News, news, news....

Four months since my last post -- where in heck have I gone?

Well, I'm still here, still in Edmonton, wrapping up my LAST semester of classes ever, about to embark on the scary world of external practicum experiences. I'm sitting by the window of my apartment, facing the dusky glow to the west. Today, I started studying for finals. This poor blog, despite my thoughts and intentions, has fallen by the wayside. In this world of Facebook and Twitter, it's no wonder so many blogs have faded and vanished. It's a miracle that some have managed to survive.

It's December, the time to reflect upon yet another year, yet another step toward realizing myself more fully. This past summer, I had my first experiences being a "real" speech-language pathologist by providing one-on-one treatment to several children. I miss them. In what will hopefully be a long and fulfilling career, I'll always remember these first few clients. I'll remember the last day of throwing water balloons out behind the clinic, of trying to escape the mosquitoes, of playing Twister, of making our magic witches' brew that foamed and overflowed all over the place.... In the fall, I worked with clients who were recovering from strokes. Instead of playing hopscotch and fishing, it was a time of encouraging breath support and using letter-boards. It was working with families and being there to listen as they blinked back their tears when describing the difficulties their loved ones had been having post-stroke. It was pulling myself together and not falling apart in front of them, when all I wanted to do was mourn their loss with them. But, as the weeks progressed, the glimmers of the client's former selves - their "true" selves - shone through in spite of their communication and mobility challenges. In those crisp evenings of first frost, we took comfort in the ability to laugh at ourselves. Through our discontent and sorrow, there is hope still. When asked how many grandchildren he had, my client held out five fingers, but said, "Three." Then, catching himself, he said, "Five," while manipulating his fingers to show three. Puzzled, he looked down at his hand, and laughter erupted from deep within his being. His dear wife, who had stopped knowing how to talk with him after his stroke, who knew only to ask him to label objects as one might a two-year-old child -- even she started laughing. And, in that room, in the long-term care facility that would become his home from then on, there was a sense that things would be all right after all. They might find a way to have a sense of family yet.

As for my little family here in Edmonton, there has been a new addition since the end of July. Chelsea joined us from the Humane Society. We were in the middle of a move to our new apartment, and weren't sure that it would be the best time to have a new pet. However, through a string of circumstances, we had found our perfect dog, and although we had much trouble getting her home (that story's for another post!), we persisted and here she is:

Lessons from Karsh

Where has the time gone? My semester break at the end of April whisked by without fanfare, with just a quiet, relaxed gentleness. Then, it was back to lectures and seminars, research and more research. I also started the first of my practica at the university clinic, with two little boys as my first clients. I've been assessing and treating them twice a week since the beginning of May, and am having a blast. Meanwhile, the paperwork continues to pile up, and I swear to myself that I will not let it bury me. I shall strive, and I shall conquer.

I'm still managing to live a balanced life, which in itself is a minor miracle. I'm only in front of the computer when I have to be, when there are assessment reports to write, important e-mails to send, research data to code. Unfortunately, this blog has fallen victim to my general aversion to the computer lately. Springtime has come and gone, and in the revitalizing rays of summer, it's time to resurrect this blog of mine.

A few weeks ago, I went to the Edmonton Art Gallery for the last day of the Karsh exhibit. Yousuf Karsh was a Canadian photographer who was famous for his portraits, particularly of politicians and celebrities. He captured on film the people that made up the zeitgeist, the world's visionaries, shakers and movers. In the documentary shown at the art gallery, Karsh dispensed his wisdom on how one might pursue the dream of being a photographer. He said that being a photographer is about seeing the world differently, purely. It's about appreciating the fine arts, the most beautiful pieces of music, the quiet, unsung spirit of simple things all around us.

In the past month and a half, I've learned that any passion, any calling, needs that same way of seeing the world. Working with the two little boys at the university clinic, I've come to realize that the heart trumps the brain any day. Yes, it helps to have all the tricks on how to elicit a "k" sound if the child doesn't know how; it helps inifinitely more to greet that child every time you see him with a sincere smile and tell him how glad you are he's there. And, when a child has a meltdown and clings onto his mother's leg, it's okay to just stand and wait. The heart tells you that, even as your brain churns and churns and worries that you won't get through the rest of the planned activities. It's almost always in the unplanned moments where true learning occurs. One day, unexpectedly, the child who substitutes every "k" sound with a "t" says, clear as day, "Can I have a magic key?" when you play a treasure hunt game with him. You were going to direct him to just make that "k" sound without any word attached. But, here it is, a whole sentence, with two "k" sounds no less! Then, the child falls back into calling it a "tey" the rest of the session. But, you have experienced that elation, that "a-ha!" moment, and you've seen his eyes light up. You know it's only a matter of time before "Carl is a cool calico cat" rolls off his tongue with ease. And, the more important thing is, he knows it too. You hope that you get to see it when he does it, that it will happen before the summer is out and your sessions are done. You hope, and yet, as long as you keep saying "I'm so glad to see you" and mean it; as long as you praise him for all of his attempts; as long as you see him for the delightful child that he is, you have captured what really matters. He shall strive, and he shall conquer.

Almost done

This has been a tough term at school. On top of a full-load of classes (five courses), I had my research project to start, plus being a research assistant and helping out with a few studies. This has been a term when I waffled between caring too much and too little, when I was on top of the world one moment, and melting down into a self-pitying puddle the next.

The school-work itself hasn't been too overwhelming. In fact, the courses have been more practical than last term's. However, just being here, sitting in the same classroom day after day, has felt like a menial office job where nothing changes. I tried to envision the end, when my classmates and I would be released from academia to take on our lives' passion, but on most days, I had trouble seeing it in my mind's eye. On most days, I found myself beaten down by the time the afternoon rolled around, and struggled to stay interested in my classes. Luckily, the professors I had this term had mostly been brilliant, humourous, lovely people, but that just somehow made me feel worse, as though my fatigue proved my unworthiness.

I'm once again in the computer lab at the university, as per my final exam studying ritual. I need the few hours before my exams to compose myself. Just being here prepares my mind, even if I sit here browsing the internet instead of cramming more information into my little brain. This afternoon, I will write my last final this term. I have a take-home paper to whip up this weekend, and then I'll be done. I'll have almost two weeks of relaxation until starting up again in May.

I plan on updating this blog regularly over these couple of weeks. I have much to write about that is unrelated to school.

Dazzled and frazzled

A new school term has begun. I just started my research assistantship in earnest today, and will be starting the ethics review process for my own research project next week. Both of my studies are supervised by the most brilliant, caring professor. I've discovered that it's not uncommon for professors at the graduate level to have it all: passion, brilliance, infinite wisdom and knowledge, matched with motherly nurturing instincts regardless of the gender of the professor.

I love the lab that I'm working in. I love the gleaming floor, the shelves of stuffed animals, the cupboards full of audio and video tapes and CD's -- important data from various studies -- and the bank of computers. I'll be researching the effects of a particular voice treatment program on the voice quality and speech intelligibility of children with Down's Syndrome and cerebral palsy. It's all way beyond my current scope of expertise, but I'm loving the potential impact of the research. I can't wait to dive deeper into it.

In the midst of all this, this building of new dreams and the welcome productivity, I'm frazzled. I don't feel lost any more, but am overwhelmed by a new type of worry. I just put in a scholarship application yesterday, but was informed that due to university cut-backs, my certainty of receiving funding was no longer a sure thing. I had never counted on receiving scholarships when I initially applied for grad school, but now that I'm living without a job and with all the expenses of being in school and being in a new city, the security I had felt in the savings I had accrued as a teacher has now crumbled.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm here for the right reasons. Then, when I'm reading my textbooks or working in the research lab, and my mind's eye can see me working with children with speech or language issues, my heart skips a beat. If that feeling is not the indication of the right reasons, then I don't know what is. But, I'm scared. I'm terrified that I'll never know enough, that school will wear me down, that jumping through these hoops will make me jaded.

In times like these, I cast my books aside and decide to just live. Over the weekend, I went down to the Ice on Whyte Festival, an annual ice-sculpture competition. The artists were frantically putting the finishing touches on their creations, getting ready for next morning's judging. If they could put their hearts and souls into something so transitory, so ephemeral as ice, I can surely plug away at my studies and research. Because, ultimately, it all matters -- all of it, the dreaming, the imagining, the chipping away, the stepping back, the re-evaluating, the worrying, the creating.... All of it, whether it's for the few days when an ice-sculpture stands glistening under the winter skies before the sun melts it away, or for the graduate degree and the potential decades of a satisfying career, it starts with the dreaming. And if the worrying is part of the process, I guess I'll just have to live with it.

The eve of something good

December 24th, the day before Christmas Day. I'm settled into a comfy couch in a warm house in the suburbs of Edmonton. The sky outside is radiant, and the ground is glistening with snow. It's the perfect holiday card setting. The cat is sitting on the headrest of the sofa, surveying the blue and white world outside with intensity. Her head follows the occasional car that passes by and manoeuvres the turn in front of the house.

My last school grades were reported yesterday. This past term had treated me well, and I'm pleased with my grades, particularly when they put me in good position to receive more funding next year. Balance that with the potential of a 60% tuition increase next fall, and I might come out even.

My boyfriend and I are house-sitting for his niece this holiday season. It's a strange glimpse into what Christmas might be like if I were to have a house, if I were to spend the holiday with the person I love most.

You know the saying: "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours. If it doesn't, it never was." After a few of years of wandering the world feeling more than a little lost, I had re-united with an ex-boyfriend. I'd like to think that somehow, after letting each other go two Christmases ago, we were fated to find each other again. We had met up in the Arctic, and had gone our separate ways after. He was drawn to Edmonton because of his family ties. It's where he grew up, his old stompin' ground, his little piece in this vast world. I was drawn here because of different reasons, but not entirely. I came because I didn't have my own little piece in this vast world, because I needed something new, a change in direction. What I discovered was that I could belong here, in this cold cold city, in a possible new career, in a new circle of friends, in this suburban house this Christmas Eve.

Happy Holidays to my friends near and far! May you find what you want and need, or may it find you....

Let the holidays begin!

The setting: A deserted university computer lab. Four days after the last class of the term. One day before the first final.

The city had its first real dump of snow. Cars all over the city wouldn't start; those that did inched their way along on unplowed streets. The temperature dropped drastically one night, to an astounding -46 degrees Celsius. It was a record-breaking sort of day.

I was there, from eight in the morning till after five in the evening. My nose was buried in articles, ones I should have read since my midterms two months ago, but somehow had never gotten around to. Life had happened, and schoolwork had taken a backseat.

One or two other lonely and desperate souls wandered in and out, ghosts lacking in holiday cheer. But none was as desperate as I, the one who lingered steadily on, pausing only occasionally to look out the windows and marvel that the world outside hadn't vanished completely.

Fast forward to a week and a half later, and I'm done! For better or for worse, my finals are all over. All five exams, the children of my newly-gathered knowledge, have been sent off to fend for themselves, imperfect though they might be. After the soul-crushing first, the rest just seemed to have whisked by all too soon.

Happy Holidays! May cookie-baking, joyful carolling, merry-making begin now! 

When drinking water becomes a bad idea...

In my years since starting this blog, I had never gone one calendar month without posting something new. That is, until now....

October just flew by at tornado speed. By the time I had stopped spinning, it was November already and my first term at school was halfway over. Midterms came and midterms went, and with each mark that I received back, I was surprised -- pleasantly or otherwise. My self-concept has diminished, and I'm sure my IQ has dropped twenty points since beginning grad school.

Today, I decided to bring a water bottle to school. It would be nice to stay hydrated throughout the day, since Mondays are unbearably long, with almost eight hours of classes non-stop.

I walked into my first class with a lilt in my step, seeing that my friends had already arrived. I plunked my bag down, opened it up, and fished out my folder of class-notes.

Things didn't feel right. As I laid the folder on my lap, I noticed that my jeans were getting rather wet. I placed a tentative hand into my shoulder bag, and to my dismay, discovered what I already knew by that point: I had accidentally left the cap of my water bottle open, and almost all of the 600mL of liquid had ended up out of the bottle, forming a pool for my notes, pens, and crackers.

First reaction: I laughed. It was good to have a sense of humour about things since there was nothing I could do about it any more.

The first uh-oh: I realized the book I had borrowed from my audiology professor was in there.

Then came the scramble. I quickly snatched all I could out of my bag. My friend to the left ran to grab me paper towels from the bathroom, and my friend to the right proceeded to lay out some of my papers on the front table to air-dry.

As I surveyed the damage, I thought how lucky I was that I had printed everything on a laser printer instead of inkjet. I would have curly crunchy pages after everything dried, but at least I would still be able to make out the text. And it was luckier still that I had left my laptop at home today instead of bringing it to class in my shoulder-bag.

I just spent thirty minutes blow-drying my papers. Now comes the part where I go to buy my professor a gigantic box of chocolates in anticipation of the profuse apologies I will have to give when I return his book.

Out with the mopey

I've been in Edmonton for approximately three weeks now. My apartment has come to feel like home, and I'm starting to get into the routine of school, which began on Tuesday. In these first weeks, I've had two out-of-town visitors, and had run around setting up my apartment and getting ready for school. I had mostly kept myself out of the doldrums that I sometimes fall into -- that is, until today.

This is a long weekend, and used to be one of my favourite weekends of the year. I'm hoping it will be one of my favourites again, but it's a challenge. This weekend marks the second anniversary of the loss of a friend under some tragic circumstances. I can't help but think of my friend today, and remember the last time I saw him, just a few days before his death. It seems like a lifetime ago, or feels as though my memories are merely figments of my imagination.

I still remember his voice. I think about all the people who have passed from my life, and thinking about their voices somehow reassures me. If I close my eyes, I can hear them echo, and know with a strange certainty that I would still recognize them if I were to hear them now. I have an irrational fear that one day, I will forget what they sounded like. With that act of forgetting, it would complete their transformation into characters out of a dream, rather than flesh and blood people who had once touched me and influenced me.

This is also my birthday weekend. I have never cared for birthdays much, and wouldn't care if no one celebrated it with me, but being alone in a new city has made me feel a bit sorry for myself. A good friend from Inuvik had sent me a wonderful shoulder-bag made in Fort McPherson, and I've used it these few days. I feel less lost when I can glance down and see the little polar bear patch marking it as made in the Canadian Arctic. Perhaps being reminded of where I have come from assuages the fear of not knowing where I'm going.

I have three days to organize myself and get into the mode of reading my course materials. Graduate studies are about as gruelling as I had imagined, and although I know I should be able to handle all the stress, I need to banish self-despair and embrace confidence and inner peace.

I have a list of thirteen things to do for my classes. I plan to break them up with walks around the neighbourhood, a trip to the mall to window-shop, and cooking up some new dishes. Tonight, I made buckwheat noodles with a peanut and spinach sauce. It was delicious and satisfying.

A birthday meal alone in a new city might not be so bad after all, if it could be organic, healthy, and delicious to boot. Solitude has its own poetic quality....

* I'll save my thoughts about my grad school program for another post.

The first six days, in brief

The view from my apartment

Day 1, Monday: Hopped on a plane from Vancouver to Edmonton. My worries about my cat making a run for it at the airport while I took her out of her carrier to go through security proved completely unfounded. Instead, Duncan flatly refused to be taken out of her carrier, so sure was she that I was going to fling her to sudden death. I held up the security line for minutes, trying to wrangle the poor creature out. By the time I had her shivering in my arms, with her back claws digging into me, I felt as though I was the most incompetent pet owner ever. The rest of the trip was quite uneventful. Picked up my rental car (a Dodge Calibre), and had my move-in inspection. Greyhound delivered the boxes I had sent two days earlier, and I went to my auntie’s house for supper. (She’s my mother’s best friend from high school.) Came home, and spent the rest of the evening debating inside my head whether my walls were indeed light pink. (They aren’t, but during certain times of the day, when the sun reflects off the red brick building across the way, my walls have a pinkish sheen.)

Day 2, Tuesday: Woke up with a sore back from sleeping in just my sleeping bag on the bare wood floor. Called Sears delivery services to attempt to confirm that the sofa and bed that I had ordered a week ago were indeed going to be delivered to my apartment that morning. No siree, things were not going to go that smoothly.... I was informed that my order had been cancelled for some strange reason. Another call to Sears customer service and fifteen minutes of not-so-gentle explanation and argument later, I figured my furniture was not coming, might never be coming. Oh, the customer service guy said on the other end, you should have called in your order instead of using the online order form. Well, then, why was online ordering even an option if they weren’t going to follow through with the order?! With that, I resolved never to order or buy anything from Sears ever again. (Yesterday, I read an article in The Globe and Mail commenting on Sears’s unexpected losses the second quarter of this year. Could it have something to do with poor communication with customers and even poorer service? Hmm, something to ponder....) Called up my friend R who had arrived in town the night before, on his way back to Inuvik to start the school year. Went to IKEA and bought all the furniture that I needed, hauling half of it in the Calibre and arranging to have the rest delivered the next day. R was his usual helpful, cheerful self, lugging everything for me, while I was my usual cranky, impatient, and humourless self. Went to West Edmonton Mall and bought some kitchen supplies. Slept better that night, with my new mattress on the floor.

The disarray at the end of Day 2

Day 3, Wednesday: Puttered around the apartment all morning. R came over with groceries for my fridge in the afternoon, and we walked around the neighbourhood, popping into the stores to pick up a few last supplies, including my favourite cheese, a requisite for my fridge. IKEA came through with my furniture delivery (yay!), and R helped me assemble my bed (yay again!). Third night’s sleep was even better, with a proper bed, mattress, and bedding.

Sweet Dreams

Day 4, Thursday: Went to West Edmonton Mall in the morning with R, then back to IKEA in the afternoon to buy a desk. Went home and, after many whines and complaints (from me, while R brandished the tools good-humouredly), managed to put together the rest of the furniture. R took me out for the most scrumptious meal, and then we saw District 9 in the downtown theatre.

Day 5, Friday: Drove R to the airport to catch his plane up to Inuvik. Returned the Calibre, and took the shuttle to a hotel about ten blocks from my apartment. Walked home, following a guy in a car who was stopping at every street corner to empty the change out of the Edmonton Sun newspaper box. After the meeting up with him on the third street corner in a row, we chit-chatted, after he joked that I was his stalker. Attempted to make an omelette à la Julia Child. Walked downtown, picked up knick-knacks from the dollar store, and came home. Cleaned the apartment and relaxed into the evening, thoroughly bored during my first night after the apartment was fully-furnished and cleaned. Tried to take a walk by the river, but hesitated taking the set of creaky wooden steps I found that might or might not have led down to the trails. Strolled along the street overlooking the valley instead.

Day 6, Saturday: Three loads of laundry. Went to the drugstore two blocks from my house to buy more cleaning supplies. Tried hard to get my cat to sit in her new cat-bed instead of my new white couch. No such luck. Trying even harder to steal someone’s unsecured internet signal. If this post gets published today, August 22nd, then it would prove my success, and the day would not be a complete waste.

She stayed like this for a brief minute, at least.

Ha, take that, Sears!

Chasing, stretching, grasping

I’m sitting in the airport waiting lounge, with an hour to go before my flight back to Vancouver. I’ll be coming back to Edmonton in August to move into my apartment, get settled, and prepare for school in September. M’s flight took off toward the east coast about an hour ago. Who knows when I’ll see my dear friend again?

As I move from place to place, taking on new adventures in various towns and cities, the overwhelming feeling I have is that I cannot gather all those things and people that are important to me and keep them close. It’s as though I’m collecting flowers by the roadside, and with a gust of wind, the petals disperse, and run as I might, I’ll never gather that armful again. I’m left chasing after something that will never be whole again.

Edmonton will grow into a home of sorts in a few months, and I’ll go about my days scuttling back and forth, to and from classes, spending my evenings and weekends with new friends. And then, in two years’ time, when I graduate from the program and set out to find work once more, I’ll be in the same position of whirling around in the winds of change, feeling lost and helpless.

What does it take to not feel this sense of loss?

I do feel blessed to have had the past five months in Fox Creek, with M there to vent to, to travel with, to bounce ideas off of. I was in the privileged position of having a good friend pick me up at the airport, drive me to that new small town, show me the school and the town. M had forged her way there first, and my adjustment to my new surroundings was made infinitely easier because she was there. I now have more experience under my belt, more varied subjects and students that I’ve taught, more challenges overcome, frustrations conquered.

I received news from Inuvik that a young boy had drowned in the east channel of the Mackenzie River over the weekend. It happens without fail every year or so, a bright future extinguished because of a moment of poor judgment. Although I had never taught him, he was one of the lively characters in town, and he and his mischievous grin were impossible to miss when I sauntered out on the main road. I remember how he was following me around one day after school with his incessant questions. He was a child who, despite his apparent peskiness, would have grown up to be someone wise, a person whom others could trust. There was a kindness and a goodness that shone through, something that maturity would have brought out clear and bright had he been allowed to stay on this earth and flourish.

Part of my heart is still in the North; other parts of me call Vancouver, Edmonton, and even Fox Creek home. I’m stretched over a vast landscape, grasping at wisps in the wind.

In limbo

I've begun my summer vacation! So, has it been days of relaxation, tanning, and shopping? Not exactly....

We've moved out of Fox Creek without a glitch. Cleaned the apartment, had the dream out-inspection (where the apartment was deemed to be pristine and spotless), and drove down to Edmonton. We've been here three full days now, and we're stuck in a rut.

I've looked at an apartment, and put a deposit on it. It should be available any day now, and I'm just waiting for the phone to ring to tell me that it's ready. Of course, I'm the only one in a hurry. The property manager is probably taking her sweet time calling my previous landlords and doing the credit check.

I'm torn: I could either fly home now and come back to move into the apartment later, possibly in August, or I could stay put and wait. There are also other factors involved: M has been here to help me view apartments and shop around for furniture, but she may hit the road soon because these days in hotels cannot possibly stretch on forever. She needs a place to go, which we would have if I could move into my apartment now.

These are some of our bags, hauled all the way from Fox Creek to Edmonton. We have nowhere to haul them to now.... 

Oh, and my new apartment has light pink walls, which I really do not like. They were going to repaint it another hue, but I said I'd take the suite as-is because it would mean an earlier move-in date. I wonder if I should have just taken the August move-in date and gotten the new paint colour....

Ring, phone, ring!!!!!!!!!!

Who's going to assemble my furniture?

It's my last weekend in Fox Creek. The two suitcases I came with are now getting close to full as I'm packing away my stuff, and the cleaning begins tomorrow. On Tuesday, right after work, the property manager will be coming in to do the out-inspection, and then we'll be driving to Edmonton.

There are a few photos of the town that I'd like to post, but that'll have to wait. The memory card I have the pictures on has been packed away already, and I'm not about to fish anything out of my suitcase. The rule right now is, "In good, out bad."

So far, I've booked an appointment to view an apartment on July 1st. I'll book more once I'm in Edmonton. Although I'm guaranteed a spot in residence on campus, I'd really like to steer clear of student-housing if I can help it. The unit I've applied for in residence is less than 300 square-feet, and it does not accept cats. Although my parents have definitely grown fond of my dear Duncan these months (my current apartment here does not take pets either), five months of abandonment is enough to drive me into feeling immense pet-owner guilt. Plus, it doesn't help to get a call telling me that Duncan has managed to dye one of her legs purple while in my parents' care in Vancouver.... (That's for another post altogether!)

On July 2nd, we'll be going to the opening night of The Lion King in Edmonton. After that, who knows.... I may extend my stay in Edmonton to continue the hunt for an apartment, or I might trek across the Rockies to my parents' house to relax a bit before resuming my frantic search.

I'm also debating whether to ship my furniture from Vancouver to Edmonton once I find a place. I had sold most of my stuff when I moved from Inuvik. The only two things I would love to have in Edmonton are my bed and my digital piano. The thought of buying yet another bed or of not having my piano for two years is painful to me at this moment. However, the thought of paying hundreds of dollars to transport two items might prove even more unbearable.

Regardless, I'll have to buy a couch, a table, a desk, a dresser, and other knick-knacks in order to create a new home. (My Fox Creek apartment is furnished and comes with everything I need other than my suitcases of clothes.) The most gnawing question at present -- Who is going to assemble my new furniture? In Inuvik, I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to put anything together. The instructions on how to assemble the futon were cryptic to me, and I literally attempted for weeks before my friend K came to the rescue. My double-dresser wasn't any easier. M and E pitched in and figured it out for me. My "Inuvik Dad" helped with my table and chair set, as well as the digital piano.

I don't have an "Edmonton family" that would swoop in to help me out of sticky situations. I'll be on my own, with only Duncan and her purple paw....

Movie meme

I've been watching quite a few movies in the past couple of weeks. My good friend in Inuvik sent me a flash-drive with scanned pages of a Social Studies textbook that I needed for my students. He also managed to fill up the remaining memory on the flash-drive with assorted movies, which I've been enjoying during the dull evenings here in Fox Creek.

I must say that my life here is too humdrum to blog about, so I'm resorting to a meme about movies that my friend A had tagged me for:

1. Name a movie that you have seen more than 10 times. Bridget Jones's Diary, The Hours -- two movies that I always dig up when I have the blues.

2. Name a movie that you've seen multiple times in the theater. Contact

3. Name an actor/actress that would make you more inclined to see a movie. Cate Blanchett, Johnny Depp, Kate Winslet, Sean Penn

4. Name an actor/actress that would make you less likely to see a movie. Adam Sandler, Will Farrell

5. Name a movie that you can quote from. Little Women

6. Name a movie musical that you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs. Moulin Rouge

7. Name a movie that you have been known to sing along with. The Sound of Music

8. Name a movie that you would recommend everyone see. Me and You and Everyone We Know (It's not a movie for kids though.)

9. Name a movie that you own. I own waaaaay too many to name just one!

10. Name an actor that launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.  Queen Latifah

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what? No, I've never been to a drive-in....

12. Name a movie that you keep meaning to see but just haven't yet gotten around to it. The Reader -- but this will soon be remedied.

13. Ever walked out of a movie?  Almost walked out of The Butterfly Effect, and was so glad I didn't.

14. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater. The Secret Lives of Bees -- I sobbed pretty nearly all the way through.

15. Popcorn?  No, I'm not fond of the way it sticks to my teeth.

16. How often do you go to the movies (as opposed to renting them or watching them at home)? I used to go at least once a week, but living in small towns without movie theatres has made it immeasurably more difficult.

17. What's the last movie you saw in the theater? New In Town -- despite what the critics said, I found it sweet and charming, albeit fluffy and predictable.

18. What's your favorite/preferred genre of movie? Drama for sure

19. What's the first movie you remember seeing in the theater? Snow White

20. What movie do you wish you had never seen? My Winnipeg

21. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed? I love all of Charlie Kaufman's movies, and they're pretty weird.

22. What is the scariest movie you've seen? Silence of the Lambs -- saw it when I was ten and it traumatized me.

23. What is the funniest movie you've seen? Bridget Jones's Diary -- both the movie (the first one) and the book were hilarious.

We just came back from another weekend in Edmonton.  Here are a couple of photos, one of the wide prairie skies along the highway, and one of the provincial legislative building at night, courtesy of my dinky cellphone camera:

Weekend in the city

I've taught for a week now, and it seems like a lot longer. I can't believe that a week ago, I was just arriving in Edmonton from Vancouver, and had yet to see Fox Creek.

Classes are going fairly smoothly, and I am enjoying being in the classroom with students again. Of course, there are the usual frustrations that come with being a teacher, but for the most part, it's nice to be a teacher officially again. The most frustrating part of this past week has nothing to do with managing students or course preparation/delivery at all, but has to do with not having my own permanent classroom where I could leave my teaching materials, where I would have my own desk and computer to work on. As such, I've been floating around a fair bit, monopolizing computer time on the one machine in the staffroom.

The town has a completely different feel than Inuvik. It is not as walking-friendly, and I never see kids "hanging out" on the streets. I miss being able to walk down to the store that is only a few minutes away, and see lots of acquaintances, young and old, milling about and socializing with one another.

This is a long weekend because of Family Day on Monday. M and I have booked ourselves into a hotel for two nights in Edmonton, and will drive down there on Saturday morning, and be back on Monday. I know we were just there last weekend, but it honestly feels like eons ago. Although the apartment we have here is gorgeous and comfortable, I have come to associate it with my late nights of lesson-planning, so it would be wonderful to get away from it all, however briefly. (I will be bringing my laptop though, so I can't completely escape from my work.)

Here are a couple of pictures of my new apartment. I love it, but in some ways, I can't wait to leave this place, to find another place that feels more like "home."

You say "raring," I say "rearing"

In any case, I'm rearing/raring to go....

Made it out to the airport an hour and a half before my flight was scheduled to leave. Had a deja-vu moment when the agent at the WestJet counter told me my flight was cancelled. (This happened in December too, as I was trying to make it out to Edmonton before going to the Dominican Republic.) They blamed it on ice-fog in Edmonton; however, I noted that my flight was the only one cancelled to/from Edmonton this morning. Just my luck.... What is it about the universe not wanting me to be in Edmonton? I hope this doesn't apply to my grad school application as well....

The past few days went by in the blink of an eye. I needed to get a current criminal record check done in order to be in the classroom, but the Vancouver Police Department told me that the check would take two to three weeks to complete. I most definitely do not have two to three weeks. I am supposed to start teaching on Monday. Although the attempt to get the criminal record check ended in utter failure, I had an educational morning walking around Vancouver's infamous downtown eastside, as the police station was there. One man pulled out two packages of chicken from a garbage bag, placed them on the sidewalk, and proceeded to try to sell them for four dollars to passersby. A woman had old clothes and shoes laid out on the ground, and several people examined the items with interest, with hands in their pockets and slightly embarrassed expressions on their faces. A man who walked beside me dropped a bottle cap, and three people in front turned around in a frenzied state, eyes darting to the ground, searching. This is my city, my home. This is the city that is welcoming the world in 2010 for the Winter Olympics. I was ashamed to have to walk down its streets with such discomfort, with my eyes cast downward, hand clutching my cell phone in my pocket, just in case.

I was supposed to be landing in Edmonton right around this time; instead, I'm sitting here, hoping that the flight they've put me on will indeed take off six hours from now.

Some days, there's nothing much to say except "oh well."

* What do you say -- "rearing" or "raring" to go? I just searched an online forum on word usage, and it seems as though I'm the only one to whom "rearing" sounds correct. Yet, the online Oxford dictionary lists "raring" as a dialect variant of "rearing." Hmmm....

March Rundown

This is my recap of this past month. I’ve looked back on my writing of these past thirty-one days, and have picked one thing – trivial or otherwise – that sticks out for me for each day. (Yes, I write incessantly.)

1st – On the plane on the way down to Edmonton for the teachers’ conference, I sat next to a most interesting young man from Fort Simpson. He was on his way to Ontario to visit family, and kept our conversation lively with his northern experiences in hunting and trapping. A true northern boy – and one of the faces I’ll always remember.

2nd – We walked along Whyte Avenue as the light grew dim. Ducked into a funky martini bar and had great smoked salmon pizza. Being in Edmonton from Inuvik, I was absolutely anticipating spring-like weather, but that was not to be… and I froze.

3rd – Took what seemed like the longest bus-ride from our hotel downtown to West Edmonton Mall; we got to wind through the residential areas of Edmonton, but thought we would die as the heat blasted from the heating vents on the bus.

4th – A true “mall day,” something of an anomaly for me. We waited forty-five minutes for a cab to take us back to the hotel, and thought we would have to get into fist-fights in order to ensure we would get a taxi.

5th – I arrived back in Inuvik, and felt glad to see the clear northern sky once more.

6th – I took my digital camera out and about and took pictures of shadows, including the blue shadows of snow on snow.

7th – Went to a friend’s farewell party. Another one from my circle gone: I’m still grieving a bit.

8th – Received news first thing in the morning that someone I loved was in the hospital. Mustered up enough strength to last through the day with composure enough to fool most.

9th – With the wind howling with ferocity outside, I felt so safe within the comforts of my room, and felt so blessed.

10th – One of my students had her first day of work after school at the supermarket. I made time to stop by and bought her a treat. I was so proud to see her in her uniform, to see her doing well.

11th – Had a lazy Saturday of lounging and writing.

12th – Had the most wonderful brunch at a friend’s house: fresh fruit and a lovely frittata. This was one day when I felt so lucky to have the people I had in my life.

13th – On my way to work in the morning, I noticed that the moon was the most gorgeous hue of pinkish-gold. Reminded me of that fateful day two years ago when the moon was blood-red, an omen of the events that would happen that day.

14th – A good friend’s birthday party. I baked a cake and wrote her a story.

15th – I gave my class an English midterm. I admired my students for the intensity of their focus. No one threw a tantrum – everyone finished and passed.

16th – Made cupcakes with the Brownies.

17th – After work, I bumped into a friend at the video store, and had a quiet movie night at her house.

18th – Tried my hand at cooking, and made a pot of African peanut soup, and had a nice gathering at a friend's, where we played Balderdash – reminded me of those camping days when we used to play that game. How those days seem as though they were a lifetime ago.

19th – Skidoo rally!! Went to the rally put on by the French Association. We met at the Lions’ Den, and set off under the big blue sky. Took in the cold and the most breath-taking views.

20th – On the calendar, it’s the first day of spring, but this night, I saw the gorgeous northern lights after my stint at volunteer-tutoring. This year hasn’t been great for viewing the aurora borealis, so even though the dancing lights were a sign of the winter dragging on, my heart danced with joy at the sight of them.

21st – I hosted a dinner party, and was completely stressed in the kitchen. My “Inuvik family” was sweet enough to calm me down. We played Pictionary after supper, and I discovered the discrepancy between my artistic vision and my actual ability – had some good laughs though.

22nd – A relaxing, much-needed weekday evening with zero commitments. I was glad that the world demanded nothing of me then.

23rd – Rode on the fire-truck with the Brownies after a tour of the fire hall. I was as excited as the girls, but my grown-up sensibilities kept me from expressing it outwardly.

24th – A good Friday night of movie-watching at home. Saw sadness in a friend’s eyes, and wished I could comfort her, but didn’t know how.

25th – Had an unwanted profession of love in the morning, followed by an episode of hyperventilation. Stumbled upon the revelation that I never wanted to be in that position: of saying “I love you” to someone who did not reciprocate the feeling.

26th – A Sunday afternoon trip downtown to shop with a friend. I was amazed that we could spend as much time as we did hopping around those few stores.

27th – Enjoyed the solitude at the food bank as I was working my shift. I found myself pacing back and forth, talking things out with myself as I assembled the food packages: It was extremely therapeutic.

28th – Had dinner at a friend’s, and a wonderful phone call.

29th – I continued searching the sky for a rainbow because I had seen one a few days ago. It was tucked behind the little woods, and I still look for it every time I pass by the same place.

30th – Made Ukrainian Easter eggs with the Brownies, but I was completely out of it. My mind just kept wandering toward things that I had resolved not to think about. The mere resolve to stop doing something seems to ensure its failure.

31st - Taking stock of where I am and where I’m heading.