On to the unknown

So I've been feeling blah. January 2009 has been one of the most tumultous months of my as-yet young life, and despite all the stress and excitement (mostly of the negative kind) I can't help but feel as though my life has turned grey. I don't study enough, but I don't seem to do anything else with myself. I'm tired. I'm sick of cafeteria food. I see people less than I would like. When I go out part of me observes and I wonder what the point of going out is. I lack discipline, and only my unwavering commitment to go skiing every single day (barring deceitful plots involving alleged food poisoning, but we will get to that at a later date) seems to be keeping me from becoming an absolute vegetable. When I look back on this month, there are few things that I will remember down the line (at least, those that I would want to).

Here I am - young, unencumbered and fortunate, and yet my life is shades of gray. It doesn't help that Montreal is shades of gray these days. To combat this horrible lethargy, I've made a decision:

I will have an adventure every day of February.

This seems at first glance like a forced resolution because the thing about adventures is that they can't be planned. They just happen. I have a few sunlit days hidden away in my eternal internal memory - campfire guitar dylan songs, omelette cuddlefests, climbing sessions, beautiful drunken ebullience, night bikerides, deep conversations, mornings on mountains - and none of them were necessarily intentional. The clarifier here is that by adventures I don't mean crazy things or life changing moments. Nothing will be forced - for instance, I won't accept my friend's offer to hitchhike through the deep south to Mardi Gras over reading week, although I look forward to his stories. I mean memorable experiences, things that make it worthwhile to live. Small things - any little teeny thing out of the ordinary. I've always wanted to spend a day not speaking, for example, and I want to go hang out in Old Port or visit used book stores, go skating in the middle of the night, see all the free film screenings I've been meaning to go to (I have three next week alone). I'll post my adventure every day, I hope.

Do you have 7 minutes 35 seconds? If so, this is more worth it than any other way to spend 7 minutes and 35 seconds that doesn't involve removing apparel:

I ain't sayin' nothin' groundbreakin', baby

but Bob Dylan is God.

Things to be happy about

-smoothies: I stole one today from caf because I didn't have enough meal credits to take it legally. nom nom delicious nom.
-the Birks reading room: hardwood floors, stained glass windows, dead silence, reading laps, dusty tomes about the religions of the world
-the girl I passed on the way to school: was wearing red lipstick, a trench coat flipped up to hide the lower half of her face, and a private-eye style brimmed hat. Total badass.
-scraping wax off skis: I had to remove about twenty layers of wax off my skis. you know how picking your nose and scratching scabs is secretly really fun but you can't do it because it's gross? removing wax is kind of like that. except so much more satisfying and socially acceptable.
-amazing, cute chic practical badass comfortable knee-high leather boots for $0: I found them abandoned on the street next to a trash can, washed and cleaned them, and wear them with no shame.
-hipster parties
-Hungarian butcher shops
-tall boys who wear flannel shirts to cover their rather nice abs
-spectacularly losing Settlers of Catan
-toques and grandfather sweaters and spandex
-becoming a fan of one's great grandfather on Facebook
-Phil Ochs
-sunlight
-girl talk
-the sounds of guitar strumming down the hall
-being held by the waist
-the idea of sheep
-howling wind and hot chocolate
-Montreal Metro: (37 dollars a month for access to the ENTIRE TRANSIT SYSTEM!)
-the cover of darkness and the brightness of day.

Howgh.

The first snowfall

It is over a month since the first snowfall, but it is bitterly cold. So bitterly cold, in fact, that I waxed my skis today with polar wax - for the first time ever, hence quite the milestone. Polar wax is the lowest temperature rated wax available on the market - a market, you will note, aimed at crazy cold intense explorer people and all of Finland. It's minus twentyfive centigrade out right now. Pretty exciting stuff. We're all wearing intense equipment. In Philadelphia, where I spent part of my adolescent years, I was the only one with intense equipment. Now the streets are filled with people in intense down, boots, and that everpresent Canadian specialty, the toque.

The toque (mine's a bit less bright):


The coldest wax on the market:


George Clinton, 'cause funk ain't cold:


And finally, in sharp contrast to Parliament Funkadelic but no less awesome, the last stanza of "The first snowfall" by James Russell Lowell. You can find the rest of the poem here, but really, the last four lines are by far the best.


Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow.

Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.

I can't whistle. But you've got a point, Monty Python. Nothing is as bad as it seems. This past week has not been that great - I got slapped in the face by two rather large obstacles and didn't overcome either of them - in fact reacted horribly and had a hell of a week of it. I had a short period of crappiness of character, but I think I'm over it and myself. This blog isn't meant to be a fifteen year old girl's LiveJournal of her insecurities, so I'm not going to elaborate on my woes. In fact, I'm just not going to elaborate on my woes at all, here or elsewhere. Instead, I'm going to watch this video:

And read Maggie's Letter to a Hysterical Self (in case of relapse)

and list ten things I'm thankful for (GOD. THIS IS AN AFTERSCHOOL SPECIAL WAITING TO HAPPEN):
1. I have access to hot water and soap.
2. I live in a city that seems to love me and cater to my needs and such.
3. I can surround myself with poetry and books and be completely happy on my own.
4. My roommate could have really sucked. Instead she became one of my best friends in this place.
5. My family brought me up well, I think, and they are there for me.
6. Leonard Cohen isn't dead yet, so my chances of shagging him are slightly above zero in time of this writing.
7. I don't have acne. In fact, except for the random fun poppable zit here and there, I have awesomely clear skin. This is admittedly shallow, but I'm counting my blessings, k?
8. I get two cultures. They fight sometimes, but I am richer to have two than to have either alone.
9. The communists have yet to completely take over my country again, although that's not looking so hot, because people are fucking stupid.
10. I'm warm and well-fed. Oh, and I have a bed. An AWESOME bed. With a DOWN QUILT FROM THE MOTHERLAND. Your bed cannot be better.