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.

A Prickly Creature

At least for me, the writing process is a strange and prickly creature. I require a very specific set of conditions, all of which must be right, in order to be optimally productive while writing. The lighting has to be right (and this requirement changes based on location and time of day), there have to be enough people around (and this number changes based on my mood), there needs to be the right music playing (and what constitutes "right" changes based on season, mood, time of day), and there has to be some je ne sais quoi element that kicks in at exactly the right moment. Writing moods are unpredictable and almost impossible to create artificially. This, of course, is a bit of a problem for a student. Sadly my professors will not accept "There was a really loud, buzzing fluorescent light in the office" or "There was an obnoxious group of people meeting in the coffee shop" or "I couldn't find the right playlist" as reasons why my paper isn't done on time. And if you think those won't fly, just try to slip in a "For some reason I just couldn't get in a productive frame of mind." Seriously, try it. At the very least you will give your professor a very good laugh, and they need that just as much as you do at this point in the term. I seem to have found a relatively fail-safe combination for writing productivity: coffee shop (specifically Just Us, I don't think I could substitute another coffee shop in here) + excellent decaf soy lattes + a playlist heavy on the 100 Mile House. This seems to create a particular chemical reaction that trips the writing centres in my brain and allow me to crank out papers at a relatively rapid pace. The only downside to this is the fact that the coffee shop closes at 8 or 9. Then I'm cast out to try and find a new home. I have yet to discover the perfect kismet of circumstances for my post-coffee-shop writing and therefore am far less productive after I have to leave. Oh well. I'll figure it out eventually.