sun. or lack thereof.

two straight months of rain does something to your psyche. 
one turns insular. i just want to caccoon and be woken by cherry blossoms. not slip and slide on dead leaves. 

even my cactus died. 

i suppose a temperate rainforest is not the place for such a prickly beast, which was a gift from one of my students. i didn’t have the heart to tell her i kill such things.

even the air plant.

alas, when the sun does emerge we do rejoice. even if only momentarily. 

forever temporary. this life.

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hello again

To the girls we were in our past lives.

To our egos in the alternate reality.

And the the ones here, on earth, who keep my secrets.

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lionheart

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growing up my brother had a stuffed Care Bear called Brave Heart. he took it with him everywhere. in fact, i would wagger a guess it’s still with him even today.

or at least propped up on his childhood bed at my parents house.

i’ve been thinking about the term “lionheart” lately. namely because the radio keeps playing Of Monsters and Men and i can’t get the lyrics “You’re the King and I’m a lionheart” out of my head.

i’ve been trying to conjure up all the courage i can muster these days, and failing miserably. my reserves have been depleted. outwardly i can fake it for others, but inside i’ve been feeling paralyzed. as though any decision i make — even if it is the right one — will be wrong.

it’s exhausting being alone through it all too.

perhaps i need to dig out my own Brave Heart from the back of my closet (her name was Rainbow, a small stuffed bear with suspenders) and remind myself of a simpler time when i felt fearless. if only for nostalgia sake.

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at her post

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Goodnight, Sam.

You brought out the best in us.

1999 – 2013

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she don’t think straight

on monday i found myself walking down Robson street in Vancouver after leaving a rooftop patio where i was celebrating a friends birthday.

as i walked “Banquet” by Bloc Party came streaming though my headphones.

my feet bounced to the beat and soon i was at the corner of Burrard/Robson where HMV used to be.

now stands a giant Victoria Secret billboard advertising the coming attractions.

i had a flash to 2005 when i first moved to Vancouver and was sleeping on a partially inflated air mattress in a shared studio apartment in the West End.

almost to the week – eight years ago – i remember cobbling together what little cash i had in my bank account (i was jobless at the time) and walking down the hill to HMV and buying Silent Alarm.

i came home and put it in my disc man, which was broken and held together by elastic.

i was hooked before the end of the first minute on the first track. before Kele sings, “It’s so cold in this house…” i knew this record would change my life. and it did.

this album also holds special meaning for me as it was one i discovered on my own.

i realize that sounds silly, but lately i’ve been trying to think back to a time where my life wasn’t involved with romantic entanglements. when it was just me and i did things for myself. discovered things on my own and gave no fucks. i always go back to this summer and this album when i think of a ‘carefree’ time. i realize part of this is nostalgia, but part is not.

i never used to let other people’s drama become my own. i want that part of myself back.

i hope it’s still there.

the whole thing really is removed when you’re twenty two.

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everything i love is on the table. everything i love is out to sea.

I’ve been composing posts in my head all week.

So much is weighing on me these days but I find myself paralyzed to write anything down.

In (un)related news, The National sad bastard music has turned to upbeat for me.

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it’s the side effects that save us…there’s a science to walking through windows without you

I woke up this morning and couldn’t really swallow.

I knew it was the start of strep throat. Everything felt swollen and I had no other cold symtoms besides a fever. Also my ear was sore, but that’s normal.

I called in sick and then passed out again in my bed until about 3pm.

While lying in bed I scrolled through some music news and found out that The National had done a BBC 6 music interview and played some new songs.

I turned up the volume on my phone and set it next to my pillow and closed my eyes and let the music wash over me.

Pure bliss.

Honestly, (good) music heals. Especially when it’s your favourite band.

I conjured up the energy to go to the clinic where I found out I have a double ear infection and strep. Got my Amoxicillin, picked up soup and popsicles and went back to my bed, fired up my media player and put all three new tracks on repeat.

I will admit, this winter was rough on me and I think part of the reason why is because I stopped listening to music.

Remind me never to do that again, eh?

I am not my rosey self, left the roses on the shelf. Take the white ones they’re my favourite…

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