Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. I assure you, we get the point already.

No one seems to be reading this anymore, which is just as well because I haven't been writing much.

Anyway.

It's been a month less a day since I returned to Canada, and a month and a half since I left Australia. I'm still craving normalcy. It's not happening nearly as often as I need it to be. Who knew that six little months would be causing all this madness? I've never been manic depressive, but I imagine this might be what it feels like... although to a much lesser extent; I certainly don't mean to downplay what that must be like for someone to go through. Happy, sad, happy, sad. Angry, confused, tired, overwhelmed. Joyful, delighted, stimulated, expectant.

After much thought, I have decided that I should consider seeing a counselor, and I will, as long as I can convince myself that it's ok that I can't figure out how to deal with this on my own.

Dear Sara's Massive Ego: Which is worse, admitting you need help, or failing all of your classes and feeling like a perma-PMS nutcase?

It's okay to feel alone. It's okay to be not strong. Once in a while.
Thank you, Mr Dryfhout. You always seem to have a way with difficult words.

Question: Why is it that we are taught to fear and hide our weaknesses?

Lonely, lonely, that is me. - Leslie Feist.

In a room full of people, sometimes I still feel like I'm alone, not for want of bodies or noise, but for someone who gets it. And that people don't get it, is not their fault.

The words of a friend and fellow blogger clutched at my heart recently, not because I understand (and really, that is the problem), but because I understand what it's like, to see to live, to feel, to reprioritize, to be changed, and then to return and not be able to share. Words suck, and words only go so far in being able to describe the way a heart changes, the way one is impacted a million miles away from everything they consider normal.

I love my family and I love my friends and I love God. I am so thankful for the way that he used my time overseas to change me, to show me new facets of his incredible love. I have to reiterate that I wouldn't change a thing, and I' m not angry. Just feeling isolated despite including myself and being included. Such a paradigm. Still not entirely sure how to feel.

Uber Woot.

What I did on Thursday night:



What I did on Friday night:


Each show was wonderful, just as the the company on both nights was as well.

Should be reading. School is kicking my ass. Will see if any of my pics turned out later.

Cheers!

What a beautiful day...

I spoke those words this morning, a sarcastic comment made to Trev as we trudged through gloomy yet all-too-familiar rain this morning.

But now I really mean it.

The rain still falls from the sky, thick clouds bursting with wet. And yet, I feel so... good. Good is an underrated word, because to feel good is really quite a satisfying experience.

I spent most of the afternoon happy and comfortable. Warm and inside, I sat cross-legged on barefoot--you can take the girl out of Australia, but you can't take the overwhelming need to wear flip flops out of the girl. Clutching at a thick white mug filled with spiced tea. Struggling over Saussure's argument for the arbitrary nature of the sign, originally written in a language that is not mine, and, for that matter, written not for publication, but rather compiled from lectures delivered to his students. Students who like me sat fresh-faced and slightly intimidated, trying desperately to understand, to wrap their heads around the new and unfamiliar.

I'm content for probably the first time in a while, and, as it appears the only alternative at the moment is stress, I'm pleased to accept the former. Since returning I've been happy, and I've been unhappy. Both can be exhausting... I'm so pleased to finally have found some middle ground.

Today felt almost normal.

NEW FEATURE!!!! *FLASHING LIGHTS! FLASHING LIGHTS!*

It's called...

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY CAR NOW????

*sigh* Sometimes all you can do is laugh. And take pictures.

Exhibit A (January 4, 2006)



Exhibit B (January 9, 2006)


Exhibit C (January 16, 2006)
Can you guess what's wrong with it??



Hmm??



No?


Here's a hint:



If you guess correctly, you will be rewarded with a SHINY PENNY!!!!! Woot.



Patrick is sad. But he's smiling because he's brave, and smiling is all that he can do.

Oh Bubba, you and your humourous breaking down constantly. You know I wouldn't trade you for the world.



In other news, I have the coolest coffee mug ever.

And now I am going to go harrass/say goodbye to Trevor (who's off to Africa to do God's work again) and get me a Namibia documentary, then find a quiet place to read, read, read. On today's agenda: Kishkan, Saussure, Heidegger, Marx, Owen, and our dear friend Hobbes. I expect to have ripped out 1/3 of my hair by day's end, but, oh, it will be fun.

"[I]n a gradually heating bathtub you’d be boiled to death before you knew it.” - Margaret Atwood

Bleh. Here's some real that I've been avoiding addressing.

I'm having a bit of trouble readjusting to life back here. It is a strange sensation to be back in a place that you call 'home', when it hasn't been your home for many months.

I am trying to deal with what feels like a very awkward graft. Or a slightly ill-fitting prosthesis. Somehow it doesn't quite fit. Parts of me have changed. Friends and family have changed. This is called life. The difference, the shocking difference, is that under regular circumstances, I would be here, and it wouldn't be so damned noticeable. As the above quote illustrates, it's easier to not notice when change is happening around you, slowly and gradually. Now, I feel as though I've been dropped into the boiling water and it's shocking.

At the same time, some things are overwhelmingly the same. It's a very strange dychotomy: changed and unchanged, all under one roof. Literally. For instance, the bottom level of the house has had a massive facelift. But my room remains exactly the same, right down to the Spongebob calendar on my bulletin board. To use a tired old cliche, living away from home for the first time has given me the opportunity to spread my wings. Only now I'm exactly back where I was to begin with. My understanding of each of my parents has shifted, as well as my relationship with my sister. But they all jive and I'm trying to find my place again. I don't mean to suggest that I'm unhappy, I'm just weirded out.

I resent being home, and yet I am delighted by being home. This morning I hung out with some really amazing people. It made me so happy to see them again, to enjoy their company and to remember how thankful I am that I get to be part of that particular group. To be able to drive to Brea's because I feel like it, or to sit across the table from John and laugh until we have both embarrassed ourself beyond repair. I cherish that. And yet, sometimes I sit here and ask myself why the hell I'm back; I become disatisfied and annoyed.

I'm told that it's normal to feel displaced, but while it's comforting to know that I'm normal, that knowledge doesn't help to remedy.

So, maybe it will take a week or a month. But I know sooner or later I will get back to my old self. I don't think I will ever not be awkward, but at least it will be an awkward that I can deal with.

OK. Done.

Fishtrap, Fishtrap, Fishy Fishy Fishtrap!

So, this BC Lit class, this 8am class where I get to catch the sun rising over UBC. We got the topics for our final projects today. When he first talked about it, the prof mentioned that it would be mostly places, and we would be expected to “deep map” our assigned places. And so I figured, ‘oooh, I’ll hop in my car, drive up there, take 14 million pictures, harass the tourists, get drunk with the locals, and really find out what this place is about.’ When it came time to pull my tiny scrap of paper out of a hat, I was taken aback to discover this word (at least I THINK it’s a word):



Umm, well… hmm. Population of ‘fishtrap’? Yeah, not so much. I don’t think my car will make it. I was one of the few who didn’t get a place in the traditional sense, but a term. One that I’ve never heard before. You know, I’m not completely sure that it isn’t just made up. Like… Suggin Buggin (the only difference being that Suggin Buggin actually IS the name of a town in Australia).

But… we’ve been encouraged to “think of a place not just as a human-defined place, but as the habitat of other species” (yes, I sometimes copy down notes word-for-word in full sentences). Not the physical landmass as much as the story, the interactions. Maybe, maybe, maybe, this is a good thing. If there is no hunk of land to attach to this “fishtrap”, maybe I’m ahead of the game. Or maybe… not.

In thinking about place, I’ve been looking back on the past six months. I realize that “Australia” isn’t confined to a big island across the Pacific Ocean. There’s so much more attached to it. It was a place (and by place I guess I mean a ‘period’) in my life that has left a permanent mark on my character. A place to look at myself independent from the comfort and familiarity of twenty years lived in the Lower Mainland. I learned so much about me, about ‘not me’. I learned things that I really like about myself, and things that I really, really don’t. Australia, that beautiful, beautiful place, is an emotion, a state of being, a process, a rite of passage. It’s memories that survive in my head as images and conversations. There are lots and lots of layers, to match, I suppose, the fragmented thought that I’m stuck with as I try to work my way through this all.

Maybe ‘fishtrap’ is a process, or part of a cycle.

MEHHHHHHHHHH.

"Stayin' Home Alone on a Friday...

...flat on the floor looking back on old love. Or lack thereof." -Thank you Mr. John Mayer.

Yes, it's Friday night and I'm home by choice. I've not been back for a week yet, and I'm still getting settled. Today I finished unpacking, which was strange. I thought I could live out of a suitcase indefinitely. But here I am :). Anyway, it's made me weary and even though I feel terrible about cancelling on Megs, I wasn't into going to see a band. Next time, next time. I figure there will always be a next time.

My mom surprised me with the news that tomorrow she, Kelly and myself are going to a spa for a girlie day. Heck yes! It does, however, mean that I probably won't make it to my house church. Silly (and wonderful) that, though I was gone for 6 months, the church that I went to three times is the one I consider my church.

Well, hmm. I had it in my mind this week that I wanted to blog about a number of things, but I don't think it's going to happen tonight. But, let me just say, IHOP with Brea might be one of my favourite things in the entire world.





Brea, I heart you so much; people are going to be so sick of us. *HONK!* POW!!!! *Stares directly into his eyes*

5 26 in the AM

There is nothing quite like listening to a mix of NIN, Fall Out Boy, and Armchair Cynics (among others*) at 5 in the morning. I grossly misjudged the amount of time it would take me to get ready. Apparently I am a scrub who likes to roll out of bed, roll down the stairs, roll out the door, and roll onto a public bus. But really, should we be so surprised? No, we shouldn't. [Note: By "we", I of course mean myself and MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS(eseseseseses).]

Well, hmm! If that's not a useless post, then I'm losing my touch!

Maybe I will have many wonderful things to say today after my first day of class back at UBC.

Or maybe it will be more of THIS (see above).

*Of course there is also a certain remix in there called "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by a certain Max Graham.

Mancandy - Max Graham Edition

Since it's the first week of a new year, I figured I'd take it easy and start off with one definite hottie. Not only is he just so damn CUTE, but he also does a remix of 80s "Owner of a Lonely Heart" that I haven't been able to stop dancing to for about two weeks now. I heard it on one of my tour buses and tracked the song down down on iTunes, only to discover that our Max is Canadian. Even better! Then I was reading his details and it was like, "Graham first started mixing back in 1986, at the age of 15" or something like that. 1986? What the clap? I was like, ONE. He's certainly ageing well.

But. Happy New Year. Have some Max.