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up and do some kind of report on it. I had no idea. I think I drew myself being a teacher.

"I never knew either...I'm wondering if that contributes to my lack of career direction now."

I don't think I have ever had someone else tell me they didn't know what they wanted to be as a kid either. (Evidence that we were meant to be best friends? I think so.) And I think her connection is fair. It's hard to pick a direction when you never really had one.

We ended up talking about how odd it seems to still not know what we want to be when we grow up. In stark contrast to ourselves, we both grew up with a lot of friends who knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives. They wanted to be teachers and doctors and nurses. And, guess what, now they are teachers and doctors and nurses, or at least in school to be these things. For Audrey, this was causing some panic and concern about her lack of direction, things that I am very familiar with. But my reaction when I consider the disparity between these people with a life plan and myself is quite a bit different now. I've come to love my plan-less state. 

I wish it was easier to explain this to other people, those plan-loving people I'm related to and friends with and meet at the bar. I suppose though, that they can just be concerned and panicked and stressed for me about my apparent lack of direction. It means there is no reason for me to be.

Gatherings of the loveliest sort

Jean soon learned that at Ewa's parties there was always a project on. Huge rolls of brown paper were unfurled and everyone painted a mural; a sheet was tacked to the wall and a film projected while the Dogs played, sewing together a melody out of silence and the whirring of the projector. Actors gathered in the middle of the living room and, with nothing more than a spoon or a dishtowel, transformed reality - having a Sunday row on a pond or floating in a lifeboat on the North Sea; suddenly they were lovers on a picnic blanket, or thieves, or children on a swing. Jean knew these actors had worked together for a long time, a bodily history among them. She had seen Avery perform loaves and fishes with objects, with stones on the beach, with rulers and wooden blocks, creating bridges, castles, entire cities. But his magic was solitary and intellectual compared with the instantly complex communication between these bodies, the moment continually changing, deepening into humour or sorrow. And sometimes this pathos was intense, and a hole opened, and everyone watching from the edges of the room found their own sorrow pouring into it. Crack! the earth of the scene split open and down everyone tumbled together into the wreckage of memory. And then the actors melted back into the party, and the food and the bottles were passed around again.

-- Anne Michaels, The Winter Vault 

Some day, I would love to host gatherings like the one that Michaels describes in this passage.

I was fortunate enough to spend quite a bit of time over the long weekend at low-key gatherings with dear friends. It was a pretty delightful way to celebrate the start of summer, if you ask me.

Lighting Issues

I've been spending a lot of nights in my office lately. This isn't something I really enjoy doing, because, frankly, I don't like my office. It is tiny. And doesn't have any windows to the outside. It does, however, have a window into the hallway so I often feel like I am sitting in a fishbowl being observed by every person who walks past. The walls are covered in holes and peeling paint to the point where it looks like a crazy person used to live here. The thing that has bothering me lately though: fluorescent lighting. It is too bright and makes a weird buzzing noise. I have never gotten along with it particularly well. There is a floor lamp in my office, and I would love to turn off the overhead light and just use it, but whenever I turn it on, it kind of smells like something is burning, and that just doesn't seem better. Ah well. At least I'm productive here in the evenings/late nights. I suppose I can deal with the lighting issues if I actually get my work done.

Love Notes

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.

All That's Good and Green

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.

Dear Montreal

Dear Montreal,

Thanks for the jazz and the croissants and the crepes.

Thanks for the lights and the graffiti and the old buildings.

Thanks for the countless opportunities to take photos.

Thanks for reminding me of all the reasons I love cities. And all the reasons that I don't.

Thanks for reminding me of my love for French. And for making me determined to become fluent.

Thanks for providing a jumping off point for some new and crazy dreams.

Thanks for providing the space for me to relax all the way into a friendship.

Thanks for allowing me to immerse myself in art in so many forms.

Thanks for leaving me aching and disoriented in my normal life. That sounds bad, but it is actually very, very good.

Hopefully I'll see you again soon.

Bree

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.

I need a bigger umbrella, and other lessons learned on a rainy day

It rained today. A lot. I know, big shock since I'm in Nova Scotia, but I'm still unused to rain kind of coming out of nowhere. Here are a few things I learned today, some because of the rain and some just coincidentally on the same day as the rain.

1. I need a bigger umbrella. I have a great little umbrella that folds up and fits in a purse, but it is kind of too small for the intense amounts of rain that fall from the sky here. It keeps my head dry, but that's about it. I keep passing people with these awesome giant umbrella and thinking, "Man, I need one of those. I wonder where you get one."

2. I need a rain coat. Like an actual, full-on, waterproof, hooded rain jacket. I know, it's shocking to hear me say that. I have actively fought against wearing rain jackets for as long as I can remember. They are generally kind of ugly and don't breathe really well so I get seriously sweaty. But there is just no way I am going to survive out here without one. That being said, does anyone know where I can get a good, cute rain jacket?

3. I need to invest in a second pair of wellies to leave in my office. See, the rain today didn't start until mid-afternoon so I was already on campus. I was wearing ballet flats, which really aren't the best footwear when the street has become more like a river. If I had an extra pair of wellies stashed in my office, I could just pop them on when there is a surprise rain storm.

4. I can't type the word "nature." This is a problem since my thesis is on the depiction of landscape and how it influences identity. I have to type "nature" fairly frequently. I keep typing "natuer." I finally set my Pages auto-correct to just change it automatically.

5. I can remind myself of why I'm here by simply reading Anne Michaels. All doubts that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing are immediately erased. Even if the stress remains.

Sorry I'm not home right now, I'm walking into spiderwebs

Sometimes quite literally...

Sorry it's been so quiet on here lately. I know there are some of you who basically rely on this blog to know I'm still alive and to keep up to date with what's going on with me. So, I haven't died. I've just started grad school. It's been a nutso couple of weeks. And they don't ease you into things. Everything just kind of hits you from day one, so I've been busy trying to find my sea-legs. Unfortunately this blog is one of the things I let slip when times get crazy. And not in any conscious decision, "okay, what can I drop?" kind of way either. In the falling asleep thinking, "oh right, I have a blog. I should post on that." kind of way.

Anyway, bear with me while I sort my life out. I will eventually find my stride and it will get easier (at least, that's what I've been told).

Homesick

Back in Edmonton, today was the first day of registration at King's. For the past few years I've worked the registration table as one of the students who manages the line. And as crazy as the days were, I really enjoyed it. I loved seeing all of my friends, catching up briefly. I loved the crazy bustle of everyone being on campus at once. And today, I seriously missed it. I wanted to be there, in the middle of the chaos, seeing everybody. So, in a (partially successful) effort to overcome this particular bout of homesickness, I spent the day listening to Simon Hoskyn and Justine Vandergrift, and it has been helping me feel a bit more like I'm at home. One of the great blessing of being at King's was the fact that the community is so musically rich. I got to know, and listen to, some seriously talented musicians. Simon and Justine are just two of these people. I love their music and today it helped me feel a bit more in touch with the community I used to be a part of.

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.

The Week of Goodbyes

I hate goodbyes. I'm awful at them. I'm one of those people who would rather avoid them if at all possible. I tend to regret this decision afterwards, but in the moment it always seems like the better plan to just leave as quietly as possible. Well, if you are going to move across the country there are a rather insane number of goodbyes to be said in a rather short amount of time. It all started last Saturday after the wedding: all the goodbyes to my former roommates and schoolmates, the acknowledgment of how weird it was that we weren't all moving back in together in a month. Then Sunday it was brunch with Sinead, a goodbye to a dear friend. Then Wednesday was coffee with Lycidas, a goodbye that was even harder than I expected. Friday was goodbyes at work, which, since I honestly love the people I work with, was kind of difficult, and goodbye to Margaret and Jasmine, more good friends. And Saturday I face saying goodbye to Gabby, possibly the goodbye that I am most dreading. Fortunately I'm taking my parents and Sally with me, so that's at least three less people I have to say goodbye to right now.

Iconic Alberta

As we were driving from the ceremony to the reception on Saturday, we rounded a curve and I said "Now that right there is an iconic Alberta scene." And it really was. This got me thinking about the things I'll miss about how Alberta looks. As someone who love photography, I'm always aware of colour and light and how it changes over the seasons here. Nova Scotia will be profoundly different. It is an absolutely gorgeous place and I am so excited to live there, but there are those moments driving down an Alberta highway that I am struck with how much I love this province. So, since I'm moving on Sunday, I figured over the next few days I would share some of these iconic Alberta scenes with you. I hope you enjoy them.


I love photographing rural scenes. I am a city girl at heart, but I love how the country looks so so much. Especially on a sunny day, with the blue sky, white fluffy clouds and green grass.

My dear friends

this evening i'm feeling really thankful for good friends who mean the world to me. friends that challenge and inspire me. friends that i feel i can confide in because they're trustworthy, they listen, and even if we don't see eye to eye on many things, they're there for me, because they're just good people. simple as that. -- from this post on rockstar diaries

When I read that a few days ago, it instantly grabbed me because it was so exactly what I had been feeling lately. I have some friends who mean the world to me. They are the kind of friends who feel more like family than friends. The kind where you swear you are telepathically linked because somehow they always know the perfect moment to send a little love or encouragement your way. The kind that are brutally honest when need be, but are also understanding and sympathetic when it's needed. The kind of friends without whom you are quite certain you would not be able to function. This is one of the biggest things I'm struggling with as my move looms ever closer. I feel a bit like I am scattering pieces of my heart across the country. And it's funny because it's not like we've never been apart before. I've had these friends scattered across the country before. In fact, two of them don't live in the same city as me now. Somehow it's harder this time though. Maybe it's because the distance is so much greater. Maybe it's because we are all growing up and it is becoming harder and harder to find time to travel and see each other. Whatever the reason is, I am scared to be without these ladies and I am so thankful for letters and emails, phone calls and text messages, facebook and blogs because they allow us to stay together even when we are apart. So I wanted to take a moment here to say thank you to all of my friends who are so fabulous. I love you.

Harry Potter

I just got back from (finally!) seeing the last instalment of the Harry Potter films. So good. So so so good. At the risk of sounding like a total nerd, I am sad that they are done. Perhaps I will have to go see it again.

I know that this photo has pretty much nothing to do with Harry Potter, but it is a castle. Blarney Castle to be specific. And one of the things that I've always loved about Harry Potter, again, at the risk of sounding like a total nerd, is imagining that such a world does exist, all full of magic and amazing things. I mean, come on, how cool would it be to go to school in a castle?

Hold me fast 'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer

Hopeless Wanderer
Mumford and Sons

Hear my voice
I came out of the woods by choice
The shelter also gave us shade
And in the dark I have no name

So leave that click in my head
And I will remember the words that you said
Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart
But I am sure we will see a new start

So when your hope's on fire
But you know your desire
Don't hold a glass over the flame
Don't let your heart grow cold
I will call you by name
I will share your road

Wrestle long with my youth
We try so hard to live in the truth
But do not sell me your respite
When I lose my head I lose my spine

So leave that click in my head
And I must remember the words that you said
You brought me out from the cold
Now how I long, how I long to grow old

So when your hope's on fire
But you know your desire
Don't hold a glass over the flame
Don't let your heart grow cold
I will call you by name
I will share your road

Hold me fast
Hold me fast
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer

Hold me fast
Hold me fast
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer

And I will learn
I will learn
To love the the skies I wander

I will learn
I will learn
To love the skies I wander
The skies I wander


Thanks to Alaina over at Live Creating Yourself I have discovered that Mumford and Sons has been playing some of the new stuff off of their next album at their live shows. I am now totally obsessed with this song. I love Mumford and Sons and am super stoked for their next album to come out. This song has captivated me. I've probably listened to it a good 20 times in the last 24 hours. And that's with a full workday, time at the gym and a coffee date with a friend in there. This is everything that I love about Mumford and Sons. The instruments, the vocals (oh the vocals! I am literally temporarily paralyzed whenever they break into harmony.), the incredible lyrics. It is so so so good. Seriously. Take a listen. You won't regret it.