Sea-Change

I can’t see

What lies beneath the surface

Clean, white, pristine

Sands without a colour

But certainly not without personality.

Smooth, flat ground,

Icy slips,

Treacherous dips;

And I can’t see

So I simply place faith

And take a step ahead

Only to fall knee-deep

Into the sky’s puke.

 

It’s started to snow! I’ve already gone and fallen into a thigh-high pit of snow by walking where I thought there was ground, which is a perfect way to begin the winter season. Here’s to four more months!

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Of this, just five feet higher, colder, and more miserable and devoid of motivation. Yeah, your welcome for me brightening your morning. 

Do Soup.

Winters can be brutal.

You’ve got to keep warm, leave early, brave the winds, activate X-Ray vision to see through the snow, perform the most elaborate rituals to ensure a snowstorm brings down that crucial midterm taking place tomorrow…

It’s definitely an elaborate season. And running around all the time, it’s easy to forget to breathe in, even when you can see your own breath in front of you, and Moreno importantly, to keep warm, in spite of the numerous white reminders tapping on your forehead.

So I decided, in the general spirit of doing good, to make people a little reminder.

I drew it up on a particularly snowy day in my residence dining hall while studying French from a library textbook, and I did, for two whole minutes, seriously consider returning the book with an added token of gratitude slipped inside.

In fact, I’m warming up to the fact again.

(See what I did there?)

So be a nice person today.

Pass this around and remind your friends to keep warm, and above all: snort soup, dress warm and snuggly in your velvet mystic robe, and practice them dark arts of snowing days in!

Schrödinger’s Snowflake

As my assignment deadline grows nearer and nearer, I am officially getting closer to the rabbit hole.

At this hour of the day, I can’t recall the exact details here, but some aspects of physics don’t really work the way you’d expect them to when you get really close to some powerful landmarks.

Let’s just say my upcoming assignment deadline is a landmark.

Does this look the same to you as it does to me?

According to Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, you can never know the exact velocity and position of an object. At this point, I’m pretty close to the deadline’s position on my calendar and my momentum is spiralling outwards and out of control.

It suffices to say, things aren’t looking very normal.

Welcome to my city, a place where we simultaneously experience summer and winter. (I refuse to answer any follow up questions about this “summer” I speak of) Sleep deprivation and insomnia. Panic and procrastination. Dead and alive, and Schrödinger and his cat. And my assignment due.

Although fair to say, the whole city doesn’t have an assignment due. But then again, this close to the deadline, I can’t even be sure. What if they do? What if all this mounting ice we’ having is nothing but the entire city crying over their share of my CS assignment? No wonder the snow tastes salty here.

Pass me the maple syrup please!

It’s probably an error, and with the winds it’s probably no more than -7 degrees anyway, and it’s not going to change the fact that we are living in the centre of a giant skating rink that isn’t nearly melting as quick as it piles up, but there we go, this forecast fascinates me. It’s my current state of mind. On repeat for the last five days or so.

Once this is over with, I am so out. Out cold!

Midterms

Midterms next week
And answers I seek
And find a reprieve in sleep

But don’t be negative, you say
Stuff will find its way
And I could just point to the streets

Positive temperatures due this week
Pending like that assignment deadline
I’m trying to keep

And all three feet
Of snow from over this week
Is going to water away to waste

Is this what procrastination looks like?
Muddy slush bursting your pipe
Scrunched under foot;
Slip and slide
And fall on your butt on the ice.

Chilly Haiku

I may be writing 

Too much snow themed poetry 

Ain’t getting warmer. 

Someone get me a medal already, am I a haiku pro now??

I’ve counted syllables on my fingers. As a math student, this is the most arithmetic I have done in a year. Phew. I’m not even kidding.

Just Don’t Make Me Take The Gloves Off

It’s a fine and sunny morning
As you peer outside your window
Just a scraper of a white blanket
Possibly here from a day ago

The clouds are smiling
And the sheer blank white outside is inviting
And as you dream of the summery days ahead
You hear your phone crying

As you walk across to class
It’s as soft a walk as can be
And then you hear the rumbling and howling
And check your phone; it’s minus eighteen degrees

How can it be
That when you really want to get there
On time the wind seems keen on making sure you
End up on the other side of campus?

And how could it seem
So perfectly calm in the morning
When Environment Canada has issued
A week’s worth of warnings?

I think there’s snow inside my hat
And snow in my eyes
And snow in my ear
And in a little bit of a ice

And no, don’t you dare,
Don’t you even try
To cancel classes today
Would make you a very un-Canadian guy.

Have you ever wanted
To go parasailing?
To find out what it really meant
To float like a butterfly?

Because the wind speed today is 50 kph
And the speed limit is 45
Can someone call the damn cops
To ticket this Zephyr guy?

Till today I’d always thought
I’d see the Clippers in the NBA,
But I’ve seen this Albertan roll in
From the Wild West today.

And as I stand and write this,
We’re fifteen centimetres under the snow
And if you prefer imperial units
Today you and I might agree on how low this’ll go (-40!)

And RIP all those with evening classes,
And the off campus dwellers too
Give the wind a fight;
And my frozen fingers
Are my new excuse not to write.

This used to be a staircase. I’m not that creative, it really was one.


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.