Every once in a while I get an itch to go outside for a long walk. One day last week, upon the inspirational dare of a friend, I decided to walk to school. This is my story.
I woke up at quarter to four in the morning, so that I had time to brush my teeth before I had to leave. I got all decked out in my rain gear (mackintosh, galoshes, three pairs of socks and a telephone book) and headed out into the great unknown. I also brought a map so that it wasn't completely unknown, and an inflatable tour guide who I kept in my pocket for emergencies. It wasn't long before I was met with a perilous hurdle: an angry mob of pre-Halloween trick-or-treaters dressed as slightly-more-modestly-clad Spice Girls, canvassing the neighbourhood for nutmeg and ginger and cinnamon and all of those other valuable spices. When they saw me and my phonebook they began to charge, assuming that my phonebook was actually a coy disguise for an internationally sought after million dollar recipe collection exposing the true uses for myrrh, which, of course, it was.
So, with the hand that I was not using to balance the large not-quite-a-phonebook, I reached deep into my pocket and pulled the inflatable cord of the tour guide. Immediately he inflated and began giving me directions to the nearest teleportation centre (conveniently located Cassells Street), in a weird Australian accent that may have almost passed as Norwegian, in the dark. "Run!" I yelled, "And here, carry this stuff. It's heavy." I passed off my burdens to the helpful guide but alas he was only inflatable and under the weight of my not-actually-a-phonebook he crumpled. The Spice Girls approached in a mob, so I reached back into my 90’s repertoire and in a desperate cry, I sang "STOP! In the name of love!!" And zap, they froze in place... until they also realized that that is not a Spice Girls song and charged on. CRAP, I thought to myself as I tried to scoop up the guide. “CRAP!” I shouted when the deflated guide refused to peel off the sidewalk and collapse back into my pocket. My guide looked up at me from under his plastic explorer’s chapeau. “Go, run! You have a class to get to! I’ll hold off the mob while I can! Save your GPA!”
Reluctantly, I grabbed the not-a-phonebook and booked it (so to speak) to Cassells. To my surprise it took a solid thirty-nine seconds for the Spice Girls to round the bend and start nipping at my red-high-top heels. Alas, they did catch (in a cloud of confectionary sugar that didn’t quite fit their usual modus operandi), and I was knocked suddenly to the ground and pummelled with dollar store microphones. Just when I thought I was going to be echoed to death I was rescued from the depths of the bedlam by a vine swinging safari man! My re-inflated guide (now reinforced by duct and duck tape) was swinging by a thick yellow cord... you might even call it a rope... of hair?
“It’s a good thing that the teleportation centre is on Cassells. Tall towers with long blonde locks are hard to come by in North Bay, but I knew there would be one around here if I knocked on the right doors. But it was simple dumb luck that Red Green and Dudley the Dragon were next door. Well, either dumb luck or clever authorship. Anyway, here I am and here we are!” he said as he touched down, right in front of the Tim Horton’s. I laughed. “I should have figured it would be a Timmies that connects the world by lightning speed. I just have one question for you... how did you stall the mob?”
He smiled with a broad, hand painted smirk. “There is only one thing that can distract a girl band away from their mission: a boy band. All I had to do was sing a few bars of “Bye Bye Bye” and they were eating out of my hands... until they realized that NSYNC was a five person group and I was a solo act. Then I lost them, but not for long, because I made a call from my inflatable walkie-talkie to Rapunzel (we go way back... used to date in her pre-Disney days) and she hooked me up with help from her neighbours.” I have to admit, I was impressed.
“I have to admit I’m impressed,” I confessed, “but I'm also nearly late for class! Do you have my not-even-a-little-bit-like-a-phonebook?” He handed it over. “Thanks again, for everything.” He put his hand to his brow as though to salute, but instead pressed a small button on his temple, saying “All in a day’s work.” And then he deflated, folding neatly into a rectangle the approximate size of a deck of cards. I put him back in my raincoat pocket.
Tim Horton’s was unusually busy, but it transported me to the cafeteria line with seven minutes to spare... seven minutes I used to buy a hot chocolate with hazelnut, a much appreciated moment of peace after such a crazy and unusually unpredictable morning.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Snowfall in October
There is nothing quite so perfectly charming as a blanket of sparkling, crystal flakes falling on a winter’s evening. When you are snuggled deep in blankets on a comfortable couch near a roaring fire, there is little that can compare with watching the snow fall... but isn’t it interesting that there is absolutely nothing quaint or wonderful about the cold when it comes nipping so aggressively at summer’s heels? The leaves have barely turned and already the winds blow hard and the temperature has dropped so far below normal that I no longer believe a word of the global warming hype. In fact, I wouldn’t mind it if our arctic chill would heat up a little more.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the snow... but it has a time and place (which is, of course, neither here nor now). October should be the time for raking falling maple leaves into piles and taking a flying leap. It should be the time for long walks through the woods admiring the vivid reds and oranges and yellows that trademark our great land. It should be a time for stargazing in a field and taking in the smells and sounds of fall... and instead we are shut up indoors for fear of hypothermia and the flu. Winter, please hold off! Just a few more weeks of jeans and jackets before we have to pull out our mittens and parkas!
Well, I guess there isn’t much that anyone can do about the situation. The weather is as the weather does all by God’s prerogative... but let’s just say that if God doesn’t change His mind about the environmental state in Ontario, I predict a large number of trick-or-treating Eskimos and polar bears this season! Who knows, we might even catch sight of a giant penguin or two.
Stock up your igloos, Canada. It’s going to be a cold one this year!
Don’t get me wrong, I love the snow... but it has a time and place (which is, of course, neither here nor now). October should be the time for raking falling maple leaves into piles and taking a flying leap. It should be the time for long walks through the woods admiring the vivid reds and oranges and yellows that trademark our great land. It should be a time for stargazing in a field and taking in the smells and sounds of fall... and instead we are shut up indoors for fear of hypothermia and the flu. Winter, please hold off! Just a few more weeks of jeans and jackets before we have to pull out our mittens and parkas!
Well, I guess there isn’t much that anyone can do about the situation. The weather is as the weather does all by God’s prerogative... but let’s just say that if God doesn’t change His mind about the environmental state in Ontario, I predict a large number of trick-or-treating Eskimos and polar bears this season! Who knows, we might even catch sight of a giant penguin or two.
Stock up your igloos, Canada. It’s going to be a cold one this year!
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Riding Rail and Rhythm
My thoughts are so affected by the music running through my mind. I interpret melody as a liquid, like a river flowing at different paces, in different rhythms, reflecting different colours and depths of light. Sometimes, the music is a smooth, breathing kind of wash, lulling me into a blissful peace of mind. Sometimes the music is a rapid, an exciting rush of sound racing me forwards, unpredictable and thrilling. Sometimes a song will lift me on a wave or plunge me in a fall, it can rustle my securities or comfort me like nothing else. Music can make me cry, make me hope, make me dance, dream, sway, sing... Music is incredibly powerful. And when it is at its very best and most influential, it makes me think.
I’m sitting on a train, heading back to school for the night. I’m sitting on my computer, staring out the window, listening to my iPod friend and engaging in a little self-analytical metaphysical pondering. I set it on “random shuffle” a few songs back, and I have to say that while the songs change it’s incredibly difficult to focus on one train of thought (so to speak) with the constant mental background changes. For example, when I began this piece I was listening to a gentle version of True Colours, then Creed’s With Arms Wide Open which transitioned to the Beatles with Twist and Shout, followed by You Give Love a Bad Name and Poor Unfortunate Soul... the Jonas Brother’s version. My thoughts have been jumping around just as much if not more than the genre flux might suggest. It’s hard to track it actually, since thought happens so quickly. As I keep writing this piece, I’ll insert when the song changes and I suppose you will be the judge of how or if it has an effect on what I say here (Love is Here, Tenth Avenue North).
I find that train tracks tend to cut across some of the most beautiful places in the North. You don’t see nearly enough fields and farms from the highway. It’s part of the reason that I’ve traded my transportation from bus to this magnificently old-fashioned passenger rail. I’ve always thought that there was something beautiful and romantic about the train. There’s something I absolutely love about moving slowly from one place to another, riding the rock of the cars, watching the scenes change outside my window. (Talk About It, Nicole C. Mullen) Even on such a greyish kind of day, the colours are beautiful and the forests are full of life. Every once in a while, while passing a house (The Thief, Relient K) I become very aware of the fact that we are passing not only people’s houses but also their very lives. Have you taken time to really sit back and think about the fact that people live in houses? Life happens in houses and cars and offices and cottages... so much life. (These Are the Moments, Sarah Evans) Life, you might say, happens everywhere. I would agree.
I’m passing through a small town. There are people in the snow (which is quite depressing and not of any particularly attractive crystal formation) planting trees. It seems like a strange kind of time to plant trees, but I suppose I’m not an expert on the subject. I’ve only planted a few trees in my life and they were more like transplants from one part of the forest to another... we were harvesting potential Christmas Trees one year when my sisters and I were small. We watered them regularly and everything. (Secret Smile, Rascal Flatts) Most of my other relationships with trees have been in the climbing of limbs or the burning of firewood. I also swallowed a tree whole, once upon a story. It’s true, just ask Carolyn. I make her verify that story pretty frequently.
(Part of Your World, Disney) I think I must type much slower than I think I do, based on the rate of changeover in the songs I’m listening to. I guess it might reflect the depth of the thought, but that might not be true. It probably reflects my levels of distraction. For example, we’ve just made a station stop and though I can’t see if we’ve gained any passengers I have seen a sign for Tom Thompson Park, just down that road. Of course you can’t see that I’ve just pointed out my window, but if you were here and this was a chat rather than a note (Get Him Back, Fiona Apple) it might have been interesting.
Why do you suppose so many northern shores and islands are layers with evergreens? Heron! Just chilling out, waiting for the train to pass. I think that animals are extraordinarily patient when it comes to human intrusion. One day I would love to see a moose. (One Girl Revolution, Superchick).
I love Canada. (Another Postcard, Barenaked Ladies) And I love trains. I think I would live on a train if I could and if it wasn’t so terribly impractical. It’s funny that I love movement so much in a way, because in life I’m such a home-body. I like being anchored, but it’s the go and return that I like most. (Beautiful World, GS Megaphone) (My Home, Thousand Foot Krutch) My sock has twisted around in my shoe. Socks are probably my least favourite of all human conventions. That, and tucking in the covers. (Life Goes On, Carrie Underwood) Zipholder. I just passed the skeletal frame of a yellow school bus... and the ruins of an old barn. I can’t believe how much you can see from a window seat. (Go the Distance, Disney) Well, the dining car just closed so I think it’s about time that I close up my computer as well. A thousand words of useless insights into my traveling mind... CLAIM! Okay, that was easily fifty zips and five zipholders. Don’t even try to “graveyard” that, I win today. Just accept defeat, family! Last song: No Fear, Terri Clark. And with that I bid you happy riding and may you take time to really think about your life and the lives of those you pass in commute.
I’m sitting on a train, heading back to school for the night. I’m sitting on my computer, staring out the window, listening to my iPod friend and engaging in a little self-analytical metaphysical pondering. I set it on “random shuffle” a few songs back, and I have to say that while the songs change it’s incredibly difficult to focus on one train of thought (so to speak) with the constant mental background changes. For example, when I began this piece I was listening to a gentle version of True Colours, then Creed’s With Arms Wide Open which transitioned to the Beatles with Twist and Shout, followed by You Give Love a Bad Name and Poor Unfortunate Soul... the Jonas Brother’s version. My thoughts have been jumping around just as much if not more than the genre flux might suggest. It’s hard to track it actually, since thought happens so quickly. As I keep writing this piece, I’ll insert when the song changes and I suppose you will be the judge of how or if it has an effect on what I say here (Love is Here, Tenth Avenue North).
I find that train tracks tend to cut across some of the most beautiful places in the North. You don’t see nearly enough fields and farms from the highway. It’s part of the reason that I’ve traded my transportation from bus to this magnificently old-fashioned passenger rail. I’ve always thought that there was something beautiful and romantic about the train. There’s something I absolutely love about moving slowly from one place to another, riding the rock of the cars, watching the scenes change outside my window. (Talk About It, Nicole C. Mullen) Even on such a greyish kind of day, the colours are beautiful and the forests are full of life. Every once in a while, while passing a house (The Thief, Relient K) I become very aware of the fact that we are passing not only people’s houses but also their very lives. Have you taken time to really sit back and think about the fact that people live in houses? Life happens in houses and cars and offices and cottages... so much life. (These Are the Moments, Sarah Evans) Life, you might say, happens everywhere. I would agree.
I’m passing through a small town. There are people in the snow (which is quite depressing and not of any particularly attractive crystal formation) planting trees. It seems like a strange kind of time to plant trees, but I suppose I’m not an expert on the subject. I’ve only planted a few trees in my life and they were more like transplants from one part of the forest to another... we were harvesting potential Christmas Trees one year when my sisters and I were small. We watered them regularly and everything. (Secret Smile, Rascal Flatts) Most of my other relationships with trees have been in the climbing of limbs or the burning of firewood. I also swallowed a tree whole, once upon a story. It’s true, just ask Carolyn. I make her verify that story pretty frequently.
(Part of Your World, Disney) I think I must type much slower than I think I do, based on the rate of changeover in the songs I’m listening to. I guess it might reflect the depth of the thought, but that might not be true. It probably reflects my levels of distraction. For example, we’ve just made a station stop and though I can’t see if we’ve gained any passengers I have seen a sign for Tom Thompson Park, just down that road. Of course you can’t see that I’ve just pointed out my window, but if you were here and this was a chat rather than a note (Get Him Back, Fiona Apple) it might have been interesting.
Why do you suppose so many northern shores and islands are layers with evergreens? Heron! Just chilling out, waiting for the train to pass. I think that animals are extraordinarily patient when it comes to human intrusion. One day I would love to see a moose. (One Girl Revolution, Superchick).
I love Canada. (Another Postcard, Barenaked Ladies) And I love trains. I think I would live on a train if I could and if it wasn’t so terribly impractical. It’s funny that I love movement so much in a way, because in life I’m such a home-body. I like being anchored, but it’s the go and return that I like most. (Beautiful World, GS Megaphone) (My Home, Thousand Foot Krutch) My sock has twisted around in my shoe. Socks are probably my least favourite of all human conventions. That, and tucking in the covers. (Life Goes On, Carrie Underwood) Zipholder. I just passed the skeletal frame of a yellow school bus... and the ruins of an old barn. I can’t believe how much you can see from a window seat. (Go the Distance, Disney) Well, the dining car just closed so I think it’s about time that I close up my computer as well. A thousand words of useless insights into my traveling mind... CLAIM! Okay, that was easily fifty zips and five zipholders. Don’t even try to “graveyard” that, I win today. Just accept defeat, family! Last song: No Fear, Terri Clark. And with that I bid you happy riding and may you take time to really think about your life and the lives of those you pass in commute.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
To the Light
Lead me to the Light
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
The patterns of this world
Wrap themselves around me
Please help to untangle me
From this web I wove
The chaos in my mind
The angers and temptations
Living in a world that
Plays off lust and greed
Lead me to the Light
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
So much I’ve yet to learn
Naive nor understanding
What am I to choose
And how am I to serve?
God help me live my life
As a witness of Your Mercy
And when my strength is failing
I know you will endure
Lead me to the Light
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
The patterns of this world
Wrap themselves around me
Please help to untangle me
From this web I wove
The chaos in my mind
The angers and temptations
Living in a world that
Plays off lust and greed
Lead me to the Light
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
So much I’ve yet to learn
Naive nor understanding
What am I to choose
And how am I to serve?
God help me live my life
As a witness of Your Mercy
And when my strength is failing
I know you will endure
Lead me to the Light
When I’m too blind to follow
Take me to the Place
Where for myself I cannot go
Lead me to the Light
I need out of this darkness
Take my hand
And guide my heart to You
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