The Enlightened Woman
Over the last year, I've been upgrading some high school courses in order to bolster my university applications (29 year old, going to post-secondary for the first time here! Woohoo!). One of the courses I'm taking is World History, which has been extremely insightful considering the global events that have transpired since March 2020. Recently, I had the opportunity to select a topic of my choice for an essay. There was a list of suggestions I could pick from, or I could present an idea of my own. On the list I saw two intriguing topics right next to each-other:
Sundays Are For Redemption
The sun always seems to shine brighter on Sundays. Go figure. I guess the day is named for it after all. I really wish it wouldn’t be so damn bright and joyful. The denim overalls I’m wearing are trapping in the heat like Mama’s old oven, and I can already feel sweat dampening my thighs so the material chafes my skin. Jean is the worst for chafing. If it gets real bad, you end up with little traces of blue fabric stuck in the open sores. Not easy to get out. I awkwardly hop around trying to tug at the overalls and shift them into a more comfortable position. It doesn’t help that they are about two sizes too small and I should’ve gotten a new pair over a year ago.
Born in December
I was born in December. Two weeks late. Originally due to be a Scorpio but fate had destined me for a Sagittarius. I come from a long line of Sagittarius. My Father and I share the same birthday of December 3rd, his father before him on December 2nd, and my Mother is December 13th. Not only is my mother a Sagittarius but her rising sign is also a Sagittarius. Turn up the heat! That’s a whole lotta fire signs in one house baby.
I Sat in Silence for 10 Days
January, 2020. I flew from Toronto, ON to Calgary, AB. From there, I drove 4 hours East, straight to the middle-of-nowhere prairies. It was icy, bare and windy. The horizon stretched for miles ahead. The sky and land blended in tones of gray, brown, pink and powder blue. Patches of ice and snow filled in the depressions in the fields, whispers of dried-up lake-beds and glaciers of the past. Every once in a while, a gnarled and barren tree would dot the rolling fields that sprawled ahead, behind and to the sides. Not much shelter from the wind that roared across the open space. My heart beat faster and faster the further I drove into that expanse. Until I arrived. At the Alberta, Vipassana centre in the village of Youngstown. Population of 154.
The Little House in the Rocky Mountains
I still remember how it felt, when I was 5 years old and we’d make the 10-hr drive through the winding highways of the Rocky Mountains. For some reason when I think back to that drive, I always remember it during winter, and at night. I guess because those times we did make the drive during the winter months were the most memorable. The sky-scraping mountains covered in pearlescent white snow; the thick sea of evergreens capped with fresh powder; the “S” shaped road constantly twisting and turning, our suburban hugging the side of the mountain, a sheer drop toward the valley on the other side. Sometimes I would nod off so the drive would pass by faster, other times it would snow and I would be wide awake. I may have been young but I was keenly aware of the times I’d heard my parents talk about the fatal crashes that happened on the icy Trans-Canada Highway. The breathtaking scenery, the adrenaline rush of traveling at 100+km/hr halfway up the side of a mountain. It was all part of the journey. Of my favourite journey, the one that went home.
Do You Wait for Inspiration to Strike?
As I write this I sit in my office, jittery and on edge from two cups of coffee. Two parts excited, one part anxious and one part determined. I feel that desire to write. To create something. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what. I didn’t feel like I was in the right mood to write. I don’t feel grounded. I don’t feel passionate. I don’t feel particularly insightful. I guess I don’t feel much of what I would usually try to cultivate when I go to create. The question is, is that a good reason not to get to the paper (laptop, easel, drawing board) and get to work?
Two Roads Diverged in a Pandemic Parody Poem
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood And sorry I could not travel both, For I could not leave my neighbourhood Unless I sorely misunderstood
True Blood, It's Fang Lickin' Good
Does it have vampires? I’m in. I don’t know what it is about vampires but I have been obsessed from a young age. I’m not talking pre-teen young when Twilight came out (which as far as vampire stories go, does not rank high for me), I’m talking 6 years old when I still had baby teeth but was dreaming about having fangs. No, I’m serious. I literally dreamed about meeting vampires and begging them to turn me into a vampire too. Which they never agreed too… Even in my dreams I can’t be the dream version of myself!