Week ???: Still Alive

If this was 2007, I would justify this kinda post by saying I wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. But, let's be real. You've seen enough of my tweets and tumbls to know that I haven't gone anywhere. With all the internet places we have to frequent, a real proper blog (which this mess aspires to be) has become secondary for most people.

But yes, I sure have let my goal (posting once a week throughout 2013) slide. Like, really, really far. And on top of that, I have fallen back on the classic fall-back "post about not posting more" far too often.

I'm doing it right now, if you couldn't tell.

So, let's see if I can muster up some actual content.

Hmm.

Well. Speaking of being not dead, there is currently a ridiculous windstorm raging outside my window. I can hear trees being whipped back and forth, bending impossibly far without breaking. Yet.

It's the kind of storm that can make a bed feel more cozy, light feel more comforting, and sleep come more easily. In case I've neglected to mention it here before: I love the wind. It's hands down my favourite weather condition. There is something so refreshing and exciting about a windy day (or a windy night). Maybe its the uncertainty about what nature will throw at us next. Maybe its the potential for imagination; to pretend we are flying through the sky, or through a vortex to a different universe.

Where I live, wind is never really a threat. The weather that manages to scare us is usually ice - that's what takes down trees, cuts out power, and makes roads impassible. Thunderstorms do some damage too, in the summer. But wind itself is nothing - wind is excitement, thrill, and maybe a branch or two landing in your yard.

Earlier this evening, I heard that tornadoes had caused multiple deaths in the States. That's one weather feature I'm not usually concerned about up here, but it's always a possibility. A distant, but rather scary, possibility.

The thing is, tornadoes don't make my wind any less wonderful. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. But nature throws a lot of stuff our way, and most of it could probably kill us, if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We revel in the natural world because it gets at something essential inside us - and we can't shy away, or shut it out, just because it is double-sidedly dangerous.

Goodnight, bloglings

Week 42: Mud. Everywhere.

So I just realized that I haven't updated you lovely people about quidditch at all this semester. I mean, its definitely still a thing, if you were wondering.

Two weekends ago we played in our first tournament of the season, all the way down in New York. This was our first time ever playing quidditch outside of Canada, and the first real live games that a lot of our players had ever experienced. So, big day.

It started at about 4 am, when most of us had to get out of bed and stumble around packing cleats, brooms, and a ton of warm clothes. We embarked on the 4+ hour drive, fully intending to get some more sleep in, but ended up singing Disney and Les Mis songs at the top of our lungs for most of the way there.

Once we found our way to the field, the excitement started to hit. An unfortunate miscommunication lost us our first game, but after that we hit the pitch with so much more determination, and won our remaining three games of the day - including a win over the top-ranked team in Canada.

With a pretty good feeling about the rest of the season, we piled into our cars and trekked home, using every tactic available to keep our valiant drivers awake. Arriving home at around 10:30 pm, we celebrated our victories well into the night, making this my first 24 hours awake spent entirely with quidditch kids. The first of many, I'm sure.

The following weekend, being mostly recovered, we set out to a (thankfully) much closer tournament, with a lot more sleep under our belts too. We all knew rain was in the forecast, but what we didn't quite forsee was...the mud.

dun dun dun.....

After a chilly and damp warm up, we hit the pitch, which almost immediately turned to mud under our feet. After a few games, we were practically swimming in the stuff.  Not to mention that we were head-to-toe covered in it, hair and teeth included. Thankfully there was a warm and dry building nearby with couches and washrooms and Tim Hortons - if there is one thing that can keep a Canadian quidkid happy, it's Timmies.

Unfortunately the mud did claim a victim, as one player from an opposing team slipped and fell on his ankle, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. After relocating the pitch to a slightly less treacherous patch of lawn, play continued, and we ended up winning all four of our games that day.

Exhausted, soaked, and filthy beyond recognition - but in a pretty good mood - the team piled into cars once again, and most of them set out to drive to yet another tournament. On the other side of the province. At 8pm.

Those of us not making that particular journey went home, drank wine and watched a chick flick, while our teammates struggled on through the night. They ended up arriving at 2am, with just enough time to fall asleep for a few minutes before getting up to hit the pitch once more.

(In case you weren't already aware, quidditch players are pretty freaking badass)

Lack of sleep definitely took its toll on our team that day, and they suffered hard-fought losses in all three of their games. On Sunday night, our team returned to us as quidditch zombies, after a whirlwind of driving, chasing, seeking, beating and snitching - with very little sleeping in between. But besides an undead-like appearance, they had come home with experience - which will be essential as we continue our season.

So, that's all for now, folks. We are currently ranked fourth out of 16 teams in our region (Ontario and Quebec). Stay tuned to hear how we fare against all those other teams at the Canada Cup in a few weeks!


Goodnight, bloglings.

Week 41: Not Feeling It

So apparently it's now the end of October. Who knew? People who care about Halloween, I guess.

As I said in my last post, I'm all about fall - but I just can't get into Halloween this year. I've never been a fan of gore or horror, so my Halloweens have always tended towards the clever costumes, the unscary movies, and the candy. But even that seems dull this year.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm drowning in homework and projects, not to mention other commitments, like this blog, LTNC, and quidditch. It could be the fact that collecting candy is not really a viable option after the age of 18. But honestly, staying warm and dry and curled up with tumblr sounds far more appealing than stressing over ripped tights, missing safety-pins, running makeup or the fear that nobody will get my costume.

So this is my official declaration, world. Don't count me in for Halloween this year.

The thing is, this is weird for me. I'm usually mega-committed to holidays and traditions. All of them. Heck, I even get upset when I don't get a chance to properly celebrate Remembrance Day. Days that are stable in my life, year after year, are super important to me - although until now I've never thought about why.

I guess most holidays have an emotional connection - I mean, that gives us something to celebrate, right? Christmas, Thanksgiving, Canada Day, all tug on one heart-string or the other. But, does Halloween? It's definitely the source of some great memories for me, and I can totally understand others' excitement. But as far as emotions go? There's nothing really there.

So next week you'll be able to find me dressed as an apathetic university student, complete with laptop and complete disregard for normal adult sleeping schedules.

Goodnight, bloglings

Week 40(ish): Falling

So, it's been a while, hasn't it?

The wonderful website whatweekisit.com informs me that it is, in fact, the 43rd week of the year. So. Yes. Well.

*clears throat* Anyways...

After what seemed like unnatural amounts of sunshine the last few weeks, it's actually starting to feel cold. And I couldn't be happier. I love fall for its variety, for the way everything around us changes so fast. I love the warm, golden days of September, the deep colours of early October, and the blustery storms of November. But most of all I love the contrast, that feeling when you see the first red leaves, the first dusting of frost, or the first snowflakes drifting down from a hazy sky. It's a new beginning in a season of endings.

This new chill in the air makes going outside so invigorating - and makes coming back inside all the more comforting. It makes socks and sweaters and blankets earn their keep. And it makes hot chocolate and Starbucks into tactical maneuvers in the war against being cold.

It means that there are essays to be written, midterms to be taken, and boring books to be read, but it also means that we are almost there, the holidays are now in sight.  It means deadlines and countdowns and making a point to start thinking about planning to remember to start gift shopping.

When someone says they don't like fall, they either still miss summer or they're impatient for winter. They are looking for something specific, in a large amount. What they fail to realize is that fall has everything you could want - sun, beautiful landscapes, chilly air, a bit of snow - but only in small doses, to be savoured and remembered. Fall makes us appreciate every gorgeous day, whether it's +20 or -10. It makes us take notice of the strange and fantastic environment around us, and the crazy things it can do.

Hopefully I can find some time in my busy weeks to slow down and give fall the appreciation it deserves.

(And also to catch up on blog posts)

Goodnight, bloglings

Week 39: One Year Later

This blog post, which is still, by the way, one week behind schedule, is brought to you by the first night in two weeks that I haven't had any homework. 

So about a year ago, I did a thing. It was sort of a weird thing but turned out to be a very very good decision.

Two days ago, I did the thing again. Again, it was weird. But a good decision just the same.


And in this last year, things - other things - have both changed and stayed the same.

My day-to-day life is almost exactly the same this week as it was a year ago. The weather is the same, the school work is basically the same, the catastrophic mess that is the laundry in the corner of my bedroom is the same too.

But some things are so, so different. I've got a safety net, I've got a bunch of people around me that are supportive and loving and beautifully ridiculous. I feel secure, like a tree that's put down roots. These roots aren't just in one place or in any place at all, but I know that they'll keep me standing up.

I know these things are natural progressions, and probably would have happened on their own. But I like to think that doing the thing had something to do with it.

So I'm kinda liking the part of semi-adulthood where I get to just, you know, do things. On my own. I can just, like, do. the. thing. It's pretty rad. 10/10. Would recommend.

So, one year later, here's to doing things. Big things and little things, scary things that turn out fun and fun things that turn out kinda scary.

Imma go do some things.

Actually, Imma go sleep, because the last thing I did sorta didn't involve that at all. For 24 hours. 

Goodnight, bloglings

Week 38: Looking In

So it feels like everyone in the English-speaking world (and probably lots of people outside of it too) is watching the finale of a certain TV show right now. If you don't know to what I'm referring, well to be honest I'm not sure how you have braved the internet long enough to make it to this little corner.

Or, I mean, maybe you are reading this years into the future. Which is cool too, I guess. Hi.

To cut to the chase, I was not among the millions watching the finale of Breaking Bad tonight. I mean, for starters, I don't even have a cable subscription, and ... what do you mean those bunny ears don't work anymore?!?

For real though, I've never seen a single episode of Breaking Bad. Although I hear it's some dazzling achievement in television drama, or something. It has never appealed to me. Maybe that's because there are no intelligent, attractive British men on it - that seems to be my requirement lately. But over the past (*pauses to find the Wikipedia article*) five-ish years, I've watched everyone else fall for this show. I mean, really fall for it. This past weekend I have seen actual outpourings of love for this series.

Which shouldn't be unusual, since I spend a good portion of my waking hours on website seemingly dedicated to outpourings of love for fictional stories and their characters. But what seems odd about the Breaking Bad phenomenon is the audience. Or more correctly, I guess, it's that the audience isn't any one thing at all. It isn't just teenagers and young adults, and it isn't just 40+ year olds in their parents' basement. People from all walks of life are really, really passionate about this show.

Of course, the nerds are passionate about it too - maybe more so than average- but what has surprised me is that people who wouldn't normally be called nerds, who may even mock those who are, have become genuinely invested in this show.

And although I have no clue what it's about (Wait...it's meth, right? It's about meth? And a teacher?) and although I'm sure the finale was heart-wrenching...and despite the fact that it is currently clogging up every single social media feed I possess... I'm really sorta happy about it. Having been enchanted by so many stories, and having an enormous community to love them with, I know exactly how every Breaking Bad viewer is feeling tonight.

(I mean, unless they are feeling like starting a meth lab. I don't know what that feels like.)

I know that they will laugh and cry and talk endlessly about it with their friends tomorrow, and even though I'm on the outside looking in, I'm just really glad that a story still has the power to unite us like this.

Goodnight, bloglings


 

Week 37: Inevitable

Lately I've been thinking about how so much of my life feels sorta pre-lived for me. Roommates, leafy campus, classes, essays and ramen noodles at 1 am - aren't I just following a beaten track? This rite of passage is so uniform and well-documented that sometimes I feel as though I could do it in my sleep. (Sometimes I wish I could do it in my sleep, but that's another story all together.)

It's not that I hate it, not at all - like any sort of life, the ups and the downs generally balance out somewhere around okay. The grass over the fence is greener, but then it always will be.

And I know this is just a waiting room, a holding pen before the bigger and better and brighter things but what if bigger is just a bigger room? What if that future is also a path that has been beaten by so many before me that it's no longer anything but dirt, no longer anything alive or green?

At least three times every day I feel a sense of deja-vu - recognizing that my day-to-day is just a montage from a college movie and the only thing I'm missing is the soundtrack and the jumpcuts. You know in those dreams when you somehow know that the door is going to open, an infinitesimal second before it does - that it's inevitable? When your life is pre-lived, everything you do, no matter what, is inevitable. It's a product of your stress or your hormones or your environment or your upbringing or it's just the next step on the ladder to success but no matter what it's inevitable. It's been done before and will be done again. Don't believe me? Check the internet, because a million people think every post is 'so relateable'.

So much is made of this time of life, but I'm not sure that I'll be able to make anything with these cookie-cutter memories. Graduation pictures taken in a uniform - under a uniform tree and a uniform sky, by a uniformed dude to be put in uniform frames? There is something so sterile about that. And we hold this up as such an achievement, as if we have climbed a mountain or built a house, as if we've done something other than traipse down the path beaten so smooth for us by generations and movies just to put on the same robes and toss the same cap in the air.

It's not that anything's the matter; it's just that everything is the same.

Goodnight, bloglings