Blue Christmas

Christmas was... a little disappointing. It's lost that excited magic it once had (perhaps because I persisted in my bad habit of peeking at some of my presents), and was just a day of family events sandwiched in between the packing and coursework and goodbyes needed for someone about to move across the continent. I mean, Christmas wasn't bad -- I ate a delicious meal, played hilarious games, got lovely gifts (some all the more lovely because they were utterly unexpected -- that's why I shouldn't peek!), and had some good conversations. But in general I'm still mired in holiday blues, feeling like I've got too much to do, and everything's a chore. Even, most distressingly, visiting wonderful people and having good times with old friends. I don't feel like a kid anymore, and as Joel pointed out to me today, I seem to be defining adulthood mostly in terms of wearying commitments. Which is not the way it should be.

I'm depressing myself with this post, so here's a random list of things that make me happy:

1. Feeling pretty and girly and learning the secret ways of the Makeup.
2. Bill Bryson
3. Hats
4. Bad Sci-fi shows with no substance but lots of pretty people and funny one-liners
5. Onion Gravy

There. That should stave off the blues at least until I get to bed and get some sleep, which is probably what I really need.

The Great Snowstorm of 'Aught Seven

I woke up Sunday morning to a wall of white out Biku's living room window. This might not have been weird in another apartment, but when you're used to seeing the DVP, the Don Valley, and the entire Downtown core, seeing nothing but white snowflakes is a bit of a shock. Despite the habit of snowstorms to not live up to their media hype, this one did. Nearly 12 straight hours of snow left downtown Toronto looking like this:

It was wonderful -- although even I was a little freaked out by how delighted I was. I voluntarily spent some time rolling around in a snowdrift at the beginning of an outing in order to make a snow angel, and the sight of a fire hydrant buried under snowdrifts made me literally roar with laughter. Perhaps my brain is frozen, along with half my country...

The storm also allowed me to stay in and do some fun things, like replay Riven (best puzzle game EVER, even when it's ten years old), and find amusing things on youtube. While I don't have the technological chops of my brother, who managed to embed a video recently, I do now possess the mad skillz of being able to post links. So here, for your listening pleasure, are two a cappella selections -- the first is a seasonal number, and the second is an 'art piece made up of original work from Japan' . Both are hilarious -- and well-sung.

Enjoy!

It Happened

I got on the bus, dumped my stuff on the seat, undid my coat buttons, leaned back... and realized that I don't want to live with my parents anymore.

Nothing's really changed -- they and I still get along, I've still got free run of the house and can cook anything I want, and I can get down to city whenever I need time away. I'm just tired of living with them, that's all. It's probably got something to do with being really busy right now, and having to break into my own uber-efficient schedule and slow myself down to their pace. Or maybe I'm just tired of having to tell them all my plans. In any case, suddenly I realized that even though moving to the other side of the continent to a stranger's house is scary, in some ways it'll be a relief.

Work Kingston Eating Talking Newmarket Work

Bit of a whirlwind weekend -- came straight home from work, packed feverishly, got to Kingston, spent 45 hours eating (Brew Pub, Copper Penny, Sleepless Goat, Windmills, Common Ground, and a Starbucks) and talking and sometimes sleeping, took a bus home, and (once I'm done writing this post) will go to bed so I can get up at 5:40am and go straight to work.

But it was totally worth it. I saw, and had good conversations with, people I hadn't seen in years. These people were generous with their time, their stories, and their thoughts. I remembered how wonderful the downtown of Kingston is, with it's vibrant set of eclectic stores where the people know me and the wares are far different than the ordinary. As my connection to the university wanes, my connection to the city surrounding it grows, it seems.

Catherine and Loren graciously put up with my fleeing in and out and generally using their house as a lodging place. They fed me, swathed me in fuzzy blankets, and drove me to the bus station. I only wish I could have helped them more, weighted down as they were by looming exams.

Now, on to my own looming exams...

Mid-week night out

Thinking about it this morning (through the haze of too little sleep and slightly sore muscles) and I realized I had a really good time at Swing last night. Having progressed to a certain point, I hit a plateau of ability and since I wasn't getting better, it felt like I was getting worse. The last few weeks I've felt awkward and uncoordinated on the dance floor, and every time a guy said 'thank you' after a dance I thought it was more courtesy than actual gratitude. True or not, I was in a funk, and that's never fun. Of course, as usual, my brain got in the way, informing me earnestly that the problem was that I was a control freak and so I was unfit to follow since I was so hell-bent on determining my own destiny (on the dance floor and off).

But last night was different. After a tired and slightly headachey preparation at Biku's house, we had a hilarious trip on the subway, giggling about words and concepts which seemed hilarious at the time but appear slightly silly now. One of those trips where you're having more fun than everyone else around you, and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world. Once we got to Swing there was Biku's vast pile of gingerbread to unload (in fact, now that I think about it, the vast quantites of gingerbread consumed before we left the apartment may have had something to do with the giggling on the subway...) and a good male-female ratio to keep me dancing as much as I wanted.

Maybe it was because it was exam time and most of the university students there were a little crazed, but people seemed pretty loose. I danced a couple of times with a noob who complimented me on my skills (always nice to hear), had a stare-off dance with Olivia and her shoes of +2 awesomeness, got badly beat in a gingerbread eating competition with Shaggy, and had a lovely silly dance with Krister, whom I'd formerly been slightly frightened of because he was so good. This time we shook and rattled and swirled around, me unsure of what we doing most of the time but vamping it up anyways. When we finished he really did sincerely thank me, which made me feel immensely better. There were other dances throughout the night like that, times when I caught the signals my lead was giving me and followed them automatically, and times when I felt confident enough to give my own flourishes to things. There were still nervous dances where I couldn't seem to even get the basic lindy step right, but I was definately better.

Home again home again, and a tired Biku stayed up way past her bedtime to design my India card for me -- a beautiful delicate thing that went way beyond the picture-plus-text-on-inside basic thing I had in mind. It was a simple job for her, but it gave me a sense of just how skilled a job graphic design is. I mean, I'd known before this how hard it was because she'd explained it to me, but seeing it happen before my eyes really brought it home. She's a talented woman, and before this I don't think I really appreciated the work she did. Now I do, at least a bit better.

It was all this, coming back to me in a sleepy haze in the morning, that made me realize just how good last night was. In the midst of the stressful Christmas season, with money worries and essays looming over my head, I managed to have a really good night out. And for that I'm grateful.

SNOW!

It snowed last night. Today, I got to walk through a completely fresh snowbank, see the cats shake their paws disgustedly with every delicate step, and hear an old woman tell me that some unknown benefactor had cleared her driveway for her. I walked as fast as I could, my cheeks tight with the cold, my thighs slowly chilling in the still air, and felt refreshed rather than depressed by the sub-zero temperatures. I got home and made myself a hot drink, which I wrapped my hands around eagerly as the snow melted off the bottoms of my jeans.

I love winter. I really really love it. I've been waiting for this day for over a year, and it was worth waiting for.