Dodgeball Warriors

The past week has been wonderful. I nailed my philosophy presentation and got excited about the prospect of someday teaching highschool kids about life. I have a pile of papers to get working on, which always kind of gets to me because it comes with this sneaky little genius- procrastination- which makes me avoid the library, tidy my room, go out for dessert, and dress like a hippy for some seriously competitive dodgeball. All in all, he makes the memories happen, so I think I'll keep him around for a while.

I don't want to make this long, because it's getting close to 2a.m. and I am asking myself what the heck I'm still doing up... but for the record I thought I should also put it on here that I finally made the decision. It was a sucky week of indecision and endless conversations with different people I love and trust, but I'm finally at peace with it. Enough of the intro-- I'm going to England baby. Four months in the UK to study my major and live as a local in the quaint little village of Charlsebury. Timot and I are hoping to fly together- and I'm really glad he'll be around. Four months seems like an awefully long time...so I'm going to sign off before I let myself dwell on that for too long.

Tata.

Time at home has been delightful. I worked a full day on Thursday with my good buddy Kristina, thoroughly pulled my hamstrings, blistered my fingers, and laughed a lot. She is a very funny girl. After work Cheryl, Vanessa, Sarah, Kristina and I went to visit my friend Jocelyn who got a new apartment, which is pretty classy. The six of us have been friends since gradeschool, and I'm amazed at how similar we still are to the children we once were. Not to say a pile of things haven't changed, but if I were given a sketchpad in grade one, and was told to map out my idea of Jocelyn's future apartment, I really don't think I would have been that far off. She has a nice place. She cooked us up a tasty stir fry, we talked about Vanessa's upcoming wedding over a glass of wine, and I realized that we are definitely well into another chapter of our young adult lives. Does this excite me? Heck ya. But whenever you get together with old friends, the past is what gets relived- and I don't mean to brag, but I had a fantastic childhood with these girls. Now to pull out the typical sigh and statement- 'where does time go?' Who cares, it just goes.

Then I came home, did a lot of nothing, and then heard my mom give a bit of a scream. I didnt' realize she was the only one watching "disturbia" and she's not very good with thrillers. So I watched it with her, as a very poor source of comfort because I get more freaked out then she does! But really, a boy walking alone through a murderer's house, then falling through the basement floor into a pile of dead bodies?! SCARY!

I woke up the next morning after having a nightmare about a math exam. One of the questions was " if all the sums were to fall off the earth, what would the sum of all the numbers be?"

Ok- here's why I hate math

1) My mind thinks that that makes sense

2) The question says sum twice

3) It haunts me in my sleep

What's even more ridiculous is that everyone knew the answer, which was 'zero to the tenth' actually spelled out like that! And the class instructor was my philosophy teacher. Oy. Disgusting.

So, I woke up with pulled muscles from the day before, and a pulled brain, and decided to skip work on the farm and be very productive in my school work. I think I was, although I made time to go to Hamilton, pick up Katrina, hang out there, and then drive back home in traffic. Those were some quality hours. We came home just on time for some Chinese food, and sat at the table for over an hour. Man, if any of you know my dad, he can be pretty fun to have a discussion with. Now don't take fun to mean lighthearted and cheery-- oh no. This is an intense, be on your toes, don't let him corner you kind of intense. I love it.

The best thing about my dad is that I can let my mouth fly (respectfully) and he never gets personal. He doesn't ever attack the person- it's always the argument. This is something that I've noticed simply CANNOT happen in a girls house. And so you see, these weekends at home become weekends of respite and mental sharpening against my dad's ruthless wit. It's enjoyable.

After dinner and fortune cookies, we thought we'd rent a movie off the TV to watch with the fam. The first attempt had about six scenes within six minutes that are just awkward to watch with your parents, and then just awkward in general. SO we turned it off, and got another one. To sum it up in a word. Aweful. I'm not sure if you've heard of Georgia Rule. If you haven't, excellent. If you have. Shoooot. If you have SEEN it- well, hopefully it wasn't with your parents and little brother.

Trine, my mom and I were the only ones who endured it to the end, then went to bed. Of course there was pillow talk, but now this is just getting too personal.

This morning it's chilly, and windy, and I like it. Mom is making breakfast. Ooh da lolly

Friends

Today I started a grease fire.
I put it out with salt.

I love the weather. I don't want snow and I don't want humidity. I want exactly what I have right now, and that is deliciously chilly weather. I am happy to be wearing socks again, I am happy to put on a baggy hoody, I am happy to make two cups of tea, wrap myself in blankets, wear a scarf and read outside on the front lawn for three hours straight. That's what this weather does to me. It just makes me happy.

The colours also do it for me. Not bright, not ugly and dull- but 'earthy'. Relaxed and aging- like it should be. The sky is not just open blue, but it's not dreary grey either. It's patchy. Blue sky behind bundles of white and grey clouds, and yet the sun is still there, keeping up appearances. Absolutely lovely. October 13, 2007. What a day.

It's Saturday, about 5pm, and I should be working on my Commentary Review. Instead I'm sitting in the kitchen staring out the window. It's a very big window, and so it's not really my fault that I'm always caught staring out of it. Once I get past the deck, white railing, struggling geranium basket,and freshly cut lawn, my eyes hit no man's land. An open field, recently plowed under, pretty sad looking, but it always draws my attention anyway. It's probobly because it just sits there, idly, like myself, but has this incredible backdrop of a dark cloudy sky. What is this obsession I have with the sky? I really don't know. I just like it.

Language blows my mind. The very fact that you can understand that first sentence shows how incredible language is. We create it, use it, manipulate it, and depend on it. What's more, we trust it. We speak literally, metaphorically, analogously, poetically- it's all encompassing, it's how we express ourselves. How could we function in society without it?

But where does it come from? I know God initially gave Adam the ability to speak, and name creatures, but no doubt our vocabulary has grown since the garden. As we develop new ideas, experiment, discover new creatures- do we just slap letters together and trust that the meaning of those letters will in time make itself clear to everyone? And what about abstracts? The concept of justice, truth, and love have been generally understood- at least in my own limited experience in my own specific culture. But how does it work cross culturally? I just don't know. I can't get in the mind of another person, and so I just don't know if my notion of justice can equate with that of oh, let's say a Russian. Words. Language. We put a faith in it, because we trust the meaning in the letters. But what happens when we start to doubt language?

It's a scary thought- to strip away this foundation of language- the way we articulate and express ourselves. It just seems like the next logical progression of living in a postmodern relativistic society. We tolerate everything, and believe nothing. That is, capital T truth has gone out the window, and been replaced by some lukewarm pablem that just doesn't suffice. And yet, words still hold their meaning. But how long until that too is thrown out the window? The same mentality that says " you can believe that, but don't force it on me" can be used to say, " your words might mean that, but they mean something different for me". When that starts to happen ( and I'm going to take back what I said before, and say it IS already happening) we are headed into some pretty dangerous territory.

But I'm going to veer away from this philosophical direction, and head back to wear I wanted this post to originally go- and the only connection I can make here is that I have been reading a heck of a lot for the past two days, which has made me think a fair bit about language. But it has also made me think about what it means to be a student. So moving on..

I am a student, which means I have to study. But for what purpose? Bacon nails it.
"Studies serve for pastimes, for ornaments, and for abilities" that is, for private pleasure, to be equipped to engage in discussions, and to sharpen your judgment.
This bit was great- " To spend too much time in them is sloth"
It's interesting, because we need balance when it comes to our studies, yet it is our studies that balance us. Bacon puts a lot of emphasis on the reading, writing, and discourse as the main components of "study". Language is fundamental in all three( Interesting how that never seems to change, even though language does) But he says,
"Reading makes a full man, conversation a ready man, and writing an exact man." So, if you don't write a lot, you better have a good memory, and if you don't talk a lot, you better have quick wit, and if you don't read, you had better be cunning, so as to seem to know what you really don't.

For Bacon, some reading requires just a tasting, others a bit of chewing, still others must be swallowed and digested- that is, read wholly. Reading works on varying levels, but it still remains central to study.

After all the reading I've been doing- I must admit, I am comforted. Thank you Sir Francis Bacon.

Just a little bit of fun I've been having in my Creative Writing course- thought I'd share this story with you. A little mystical and exaggerated, but writing it was a good time.


The Shallow End

The sparkling water of the Rhuidean swirled with glee as each droplet raced to the tune of the never- tiring current. The mist of the morning clung to each bright leaf that sprang from the shrubs lining the river bank, where dew gathered, slipped, and slid as one to the joyful clamor of the stream below. The very air itself held the music of the water, and the birds, gently woken by the enchanting melody, eagerly chirped along. The tune emanating from the Rhuidean forced the world to wake. Willing or not, the creatures were compelled to respond, unable to ignore the charms of the enchanted stream. Even the stones edged closer, to catch a glimpse of distant relatives sunk low beneath the surface, though careful not to get too close. For every stick and stone, fish and bird, even the wisps of wind knew of the spell cast by the Rhuidean-and the treachery therein.

A young man emerged, and the sweet song being spun by the river changed tune. The beat quickened, matching the hurried pace of his pulsing heart. His handsome face altered into that of smug pride; he had found the river. The legendary Rhuidean. He had declared to his future bride that he would not wed her until she possessed the greatest gift. Thus he had traveled for days in search of the mystic river, and had it not been for the clamor of the birds and his curiosity, he may have missed the small oasis entirely. The chant of the river could not reach his human ears, but the beauty of the songbirds provided a pale reflection of the watery composition.

His task was to take from the river enough water to fill a bowl, and present it to his love. In washing her face with the magical water, her skin would become white as snow, her eyes would sparkle like emeralds, her lips as red as rubies. She would be beautiful, and her beauty would last forever. What better gift to present to a young maiden, his young maiden than the gift of never ending beauty? Suddenly, an unnerving thought crossed his mind as he envisioned his goddess passing through time unmarked by age. He would not be exempt from such ugliness. She would blossom eternally and he would inevitably wither and die! With a cry the young man leaped to the river’s edge, and plunged his head into the water.

The chords of a thousand different voices filled and flooded his ears as the cunning water held him captive. He squeezed his eyes shut and in terror tried to tune out the chant that had united in song against him. The chaotic noise grew louder, more urgent though every creature was silent. The rhythmic beat pounded out three syllables in urgent succession. Still the young man could not withdraw his head from the Rhuidean’s watery grip. Straining to be free, he was struck by the three syllable word caught in the current. Van-i-ty, van-i-ty, van-i-ty. With sudden clarity, the words came softly-

Forever young thou wish to be-
(solely fish can hear our melody),
Where you now tread is shallow ground,
and cursed be you, for you have found,
a lovely maiden’s gentle wit
does not suffice your appetite.

Vanity of vanity
Your lot is cast into the sea

In this shallow pool you shall remain
Until the new moon shines again,
But be forewarned; your foolish thought
Has left you nothing, nor has brought
You any nearer your true desire.
But with these words you can retire;
Beneath the surface, beauty lies
Mere looks are feigning alibis.

Convinced he must soon be on the verge of death, held by force, the man struggled in vain to rise up. Instinctively he gasped for one final breath, expecting the vile water to fill and poison his lungs. But something was wrong. He was breathing- under water. Was he dead? In a panic he lurched forward, sliding with ease through the slippery water.
A fin propelled him and gills sustained him. As the horrible realization began to sink in, the words of the river softly came back to him… ‘solely fish can hear our melody…’
Again the river resumed its tune. The creatures stirred from their silence, and echoed their response. The law of the Rhuidean was mysterious- both a blessing and a curse- but let it never be said the river was unjust. For those who come seeking will find what they deserve.

There are a lot of things I could say about this past week. There are a lot of things I won't. It's hard to sum up a week of change. I can't figure out if it was less work, or more work. Nine hours of mindless physical labour, or odd hours of mental strain and silly mind games. I was hoping for a smooth, relatively painless transition from summer to school, work to books, family to friends. I am not sure what happened, but it wasn't smooth. It's like I got on the ugly, delapitated wooden rollercoaster in the far corner of the theme park that nobody wants to go on because it sucks. Your body gets battered with each turn, your neck kinks, teeth clack, stomach churns- when all I really wanted was to get on the fricken Superman. Now that's a good time. That's a smooth and thrilling ride. But, such is life. Anticipation doesn't always deliver. The week was tough, but speckled with joy nonetheless. My friends are quality. Our house is joyful, full of natural sunlight, and delightful girls. The other night Trine and I slept on the lawn just for the heck of it. Even though she wimped out and went in at 4, and I woke up at 7 unable to move my neck, these are the kinds of things you just don't do on your own. Lizzy and I spent Saturday night letting loose at the decade dance, which was followed by a few hours at Tim Hortan's discussing some of the finer points of life. Saturday I played in two soccer games. A great way to build friendships with team players, flat out run yourself into the ground, and also pull a lot of tender leg muscles. The weekend was a great wake up call to the fact that as much as I like the team, it's the sport that counts, and I don't like it. Haha..and so I must quit, yay for free nights!
Now it's the beginning of a new week, and I'm feeling that things are looking up in the world.
Readjusting isn't really all that bad.