Below the level...dig deep.

I spent some time flipping through different sites today...I am finally done exams - for now - and so have time to kill before I go see the family for the holidays. Anyway, I digress, and return to my line of thought. While browsing people's blogs and thoughts, I came to see that most of them are just superficial, and most of them do not even amount to that. Yes, I know blogs are for rambles, for thoughts of tortured times...but damn, people, use the space to say what you really want to say. Have the fortitude to speak your mind and stretch the line past your usual blah-freaking-blah. Then there are those that I came across, and I felt my breath catch. I felt the power of words, of images, of creativity shatter the status quo...and made me smile with pride. They made me think and that usually means I go deep. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

There were so many images on the screen...photos of groomed trails and people getting their shred on. Old architect of expansive spines and peaks of history all caught and confined in the border of a photograph. But, it was the sunsets that really caught my eye. They stretched over the span of the horizon and refused to let you breathe again...countries and beaches I have never heard of before but that I now aspire to lay upon. To watch the sun spiral down below the ocean to find its own brief rest. Inspire me with your life, inspire me with what your eyes have seen, and just inspire me with the road you have chosen to walk with mucho gusto.

Then, another's words spread down the page in collected lines, allowing my mind to soar to another time, another place...another soul. Desire to collect lost moments, to refuse what seems to be, to shuffle feet so time slows for us all. To know that life is nothing but an hourglass that we can all easily flip right-side-up, and start the process of life anew. It is as easy as that, people, it really is.

To all who read this, I ask you to do something for me. Imagine in your mind that there is a closet. Open the door to this imagined place, not too quick nor too hasty, for who knows what may be inside. When the coast is clear and the dust settles, look inside and see what lays propped up in the corner. Do you see it? Do you see the shovel against the back wall? It is there, without rust, without wear...begging to be used for the first time; aspiring to be used for its one and only purpose.

Take the handles in your grasp and heft its weight to see that it is sound. See that it fits your hand like it was meant to be, and that it has a handgrip seemingly custom made for you and you alone. Note that it is featherlight and that it is of perfect balance. Now comes the real test.

If you squint in the dusty dark, you will see the back of the closet has a small hole...just perfect enough to fit your body into. Crawl in and start digging the rest of the way. Strike the shovel tip against soft soil and delve deep into your mind, your body, but most important of all...your soul. See the trail of bread crumbs leading back out and know you will never become lost as long as you have a well-planned exit.

This is the rabbit hole I have been down so many times, so many spirals of deep travels below surface thought, so many travels into the depths of my soul. It seems that everytime I come out, I have learned something new, I have some new insight, and that I only have to brush off loose dirt to be clean again. So, if you have the time, open the door to a new you, open the portal to a new destiny...just open your life to the universe that surrounds us all. You might just be surprised at what you find. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
- Confuscious

Policy of Economics

There is a time of year that University students feel a bite...some might say it is the cold of winter setting in, others may say it is the pinch of Christmas spending on the wallet, but all will agree with this: It is exam time, people, and dammit, if it does not seem I am losing my memory.

Everything I learned in the beginning of the year I am relearning...more study time on top of old study time that equals an additional portion of personal time multiplied by lost sleep subtract profits from quitting my job to have more study time and and and...fack. Right now, if you cannot tell, I am studying for my final exam in Economics, and yet what I most think about is my upcoming trip to see my Mom for Christmas. The following are some of my random thoughts during the snatches of time I steal away from my books. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

School seems to be absorbing all my time right now. If it is not Public Relations, it is a paper that was due for it. If it is not my writing and media class, it is the media kit that was due for it. If it is not Spanish then it was the Spanish oral and soon to be final exam...then there is Economics.

Economics economics economics economics...did I mention economics? Man, if I never have to do Economics again, it will be fine with me. Oh snap...I still have to do Macroeconomics before I get my degree. After that, I strive to make enough money so I can hire an accountant who likes crunching numbers, looking at my books, and seeing what I have made versus what I should invest. But for now, no mas, people...no mas.

But, other than that, I love being a student. The grind of it all can be tedious, but in the long run, it is that same grind that adds spice to my life. I feel my mind stretch past capacity, and then I feel it come to a halt. I take a break, and keep adding volume once again. It is so inspiring to keep adding and adding...and adding more on top of that.

It can come down to so many things for this cat, so many things that snap my head back to the future: seeing family during the Holidays, seeing a friend in Vancouver, having a good chance to arrange my future, and in general, chasing after my dream. I get a little closer and closer everyday, and everyday I learn a little something new about my life. Then I wonder...can it really get any better than this? Yes, says a tiny voice not so diminutive in volume, yes it can...and yes, it will.

To travel and see the sights I have seen make me only want to travel more. New York was awesome, as those who have been reading my posts could see, but my soul yearns for so much more than a passing visit to another city in another country. My feet desire to walk different soils, to run along foreign sands, to splash water in southern oceans...in essence, to live the life most are afraid to live.

Does that mean I am talking about you when I say that? I guess that would depend on the observer, no? If you feel I may be slighting you and checking your wants versus your needs, well...you would be right, people. Do you not know that to have something you really need, you must first fight hard to achieve your goal? That you must believe in yourself so strongly that even when times get tough, when the chips are stacked against you, that no matter what the odds, you will always carry on.

Forward progression is the main link to survival is it not? It has to be the main idea that propels us all in the direction of our dreams, down the road we are meant to walk...toward the land of enchantment where our waking days become more than what they are today. To the time when we place our footsteps in a stone cast designed for us, with us in mind, and for us and us alone.

Take your love of life and toss it into the rising wind; watch it rise and watch it fall but know it flows with the path of right. Know that where you are is where you were always meant to be...and where you are heading is only up to you. Always has been and always will be. If it was up to me I would walk the road for you, but where would be the fun in that for you, hmmm? Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. - Oscar Wilde

A Crack in the Concrete Jungle

Day 5 Sauntering through the City

"Dude, that is not that big." I woke up as soon as I heard Eric enter our hotel room, and then felt his hands pat the upper portion of my back...a-not-so-light-tapping on my freshly scarred skin. I called him a bastard and we all laughed together; then him and Chris inspected my new tattoo together. Eric commented that it was not that big, while Chris looked at him and gave a contrasted opinion. I took it all in and knew the truth...while it was not as big as I first intended, I am still glad I did not go any bigger. In the end, I was the one who was under the needle for three hours.

I washed my back, threw on some neo-sporin, and gingerly pulled a t-shirt over my head. We smoked some cigarettes, smoked a little something-something, and rapped about the years that have passed since we last saw Eric. Time passed slowly, time crawled by, and time lazily reminded us how important friends are: That when you are amongst them, you must see that you have all the time you need.

We ambled through various portions of New York City, and finally decided to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant in China Town. We filled our stomachs and headed to the Financial District to take a peep at what most people unfortunately consider a tourist attraction now: The remains of the World Trade Towers.

We walked for another half-hour, smoking cigarettes like a newborn sucks on a pacifier, and finally reached our destination. Man, it was an amazing sight...all around you in New York there are constant reminders of concrete, mirrored glass, tall billboards, and everything is in a competition to be higher than everything else. Then, boom, all of a sudden, you are standing in front of a monument of what were once the tallest buildings in the world...and now there are only the carcass of a concrete slab.

I think what hit me the most was not the destruction of neighbouring buildings, nor photographs of what the towers most resembled. No, to me, the image that to this day still sticks in my memory, was the framework of a steel girder that remained from the implosion...and I think of all the people who lost their lives, who lost their loved ones. My heart slowed its beating so as not to disturb their rest, we paid our respects, and then we were off again. We spent some more time with Eric at his apartment, hung out and smoked some more cigarettes, and then followed his directions to the subway and our way home.

Not too long after that, Chris and I decided to head our separate ways for the evening: Him to a jazz bar and me to locate a 24-hour Kinkos so I could send a paper back to Halifax via email. I looked at the address in a phone book, stuffed my books into my backpack, threw on some warm clothes, and headed out into the New York night...and promptly got lost in a New York minute.

It felt like I was wandering around the same block, but it was only a different portion of a grid...sound confusing? You would have to be in my shoes to truly understand I guess. Everytime I thought I was on the right street, I would be wrong, and every set of directions seemed to get me closer and closer...but never close enough. Finally, I strolled into a StarBucks, and ordered a rice-krispy square and a tall coffee. The clerks told me that since it was the last square that I could have it for free, and heck, gave me the coffee for free as well. I gave my thanks, laughed at my luck, and headed outside with a renewed need to find the Kinkos.

For the next hour, I walked around and around what seem to be the same block, but oh, the sights I saw: Madison Square Garden, The Empire State Building, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and my favourite: The New York Public Library. It spanned an entire city block on its own, and as I walked around it, I knew of a person who would enjoy the view with me. Someone who had just entered my life, and someone who will know who they are as they read this. She was in my thoughts as I sipped my coffee, and she was on my mind as I thought of how we could wile away many an hour reading there together...giggling as we became lost together.

Finally, I found the Kinkos, and spent the next hour and a half typing out my paper. I saved it, hit send, and made my way out into the darkened night. My mission was accomplished, my goal achieved, and now all that remained was to find my way home again.

My heart bounced around my soul, free of constraints, and knowing my path was well-lit...and I laughed. Life, man, I tell you, life and what it does to me. It is so truly amazing to me people, it takes my breath away and offers me a better one in return. Do you see what I see? Do you know that for every struggle, no matter how hard it may be, that there will always be a better way? Deep dig and find that well of knowledge within; delve deeper, and turn it into the wisdom you have always carried with you...walk tall, walk proud, but most importantly, keep walking forward. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Been dying since the day I was born
Cause there is no road that ain't a hard road to travel on."
- Sam Roberts

Quien es tu madre?

Day 4 GOSSET on the Back

"Tell Todd to come over and I'll hook him up." Chris looked at me, and hung up his phone. What I had really wanted was now finally about to happen. My chance to forever honour my Mother, and have her name on my skin...her maiden name with my first initial.

The only problem was that I was very drunk, and that did not bode well for the pain or the fact that my blood would be very thin, and therefore, very messy. But, hey man, I really did not care about that because one of the my biggest goals on this trip was coming to fruition. It was time for some good hurt; time for my tattoo to finally be placed on my back. I took a last swig from my Guinness, said late to the remaining crew, and hit the door running.

A few minutes later, I stumbled into a Howard Johnson's, and made my way to Gabor's room. Gabor was a California boy through and through, and made of the salt I usually only saw in Newfoundlanders. Who better to inflict pain on me right? We smoked a little something-something and went over the details of how the design would look. While he drew it up, I rushed out to a 24-hour pharmacy and dropped some questions on the clerk.

"Hey, dude? Do you guys have any Saran wrap? Some neo-sporin? How about some vaseline and some medical tape"? He looked at me like I was the strangest cat he had ever seen, and then pointed me in the right direction. I grabbed the supplies, threw in some chocolate, and cashed a traveller's cheque. Word to the wise here people: Do not bother with traveller's cheques while staying in New York because they are nothing but a hassle. But, if you do decide to use them anyway, any 24-hour pharmacy will cash them for you.

I stood stock-still while the carbon paper was placed over my upper back, from one armpit to the other. The whole design curved up from there to just below my shirtline, and just underneath the bottom of my neck. Finally, a few minutes later, it was set, and we were ready to go...my skin just itching to be splayed open for all to see.

With the first rips of the needle, I felt my mouth go dry, and my stomach start to heave. I made Gabor stop, telling him I was going to puke. He looked at the shallow pale of my face, and showed me the bathroom. I sat on the toilet for a few minutes, feeling the alcohol course through my body, seeing sweat run off my skin in driblets, and was completely aware of the first beginnings of raw ink. I sucked up my breath in a fell swoop, added brass to my balls, and went out to finish the outline. I lit up another cigarette, listened to the whine of the needle, and then felt the hotness of its tip dig into my skin once more.

For the next three hours, I sat with my back to Gabor, and my arms over the chair in front of me...and watched a football game. I switched positions to spots where the pain might go away, but it never seemed to acquiesce to my wants. I tried putting my head in the crook of my right elbow, my left elbow, tried my chin on my forearms, my forehead on my forearms, twisting to the right and left...it didn't matter. My lifeblood ran down my back, soaked my skin and mingled in with the black ink. Throughout it all, I kept one thing in mind: I was the one who asked for the pain, and so I had to be the one to forget it existed. But, damn, he knew how to grind, and damn, he knew what spots were more sensitive than others.

It was in the last five minutes of it all, when he was putting finishing touches and fill-ins, that the needle hit my spinal chord or touched on a nerve ending. Listen, people, I have broken my lower back before, and so know what shock feels like to your system...but fuck. My whole body recoiled from the shivers of agony that raced up my spine, and my mind screamed out to all that is holy and just. Then, a few minutes later, it was complete. I slapped some hands into mine, laid some money on the television, and made my way out into the early morning.

Outside, I finally released all the discomfort in little grunts, and felt my upper back throb with the new ink displayed upon its surface. I hailed a cab, made my way back to the hotel, bought some pop from the vending machine, and washed the hurt down with Jim Beam, while smoking yet another cigarette. It was done. My back was finally done.

As it is, I carry my Mom in my thoughts wherever I go, and now, I carry her on my skin as well. She is my angel, my reason for being, and the strongest person I know, bar none. My skin came from her, my blood once her own, and now both carry her with me until my end of days.

I fell asleep with Saran wrapping on my upper back, and face-down so my new creation could breathe. The next day was to be spent with Eric and Chris, in a city-walk to match all city-walks. But, that is for my next entry, and all I could think of at that moment, was sleep and some healing hands. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Beauty is skin deep. A tattoo goes all the way to the bone."
- Author Unknown

Monogamy in New York

Day 3 Wedding in the Park

"Todd, dude, wake up. They have closed off an entire street for like 10 blocks. You should come check this out."

Once again, Chris was up before me, but to be fair, I was up longer than him the night before. Good old Jim is definitely Jack's illegitimate cousin, but oh so smooth. It seems there is a market of some sorts down the street from our hotel doors. Eric was not getting married until three p.m., and so we had more than enough time to kill. I looked at Chris with one eye, nodded my head, and began the process of waking up.

Ten minutes later, I found myself in a luke-warm shower, then smoking while I got dressed, and waiting the distance to hit the elevator to head to the market...and then smoking again. It was all we did there, and it was continuous. So why stop now, right?

We lost the next couple of hours walking up and down the street, marveling at all the assorted little booths, and breathed the surprising crispness of an autumn day inNew York. The cross streets of the market were patrolled and bordered by the City's finest, and we were able to freely check out our surroundings. There were trinkets, food booths, t-shirts on plastic display cases, bed sheets for sale right next to another who was selling black dress socks; all of this and so much more.

The funny thing is the fact that they just shut down a street almost half a kilometer long, and yet it was only one tiny fraction to the rest of Manhattan; much less New York City itself. I would keep forgetting small little facts like that, then look up and be reminded of where I really was.

Then, I swear to God, I blinked, and I was standing in a small portion of Central Park watching my two old friends say their vows to each other. The party was a collection of Rural Canada, Canadian Rockies, Southern and Northern California, and then there was the Halifax chapter of me and Chris. All of us, in the world's largest city, and having the time of our lives. Well, at the very least, I knew I was loving my time there, and could vouch the same for Chris.

The reception passed quickly with a light dusting of dry jokes, remembering the past, and honouring the future; while outside, the city continued its eternal battle with insomnia. We drank, laughed, and smoked the rest of the time away. Plans were made to go to a pub, we said our congratulations to the bride and groom, and made more plans with Eric the next day. Then, bam, we were gone again.

We found a pub close to the crew's hotel, joined some more from the wedding party, and I listened with joy to the calls of $5 for pints Guinness. Turns out my tattoo was not to be, and so I drowned my sorrows in a glass...okay it was a few more than that. I was no longer worried about how it would thin out blood that would no longer be even drawn from my skin. Not tonight, anyway, and I swallowed my frustration in a gulp of stout, and let it out with an exhale of smoke. Then watched it, like my chances of getting my tattoo, float away into the cool night air, and join the rest of the lost and forgotten stories of New York City.

I sat and drank with Chris, some of the crew, and we laughed and made new bonds. With or without my ink, it was already one of my best trips in a while, and only seemed to get better and better as the minuted ticked by. How was I going to know that it was only going to get better? Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"New York's such a wonderful city. Although I was at the library today, and the guys there are very rude. I said, I'd like a card." He says, "You have to prove you are a citizen of New York." So I stabbed him." - Emo Philips

Rain Falls in the Concrete Jungle

Day 2 Dropping the bling-bling

"Dude, get up so we can go check out the city."

I woke up and realized I was still in New York, and it was now raining outside. Chris was already up and showered, awaiting my slow ass, and I pulled myself up from under the covers. What with getting my school work done and passing it in before deadline, so I could go to the States in the first place, I had only survived on limited sleep in the last few weeks. I stood in the shower, woke myself up in its luke-warm spray, and then dryed off and dressed.

We headed out under a light mist and took a good look at the city in the early daylight. It seemed much bigger now, and there seemed to be so many Starbucks around, tempting me to drop in and buy a coffee. We wandered around the streets, smoked, wandered some more, and kept our hands busy with lighting and replacing.

The rains fell in an even soft pace, and we dropped into various shops to get an idea of what it is to shop in New York. As much as I wanted to peruse, my real purchase was my tattoo, the homage to my Mother...the woman who has the highest regard in my heart, and so deserves to have her name in permanent ink.

By this point, we were not sure if we even going to get the tattoos, and it seemed more doubtful as the hours passed; already, even without that, the trip was worth every penny I had spent. With or without the ink...but I so hoped it would be with. We took a short break from smoking and went to spy some more stores, and kill some more time.

We found sweet deals on assorted items like belts for two dollars, hats for eight dollars, and shirts for five. We picked up a few things, but for the most point watched our billfolds, and made sure we had more than enough to survive the next four days.

When we next saw the light a half hour later, the skies had turned black, and the streets were now puddles forming on old cracked concrete. All about us there was a ceiling of umbrellas, and the city still kept its hustle and bustle, never slowing down, always moving, no matter what the elements dictated.

I briefly wondered aloud to Chris if it could possibly be acid rain, then shrugged my shoulders, and we lit up another cigarette.

The next few hours found us walking along the clustered streets, exploring side avenues and flourescent lit shops; some long and narrow, others short and squat. Want a watch with a leather band? Or how about one with a faux-studded-wrist band? Interested in some bling-bling necklaces? You know the ones with the diamond-encrusted-name-all-gaudy-and-gangsta-like? For you? Only eight dollars. Come on, how can you pass that up? You have to be mad to walk away from a deal like that.

We fueled up on some Chinese buffet, washed down with a Corona, all of it at reasonable prices, and hit the road again. We walked around for another few hours but knew we would only spend more the longer we stayed out, and it was raining harder. I remember snapping a hopefully cool shot of the Empire State building, with some rain on the lense, and falling down all around us.

We made our way through the crowds, walked through Time Square, and down along Broadway. As we did, I was forcibly reminded that before this day, that those were all names from television, movies, songs even...now I was leaving my imprint on them.

How cool is that to know? That just a boy from Newfoundland would one day walk on the streets of New York? That he would do so a man, one who sees his life in great lights, and has everything at his fingertips...at its very core a brass ring held firmly in his grip.

We dropped by the crew's hotel, to see what was up, and if there was any more news on the tattoos. We all chilled, smoked some cigarettes, and then repeated the same process some more.Then they got ready for a family dinner and we left for our room. Along the way, we grabbed a bottle of whiskey at a cheap cost, headed to the hotel, and grabbed some pop for mix.

I then proceeded to pass out for a couple of hours, then woke up and we grabbed some food while the crew slept off dinner. We ate a donair with the familiar surroundings of Halifax being replaced with Manhattan, and the sights and sounds of Times Square. Huge billboards on the sides of huge buildings, tall ads on the fronts of tall floors of glass and concrete.

I ate my food, and tried not to look like a tourist. But God, the city is freaking huge and I was only in a tiny part of it; and that tiny part of it is bigger than any city I have ever been to in Canada.

Eventually, news came too late, and we missed the crew by minutes. Chris and I headed to our room again, cracked the bottle, and poured its contents out in a toast. Cheers to New York, cheers to friends, cheers to a wedding...and cheers to life in general. A few more cheers later, and I was buzzed enough to sleep, and felt the bourbon dull the excitement of the next upcoming day.

The wedding was due up, the reception after that, and maybe, hopefully, a tattoo for Todd, if time and the universe allowed. Cheers to that. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today

I want to be a part of it, New York, New York

These vagabond shoes are longing to stray

Right through the very heart of it, New York, New York"

- Frank Sinatra

Surviving The Big City

Day 1 Rising at dawn

"Halifax International Airport is closed," said the radio announcer.

Me and Chris exchanged glances, and now knew the reason for our hold up on the way into the airport. It was almost 6 in the am, our flight left at 7 am, and we were now slowly moving down a long line of other terminal bound travellers. It turns out a 747 cargo plane "fell-off" the runway, and crashed to the earth below...taking seven lives with in the process.

At the time, we only knew of the crash, and not of the lives taken. All I was doing was looking at the missed opportunity of not seeing New York, and maybe using the credit for a trip to Vancouver instead. I do not know about you, but I was starting to see it as an omen, the irony of having a plane crash delaying our entry into a city that was once decimated by a plane crash.

The real omen came to the forefront, when we reached the front of the long, slowly being misdirected away from the airport line of cars, and suddenly, we were allowed entry to the airport terminal. We looked at each other, and laughed at our luck. So, the trip began with a green light of stalling time, and a memory was created.

I realized that the trip I had waited so long for, a wedding I was looking forward to, of partying in New York, getting a tattoo, all of these things and more...that they were all in their raw beginnings. The upcoming post is on the first day of our adventure, and where it all started. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Chris and I sat around the airport and waited for the hours to count off. The entire staff of the airport, from Tim Horton's right down to the check-in-clerks, handled their business like any other normal day...except this one was done under dim lights, hordes of people waiting for the runways to open, and praying for power to turn their computers back on.

After four hours of hanging out, we departed to Toronto for a 2 hour tour, and then gave the bride-to-be a quick phone call. Turns out her family is in the same airport, and as she tells Chris this I walked around the waiting room to recognize a face I have only seen in photographs. I pick her sister out, and what turns out to be the entire family, or close to, and introduce myself.

After a few minutes of polite shock, we all boarded the plane to fly to New York. To say I was excited is like saying a New York police officer has a thick city accent...fugghedaboutit.

Strong winds shook the aircraft all about as we dropped in from the clouds above the sprawling mass of skyline that is New York city. We were on the opposite windows, but I could still see the images of concrete and stone, all towering above the each other in an race to be the first to touch the sky.

The plane landed with a hard jolt and a bounce, as everyone exchanged furtive glances, and then a intake of breath as it reduced it speed. Then, suddenly, I swear to God, I blinked, and we were in Spanish Harlem.

All about people sat on their front stoops, as they would back in the movies of lore, and you could actually breathe the history of the land...or maybe that was the steam that shot up from the sewers on street level? It was not until later that I would wander below surface level, and learn that it was from the subways that sped underneath.

We checked in, had a small-freak-out over leaving currency and personal papers in the room, and then decided to hide them under the TV. We hit the road strolling, headed out to see the boys from California, and make our presence known to the world.

The world turned out to be a group of guys that quickly became crew, and we killed some time until the groom got off work. Then we headed to his house to see my friend from years back that I have not seen since last summer: my dog, Eric, the man-of-the-hour, the groom-to-be, and one who is not a big fan of the limelight, but is striving for the image he knows he is creating. A quick hello, a handshake to pay respect, and we were off once again, into the now coming night.

Hours later, we sat down while all around girls danced topless, and left us slowly watching our shrinking bank-rolls. My biggest shock was ordering a Jack and Coke, a Coke, and a bottle of water...then blinking in disbelief as it totals to a $30 bill. Fack.

The motley crew of misfits hit the street running, and hopped into one of the many yellow cabs cruising the core. A little less lighter, not so much drunker, but thoroughly already infatuated with the city of lights and bigger action.

Eventually, the groom wanted to call the night a night, and we all hung at a few more bars before calling it quits for now. A few more remained to observe and interact, while me and Chris walked back to our Hotel. We grabbed a shish-kebob for the road, and lit up another one of our many cigarettes.

I was chain-smoking Marlboro after Marlboro, as they seemed to help ease the shock of where we were, and gave us a reason to pay attention to our hands. That way, we did not have to pretend we could not see buildings disappear into the nether regions of the night, way higher than normal eyes could see. My neck already hurt enough as it was, there were so many times I strained it upwards to see the final floor to an invention that proudly earned its name of scraping the sky.

We arrived back at our hotel, listened as the door closed behind us, pulled the blankets up over our heads, and said our goodnights. Day 1 was over and Day 2 was already in its raw beginnings, a designated time to explore the world outside. To see why they truly call it the Big Apple, and to see if we were truly there...or if it was all a dream. We closed our eyes, and fell asleep to the sounds of the city that is never allowed the same reprieve.

I swear to God, the last sound before my thoughts went dark, was a gun shot in the distance. Or maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me, right? Right. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"New York is great though. If you’re here and want a one of a kind souvenir be sure to take home the police sketch of your assailant." -- David Letterman

Pressure Drop

Fractured n. A break, rupture or crack, especially in bone or cartilage.

Skull n. The bony or cartilaginous framework of the head of vertebrates, made up of the bones of the braincase and face; cranium.

Funny...growing up I always had these pains that the doctors use to classify as a migraine. To me, a little boy, it did not really matter what they were called; I just wanted them to go away, so I could go back to playing with my friends. I do not know, maybe it was just me, but that sure did beat getting examined by men in white labratory coats.

The so-called-migraine followed me through my teenage years, and in through my early to mid twenties..then something happened and everything as I knew it changed. Now the headaches I get I just wish they were a migraine again.

These new aches now seem to wrench my mind away from its state of searching, and focus is shifted to the front of my dome. They are now occurring two to three times everyday, in the last year alone, but at least now they only last for 20 minutes or so each time. They do succeed in making this cat think hard about things though, and that usually calls for a story, right? Right. The following is how they make me feel, what they remind me of, and how I really feel about them. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

When I was little, while my friends were out playing in the summer sun, I would be lying down in the dark with a cold and damp facecloth over my eyes to block out the sunlight. Most of those times, my mother would be lying next to me, cradling my head in her arms, and softly smoothing my hair while telling me to let the pain go.

The headaches were not all the time, maybe one or two a month at the most, but when they came they brought time in a bottle...as in, it seemed to stop all together.

Ever reach a point in your life where the pain becomes almost exquisite to your senses? That it becomes so commonplace that it is almost a dull thud in the front of your mind? It is much better that way because otherwise the monster is released, and my world can subsequently go black. It kind of reminds me of a steel trap that closes with a vociferous clanging of the jaws, and then the pressure releases a tad to allow me room to breathe again.

Sometimes it is easy and other times it is not so easy. They may stab behind the eyes, will wrinkle my brow, and always remind me of the night when they truly came about...of the time when I was just allowed room to breathe at all.

Halloween is coming around the corner and I find myself wondering how I am going to spend it this year. To me, it is not a time of celebration of that night, but more so the morning after.

I am coming up on a five year anniversary where everything as I knew it completely changed, and life began for me in a different light. If the only thing I have left, as a side-affect as of that night, are these headaches, well...I have always been used to them and now they wax poetic for what I was granted in return.

It is when they come as bad as they do sometimes, that I raise my hands to my forehead, and feel the scar beneath my fingertips...and what was once unbearable becomes a challenge. The mark left behind, my reason for being, my reason for striving, and my reason for patience. I see it when I wake up, I feel its fire while sitting in class, and I know what it means. It is to live all days like every one is as new as the memory I am creating.

So, I smile through the times when the monster is off its leash, and I smile at the times when it seems I have forgotten to feed it...and there are the times when it fades my world to black. Then I raise my head and smile some more. The crazy thing is that with every passing day I seem to grow stronger and stronger, knowing full well that they too will pass.

If you can smile with every morning rising then you already have the day beaten, no matter what comes your way. Trust me on this, I know it from experience...the more you smile, the more your eyes reflect your outlook on life, and it seems that my smiles only become more genuine as the day unfolds.

They say that experience is what shines most in someone's eyes, so what do you think mine would tell you if we ever crossed paths? Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"If life's not beautiful without the pain, well I'd just rather never even see beauty again. Well, as life gets longer, awful seems softer. And it feels pretty soft to me."

- Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse

Big Bang Theory

Gondola n. An enclosed structure suspended from a cable, used for conveying passengers, as in to and from a ski slope. (slang: gondie)

Snowflake n. A single flake or crystal of snow

Well, season in definitely upon the university student, and I am definitely feeling the reality that I will not be riding this year...not as much as I would want to anyway. I do have plans of a Whistler spring-break if funds allow, but I cannot even start to conceive of that until I return from New York. Yep, the boy from Newfoundland is heading to the Big Apple for a few days of reunion, tattooing, debauchery, witnessing some vows being exchanged, and then touring the city with as much stealth as possible...oh my God, the list could go on. The irony is that I am only going for four days. Can I get an Amen for life, people? Always the looking for angles I am, and yes, you may have guessed that there is a story up and coming. For those that are the betting kind, you would be correct, and now go collect your winnings. The following is where I am in school right now, where I need to be, and just a glimpse into where I know I will be. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

"Lots of snow on the mountains", said her MSN message. Damn, is it snowing in Whistler already? I ran to check out www.whistler-blackcomb.com and dropped into their snow report for the month of September...and there it was. A small cropping of snow over the top of the Whistler gondola. I looked at the webcam still-frames, and my mind drifted back to a time when...I dropped in behind the gondola, while ahead of me there was fresh snow without a blemish on it in sight, and I followed the line as far as I could go, before the trail became rock and stone. If it had been mid-season, I would have been able to ride under the Gondie for most of the way, until that is, you came to the steep 30 foot cliff drop with no ridable transition below. Man, those were the days, and I miss them so, but for something to break away, something else must give...that is the compromise of it all.

So, now here I am, back in my present days, and I find myself in a mild freak-out about a mark I got in school. Are you ready for this? Me, the man who spouts such rhetoric about language, and who is proficient in creating images for the minds eye to see...got a C minus on his first writing assignment in Writing and Theory. Fack. Lesson anyone? It is when you think you have an inkling that there are so many ways to express the English Language (and, in a few years, the Spanish language), and then someone hands you your britches saying, "Drop and give me 20." Fack. Okay, okay, so it was my first attempt at writing in a journalistic style, and yes I do have a tendency to ramble at times...okay, all the time. I see that everything has a meaning to it, that people can seem random but they tie it all together with a pretty pink ribbon in the same breath. I know these things like I know what it means to scrawl thoughts unto paper; or, in this case, print on a mass-media broadband. But, I never saw that C minus coming. Bam...up side the head and out of nowhere. But you know what? It just means I have to study that much harder, observe that much more, and maybe jump levels I never even knew existed. It is all in the challenge, people, it is all in the challenge. It is not how you fight the mangy dog biting at your ankles, it is how you feed it the nourishment it needs; the more it bites, the stronger the thirst for new knowledge, and the want for something more. Recognize that when it comes because if you believe strongly enough in it, it comes for us all.

So, alright, if you take the last two paragraphs and add them all up, you can see where I am headed...okay, I know you have no idea, but I am coming to it. I can take a degree like public relations, maybe grab some experience in it in Vancouver, or maybe not, and then head down to South America like I have planned. Travel along the coast until I hit Argentina and its white-peaked ranges, then plunk myself down...and plan people's vacations for them. Calling from Paraguay and need someone who speaks Spanish? Si, Senorita, mi nombre es Todd. Mucho gusto. How about from down in Colorado and you want to see what is like to ride the Andes? Well, call me up partner, and let's set up a meeting. Or, maybe you are in Canada, and you only speak the English language in a broken French accent? Well, by that time, my french will be at least suitable to hold a conversation with you, and arrange for the ski-trip of your life. To those who scoff at what I say, remember this: Whose life do you think I am living this for anyway? Prepare the soil for the seeding, nurture the land, and reap the harvest. It all takes time, it all takes patience, but, oh my God, it all leads to the land of milk and honey. Where your reward awaits depends on the person, and what you really need more than you want. Stay the burn if you have to, feel the turn of the clock as the seconds tick off, but remember this: what is time but a light falling of individual snowflakes on a cool winter day...all of them just doing what they were meant to do. It really is that easy. Man, can you see it? Just me and my dog, heading to where the sun always warms the soul, and where the snow is waiting to be ridden...my best friend with his head out the window, getting high on the coastal air currents. I can taste the cervesa's as we speak. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"And what about your soul? Is it cold? Is it straight from the mould and ready to be sold?"

- Jack Johnson

Timely Advice

Sunlight strewn across the deck,
Keeping days warm
As the nights turn chill.
I envision my road, see it, feel it,
And make it heed to my will.

A summer of long days gone by,
I cannot understand it;
I won't even try.
The time it passed, the weather it swayed,
Throughout it all, my obsession it stayed.

Days tumble in and nights fade out,
Sessions that stretch the mind,
Making me want to scream and shout.
Then my shadow creeps up from behind,
Letting me know it held my company all the time.

The years they come and the years they pass.
Friends that come and friends that go,
I watch your eyes...and take life to task.
Can I forget? Can I forgive?
What will die so another can live?

Running with Scissors

There is a fable of a hundred-and-twenty-year-old priest, and how the experts are baffled on how he has grown to such an age. There have been many reporters who have questioned him on how he has lived for so long...then one day, a journalist tracked him down, and sat with him to ask some questions. "How did you live to be the age of a hundred-and-twenty-years?", he asked the priest. The old man replied, "I did not do any drugs, did not imbibe in any alcohol or other aspects that would reduce my life expectancy...I did not chase after women, and religiously kept to myself. It is through these ideologies that has led me to continue living out my years on earth."

The reporter looked at him with incredulity in his eyes. "How have you lived then?", he said. "How can you call that a life when you have never experienced that which makes us human? To know the experience of losing control on a drug, to tasting fermented grapes after picking them from the vine, or more importantly...how can you say you have lived if you have never felt the pleasure of a woman's warm body next to you? How is solitude making your life that much longer and adding that much strength? We are put on this earth to feel these experiences, to know that life is reverberating in our lungs, and that we must understand the fact that we are destined to fail sometimes...it is what makes life worth living. We are all connected somehow, someway, and to deny that energy is to deny life itself."

Then the journalist walked away, much the same as I have countless times before, shaking my head at the ignorant, the uninitiated, and the ones in fear of the greatest gift of all...the gift of life that flows through us all. Here are my thoughts on what makes my life...well, worth living. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I am only being honest, people, when I say that so many individuals out there have placed barriers and fortresses around themselves. We build walls around our emotions, plug up our thoughts with television and the sorrows of the world, and we do our damnedest to forget the outside aspects of our own lives...but what it comes down to is the fact that we only get one opportunity. One chance to make your image in your own making, to run with the bulls in Spain if that is what you want, to travel and see the world, and live your dreams to their fullest before you punch in your ticket and call it a life.

Until then, it is not a wrap, people, it is not cut and dry, but it is waiting to be made into what you want it to be...so, what are you afraid of? What holds you back from the best years of your life? Is it fear that you may fail? Well, until you begin, you will never know what may actually transpire, right? Until you place one foot in front of the other and see what lies in wait for you, you will only sit and wonder, "What if?" Fantastic thing to say when life is young and full of potential, but horrible when you are on your death bed, and those words fall from your lips...do it and do it now.

So, okay, there are some of you that have set your own stage back in the day, but gave up when it collapsed in on itself. All your plans fell apart when they seemed to be written in stone, and you just do not want to harbor another chance at new dreams...fair enough. But it is not fair to give up, lie down, and play dead, people; it is not fair to yourself. It is not fair to those around you who believe in you, and want to see you succeed in following your dreams. So, okay, life is sometimes too heavy for you then? I hear you, I really do...but it does get better, it really does. Use every new day as an excuse to learn something new, to attempt a new trick, and breathe life into your soul.

So, okay, you are shipwrecked in the ocean of love, and your heart is strewn amongst the remaining tatters that surround you, right? Well, you know what? I know this from my own experience and it has told me that time really does heal all. Grab on to something for dear life and float on...help is on the way. Worried that the good times are not going to last? Open your eyes and realize that they get better with every passing day, so hold a friend's hand...and float on. Need to make a choice in your life direction, but are not sure where to turn? Sit alone with your thoughts, abolish outside distractions, find your answer...and float on.

Listen, they say that it is dangerous to run with scissors, right? But who are they to tell what you can and cannot do? Pick up a pair and see what happens...you might just see that they just do not want you to get hurt, and that they only want what is best for you. In that same second, please realize it is all I want for you too. It is just that I am the one who removed your training wheels, slaps you on the ass, and hopes to God that you may take a tumble or two...and I will be the one smiling through my tears as I watch you pick yourself up, brush off the dust, and continue down the road of life.

Through out it all, no matter how many times you tumble and fall, remember that you only get this one shot at making your dreams a reality. If you shall go forth, and they give way to sadness and defeat, well...you are still breathing and you can can try again, again, and again. Please, for all it is worth, know that the only thing we need to know for this life is that it is the only one you get...this time around, anyway. See what it means to grow old and live through the joys of this age. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Alright already, we'll all float on. Don't worry, we'll all float on. Even if things end up a bit too heavy, we'll all float on. Alright already, we'll all float on. Don't you worry, we'll all float on. We'll all float on." - Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse

Summer Harvest

Jonesin: To yearn for something; a craving (Ex. I am jonesin to go snowboard again.)

Patience: The state or quality of being patient; the power of suffering for fortitude (Ex. I must have patience and just walk my road.)

I sit here, listening to my thoughts as they race back in time to another era, to another day and age, when the Mountains ruled my life. I lived to do not much else but work, ride, eat, sleep, and ride, ride...ride. When I was able, I would add writing to that mix, usually after a day of working, eating, riding, and right before I fell asleep. It was during most of those days that I began to see that I was planning my arrival for another era, on another variation of the road, that at the time, I had no idea where it was going to lead. I am presently all over that aforementioned course like a fat kid on a smartie, but, there were moments in my life, where summer was only time to jones for a winter session. A season is not always a season unless I get to ride, and this will be the second year where I might not get to snowboard again. I remember last year, and how I started having a small anxiety attack towards the beginning of spring. For a brief moment, I was back in the familiar stage of wondering where I was going to ride next...when it hit me. I was going to be staying in one place for the first time in almost six years, and would be spending the next three to fours years of my life there. School was now my main vocation, and I realized that it was filling the void of not being able to surf on snow. It was a compromise I willingly made, not a sacrifice, and one that had waited eagerly in the background...until it was ready to become the new emperor in my life. Over the long haul of the past year, I have come to see that I am experiencing another type of season, one in which I seem to only have time for school, studying, eating, writing, work, and writing, writing...writing. The upcoming is my thoughts on that same year, and where it has lead me. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Have you ever planted a dream, in hopes that it would grow into what you always knew it could be? That it would reach its potential, and reach for that unreachable star? To accomplish a bountiful return on investment, one must take the necessary steps involved in cultivating the soil, and stay the burn of desire versus talent, want versus need. I needed to not run away this time, needed to stick with my path, especially when I knew I would be in for shaky beginnings. I was leaving behind a lifestyle of drugs, partying, snowboarding, and autonomy, and trading it in for another of semantics, structure, scholastics...was I crazy? Everything seemed to be against me, attempting to prevent me from departing the mountains, and I could feel the leaden shackles desperately trying to keep my body cemented into the ground. But, it was my soul that could not be captured, retained, or restricted by earthly binds, and it has always held my best interests at heart. In the end, it all came down to what I needed to have, as opposed to what I wanted to have, and that was the only way of forward progression...I just needed something more. So, I did something different from what I had been doing for the last five years of my life, and instead of travelling from one bubble to the next, I opened the bubble door, and stepped outside to reality...one that had always been waiting patiently for me. With that step, the road ahead was new, open, and oh my god, so begging to be walked upon. I tried not to watch the peaks fade from sight in my rear-view mirror, but could feel their grasp loosen, yet knowing they would never fully release their hold on me.

Everything slowcoasted from there, days of movement and segue, and then all of a sudden, it was a new life... yet always the same person under a new layer of soul. Discoveries of words that made others laugh, think, and, hopefully one day, move forward in their own progression. Fall to winter and a breaking of a bond built fifteen years strong, maybe even beyond repair...but only time will tell. Really, people, holes in a story are necessary at times, to make you return to learn more, and maybe assemble some pieces of my puzzle. Everything that I put here has meaning to me, and if you follow this along, one day it will have meaning to you. This is a man's life as he travels along the crook of his dream, understanding that it is not that far off because for so long, he has been attempting to grasp the brass ring...when he suddenly looked down and realized it had been in his hand for quite some time now. A symbol we resolve to attain, when the only goal that really matters is your own calling, the moments in life that you were doing what you were truly meant to be, and your soul exults in joy. I am so far along my path, and so dedicated to my intent, that life itself now holds the door open for me. How amazing is that to know? To wake up one day, and see that you are held in such a loving embrace that everyday is designed to be better than the last...that is my life. That has been my life for almost five years now, and it only holds even more illustrious upcomings as the days turn into one another; and still they continue on. It is all about how you handle the ups and downs of the rollercoaster along the journey, and while it can sometimes be a battle to hold your cookies in, there are always the times to look forward to the careening fall into the rest of your future.

So, I made my way through this year, and overcame so many obstacles...a loss of my oldest friend who is still alive but yet I feel dead to her, a touch of what is to come from another who would replace the old with the new, and then the forcible removal of one more from my eyes, never to be seen again. I swear to god I blinked, and my first year of school was over, and then summer was upon me faster than the wind catching a kite in its wings. My path becomes as sure as words of solid black, written for all to see, as my own personal disclaimer...what do you want more than anything else in this world? What is it that makes your heart soar into the heavens and your smile shine from end to end? That when you occasionally touch on it, your feet feel like they are not even touching the ground...what is it people? For me, it is this, right now at this very moment. It is using my mind to create, forcing my body to sit still, and regulating my soul to stay true to its desired direction. If you are using those three in tandem and sychronizing their combined efforts, then that will be the day you step from the bubble. That will be the day you see that everything is attainable, it just depends on how much you have to work on it...to see that for something to live, something else must die. Reach down, take ahold of your self, and rip up your moorings. Chase the dream they say is childish, then show them that we all need to see the world as children do...and while you are at it, make sure you show the whole world. For, once again, whose life are you living this for, anyway? Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Once we make our decision, all things will come to us. Auspicious signs are not a superstition, but a confirmation. They are a response."

- Deng Ming-Dao

The road we are travelling...

I was the backseat passenger, driving down a darkened highway, and that was what the cabbie said to me; at the exact instant we passed by the Travellers Motel. He had been born in Duncan, British Columbia, transported by his parents to India for the next twelve years, and then returned to Canada by way of Halifax, when he was sixteen. I asked him if it had been a culture shock, and his reply surprised me. No, he said, it was not that hard to adapt, and actually happened fairly quickly. Huh. I was also sixteen when we moved away from my homeland and started life anew in another place, and I remember how hard it had been for me. Funny that he didn't. I won't lie, I felt a little bit of envy. But, in the long haul, I think that is what makes me a writer - that it all adds up in the equation of having a-not-so-normal life, that it keeps me on the seat of my pants...and that I take the time to transcribe its happenings. Here is a little on my thoughts as of late, of how I feel my mind flicker into the future, and how although I know I must be patient...I just want it to be here right now. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

It is all about the open road, in analogies, and in future prospects. Where it leads is where I am headed because I have always known that it is a compass set in the right direction. For all the times I have become anxious when it would bend and disappear out of sight, to the times when it was straight, wide, and true. I have found myself sitting and talking of travelling as of late, of how I will make my departure from Canada, to wondering if I really will do it alone. I am starting to plan for it, for example, like seeing that I will have to get a dog for companionship; and since I will be venturing into South America, that I will also need one for protection. Besides, it will be a great way to meet women...damn, did I just write that? Good because I meant to. They have always been the ruling star in my solar system, and one day I know I will meet my queen. But, that is another story for another time...or book.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, the open road and where it is heading for me. It always has seemed to have been littered with signs along my way. I have always wondered if the real signs in life are our dreams, whether waking or sleeping. To me, they all seem to become the same in time. We all have been there, the nights that you wake up from something so real that it sent shivers down your skin, raising it again when it actually comes true; except you pass it off as deja vu. I am coming to see that we are all given a road map at birth, that is in our blood, and only up to us to learn its secret code. That when we actually embark on the journey it is then that we find our way in life, and that it has always been there...waiting for us. It is there for us all, people, may we realize how easy it is, and that the hardest part is the introspection which comes along with it. How is learning about your innerself so difficult? Peeling back layers of soul, digging deep in the sense of thought, all designed to assist you in your search; to pave the way for those that supersede us, right? The children of the next generation that must be taught that rules are not made to be bent, but that they are meant to be shattered; that what has been written can always be a shortcut to the truth, and that by learning from past mistakes they can have a world in satori. It is us who must light that way people.

So, there you are, my thoughts on a late summer evening, when I just want to ignite my own flame, yet now understand that I must first prepare the rockwall; not to contain, but to build. It is the travellers I meet along my way that ease the burn of wanderlust, and diminish the heat to a light warmth. Conversations, people, it all comes down to conversations, and the stories that accompany them. May you hit the road and make your own to share later. When you do, please make sure to look me up, and we can all hang by the beach, in front of a bonfire...while the tales fly like sparks in the night, and we laugh as children may. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

Satori n. Buddhism A spiritual awakening found in Zen Buddhism, often coming suddenly.
Segue intrv. v. To move smoothly and unhesitatingly from one one state, condition, situation, or element to another.

"As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow."

- A.C. Benson

Eighth desire?

Ever wonder how someone can put a number on the most amazing sights in the world? Supposedly, there are seven wonders that stand out above all the rest, and that leaves me to ponder this question: How can you limit beauty to a statistic? The most beautiful thing in the world to you, may not necessarily be the most beautiful thing in the world to me, right? I mean, for example, what if the lost city of Atlantis really existed? That it was real, not a hoax, and that it was really submerged under water on the ocean floor? Somehow, somehow, the power elite would make sure to exploit it, pillage it, and maybe even open up a twenty-four hour McDonald's in it. Just imagine that - snorkelling your way through a mythical city, only to come across the golden arches, and a pimple faced teenager asking, "Do you want fries with that?" It is all too surreal at times.

I, myself, have lived in what some refer to as one of the most beautiful places in the world...not the most beautiful place I have ever seen, for through all my travels, that still remains to be St. John's, Newfoundland. But, anyway I digress, and instead, choose to share with you a memory of that other beautiful place I spoke of. It took place on a pebbled cove on a mid-winters night, not so many years ago. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I once had a girl tell me that Vancouver Island was unofficially considered the eighth wonder of the world. I would have to agree because no where else on this earth has time seemed to stand still. At least, for one night, it did for me, anyway. I remember standing with a friend, under the heavens on a clear winter night. Snow does not fall there so much as the rains make their presence known. I was observing a glorious sunset, asplendor in all colours of orange and rust red; all mingled in with a light blue sky. It seemed to split the horizon in half, splintering rays of dust into the nether regions of early dusk.

There is an energy on the Island, an untapped source of life that its inhabitants understand, and I could just imagine so many others watching the same sight. The sunset rose in the sky, sending out plumage like a...hold on a second. It was then that I stepped back and completely surveyed the scene. It was then that I realized it wasn't a sunset after all. It was a full moon rising.

My God, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I never thought the moon could light the sky upon entry like that, so much so that it overshadowed the sun's exit. It rose high above the stars, proud in all its glory over all of us earthbound mortals. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I noticed how calm the waters were. They were stretched out to a glass surface, striving to finally reach their maker. The ocean was becoming a concrete finish that I could almost walk upon; but no, only one man has ever been able to do that.

I slid my arms around my friend, and felt her hands grab hold of mine. We stood there until the moon reached its apex, and then stood a little while longer to pay our respects to the Universe. I know we all have had moments in our lives when time stood still, when even the birds stopped singing their songs of praise to Nature. But, to me, in the long run it comes down to what my eyes have seen, and what they have yet to see. Will she be there with me when I see my most beautiful sight in the world? For some reason, I know that she will. For the real true wonders of the world are all around us, in our waking hours. The one true wonder is Life. Grab it. Run with it. And by all means, live it. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"An age is called Dark, not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it."

- James Mitchener

Clarity of Sight

We all love our mothers, right? Of course we do, but I consider myself pretty lucky to have mine; or at the very least, the friendship we have. She has seen a lot, has done a lot, and has raised a lot of good boys to become strong men. Yet, to me, she seems to get stronger herself the more the years pass. I have put Gail through many things in her time with me, but now it is not so. It is pride I hear in her voice, strength in my belief, and on her shoulder I many times have found my head. Sometimes, I think it may be her words that flow through my hand, but, no, that would be crazy to think that, right? Right? Meet a little portion of my Mother and tell me if you agree with that or not...I bet you will beg to differ. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Imagine growing up never being able to see out of your right eye. Now picture yourself, with that "limited" vision, raising four young boys on your own, and learning to understand yourself in the process. She showed us how to laugh at each other, by laughing at her self in the first place...and one day showed me how to laugh at life. Remember that I told you I hurt myself once, but have only hinted at what caused it? There is a reason for that, as there is a reason why I am writing a book in the first place. It is the best way I can ever see fit to honor my Mom, while we are both alive in the same world together, and I know I am allowed the allotted time to do it. How do I know this, you may ask? Some time in the next two years, when my book is published, you will learn why...when it is all said and done, we all are allowed the allotted time to finish what we started, and others of us are just allowed to create their own stories. That would be me, and that would be Gail. Really, people, that would be all of us.

I grew up around her and never took anything from the fact that she was unable to see out of her eye. For that matter, for what I got away with when I was younger, I could of sworn she had two more in the back of her head. It never passed my mind that she was as normal as everyone else; but, she was not normal...she was an angel disguised as my Mother. Seriously, people, there is only one I will ever run to when I am needing solace, when my heart is shattered, or when I just need to hear her voice. I know there are some of you out there who have lost, some who never knew, and even those who met another who became the same. I understand, really I do, because I see it in her eyes when she looks at me. Remember what has come and gone, but be most thankful for what we still have...and that is the life we breath as you now read. Inhale in, exhale out, and just believe. There is a purpose, and there is a care. Once again, how can I be so sure, you may ask? Miracles happen everyday, and I just learned one only yesterday.

We had not talked in a few weeks with me being busy working two jobs, moving to a new abode, and basically being the delinquent son boys can sometimes be. Last night, I listened to her voice, joined with my own at times, but mainly just listened as she told me the news. How her granddaughter stood slightly out of sight of her right eye, waving her hand, and how my Mother was able to actually see her do it. That, no, it is not anywhere near complete quite yet, but that it is there at all is a miracle in itself. The tears came, followed by thankful thoughts, and, once again, I am overtaken by the power of my life. How it flows through the ups and downs, and how it takes the time to show me that the way is lit; and that the path is true. Not that it didn't matter to me about her sight before, but more so now, that the next time we meet it will be with both our eyes. We are all held in the palm, people, and remember that when things seem at their worst, and when they move too fast. Know that this too will pass, and another door will soon open that was even better than the last. If Gail is experiencing this now, then my years in life can only get better the more days I put into it. A day in is a day in. Until we meet again people, until we meet again.

"Youth fades; love droops, the leaves of friendship fall; a Mother's secret hope outlives them all." - Oliver Wendell Holmes

Clock out?

Unique adj. A thing without like; something unequalled or unparalleled (eg. The phoenix, unique of birds)

Thought n. The intellectual activity or production of a particular time or group (eg. Ancient Greek thought; deconstructionist thought)

I strive to figure out what others consider normal conversation, or for that matter, what they consider normal thoughts. It seems that I am one who does not think like the normal flock, or even keep up with normal daily ins and outs. Believe me, people, it is not as if I do not want to diverge from my mind sometimes, but it just seems that when I do, it follows me like a sheep dog herding a lost stray.

I realize then, that my course is unique from the norm, and the sooner I accept it, the better off I will be. All are called but not all will answer...fine for you, but not acceptable for me. I hear the bell tolling for me to come home, and home is where my journey leads. All it takes is a little bit of time, a dash of patience, and a wanderlust for the road ahead. For an example of life within the confines of my mind, read on. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I lay awake last night, just before I fell asleep, and listened to my thoughts. Amazingly, I could actually feel time passing; an internal clock of sorts with an inaudible tick to mark the passage. It led me to think on how I live my life, and if I am taking advantage of my daily opportunities. To be quite honest, I do not empty my waking moments of their full usage. How could I possibly do that? As it is, I am told that I think too much, that I can be too deep at times, and that I need to get out of my head at others.

There are those that look at time as the end of days, as in they finish one another off. No, I prefer to see them as new beginnings, another chance to learn, as avenues of growth, and, more importantly...times that bring me closer to the truth. For if it is not the truth you are searching for, then what is it? Why would you journey down the road, only to find fallacy in the end? Why indeed...I only know that the truth will set us free.

Locked doors can lead to open rooms, and are also chances to rest. They are pregnant with inspiration, sometimes evaluation, and are always time for preparation. I am all about my present moments, but is it so wrong to plan for my future? To imagine my life full of happiness, travel, and reaching for my full potential? So, when it all happens, I can just act surprised, even though I know everything acted accordingly to plan. I mean, why else would I invest so much time in myself, right? I do not so much aim for my mark, as much as I aim above it...that way, I am able to at least hit what I have in sight. No more; no less.

That is not to say that failure is not allowable. Actually, quite the opposite at times because the best way to learn is from our mistakes. No, it is more about how we bounce back from our failings. To not dwell on them after the fall, but, instead, to pick ourselves up, brush off the dust, and continue on. Not to repetitious, but, remember that forward progression is the only link to survival.

It is the lessons learned during transition that aid us in our journey. The end result is how we look at our passing days. Are they just a means to an end that is inevitable, building up one on top of the other? Or are they chances to build on your life and make each day better than the last? For this cat, every day brings me closer to wisdom, and, eventually, my end result. The last rung at the top of my ladder. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"What I say, what I think

What I put down in ink

I'm only trying to find a way to understand

And I mean no harm

I'm just searching for calm

In the storm of mankind"

- David Gray

Encounters of the Soul

Friend n. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.

Hero n. In Mythology and legend, a person, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for their bold exploits, and favoured by the gods.

I have this friend that I think of all the time, and who means the world to me. She is leaving this country behind in the fall, and I feel it would only be right to brag of her to everyone else. You see, she is a big reason why I have not given up on people at times, and is nothing short of amazing. Today is her birthday, and with this posting I give thanks to her, for her, and am thankful she is in my life. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

How does one go about changing their life? Do you one day just leave it all behind and begin anew? What if leaving it all behind meant leaving your homeland, and moving to another country on the other side of the equator? What if it meant reinventing yourself and learning a new language? Now, imagine you are only eighteen years old...would you still do it? You would if your name was Nelly, and all you ever wanted to do was travel and make the world your own private playground. That is not to say that it has been handed to her on a silver platter, by all means no - she has been through her trials and tribulations, and yet holds her head high to wade into the battle. If you know her, then you know she would do anything for the important people in her life, and even more for the ones she loves to death. I am one of those fortunate few who benefit from our bond, and really, to tell the truth...I am not looking forward to the day when she walks away from the East Coast; although, I do know we will meet again.

I have sat down and talked with Brasil on so many occasions that it would be silly to count them all. But, with everyone of them, I come away with new knowledge, new insight, and the feeling that my words were not only heard, but that they were appreciated. We embark on stories and tales of lore, conversations of life, and where we are headed down our respective roads. We laugh at each other, and let one another know we are happy to have each other's friendships. But, of all the things I have received from Nelly, it was the lesson in love that I treasure the most...and I know she feels the same way. If you were to read back in my archives, you would come upon an entry on how people enter our lives for a reason, season, or a lifetime. I have now seen that I met her on a different level...an encounter of the soul between two individuals who needed to see what the other side looked like. To learn that you can always gain knowledge everyday, but in the end, it is the wisdom of understanding life's little ins and outs that matters the most. I am so eternally grateful to her for so many different reasons, and will always consider her one of the closest friends I have ever had. I mean, there are only two people in my life that will get the first manuscripts of my book - my Mother and Brasil. The two most special women in my life.

So, Nelly? If you are reading this, then cheers to your twenty-fifth year on earth, and cheers to your upcoming future...so bright and open like the skies above, both North and South alike. Do not fear what lays ahead, or what others may say to you, or even what they might try and take from you. Remember that you have more strength that you could possibly know, and so many people that love you dearly...I know this cat loves you to the very marrow of his bone. Shine like the stars above, and love like you have never loved before. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything."

- Muhammad Ali

Summer of Wonder

I was going through some of my papers whilst packing up belongings...you see, I am moving at the end of the month, and so must begin the horrifically tedious task of throwing all my belongings together. Again. Anyway, during my paper shuffling, I came across a writing I did earlier in the summer about destinations, and, now here I am, preparing to arrive at another one. I have almost been in Halifax a full year, and it is the longest I have stayed in one place for the last six years. My second year of school is upcoming, and, really, life is just getting better and better. The next entry is a story of my thoughts over the course of a few days, during an East Coast summer day. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I'm sitting here, listening to traffic passing by on a busy afternoon. Life moves so fast that I sometimes need to take the time to slow it down; take the time to breathe. I laugh as I watch a bird hopping on the outside deck, as it takes little jumps to reach whatever temporary destination it is headed for. That is what it comes down to for me...destinations of a temporary nature, all reached before I blink, and then gone in a breath. Then the next one beckons me forward, its crooked finger always inviting me onward. Straight ahead and down the winding path.

My dream has lead me to so many times and places, all meant to be temporary for their own particular reasons. It chases after me, and, usually, may sometimes mock me; or so it can feel at times, anyway. But, oh, what my eyes have seen along the way. Some of my favourite things in the world have happened in selected nooks and crannies, like sitting in an ocean cove, while children play in the park behind me...or watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean; even listening to a friend laugh as we share a story. As I think of these memories, my blood begins to tingle with the thought that there is even more to come.

The days pass until the fog drifts into the harbour. I watch as it burns away and the sun struggles to break through its clouded barricade. Funny, but not so many years ago, I was in my own fog, unsure of my next step, but only knowing that they led forward...and not backwards. I have learned to understand my past, even when I do not grasp its meaning. It is my future that awaits, and my present that lays the bedrock of foundation. Like I always say, forward progression is the link to survival.

I can smell the salt ocean air, can watch as the light bounces off waves over the water, and can feel life running through my veins. Along my way, the road has been rocky, and sometimes treacherous to walk upon, but yet, I will continue on. For there are the days and times that I feel the smoothness of my path...and know that I am headed in the right direction. Of that I readily know, and trust in the process of life to take care of me - to take care of my soul and allow it room to breathe.

Head up, shoulders straight...now, march.

"Really great men have a curious feeling that the greatness is not them, but through them."
- John Ruskin

Survival of fate...

Destiny (Des-tuh-nee) n. a course or end that seems determined in advance, esp. something great or noble

Hand n. a person or a person's action, skill, or power

One must have possession or control over the other, right? This is not always necessarily true, but usually the latter must tip the hat of the former. Roads will diverge, collide, and then spill their collections of souls; only to swallow them all up again...shaking the contents in this mad game of Chance we call life. Sometimes, it is not so much that I know where I am going, but more so that I am following the path where it is leading. I have always known that I am on the right one...even when it was headed in the wrong direction. Here is a story of a well-placed sign to offer guidance for the road ahead; an indication that there is time for everything...and that everything has its time. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I have been known to bear my soul now and then - to friends, acquaintances, and sometimes even complete strangers. But how was I to know that a few appropriately placed words could turn complete strangers into possible close connections? I met this couple while I was working and they were having their last taste of East Coast seafare, on their last night on the East Coast. They told me a tale of how they had no rush to be anywhere, except to the airport from whence they would be taking off from in the early hours of the morning. I told them how I had spent the last five years - well, six now - travelling abroad, and had whiled away many an hour in airports, train stations, and bus terminals; even sitting on the side of a highway, waiting for a good samaritan to stop and pick me up. For some reason, it seemed like an opportune time to network my life vocation...beats me. Something just guided me, I guess you could say.

"I could tell you a book to read, while you were killing time in the airport", I started, "But it will not be published for another two years." As I said these words, the woman's eyes seemed to illuminate light from within. Turns out, she just published her own book, and that it is due out in less than a month. It seems the storyline in one of great hardships and heartbreaking tragedies...all lined up one after another. But, from her mouth came nothing but words of hope - hope, faith, and the assured knowledge that everything will always be okay. I stood listening to her as she described her life, the entire time knowing that fate was in the room. They told me how they had started their dinner plans in another restaurant downtown, but felt that their presence was better needed somewhere else - then, not even a half hour later, they found themselves as my guests while I served them supper. We never know why things happen the way they do, people, because we are not meant to know. That would take away all the fun of the surprise, would it not?

We traded small memories, and I listened as they fed me small pointers on how to prepare for what is upcoming. We swapped phone numbers, email addresses, websites, and titles of our books. Then we made plans to contact each other soon, hugged...and before I knew it, they were gone. I remember walking home later, when the realization of what happened sunk in to my senses. A light mist of rain sprinkled my face, and my soul overcame my body; for a brief few seconds, it was released from the shackles of my human vessel. During that short stall of time, I touched the heavens, and then the feeling was gone. But, it is the experience that remains...like it was meant to be and like it always will be. For it will not be so far away that my dream becomes a reality, and my soul will never again feel any boundaries. When it is all said and done, people, it is only up to us to go and grab what is written for us in the stars.

And to think, all this because the hand was pointed in the right direction. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"So, be kind to a stranger

Cuz you never know

It might just be an angel

Come knocking at your door."

- Ben Harper

A way with words?

Can you hear the music pounding in the background? The vociferous noise over the din of the crowd surrounding you, and people yelling to be heard all around your comfort zone? It is difficult on its own to try and hear your own thoughts at this level, but what do you do when someone walks up to you with something to actually say? You may find yourself wishing you were in a small, private litte cafe, with time to talk, and a want to maybe even learn of the other person's ideals about life...but, no, you are not able to do that, so you do the next best thing. You close your mouth and open your ears because you may never know what you can learn in any given situation. Here are my thoughts on the art of conversation, and the realization that it can happen at any given time, place, or opportunity. And when it does, people, please wait for your turn to speak; instead of only waiting for your chance to interrupt. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

Conversation is an art form that is dying...there, I have said it. Yes, to those who know me, I have said it countless times, and have repeated it numerously over the years. But, to this cat, I feel that so many people have decided to numb their subconscious by flicking on the "idiot box", changing channels on a screen, until they feel the slow rot of television burn internally into their brains. Or if they do chance a rap session, it is to only embark on piddly surface shat that does not stretch your intelligence; instead occupies space where real knowledge may one day be stored. Why is that? Are you afraid to let your mind run free? To bring up ideas in your cranium that make you think and go, "Hmmmmm"? a la Arsenio Hall used to? You have a mind, and please, for the love of all that is sacred, do not let it disintegrate into nothing but sands on the wings of time...you deserve more than that, people, trust me on this.

So, what would you do if someone did come up to you with something to say? How would you react and handle? Say, if they busted semantics on feminism - I shudder at the term "feminism" - and you supplied your own view, then stood back as they taught something you never really thought of? A different perspective than your own, yet it made you look at something in a more abstract ideal? That is why conversation is important, people, because life can throw the most offside curve balls that mess up your balance...and yet you can walk away unscathed with a new knowledge. You can leave the meeting with a feeling of individual empowerment, you know what I mean? Do not step lightly around this subject, but instead bring up a topic amongst your friends, and see how they respond to your thoughts...but, most importantly, jump all the over the chance to see what you may learn.

Here is a topic for you: If you could define intelligence in two seperate words, what would they be? I mean, really, when it all comes down to it, it is only words that we are spitting from our mouths right? I guess that would only depend on the observer because to me it is more than that...to me, it will always be about friendship, and never knowing what you may hear from another's mouth. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Minds are like parachutes; they work best when open."
- Lord Thomas Dewar