Still Days

As the last rays

Dip beneath their concrete horizons,

And the expanse of lined scratches

On the walls widens;

As the potential increases

And the noise levels drop,

The daylong golden reverie

Of a hazy afternoon pops;

There’s another day gone,

I’m never getting back.

Still days to go,

To lay to waste;

A full life’s worth,

Lazily retraced

Still I feel

An undying waste.

Shades of Sunday

Sundays
Traditionally quiet
And quiet in reality
But there’s a buzz
That cannot be heard
Even by the few that pass by
Cogs whirring and plans cementing
Wasn’t the weekend the outlet of the bold?
Not so this damp morning;
Dreams of a Monday
Steadily carving
In the recesses of the mind
And into the rhythms of time

Elevated,
But only in location
Planning out the rest of the week
Kept amused
By a tree stump sticking out
Into a mountain of shovelled snow,
Interesting to no one else
But all I can see as I look out
On this damp, empty day.
Where did the world creep away?
There’s no one else here
Empty, post apocalyptic;
But calming, in some odd way.

It’s funny how your perceptions of Sunday are always changing, depending on who you are. Is Sunday your rest day? Is it the day to catch up on cartoons? Is Sunday morning, as Kurt Cobain said, everyday? Or perhaps as Lou Reed said, a time when the world’s behind you?
To me, it’s the calm before the storm, in every single way.
Universities tend to be quiet on weekends. Every person who walks by is a case to be thoroughly examined, Sunday is when they won’t be lost in the masses. It’s the morning after Saturday’s madness and a chance to catch your breath. For me, it brings the excitement of the next week, the Monday when I do my radio work, and a chance to do my homework and chill out simultaneously, without being guilty.

Ah, the many shades of a Sunday! How’s your Sunday?

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The shadowy shades of a different Sunday, as I could see it. 

Falling For The Heat

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This is the view from my window. It’s an absolutely lovely day, about fifteen degrees, not too windy, not a cloud in the sky, not a drop of rain.

If I’m being honest, I never imagined I’d ever come to find such a day appealing. I’ve spent eighteen years praying the sun away. Monsoon was not just a day when the rains poured, monsoon was a mood. It was the stop,–drop–and–roll! call, where you’d leave everything aside, pick up all your work, and just lodge your butt over a chair in the balcony. A cloudy day always held a calming presence over me, in fact it still does. But the way you respond to it varies in 30 degrees, and in 9.

We’ve had a drearily soppy week. Picture strong winds laced with rain pellets. Feel the little puddles on uneven ground, and water in your shoes and soaking into the socks. Saturday was a complete turnaround compared to the rest of the week, and Sunday’s looking like a cracker… from the glass of my window.

If it were up to me, I’d go completely Canadian on this weather. I’d go out for a long and pointless walk, just to greedily soak up a little more of the fleeting sunshine. Tomorrow’s scheduled to be cloudy. But of course, it must only look this good outside on a day I’ve really got to buckle down and work for a two-midterm onslaught to follow in the next two days.

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Any day that looks like this, you should probably be out.

So I’ll sit here, looking up occasionally from my work under the nefarious tubelight, and eventually the sun will go down and we’ll all sigh a sigh and forget, some of us thinking back on a lovely day well spent, and some others, in typical fashion, grunting and growling and muttering under their breath, will get ready to end a day and awake to the putrid petroleum smell of a fresh midterm season (does midterm season smell like petrol?)

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Even as the day dies, the sun’s fighting for a summer simulation that I won’t enter.

Anyway, sorry for dragging you into this rant. I hope you’re enjoying a good sunny day, if you live somewhere cold, or a relaxed, cloudy, calm day, if you live somewhere hot. It’s amazing how the perspectives can shift along just a few latitudes!

Anyway, if you’re mad about five minutes well wasted, here’s some eye-candy for you. Hope the fall satiates you, and have a great Sunday!

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Too Many Symbols In One Picture

Right here, in a single frame, are two iconic landmarks, both representative of the same place I’ve come to grow used to, but my word, both such contrasting figures.

Set against a foreground of what’s miraculously more ground than snow and ice, is the stone memorial Soldier’s Tower, a landmark erected in honour of soldiers who died in the two World Wars, with the CN Tower in the backdrop.

And behind the camera is an ancient relic, so old, withered and tired and falling to pieces, that the two towers might feel like budding roses next to it: me, walking home at 8.

I am so ready to get my assignment done with. I’m so ready for reading week.

I’m so ready fo—

(This post could not be completed as the author dozed off mid-post.)

Blanketed

You know, when I’d said you would probably never be rid of my endless stream of excited photography, I wasn’t kidding around. The very first of the snow showers has come and gone, and I’ve been busy.

(Clogging up your reader feeds, that is,)

Feast your eyes on this!

My friend said this seemed to belong in a British drama, for some reason. Do you see that happening? Perhaps someone having run and skid across this snow, slipping away from Scotland Yard to hide away in an old, dilapidated Victorian building with carillon bells ringing from a big tower window (Yup, it is actually called a carillon, and I just learned that this month. I can’t just have me going back to plain ol’ ‘church bells’. How bourgeois) as the guy freezes and shakes simultaneously, bells intensifying as the camera whips back and forth from a shot of the panicked man to a troop stained in the colours of the old stained glass windows as we all hold in a breath and wait.

Then it turns out his footprints in the snow practically lead Scotland Yard up to him and we get a very close look at a drop of sweat on our protagonist’s nose (yep, he sure cleaned it out this morning!) before the director decides we deserve to wait another week to know how that ends up.

In fact, it’s quite a European cross-country chase scene. Except they’d probably kick me out of uni for calling that building old. It’s neo-gothic, have some taste.

I don’t know, it’s late, I’m tired I’m generous, I’ll let you come up with your own story for this one; I just get to enjoy this good looking walk home.

It Is Time!

If I have anything to say for myself with regards to my prolonged and mysteriously silent absence, all I can say is that I was frozen in time. I’m not even kidding. If midterms weren’t time consuming enough, check this out: 

This is the definition of perfection (ignoring the fact that my hands have frozen just like the rest of me).

I can’t complain about the cold when going outside is this rewarding! 

In other stories, Merry Christmas already. If I can get myself out of bed by then, I’ll be amazed with myself. I went to bed at 4:45 AM last night questioning why I even bother trying to sleep. 

But then again, it wasn’t too bad a day either.

Please ignore the mess. My roommate’s getting better at doing that. 

I can’t wait for December. I can’t wait for finals to end. 

And while your mercurial and unpunctual writer waits…

Scratch that, I’m just waiting for a decent hour tonight so I can go to bed. On Maslow’s pyramid, I’ve dropped to the underground levels where the Pharos were buried. 

Which basically should translate to only so much: I’m underground 😉

Until the next time I surface for breath!

Freeze Frame

Fall’s reign is over. 

It’s a wonder of sorts that I am remotely able to say this, given the state of my fingers. If you’ve ever felt like the cold is so bad you’re afraid your nose or even your fingers might fall off, be thankful it was mostly only rhetoric in your case.

Check out this poor guy.

That’s the very same tree I’ve been plaguing like a paparazzi would a slippery star, all month long, and it’s finally lost all its leaves to winter’s incoming onslaught.

I suppose that means I can’t take any more pictures of it (and you poor folks are finally rid of my tree photography).

I’ve also got to admit this post is a bit of a test. I’ve been wielding my phone camera like a hungry kid would a spoon at dinnertime… assuming they weren’t eating bread. Fortunately for me, there’s tons of stuff out here and my camera’s looking sharp (quite literally, you see) and my memory isn’t. 

(On that note I should probably mention I have a midterm tomorrow.)

I’ve got more pictures on me than space, I fear, both on my phone and on WordPress. 

And before you sigh in relief, I’ll let you know I’ve been solution-seeking. 

Tumblr!

It’s super easy to upload photographs there and simply embed them into WordPress instead. So you’ll probably never be rid of me. Never ever! 

(evil cackles are heard in the foreground as ghostly laments moan in the background, almost seemingly as if they were screaming out “Nooooooooo” in agony. A few terrified birds shoot out of their nests with alarmed cries and take refuge in the skies as the sun dips down and begins to hand over its reigns to the night. In the silvery, gloomy twilight, the dying day seems to reflect the reader’s despair as they hunt, fruitlessly for that ‘Unsubscribe’ button…)

I’m honestly not that bad though, you know. 

Canuck Reflections

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Right, so I tried following the design principles and completely missed it this time: the edge of the knife could end up pulling your attention out of the picture. Don’t go away yet!

This is what happens when I’m not paying attention at 10 in the morning.

I was sitting for breakfast with my eye on the clock and my mind in my psychology class, for which I was only minutes away from being late.

Nothing new, nothing to panic about, really. I should be used to this by now.

But by this time, the syrup had spread all over my plate and had become a golden mirror.

Looking down at it though, something struck me: just look at this picture.

Pancakes, maple syrup, and a reflection of a maple tree from outside the window, all in a single frame. Does it get more Canadian than this?

(‘No hockey sticks nearby’ would be a good point to make, in all fairness.)

So I decided to strain the limits of my gallery’s storage and am plaguing your reader feeds again.

Have a nice day!

Hide And Seek

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It’s been raining all day. After a pretty uncharacteristically and suspiciously sunny Tuesday, the skies have shown their true colours today: grey.

I don’t know if we should be worried about incoming alien attacks in the near future, because that right there is the clouds having basically eaten the CN tower.

I don’t know of an attack on anything more Canadian than that.

Except maybe the winter and poutine. (But you’re expected to eat that, aren’t you? Yes, well, you’re right, not me, but other people in general.)

I don’t know really. Maybe I’ll be that person who teams up with the aliens just because they seem cool. At any rate, I’m not particularly worried about an alien attack. (No, it’s not true that I’ve been preparing for one for years, what gives you that impression?)

I’m just honestly kind of pleased with the picture. The tree provides a nice frame in a contrasting colour that would make design rule purists real happy. That frame is also the only way you’d know what actually the subject of my photograph is!

If you do really want to see a jaded, cloudy CN tower though, I may have a little something for you.

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There. Now can we get a smile on this gloomy day already?

Still can’t wait for this week to end, because I’m going home!

Daggers

You there? December just called. It wanted its gimmick back.

It said, October, what the (expletive deleted)?! You have Halloween! You freaking have falling leaves and back-to-schools! You even have your own rains! Why are you stealing my thunder!?

October could just sit there coolly and not care less.

Coolly might be an understatement though. October’s defying all patterns known to and loved by psychologists and meteorologists.

The leaves and still here, and half of them are still green. The temperatures change every day, but this has taken the cake:

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The first snow showers, in October. It was admittedly more like a few chunks of ice, but you see the one piece that doesn’t belong here, don’t you? It’s only still October! My sister back home is sweltering in the plus thirties, and here, there are ice daggers falling from the skies. It’s ridiculous. It’s October.

And all the chemistry they taught me was a lie. Water doesn’t freeze at zero degrees. It froze at four (to be fair, ice does melt beyond four, but). All those benzene rings, for nothing. All that hyperconjugation and moles of pain for nothing. All those wasted chemistry puns.

Fuck you, high school chemistry, and no deleted expletives.

If you want me, I’ll be in the corner crying in denial and writing more chemistry poetry.

For real though, it’s my first time in the snow, so you’ll probably find me out at four in the coldest hour of the morning hunting for ice shards with a ridiculous determination on my face (it was only 9 PM, but that’s exactly the state my friend found me in, so it’s no exaggeration!)

I dunno, should I say happy fall, like I usually do? It’s more like ‘kiss your expectations goodbye’ now…

So happy curveballs, y’all!

Just for the record, that tree is losing leaves like I’m losing steam.

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It doesn’t look all that bad from one angle…

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But just wait till you get to know its other side. 

Quite like a certain someone I can think of.