I had an early evening walk the other day and it was beautiful. The sun was just starting to say goodnight and it  was illuminating the clouds and making them an amazing blend of pink and purple which lit up the atmosphere around me. As I was enjoying this sunset, a flock geese heading south for the winter flew overhead and I watched them cross the sky.

As my eyes followed them a figure approaching me along the path took my interest. I could tell it was a man, his shoulders hunched as he rushed home from what I assume to be a day of work at the office. His gaze followed the ground in front of his feet and I was amazed to see someone who was so ignorant of the beauty around him. As he got closer I could see the grim expression on his face. He looked about 40, with thinning hair and lopsided glasses. I could picture his childhood as being filled with many wedgies and tongue thrashings from the local school bullies. I pitied the man.

As we drew closer to each other I wanted him to look up at me so badly, I wanted to send him a smile his way, tell him that life isn’t all bad.I wanted to ease his scars of past ridicule and I wanted to take away his pain.

I wanted to touch and heal him.

;op

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I woke up pretty early, around seven in the morning. I had gone to bed pretty early so I guess that justifies it. When I was waiting for the bus at Garden and Taunton, I almost fell asleep as I stood beside the road and so that I wouldn’t drift into traffic I leaned back against telephone pole number2. There are two telephone poles, side by side, and I chose number2. Number1 has a lot of wire wrapped around it and they tend to snag on my jacket and book bag, so I don’t ever lean against it for fear of snagging my flesh, which is just bound to happen knowing my previous history with sharp object and snags and pain.
Number2 trembled. At first I thought it was just a large truck that was passing by, but it was the regular morning traffic that zoomed by. Sometimes, I wish that one of the cars would pull over, and a strangers face would appear and give me a lift to school and any others who may be waiting for the bus at that time. But no one ever looks at us. Probably because we’re students and we’re all thinking the same thing – I want a ride. from you. So they just don’t make eye contact so that you won’t make them feel guilty and obligated to take you to school.
I leaned my head further back so that it connected with the wood . Numbe2 rumbled through my body. A loud hum took over my eardrums and drowned out the sounds around me. All I could hear was the power that it was channeling through me. I’ve never felt that numbed before, and I might have enjoyed it a little more if the bus hadn’t passed by me.
I’ve got beef with Durham buses. They make me furious. This morning’s excuse for the driver was that the bus was just too full of drowsy students to stop and squeeze the five freezing students that sighed as it flashed it’s “Not in Service” sign at us. Angry.
Back to the lean. Hum. The cars that raced by made the log tremble. Why don’t I ever notice the rumble as cars pass by? Is it because I’m not grounded like number2?
The second bus is seen on the horizon; you can feel a flicker of hope pass across the students. “Express” the sign flashes. In other words, I’m not stopping either.
Did I mention that it was cold? Because it was. And therefore, so was I.
Another 20 minute wait and the chill that started in my toes is now creeping up my legs and my fingers, cheeks and forehead are feeling it too.
So when I get to school, I try to start a discussion about the philosophy readings and all they want to talk about is how fun partying is, and what drugs they could easily be hooked up with. I try again, and the conversation turns to movies, and avoids philosophy like the plague. In three weeks time, I will be doing the same thing; avoiding philosophy like the plague. I hate it. I sit in class and get lectured on how stupid I am for having faith in an “invisible god”. Look around you! He’s visible in everything that we do, feel, smell, touch, see, hear, taste, and even in things we can’t see or explain or understand. That’s the power of God, the beauty of God. I don’t have to see Him to know he exists. His proof is everywhere.

Babies, Nature, Clouds, Microwaves, Humans, Language; to name just a few examples. Don’t try and waste my time and money by “teaching” what is “really right” and what I’ve believed all my life is a lie. It’s not! I know it’s not!

After philosophy I entered the world of English. Which wasn’t too interesting today. I have an essay due next week. I haven’t finished the book but I do have an outline forming for my essay. Right now I should be focusing on History and Trudeau and his appeal.

Trudeau legalized divorce, abortion and homosexuality. I can’t see the appeal. I shouldn’t have chosen this subject. haha.

I missed my bus to come home so I tried a different route. It worked perfectly; I caught it on time and connected perfectly with the other bus leading towards home. I called home to get a ride from my bus stop. It’s about a 20 minute walk to home from this stop and I didn’t want to spend any more time outdoors in the cold. It was dark and I was sure it was going to rain. “You can walk”. Thanks.
It rained on my walk home. I tripped about 4 times on the sidewalk. The third time(about half-way home), I stopped mid-stride and, bent at the waist, I looked at the sidewalk and in a soft slow voice – “Sidewalk. If I trip over you one more time, I swear, I’ll spit on you”. I made it to Mike and Tracey’s sidewalk (they’re moving by the way) and about 7 slabs of sidewalk left – I tripped. I stopped, spun around, glared at the ground and spit. Twice.
The rest of the walk home was the best part of my day.
Mom and Dad are finally getting along, because they’re mad at me. ha! Figures, they’ll get along with each other when they have a common bond. Apparently I’m ignorant. Enhance your freaking vocabulary. It’s not ignorant to ask someone several times to stop talking when you’ve taken the time out of studying to critique an amateur opera singer on Youtube. He wasn’t very good, and he wasn’t very good looking.
I’m wasting A LOT of time on this, but I guess I’m making up for no posts previously…and probably a lack thereof for the near future. ;o)

Love you – Stace

Oh and this post right now…was yesterday’s. I’m not very committed to this, am I?

Well, I had about 45 minutes to kill between my English lecture and seminar so I went to the library and sat in the reading room. As you know, the reading room is the round room of the library that is (or should be) organized to center around the fireplace. I would’ve sat beside it but it was taken over by a couple of chatty girls. Honestly, who goes to the library to chat??

So I sat at a couch beside the window, the furthest available seat away from the chatty girls. I stared out the window. And realized just how much glass I was looking at. One half of the room is entirely windows, and because there is a second floor to the room that includes a mini loft, the walls are pretty high. The glass wall is separated into squares about 6 feet by 6 feet, and there are maybe 45 panels of glass this size – 5 by 9.

As it was raining, I watched the droplets race down the glass, one chasing the other, catching up and passing, and then joining another to make a larger drop that sped faster down the windowpane. Honestly, I was mesmerized by the speed and determination of each drop. Then it dawned on me – the drop has no choice as to where it’s going. Gravity pulls it down, maybe following the path of another drop or creating it’s own. It passes by some drops and joins others. Sometimes, it pauses and other times it zooms so fast. But it has no way of deciding where to go.

I am a water drop. A greater force is pulling me and I’ve decided that I’ll just enjoy the ride while I’m in it.

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Raspberry pie.

I have never enjoyed raspberries so much. Partly because I was eating something you weren’t P and because it was so delicious.

I was riding the bus yesterday and just before my stop, as I was rising from my seat, the heaven’s split open and started to flow with white flakes! I love snow. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s what comes after the snow that I love so much. The bundling up, sweaters that hug your body, fires, the crunch of the snow under your feet. Ah, I’m in love with my birth season.

I wish you were here to see it Sarah, haha. I doubt you’d be as thrilled though, maybe a little, right?

“Mmmm, bon! chocolat chaud!”

These are the lines from a popular French children’s song. It’s about a frustrated farmer who beats his cow to get some milk but instead gets a surprise; some steaming “hot chocolate”. And then he drinks it. It’s pretty intense.

Anyways, I had a crap-tastic day. But in the end I’m enjoying it, with a mug of hot hot chocolate. Yum yum!