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Monthly Archives: January 2012


Weak December sun burning my eyes;
The sun’s feeble heat is welcome in this frigid season.
Light melting the hoarfrost by the zenith, except in the shadows,
Where it builds into crystalline castles and frosty dungeons.

Driving by the shores, glistening with diamond-tipped waves.
Incoming flows ripple and gently shush against the hard-packed sand.
Footprints leave faint marks, and are quickly washed.

Desolate, isolated. This is perfection.
Eyes squinting against the harsh glare, the salt-tipped wind;
Self-indulgent torture of beauty.
Leaving this forlorn shore, imprinting removable marks of being.

Winter’s Glory

Bright green, brittle winter’s grass crunches underfoot.
Millions of diamonds sparkle from the deep frost, illuminated by the brilliant white moon.
Navy skies, speckled with silver stars, twinkling in the crisp night.

Clear air inhaled rejuvenates a soul,
Pale blue eyes marvel at the beauties of the night;
Douglas Fir and Red Cedar trees silhouetted against the yard light.

Silence and stillness envelope the land.  It’s peaceful – Absolute and fleeting.
A sense of belonging and home settle onto my shoulders,
Lifting weights of the world; release the shoulders, relax.

The Sound of Rain

Living on my island, we get a lot of rain.
We have a hundred different types of rain, islanders are rain connoisseurs. Drizzling, dripping, misting, pouring, monsooning, raining, spitting, showers, are just a few of our rain types.

And you thought rain was only when water falls from the sky.

To an islander, rain is not a hindrance. We know the value of rain-gear. Rain is a cleansing; clearing the roads of grime, of salt off your truck, and washing away the grit of the city.

I’ve long loved the sound of rain. There were many times growing up when I was leaning again the wall, sitting on my bed, reading and listening to the rain on my window and on the highway. I was warm, secure, safe. Lost in a world of words, paying no heed to the real world – causing my parents a lot of yelling up the stairs to gain my attentions.

When I was 12, we renovated our house to include an upstairs, where we moved the bedrooms to. We moved our rooms up the 14 stairs at the end of the summer, just in time to start the school year. It was a wet year, and at first the rain kept me awake. The tapping and pelting of the drops against the panes was unsettling, but wore into a soothing pattern as I learned to listen for the drops on the roof – dull thuds in a continuous loop, trying to seep through the cedar shakes but never gaining entry.

I moved away from my childhood home into new spaces, many of these spaces were basements, mid-floor or ground level. The rain sounds did not come through to my bedroom, my sanctuary. I missed the rain.
I would drive. The rain on my metal roof, on the windshield and falling on the road in sheets, puddling on the sides, creating rivers in the gutters were now how I got my fix of the rain.

My favourite smells are those of a girl who grew up in the country – fresh cut lawn, a hay field as it ripens and as it’s cut, horse, and how clean the earth smells after a summer rain. A rain that tamps the dust down, wipes the dust off the trees and flowers, restoring everything to a shining brilliance.

As I write, the rain is currently pounding down. I now live in a top-floor apartment. The rain has been kind. It was been friendly to me, and I often turn off my music to listen to the rain. I can’t hear the road sounds, the unmistakable swish of wet tires, but it’s okay.
I can watch the rain fall across the parking lot, looking bleak and dreary and like a perfect island winter.

The Smell of the City

I live in a beautiful city on a breath-taking island in the Pacific Ocean. The downtown harbour is almost visible from my fourth floor balcony.

The climate is temperate, sub-Mediterranean  and we live in a rainforest, but it’s not a tropical one. The local ecosystem is one of the most endangered, and we have many parks and greenspaces to frolic and play in.

I hate the smell of my city.

I walked out of my apartment building this evening and took a big breath of fresh air.

It smelled like exhaust, grit, dead leaves and asphalt.

This smell has a sense of disillusionment, of lost dreams and hopes and of harder times to come. The smell of my city isn’t a pleasant one.

Give me the smell of my home – wood smoke, wet grass, big ol’ smelly dogs, the smell of horse fields and fresh wind. The highway beside my childhood home never left a lingering smell of exhaust, and the noise was a comfort to fall asleep to.

Give me the smell of a Scout Camp – fresh air, the smell of dripping coniferous trees, damp grasses and thriving mosses. The smell of friendship and a well-meaning snowball down the back of your shirt. The smell of my sleeping bag in my tent. Let my olfactory sensors take delight in the crisp air, filling my lungs with a sense of well-being and security.

Give me the smell of the ocean, salty and one I miss.  Living in saturated air, I can no longer smell the ocean unless I’ve been away from it for far too long. But I like to go to the ocean’s edge and let the wind whip my hair back and redden my cheeks.  Let me dive into the too-salty water and swim against the waves.

The smell of the city reminds me of what I’ve lost. The smell of the land calls to me.
I hear you, land. I will return.


I had a sit-down with myself near the end of 2011.

I’m 24, nearly 25. I don’t have any crazy stories to tell. I have tame stories about camps and friends being silly. But nothing Crazy. I want to laugh myself silly when I think about my 20s in 20+ years.

So. I told myself I need to adopt a new attitude. And change the way I think about things.

Things I’ve never really believed about myself until now (And I’m still wrapping my head around it)

I’m pretty.

I’m desirable and attractive.

My body isn’t repulsive to others to look at. (No, I will never be able to wear certain styles, but I can wear others and look fantastic.)

Things I’m working on changing

My attitude towards others.
I need to be more accepting of other people. I have high standards of how I expect other people to act, which isn’t fair most of the time.
At least I can recognize when I’ve my standards too high, which is a starting point. From here, I can work on becoming more flexible. Camp Coyote has been a good kick-start with this too – I need help from anyone who is willing to offer it, regardless if they’re in my circle of friends or not.

My online presence
I tweet a lot. And it’s not always (read: almost never) anything that really needs to be broadcast to the internet. Someone tweeted a link to a great article, and since reading it, and taking parts of it really to heart, I have tried to not tweet unless it is something I really must say. (Though I will @ reply as normal, working towards better usage of that, too. Somehow.)
I have already cut back on my facebooking. I creep around on it, and will leave it open in the background while I’m doing other things online, but I have cut my posts to once or maybe twice a day. And I try to make those posts be something I think others will be interested in reading, or a message I am interested in spreading to a wider audience.

Being out there more
I don’t know how many weekends I have spent at home, by myself being bored and lonely and lamenting that state. This happens a lot. Unless I’m camping, I’m usually at home being bored, or watching bad movies.
So, if I want to get out and enjoy life more, I have to make my fun. ‘Cause it sure ain’t knocking on my door (yet).
New Years Eve was a perfect opportunity to not stay at home and be lonely and alone and drunk by myself. The idea is to spend as little time as possible at home, being alone and watching bad movies on weekend this year. More camping, more hiking, more friends, more social, more of everything I want to do but have held back doing.

Outward appearance
More a subtle one – I got highlights which no one has noticed (Except my Mum. And Michelle had to look very closely), and bought some fabulous rep lipstick which I have been wearing often. For a long time, I have admired the look of other girls – layers and scarves and funky necklaces and awesome makeup and the list goes on. My style has long been one of “Plain shirts, jeans, camp clothing.” I started wearing heels more (Once you invest in a good pair, you never want to wear cheap heels again!), wearing things I wouldn’t normally wear (like legging-pants. Thick like pants, but tight like leggings), and dressing up a little more in my day-to-day. The logic is “Look good, feel good.” I’ve noticed a bit of a change, and it’s been a Positive Change! Huzzah!

Read the news!
Oh, Lord. I am so ignorant of anything and everything that’s happening in the world. It’s BAD.

So, there is my tl;dr post.