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The beauty of being far

Side effects of being homesick may include rambling writings      When it's been a little while since I've last been home, I see my friends and family in the little things that surround me. Right now, I'm thinking of my mom as I listen to Bruce Springsteen in my headphones while I sit in my bed. I think of my grandma as the lamp that lights up my room is from her cottage. I miss my friends while I gaze at the little drawings they drew and photos of us that are taped on the wall beside my bed. I think of my dad whenever I put on a record that sits on the record stand he gave me.      Whenever I have new friends over who have yet to see my room, I'm so proud of everything that makes it up. I feel as though my room is a book and I'm the storyteller. If you haven't heard it yet, my script usually sounds like "The vanity was free on the side of the road! I took it home and fixed it up," "I also found my bedside table on the road for free and my dad mad...
Recent posts

Birthday Reflections

 August, die she must      My birthday was a few Thursdays ago. In the late afternoon, Abby Ferg sent Madi and I a text about a magical encounter she had while at work at the museum in Fergus. She was outside and an older lady from the retirement home was being biked around by an individual and they stopped to chat with her. Abby said that although it was clear that the elderly woman was forgetful, it did not stop her from sharing about her life. She told Abby that in her career, the men that she supervised would tell her how young she was, even though she was old. She said something along the lines of "Everything changes and sometimes you take a turn and it's the end but you need it to... for something new, to go onto the next. You know what? Everything changes and nothing changes. I'm old but I'm young. Do you understand?"      I'd like to think that when I'm her age, I will feel that at peace with myself, with my life.      Like many...

Letting the Light In ✩

Pieces of pure happiness     There has always been something so comforting about the end of school to me. I remember the excitement that I would feel in elementary school when getting off the bus after the last day of school. I'd be so giddy with energy. At the time, the summer months were filled with going to camps, spending more time with my parents and going to the beach. On the dry afternoons, my brother and I would run barefoot in our bathing suits to my neighbours house. We would cut through the hole in the fence and dive right into the pool. At my grandma's cottage, my dad would make a fire and my grandma would bring out ingredients to make s'mores. The hot months were inherently made to connect with your loved ones and your surroundings.      I still miss getting off the bus at home after the last day of school. I miss running to see my mom and her giving me a big hug. When I finished school this year, I wish I could've done that. Instead, I finishe...

Sunday Night Ramblings

   Tired in the living room       It's a quiet Sunday night and I have been home for reading week since mid-afternoon on Friday. As the cycles of life turn and swirl around me, I find myself in the same position as fall reading week. It's as if the months in between have never happened to me. I'm in the living room, mind running but not enough to open readings, just enough to stare at this blank page in slight wonder and panic. In this cycle of today's life, I have reverted years back. I feel 13 years old as Divergent plays on the tv and my dad asked if I wanted scrambled eggs for breakfast this morning. I never like just scrambled eggs at school, but there is something so comforting in the familiarity of being offered them on a weekend morning by my dad. I eat them beside the lemon bowl on the counter that is always full.      I went to visit my grandma today and she showed me how to sew on a hook to a new shirt. In her house, I find comfor...

Pick a Card, Perhaps A New(?) Life

 Long Hours With Fear of No Time     I fear that the end of September has come upon me and I am living each day as the same person. We all live each day as the same person, but I'm becoming the one that I dread. The one that makes me dread October and the haunting of November. I think it's very timely that Halloween is right at the eve of October; November is truly the scariest time of year.       Do you ever notice how cloudy it is out? It's the only thing I see. It's like the clouds fall down and cover me fully and I'm lost in fog for the whole month.      I recognise this feeling that sits in the back of my brain for certain parts of the year, sometimes I wave to it. It crawls out and swallows me whole every time a routine develops. This is very hypocritical of me because I actually really enjoy routine. You see, I struggle without it. But, there is a large difference between feeling like you're living everyday the same as living...

Trying To Be One Step Ahead

When did I become older than the kids on the playground?       Even though time is the same and the only thing that changes is the seasons and the number on your birthday cake, we (you, me, the people around us, the people who sell us things) like to section the year off in different categories. Naturally, you might be thinking the months of the year. Personally, my favourite month is July because it's hot and my brain is always off. Another way that we section the year and our time on the Earth off is by how we can restart ourselves. It's written in our New Year resolutions, in the start of the school year and the start of each season.      I'm now hitting a wall because I'm afraid of feeling behind this year.      As a student, there are many ways in this life that you can feel behind. Here is a list that I try not to think of too much: Assignments Readings (heavy emphasis on this) Rent Group projects Texting friends back (I'm so sorry...

I'm Not Sitting In The Library On A Friday Night (A Recap and Crisis)

 Journal Entry 3     My first Friday night of my second year at university is spent growing bored as soon as I open up my computer and instead, doing this. Writing to you. Writing to your neighbour. The half drank coffee is fading from me and I feel myself fading and I pinch the skin just below my eyes.      I'm writing to no one. Maybe a few friends. I know a few who will read this for sure.      I like to rely on this thing (my blog, writing) when I feel like I could be more. Do you ever feel like you could be more ? Based on my life experiences and the one's of my peers, I think you know what I'm failing to explain. I opened this tab to write this to you (maybe even to your pet fish) and even though this is my backup activity when my brain feels a little too much , sometimes I can't even write. God, she wants to write for a career  and she can't even write her own feelings?      Is this when I should be looking at the U...

Dear August, With Love

August Slipped Away Into A Moment In Time     Happy August, the month of sticky heat and evenings outside with friends into the early hours. When August makes it's annual return, I like to think of it as the Sunday night of the months of the year. For example, Saturday is the month of July. When Saturday mornings roll around, it tends to be a slow moving day and chores can be brushed off due to procrastination and become unimportant. Saturdays are meant to be spent in a daze and doing things with only half purpose. One might walk around the town or city, not sure where they're going but they don't have plans in the afternoon, so it doesn't matter how far one walks. Their friends will likely be free so after a simple text is sent, they're smiling to their friend 20 minutes later. Likely, in a park, somewhere . July is the month of pushing chores, wandering and having unplanned visits with friends.      August is the Sunday night, the night where one realizes that...