feeling good

Yesterday was kind of a low day for me...

...a silent alarm just went off in my head that screeched 'Warning! This is not your journal!' Thank you, Consciousness. You are too cool...

But seriously, last week was intense and all the detail I'm going into is this: yesterday, I kind of broke down a little. It all caught up to me and I totally let it out.

So I woke up today with this fresh feeling of being alive again and excited and it's been incredible. Everything seems to have this new layer over it that I can't describe but you should just know that it's great. I'm rejuvenated and only tired in the best way.

I guess I just wanted to share that feeling. Today feels like a breakthrough and what is an unblogged about breakthrough? Surely, not a breakthrough at all. It just all lined up and I did what I felt like and learned about bees and talked to amazing people and acknowledged that sometimes I feel fucked up and that is totally fine.

Totally fine.

I'm going to sleep now and dream about tomorrow because it's going to be better. I mean, Harry freaking Potter, to say the least. !!!!!! I'm stoked.

And it's totally awesome.

Dear Rachel

It's been a whole month since I blogged here. In the archive to the right, there's no May, like it never happened and that makes me a little more than uncomfortable. April apparently took a lot out of me, leaving May with hardly any energy for reflection. In hindsight, that is unfortunate, seeing as how I turned 17 and got my license and have been emailing this really cool boy and some bloggable retrospect would have been nice, but it's also irrevocable so we might as well move on.

Sorry if my end of our phone conversation was lame yesterday. I wanted to say so much but I'm holding back. I think a part of me is saving myself for seeing you in person. There are some things waiting on my tongue that are easier to whisper across a pillow than speak into the microphone of a device that's not really connected to anything but my hand. Is that okay, if we just keep our communications low key for the next two weeks? I want to spill it all, burst open with stories and excitement and everything I have but I want you there for it, for real.

Can you just hurry up and come home?

I'll tell you one thing now, something I know is silly. I'm a little worried. Worried that when you finally get here, implant yourself back into our lives, things will be... I don't know, different? Of course they'll be different, I know that, but I want us all to fit again. Not to pretend the last six months didn't happen, that we don't know what it's like to live without one another--I'm not asking for perfection, whatever the fuck that is. I just want it to work.

The louder part of me knows it will, that everything will be fine great fantastic. That our separate experiences will make our joint ones stronger. That everything we've learned without each other will make us better at being people. I know you're still Rachel, I saw my proof in March and get it constantly through your beautiful blogs and emails and voice. But are you still my Rachel?

How do you feel about this situation?

Fuck, I'm crying. I did a lot of that today but only because I was reading Melina Marchetta's latest novel. Mom gave up on it after one hundred pages but I am a sucker for the way that author rips out my heart and then hands it back to me on a platter. She has taught me so much, about love and depression and friendship and loss and hope and writing. Oh, how she makes me want to be a better writer, I can't even tell you.

Speaking of which, I'm feeling so good about my novel right now, Rachel. After Freewrite, I knew what I had to do and my story has such potential and I'm ready to do the work. I think. I just want to affect people. I want to be a great storyteller and for someone else to think and laugh and cry and feel less alone when they read about my characters. I want to be someone's John Green or Melina Marchetta. Maybe that's asking for too much but I'm not one to tone down my desires because they're getting a touch unreasonable.

I also want to go to Australia/Europe and work on an organic lavender farm, not necessarily inclusively or in that order. Presently, though, those are my dreams. Novel that changes/helps people. Australia/Europe. Lavender farm. I'm excited again and I love it. What are your current dreams?

I think I covered it all. I know this whole 'coming home' thing is probably bittersweet for you, as it means leaving the family you've had for the past half year of your life. Therefore, I hope it doesn't sound too insensitive of me when I say 15 days, 10 hours, 16 minutes--as I write this.

Infinity love + 1,
Alex

p.s. Is it okay that I, like, posted this on my blog? I'm really starving for topics these days but I can take it down if you like. :) Oh my god, I love you so much.

the point (and thank you)

I'm going to be honest; I haven't quite decided what to blog about. There's simultaneously so much and nothing new for me to write. This'll be my twenty-eighth blog of the month. It's possible I've exhausted all topics. Possible but not probable.

At the moment, my mind is somewhat blank and my eyes are tired. I'm only half paying attention to this post, the other half of my lucid mind is watching Harry Potter 6, simply because I haven't in a while. Feet aching from my day of walking, standing and working, I'm remembering a couple of hours ago, on my way home, at the bus stop. The sun had disappeared behind the line of trees but it was still bright and the sky smelled like the space between rain and sun. Spring.

These days, I've been living pretty short term. A day or two at a time is not my usual style but I've still managed to feel a bit refreshed, despite apparent exhaustion. I'm ready for a new month, a new birthday, the same me. I've ready to abandon blogging every day, or at least that's my official statement.

The two days I missed blogging have catapulted me into this critical stage of examining BEDA and its point or maybe the other way around. The evolution of ideas is pretty fascinating to me and I can't stop contemplating how a viral plot of Maureen Johnson's could prompt me to take on this project a third time, two years later. What was mj's goal with this whole thing? Why did people attach themselves to the idea? How did such a vibrant community spring up and then dissipate? What about this idea is worth clinging to?

I can't pin it down. I guess I'm still searching for the community that I found and loved for that one month in 2009. I'm looking to recreate the friendships and connections. I'm in want of an excuse to challenge myself while also sharing my life, opinions and voice with the world. This is another outlet for telling my story.

I'm not sure if any future BEDAs will live up to my first one. I'm holding out hope that mj will rally the bloggers and be our dynamic leading force once more, holding us together for another month of community powered blogging. Some day. As for today, I'm happy to hit PUBLISH POST to nowhere. To you. To anyone. I'm not sure what the point is, per se, but I'm enjoying the journey and that's enough.

Thanks for sharing the month with me, dear reader. You are precious to me. But not in a creepy way.

more time speculation

A lot of the conversations I have with people that I feel like I want to continue get cut off by the car ride being over and me being dropped off. That thing I wanted to talk about that didn't get brought up until the very last minute because of the mundanities of polite conversation--it gets the short end of the trip. There's that choice of hovering awkwardly while the car idles at the curb or shutting the door and probably never having the chance at that same conversation again.

Today it was about my month. I've had this crazy April. I'm trying to trace my footsteps back, recall how I got to today but there are some blatantly empty spaces. What have I been doing for the past twenty seven days? Other than blogging, I mean.

The end of April also means my birthday is coming up. This only brings my crazy nostalgia issue into further magnification. I'm only sixteen and I'm clinging to my youth. I don't want these days to end. It's not fear about the future so much as a realization about the inevitability of my demise. I don't know if that's even it. On some levels, death is like, yeah, bring it on (only not immediately, of course). But, I'll just--*thinks*--miss this.

I'll miss being naive and cast off and stereotyped. I'll miss people saying I'm mature for my age (notice that no one says that about adults). I'll miss this moment of the future being this beautiful haze of possibility and mystery and the past being nothing but an unfocused jumble of mostly happy memories that I probably misremember due to the strangeness of my human mind.

In less than two weeks, I'll be the age that Edward is forever, the age at which Harry Potter defeated Voldemort (for good), the age that seems to be the final stretch of teenagerdom. These fictional happenings that I live my life by bring into sharp contrast how much or little I've done with these nearly seventeen orbits of the sun. What's my mark?

With the somewhat arbitrary symbol of a new year before me, it's time to straighten out some priorities. You know what that means? Every morning after breakfast, I will be working my novel out. And it will be fantastic.

a blog about not blogging

The fact that I didn't blog yesterday was decisive and I wanted you to know that. There's this switch in my house, a power bar that controls the wireless router, and about twenty four hours ago, I hovered over it with my finger poses to flick. I remembered that I hadn't blogged and so I took a few steps away, intending to grab my computer from my sister and write something quickly. Then I remembered this post I read of Kayley Hyde's about the downfalls of things like BEDA (and NaNoWrimo, etc.). Contemplating a potential 'this was my day'* post, I hesitated a few seconds longer--in the dark, I will add for a sense of realism--before flicking the power off.

Why? You may ask. You've done BEDA before, as well as NaNo and even ScriptFrenzy. Why break your twenty-four day streak? You could have done it. Well, part of my brain that speaks in italics, I can't say for sure. Maybe the quantity versus quality debate started getting to me. Maybe I was just really tired. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't worth it to me. (If this was a test, I would say it is safe to circle D - All of the above.)

As I was walking home from the library day--when I wasn't street reading my new Nietzche book, that is--I really pondered this whole project. What is the point of disciplined creativity? Is it effective? Is it misleading? Does it help people? I don't have answers but I think it's still good to think about these things, especially those of us who are committing a chunk of time every day to spend on these projects. Obviously, I find some merit in it because this is my third blogging every month endeavor. But, I don't know, why am I really doing this?

Strangely, I don't feel disappointed. It's not like I failed BEDA. I just extended the definition of 'every day.'

*if you're disappointed by the lack of post, here is a sample of what could have been: Today I got up before 8am for the third morning in a row and learned some First Aid. After the course, I got into a semi-argument with the instructor about how she was sexist and possibly a Luddite. Fun times. Sad you missed it? I thought so.

RE: Burqa Ban

I watched this Dan Brown video last week and though I had some wispy opinions on it, I held back from responding. I didn't feel like pretending I had enough information on the subject to make an informed comment. I also didn't (and still don't) want to be preachy or judgmental when it comes to anyone's religion. But now that he's posted his response, I feel like I can say something here. Again, my intelligence on this subject is limited but hopefully this doesn't contribute to perceived insolence.


France has had an open dialog about Islamic head coverings since, as far as I can tell, the 1990's. In 2003, they banned burqas and other head coverings from public schools, stating that it was a religious expression and inappropriate for the secular school forum (crosses and other religious symbols also being prohibited). Now in effect is France's ban on face coverings in public, specifically the burqa.


Last October, I went to a session at the Vancouver Readers and Writers Festival with Sharon E. McKay. She talked gave a presentation on her book, Thunder Over Kandahar, and the research she did for it--some of which involved the burqa. She even had one there if anyone wanted to see what it was like to wear one.


Her opinion on the burqa was pretty transparently negative and since this was my first experience with the garment, it might have shaded any future opinion on the subject. Burqas limit the sight and safety of their wearers. They restrict movement, identity and the wearer's voice. And isn't the fact that only women that traditionally wear them signify some inherent male control?


For me, the issue is not a question of personal, cultural or religious expression though it would be uninformed to ignore that side of things. If there are women out there who, of their own volition, want to wear head scarves, burqas, hijabs, high heels or earrings, that is fine with me. But I'm going to continue to doubt where that choice is coming from. Cultural pressure to conform is serious and can be damaging. I'm not just talking about Muslim culture, either.


So the French president has an idea that I can believe in. He thinks that in a country with the freedom and liberties of France, it's wrong to allow male dominant culture to dictate what women wear. In his words:

"In our country, we cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity..."

I feel like judging these admittedly extreme actions on a surface level is kind of ignorant. Yes, it is kind of ironic that his attempt to free women from oppression involves stripping away rights and liberties, but I think it's a worthy goal. Maybe it's a misguided approach but this definitely isn't a shallow issue. You can't just analyze one side and call it a day. There's so many layers and I'm still torn on whether I agree with France's legislation. 


That's about it.

contagion

I mostly find that good art (like voting?) is contagious. You listen to that song/read that book/stare at that photo for the millionth time and it makes you want to create something, anything. It's like creativity is running through your veins, this need to make your mark, express this feeling, signal your sense of being so alive that everything is magnified.

I love that feeling. I'll probably spend the rest of my life hunting it down with a stick. Is that inspiration? Vitality? Genius? I don't know but I can't wait to find it again, bottle it up, soak in its beautifying glow.*

Today was a fantastic day. I drew some lines on the sidewalk--possibly illegally--was told off by The Church, had a free tea at Starbucks and listened to some amazing music. I plotted my Oh Wells cover band (The Oh Dears) and drove around (which, if I do say so myself, I'm getting pretty good at).

Okay, so maybe the driving around on Earth Day isn't my proudest moment. But I hardly drive around on any other day so, in the grand scheme of things, that has to even out, right?

I thought about things spreading, not HIV, but ideas. All I wanted was to draw some attention to the fact that only 37% of 18-25 year old Canadians voted in the last election or more broadly that the overall voter turnout in 2008 was the lowest in Canadian history. So I wrote some things on the sidewalk, drew some lines to the advanced polling station and hoped that maybe someone would notice. Maybe someone would catch hold of this idea that I was flinging onto street corners and change their behaviors. Maybe I would inspire someone to ditch apathy and vote.

That's all I really want to do, I guess. I'll add it to my 'To Do with My Life' List. (1. Be happy (with people who contribute to aforementioned happiness). 2. Write stuff (books, blogs, songs, poetry). 3. Garden. 4. Learn (to garden, etc.). 5. Inspire). I want someone to hear a poem or song I've written and feel that bubbling creative contagion inside of them. I want to be a catalyst.

What do you want to do with your wild and precious life?


*Am I being a tad over the top?