yin and yang

Lately, it has felt as though time is standing still. As though, somehow, time has just stopped to allow me to sit--blamelessly, day after day--in an ugly afghan watching BBC mini-series and drinking coffee with absolutely nothing better to do. Obviously, this has been a total fantasy in my mind with no baring in reality; dreamt up in order to justify the devastating depression that has taken hold of me ever since the days began to shorten and the frost killed all the greenery. Indeed, time has very much been marching forward, leaving all my goals and responsibilities somewhere at the start of September. Now, at the end of October, I have two months behind me and nothing meaningful to show for it.

Apart from the tragedy of the colder weather, I can think of no other reason for my disheartened state apart from, possibly, my amazingly surreal summer. I don't think I have recuperated from the almost-deadly bout of pneumonia [four days of oxygen treatment in the hospital]; the cancelled biology course; the sudden, wonderful new friendships; enduring three family reunions; the anticlimax of The Dark Knight Rises; and the many nights of sub-drunken shenanigans. But, whether it was the oddities of the summer or start of chilly weather, I have neither been myself nor the self I want to be of late, and it has taken its toll by paralyzing any routine that makes meeting goals and successfully moving forward possible.

Recently, however, it occurred to me amid a particularily bleak afternoon with very little sunlight--while I sat in my ugly afghan reading the blogs of people far more charming than myself--that with every "seamy" aspect of living, there are those little successes and tiny perfections that can help to lift one from the slough of despond, but which are easily lost in the overpowering ideal of how life ought to be lived. Specifically, one of Lizzie's posts snapped me into the reality that no life is perfect--despite what might appear to be perfection by the observing outsider--and even amid the darkness there can be little bits of light.

So I made some lists. Just like the Tao philosophy of the yin and yang [that the shadow and the light are connected; indiscernable by themselves, but shown for what they are when contrasted against each other] I realized that I would not have seen the good in my life if I hadn't had a little bad to compare it to. I am not a Taoist, but I agree that it is harder to appreciate the light without the presence of darkness.

I have written out a list for both the shadow and the light: the collective perfections and imperfections that make up the yin and yang of my less-than-charming life.


innumerable shoddy english assignments
pages of baffling math problems
two unwritten letters
six unfinished novels
a broken camera
living in a stressfully scattered household
the long, difficult shifts at work
still no driver's license
sullenness; lethargy; the desire to hibernate
having expensive coffee tastes
the coming of a lose-lose American election
the long-neglected sewing machine
the slowly mounting number on the scale

.

the scads of promising films releasing soon

owning three tremendous wool sweaters 

Icelandic music [this and this]

leaves to crunch on the sidewalks

a paycheck every second Friday

five friendly cats on the porch

the autumn-smelling forest behind the house
an abundance of tea

the $60 sent to CBM
learning "Of Angels and Angles" on the guitar

still no snow on the ground
a finished sewing project [a book bag for myself]
gin in the cupboard

Christmas in two months 

Just so you know.

Over this depressingly long span of blog silence, I have been:

- getting into The Marx Brothers
- reading Macbeth
- painting an oak tree (remember this?)
- watching movie commentaries
- drinking lemon ginger tea
- reading The Walking Dead comics
- watching Ian McKellen do Shakespeare
- practicing calligraphy
- listening to Modest Mouse, Sonic Youth, and The Dead Weather
- taking midnight walks
- hyping over Prometheus
- staying up too late

So, in a nutshell, it's been grand. I am currently working on a handful of entertaining articles, which, if you are lucky, you will have the mind-blowing priveledge of reading soon. I will certainly do my best.

Laura

butterfly

For now, there is naught to do but change and change.

I wove a cocoon around myself—a cottony, grayish lump—making sure to spin it tightly, binding every member and limb. I started to blend—mixing, churning, changing—and my features lost their definition; my body its old shape. No one suspected it. No one suspects it as I continue to change and change—hidden from eyes inside the secure, claustruphobic tube I built around myself. I am allowed to be rueful. I am in transition. I am becoming something else.

But I built it knowingly; even happily—the difficulties were not a surprise once I wove the last layer of silk. I knew that I direly needed the change, the transition—that painful inbetween—before a colourful, full-winged future could be mine. I knew that the cocoon was the only way to regenerate my useless bones and idle soul.

And I will remain like this, a soup, for a time—my shapeless self needs to create wings and antennae and a tasteful honey-sucking tongue—but I will emerge.

Perhaps it will take longer than I hope. But I will emerge.

of late,

and entirely against my will, I have been:

- obsessed with Quentin Tarantino films
- using vegan shampoo
- drinking nothing but Orange Pekoe tea
- contemplating an unorthodox piercing
- taking extra shifts at work
- steeling myself to watch Blue Velvet, Midnight Cowboy and Naked Lunch (no, its not porn!)
- eating very seedy, healthy bread
- trying to explain awful poetry
- direly wanting to dye my hair blue (because of this)
- considering universities outside the province
- listening to The Doors
- psyching myself up to the concept of driving
- ignoring fun literature
- staying up too late
- enjoying the work of Sean Penn
- trying to be sociable
- trying to paint (for this)

calligraphy practice

I wrote out alphabets and quotes while listening to Anna Karenina on audiobook. I am no pro, but I think that the fruits of my first attempts are bordering upon beautiful. Slowly but surely, my fingers and my fountain pen aquaint themselves.

Jan 31

I can't believe this is the last day of January! However, I do believe a new blog post is warrented.

Lately, there hasn't been much to write about. I still have to paint my panel in the Saint Albert Mural Mosaic. I am reading The Girl who Played with Fire. I am trying to like Quentin Tarantino films. I am drinking tea. I am still getting over The Reichenbach Fall.

But I want February to have more meaning! More trips to the theater. More social engagements. More films I actually like. More Sherlock Holmes stories. More tea.

I only require the will to make it so.

bookie wooks

I have just finished The Stand by Stephen King, an enthralling 1164 page apocalyptic novel with supernatural elements. Like most King novels, the build-up was much better than the conclusion that was built up to, but I enjoyed it all the same. It was much better than IT, anyway.

Like most people with terrible attention spans, I always have a zillion books on the go at once. Right now, minus the one I just finished, I am currently digging into:

- Les Misérables by Victor Hugo (a complete and unabridged translation by Signet classics)
- I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison (I'm on the last short story!)
- Dawn by Octavia E. Butler (borrowed from Lizzy, who read it for school)
- The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (will it be as great as the Swedish film?)
- Saga of the Swamp Thing, Book 1 by Alan Moore (Moore's take on this comic book series)

These lovelies are pictured above in a tantalizing stack, flanked by a delicious pot of mango tea. I look forward to a wonderful afternoon.

Dec 10

- an entire pot of Fortnum & Mason's Earl Gray, all by myself
- writing about the extent of justification for Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia
- working on a timeline (the evolution of classical liberalism)
- listening to Amy Winehouse
- making curtains for Dad's office
- planning a 2-3 kilometer walk (for later tonight)
- contemplating The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and gingerbread

breakfast

Outside it's -18°C, inside it's delicious.

Today.

The sun is out despite the snow


as the city prepares itself for winter -


for Christmas.


I walk


and breath in the pine of the shivering spruce trees.


The air is visible


as the city throbs,


"Hello winter!


You're welcome here."

progress

It snowed like the dickens today. The first fall of the year. It heaps the November ground like so much cotton. It reminds me, like every snowfall, that I am Canadian and unafraid of the cold and the ice. I wore an interesting scarf.

I wanted to tell you how my plans for this month have been holding up. So far, mostly within the first snow-less weeks of November, I have been surprisingly productive.

I have,
- read four graphic novels (Hellboy Vol. 1, Beowulf, Batman: Year One, and V for Vendetta)
- gotten straight A's in social studies
- researched several universities
- made origami dragons, stars, cranes, a dog, a rooster, and a snail
- started knitting/pearling a pomegranite scarf (for Lana)
- begun cleaning my room (which has so far involved the ridding of a sizable bag of useless junk)
- got halfway through the tiresome Moby Dick, via audiobook
- drank half a box of Zen tea

I have yet to,
- start the patchwork pillows
- start Dawn by Octavia E. Butler
- start my panel for the mural mosaic
- purchase a silver iPod Classic
- spray paint two mannequin heads (for my masks)
- finish The Stand (King) and I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream (Ellison)
- bake ginger bread cookies

October 2

Outside, it's drizzling. The air smells of rain and freshly cut grass. We went to church this morning, after almost a decade of neglect, which served only to remind me why. Now, my dad works on the railings of the back deck. My mum plays fetch with the dogs. My sister watches piano tutorials.

I listen to The Cure and drink acai berry tea, and I am happy.

Laura eats meat.

I had a delicious steak today [AAA grade, in fact] and I don't feel like a murderer. Though the cow was probably cute and gentle, as cows are, he was obviously to delicious to keep alive.

My mother stood in the cold of our deck to roast the thick meat on our barbecue, and I fried mushrooms in butter and peeled shrimps. I will admit to the sickening nature of my latter job, since the shrimps were still equipped with their crustacean-armor, tail and bug-legs. Peeling them was truly horrid, and the thought of them fried in garlic butter was the only thing that kept me from screaming [truly, if wriggled the right way they almost looked as though they had come alive again].

But together with the steak, mushrooms, a spinach salad and Coca Cola, this was truly a meal of the ages.

Feb 4

The weather has been simply gorgeous.

For a February in Alberta, +7 degrees is simply marvelous. I've been able to run down my range road without freezing and have gone to town in only sweaters. This is when I like winter best.

good morning

- shower

- cereal

- apples

- sweaters

- Ayn Rand

- coffee

- thesis

- essay

- The Shins

- snow

in edmonton

I spent most of my day in the city. It was grand among the high-rises; chatting to mother about God and coffee and music and recent episodes of Dexter.

I love that homeschooling allows for such days. I bought a v-neck camel sweater at a mall. We stopped for lunch at a Vietnamese joint.

I also went running this morning with Emily. It was a great start to the day.

I plan to spend the rest of my evening reading Atlas Shrugged; or maybe finish watching Solyaris.