Like a humid milkshake

July feels thick. June was humming and buzzing and crashing, now July is thick. This time of year is heavily connected to memory of recent years past which waves in and out in my head. May/June of last year was when I traveled to India for 5 weeks then Scotland for 1 – clearly a big deal. But Canada Day in particular has it sting. I love Canada, I love the fireworks more than any person above the age of majority should, but screw all that because you all know that fireworks are fantastic. No, Canada Day isn’t difficult because of anything to do with Canada, just a kind of temporal coincidence really.

In June of 2004 the Owen Sound Alliance had a rough time. There were four young people who died in freak incidents, all within a few weeks. First was a 13 year old (Jordan) in a moto-cross race who hit a tree. Next was a recent TWU graduate (Laura) who got sick one morning and didn’t make it to that night. Then a mountaineer (Mike) who got caught in an avalanche with his friend while hiking across the mountains in Alberta. Last was an evangelist who was in a car accident in Palestine during a summer missions trip.

Jordan was my little brother’s age. Laura and Mike were my older brother’s age. The evangelist, James, was my age. We knew them all, knew them well, knew that they were exceptional. Not just in the way that people seem exceptional when they’re not around anymore, but truly exceptional.

So now I’m thinking about it, even though it was 2 years ago, and in the passing of Canada Day July retains a thickness for me. On Canada Day 2004 was James visitation, the day before the funeral. That day I saw his brothers and sister and his parents, who have had an especially important impact on me particularly through high school. And then a bunch of us who ended up there went to a bar-b-que and created a memorial ceremony. That was the first annual James Pyles memorial Palestinian rock throwing contest. What happens is you get someone to stand an arbitrary distance away, then you hurl big rocks and them and they’re not supposed to move. One friend who willingly had rocks hurled at him was so good at it that he didn’t even move when a large rock came and nailed him in the foot. Go team.

Anyway, really a blur of thoughts and experiences. It all sounds sad, but it is truly hopeful since all four of our dear, young friends are with Jesus and we are the ones left here waiting.

Thus is the thickness of July.

(........................................)

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing.
Now, wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?

The king was in his counting house, counting out his money.
The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!

Random things I feel I have to tell you…

Read A Tale of Two Cities for the best ending
Read Lord of the Rings for the best climax
Read Sweet Valley Twins for the much needed throwback to grade 6
Read A Hero of Lesser Causes for semi-depressing Canadian Literature
Watch Zoolander for a mindless evening of hilarity
Watch The Shawshank Redemption for the best movie ever made
Watch The Matrix for your heavy electronic music and concept film fix
Watch V for Vendetta for a mindful evening of fantasticness
Watch Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow for the worst movie ever (in a non-amusing way)
Listen to Wouldn’t it Be Nice by the Beach Boys to feel 16 and maybe groove around wherever you are a little
Listen to Fefe Dobson if you want your ears to bleed
Listen to Radiohead if you know what’s good for you
Drink bubble-tea at least once, you’ll either love it or hate it
Don’t eat the shanghai noodles from Spring Rolls, they have addictive chemicals in them
Try scotch just to say you’ve tried scotch
Eat cheese whenever possible
Read an entire book inside Chapters without ever buying it
Order a Venti latte from Starbucks then go on a nonstop car ride to somewhere far away
Look up when you’re walking down the street, feet are boring
Wear the same hoodie everyday to class (or anywhere else you can pull it off)
Eat pop-rocks
Get out the old spiro-graph and make art again, or a lite-brite is good too

Ok, enough arbitrariness. I just feel like telling you what to do, whoever you are….

Dear Friends,

You have been asking me all year long, “What are you doing in September?” The fact is, I honestly don’t know. I applied to grad school last fall, I got into the masters of linguistics program at the University of Edinburgh, then I never accepted because too many things are swirling around. For one thing I can’t afford Edinburgh but now I’m hoping to go there next year, once I figure out how to get through the loop holes. Taking a year off is very unlike me, I’m not sure how I’ll make out, but I think God is leading me to where he wants me to be. I have to trust.

Since I’m not going to grad school this year (*tear*) I’ve been trying to find out what I am supposed to be doing. I’ve been unofficially offered a longer contract here at the office that I work at, since I’m awesome – or more likely because they’re understaffed in this department and now that I’m trained I’m useful. But, as per a previous post, I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. Office work is not my forté and I might just have to jump off the roof. It would be nice to make money for a longer period of time, but money is just money, it comes and goes.

So, supplemental plans are ongoing. I applied to Wycliffe Bible Translators. I don’t actually want to translate Bible’s, but I do want to do over seas missions and relief work as well as linguistics. I thought it would be a fair intersection to get me going. I’ve also applied to the World Food Programme, which is part of the UN. Their head office is in Rome and they have people out on the field around the world – wherever there are hungry people. I need to be serving the poor and destitute, it is part of my calling if not all of it.

My mom has been recently telling me to be a teacher, she says I would be good at it. But I’m not sure. A friend of mine in high school made me promise never to become a teacher because she said I couldn’t bring myself down to the level of the student. I never had problems with high school math, I would probably not be able to see why a student couldn’t get a concept. But maybe teaching English on the other side of the world is what it should be, I just don’t want to get caught up in a really sketchy situation, you never really know what organizations you can trust.

My best friend wants me to find a job in Vancouver so we can share a place there, and our backup plan is to move to New Zealand and live with her friends there, since there are apparently a lot of jobs to be had. I’ve always wanted to go to New Zealand, I even contemplated doing grad school there. But they’re crazy and in the Southern hemisphere so the school year actually starts in February. In the back of my mind there’s always the, “Maybe I’ll just move to Europe.” I think that would be cool, if I could find a decent job then I could go to Paris on the weekends and stuff, do Europe.

Whatever happens I’m sure it will turn out all right, but I have lots of freak out episodes. When you’re entire life is up in the air it can be a little disconcerting. At least its up in the air in a positive, option filled way. But the thing with options is not only do you have to choose one, you have to find out what they all are.

Ok. Well there’s my life, since everyone wants to know.

Let me Count the Ways

I would like you to know about all the ways that I am sensitive. You know, those Anne Geddes pictures with the babies in a watermelon, or those posters with a kitten sleeping beside a great big dog – they just get to me, right here (*fist against heart*).

But all sarcasm aside (I really wish tone would come across better in text, but what can I do? I hope you don’t think I’m sincere all the time because that would be a big mistake) I’m not big on the cutesy stuff. What I do want to tell you about are all my other sensitivities that make me the soft, gentle person that I am.

Number 1: Sensitive teeth. All you people who bite right into ice cream, I hate you. It causes me pain just to see you do it. My brothers love doing that in my face and tell me I just have to eat through the pain. Sensodyne-F doesn’t work, none of the other sensitive toothpastes work, no one believes me. Why would I lie about this?

Number B: Sensitive skin. I burn like a piglet in Arizona. “Oh, but don’t you tan?” No. Not unless I turn bright red first. I’m pasty white, in fact I’m so pale that my skin is see-through. People always tell me I have pen on my chin, but its just a vein that you can see. If you’re ever wondering why its so dangerous to cut your wrists, I’ll just show you mine.

Number trois: Light sensitivity. My eyes are blue and don’t shield themselves from much. I’ll walk outside on a cloudy day and flinch in pain as my pupils crunch up into little tiny pinpoint dots. I try to take my sunglasses everywhere, seems like the sensible thing to do. When I walk down Bloor Street at night there’s this one store that has a really bright display case which kills my eyes, so I usually walk past it with my eyes closed.

Number 4: Sound sensitivity. Sometimes my ears just go sensitive and I have to get the radio turned way down. But what’s worse are the sounds I can never stand. You know that sound when people file their nails? Or scratching ice off a window? I’m cringing just thinking about it, I have no idea why.

Now that you think I’m a total wuss, at the end of a very mediocre post I am contented that you now know more random facts about me. Random facts are what life’s all about, if you haven’t discovered that yet, well, maybe you’ve found what life is actually all about.