Back Alleys in Quiet Cities

Working in a mall in a money-obsessed city around Christmas gives me uncountable moments of existential crisis. I wonder, why do people need to shop all the time? Why do all 16 year old girls look the same? Why do they have to unfold all those t-shirts I just meticulously arranged? Why am I here, what is my purpose on this earth? If my purpose here is to shop, just like all these people, then get rid of me because I don't need to be here.

Obviously, I am counting down the days until my life feels real again- I can't even be bothered to hide it. One week till Peterborough time!

I was again listening to CBC Radio 2's the Signal (10pm EST), and discovered yet another gem that I am unable to download anywhere: LEIF VOLLEBEKK. Montreal'er, musician of greatness, unsigned, addictive. Visit him at his myspace and have a listen. He takes stress away almost as well as a bout of hot yoga.

Long Exposure

"Before I open my eyes I hear the river, and I know that I'm waking up in his bed. Not yet dawn, but I can tell that it's near by the way I can just make out the shape of the chair where our clothes are piled, the long, inky band that must be one of my stockings. Before I knew Sam I would have thought, it's dark, but now I see the shades of it. Know that if I keep my eyes on it that chair will begin to emerge, slowly but ever steadily, until it is finally just there, the thing that it always was. I should get up; I should be gone before there's anyone about to see me carefully closing the back door. But it's warm in his bed, there's the sound of the river and the sound of his breath, and I turn and curl myself around him, my cheek on the smooth skin of his back, I breathe in the smell of him and all that is more important than what anyone might say." Page 123, The Boys in the Trees by Mary Swan.

I am here again, the place where snowflakes fall softly in the sunny mornings, icy lumpy streets where cars slide past as I wait for the bus. I haven't seen the mountains yet, the icy crystals have shielded them from me- much to my disappointment. I have the time now, my time in this frozen city by the mountains.

I find stories in the news touching me in ways I am surprised by, things I've never experienced bringing stinging tears to my eyes for brief moments. My eyes are otherwise dry, between the arid Prairie atmosphere and the cold blasts of wind. The world is small. I know this time won't last, and simultaneously I want January to come right away or not at all.

Glowing Morning Dreams

I love walking past churches at night in the snow. I love walking under streetlights while it's snowing, letting the snow fall on my face and hearing the snow fall on branches, sidewalks, powerlines. I wish I could curl up with you on one of these nights, walking in the quiet hand-in-hand, getting home and falling into each other. I love my neighbour's singing lights, the house Christmas lights that blink in sequence to Christmas tunes. I love walking home alone.

Without and Asleep in the Snow

Luxuriating in a weekend of post-struggle, pre-exam relaxation, I can reflect on a month that has passed by far too quickly. It's cold here now, after a long bout of snow, freezing and windy and full of stars. I'm not sure how I feel these days, mostly happy, but without something- I can't put my finger on what.

Truthfully, I think I need a good night of dancing, fun, and letting loose. I need to be filled up again as these lonely days stretch on for far too long.