It's not that I'm very old: in fact I feel like I've had relatively few "life" experiences and that there are so many things for me to see and do! But last night, I felt like I could have been in high school again, only without the parents telling me that it's time to go to bed.
We went to the nearby park with clubs and balls, where I swung a golf club for the first time in about fifteen years. With a little instruction, I had what I was told was "excellent form." When I managed to connect with the ball ("Don't take your eyes off the ball!"), I could launch it much farther than I used to. I actually had fun golfing!! I actually want to go to a driving range! I geeked out for a bit with one of the guys, trying to get my old comptuer working. We gave up on that and decided to hang stars from the ceiling with fishing line. We just sat in the room, one of us poking holes in the stars with a hot needle, the other threading the line through and knotting it. And we chatted, and we drank and we had much fun! The three of us hung out in Tony's basement playing games for the rest of the night.
I can't stop now. I can't even slow down. There is so much to do, and I'm enjoying every single minute of it. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing every moment. So who needs sleep when there are people to play with, places to go, new experiences to enjoy in every second?
I've become like my mother: going to sleep late, waking up much earlier than everyone else, constantly busy meaking sure everyone has been taken care of. I often wondered how she found the energy to do so many things, but I could never figure it out, until now. I sleep very little and let other things fuel me: adrenaline from the rush of skiing or rollerblading, people around me, moving music in my ears, chemicals that are acceptable to keep me going (caffeine in its various forms), emotions swinging high.
I wonder how long this can continue. I'm sure I'll crash eventually, but how bad will it be? How long will it last? And is there something wrong with living like this until then?
So far this year, I've travelled to some big cities, and I plan to continue this trend later in the year. Having escaped the small "city" of my childhood, I enjoy the activity of larger centres. Edmonton has been a good home for the past (almost) eight years, but I am drawn toward bigger and better. I'm really looking forward to Sydney later this year!
Toronto and Vancouver have been the two travel destinations so far this year. The feel of the two cities is quite different. I remember my first time in Toronto last August, hating the urban sprawl of the place. It lacked the majesty and beauty of the European cities I'd visited the year before. Before long, though, it grew on me, and I knew I'd be returning eventually. Edmonton was now just another quaint little city that I had outgrown. With a local guide this winter, I was able to see enough of downtown Toronto to appreciate more of the city, the distinct feel of different neighbourhoods and I enjoyed every second of it (even in the harsh cold of winter). I felt familiar enough with it to go with Helen and wander the streets with her, finding new gems as we walked the streets. At some point between January and March, I found the spacing magazine website, full of interesting articles and a cool photoblog. Having enjoyed the lush green warmth characteristic to Vancouver every time I visited, and this new perspective on urban spaces, I tried to find something similar for another Canadian city I love. I didn't find what I was looking for specifically, but I did find urbanphoto with a recent feature of Vancouver. This caption in particular summed up nicely one of the reasons I love this city:
Vancouver is the city that spawned Greenpeace and Adbusters. One of its sons coined the term "Generation X". It is young and socially conscious and that tends to seep through into everyday life.
I've really enjoyed what I've seen at URBANPHOTO, and I can't wait to explore the site more, possibly even contribute something of my own. I've looked, but so far I have yet to find something similar for Edmonton. I know there is far less to see or write about here, but it's still a lot more than I used to have, and for that I am grateful. Soon, Chris and I will be going walking/rollerblading with cameras in tow, and soon I'll have the pictures up somewhere for all too see!
I've been trying to come up with story ideas but I keep getting sidetracked, not by other things in my life, but by details. I want to put in all the details that make up a person, but that's never a good idea. It would be too overwhelming (if it's even possible). And yet, people are so multifaceted, so layered, that I want to incorporate that into every character. Maybe this is why I find so much pleasure in the stories I crave: simplicity of characters. Every level is muted, people in stories are never as complicated as the people I see all around me. They're a simple version, certain traits brought to light while all other characteristics fade away into shadow. Let go of the complexity, of layers, of all the masks. The straightforward personality is so easy to understand, so warm and comforting. But because I see so many layers, because my own personality is comprised of contradictory characteristics, because people never present a completely honest face, I try to integrate that experience into every piece of writing. I attempt to capture the many facets, but all I do is overwhelm myself with complexities. And I stop writing, and I stop creating.
Every so often (actually quite rare), I come up with something: a story line, a character in a situation, the beginning of an idea. I try to write it, try to develop it into something interesting. I write it out, following the progression, discovering where the story will take me. I am only the tool, the instrument that the story uses to tell itself. And then the editor in me takes over, so that every word is crossed out in red ink, every sentence should be written better, every paragraph is a mutant of the thoughts I tried to convey, the story comes out a monstrous failure. I file it away, lose it in the piles of papers, erase its existence from my memory.
I have lost faith in my ability. I pass harsh judgment: I fail. There is no room for a second opinion so the story removes itself from the world.
I finally made it up to Jasper for some skiing, dragging my roommate Katie along for the ride. It was a sweet trip: the mountains, the company, the snow conditions, the quiet exhausted feeling of elation all made my first ski trip this season enjoyable beyond words. How could mere words describe the feelings, the sights, the sounds, smells, taste of the mountains? They are meagre substitutions, posing for those who want to pretend understanding. So invigorated by this experience, I've managed to make plans to do it all again. Instead of Japser, it'll be Banff, though I'm not sure which hill. Two ski weekends in a row, rollerblading during the week. This is how it ought to be: this is near perfection. Why couldn't the past few months been like this? But I know the old adage to be true: it's better late than never, and I am a confidently familiar with tardiness, with drawing things out until it's almost almost too late, but just soon enough that I squeeze it in at the last possible moment. I haven't missed yet, have I? Did I delay too long and miss something? Not yet, I think to myself, not yet.
Perhaps after another trip, another similar experience, I can turn it into words. The words won't replace the sensations; they're only reminders. Take my words, and remember the experience, relive the moment, all the tiny details that comprise the event. Even if I don't write it, I'll still hold on the memory of exhilaration at attacking a mogul. I will still feel the warmth of the sunshine on my face, then the biting wind as I whip down the hill, speeding past obstacles, rushing onward, carving my path through the crunchy snow. The only thing I can see is the path I'm about to take down the hill: my surroundings fill my awareness, but the images are not a part of my memories.
Yes, the blood pounding in my ears, my legs weak and shaky, my lungs filling with cold fresh air... these things I will feel again. I will recreate it in only a few more days. I don't want to wait.
Portobello mushrooms Cottage cheese Garlic Olive Oil Green onion Red bell pepper Salt and pepper Grated Parmesan or mozzarella cheese
There aren't any portions included because everything we cooked was made to taste. Really, everything depends on the size of the mushrooms you start with.
Scoop out the insides of the mushrooms into a bowl, placing the caps on a baking sheet. Add the rest of the ingredients (except the cheese) chopped fine. Mix well and spoon into the mushroom caps. Top with grated cheese and bake at 350 degrees F until mixture and mushrooms are heated through (about 15 minutes).
These mushrooms are a great appetizer, snack or side dish for any meal! I only wish we had taken a picture before everyone had devoured them.
I was asked not too long ago why I have a blog. I'll admit it wasn't something I thought much about, and so the answer has taken me a long time to develop. I had to go back to the days when I didn't have a blog to remember why I started one. Before a blog, I had webspace, but there wasn't much there that was useful for anyone but me. I started getting into web design because it was fun and a couple friends showed me some neat tricks. I couldn t have done much without them, as I learn much much better from people showing than books instructing. Because I now had a pretty website, I started to put up some things, posting items by date, but editing the html every time I had something to add. You can still have a look at it, although many links are broken, and the info is all out of date. When I came back from Europe, I was introduced to blogging. I thought "Great! I can start writing again!" That's basically the point of having this blog! I wanted to write; I wanted people to read it. At the time, I believed I would have such a sophisticated website that random people would want to check it all the time. It would be full of interesting information, technical and otherwise, addressomg topics that were of interest to my friends and me. As the site (and the writing) developed, I began to add in personal updates now and then, for people still in school or too busy or out of town... It now seems to have developed into something I didn't quite foresee, but the main reason for having the blog remains: I want to write and I want people to read it. This blog is my mark on the world, it's "self-publication" of my writing. Sometimes it's good, other times it could use a bit of work. Although I've been having problems with blogger lately, dealing with them has led me to realise how much I've improved since I first started this blog. Not only do I find writing easier than I did when I first graduated, but I also find that the quality has improved fantastically. And so there's the answer: I blog so that I'm motivated to write by the fact that people read it. Here I am world, judge me if you will, but at least let me entertain you, stimulate your mind or provide you with some information while I'm at it.
