The Super Strawberry Rhubarb 3.14

Yesterday we picked up our beautiful pontiac G6 to relieve the stress on my (our) feet. It goes fast. We made a pie pretty much from scratch and went glow in the dark mini golfing. To my delight, we also located the Titanic cemetery. We finally finished the collage, which turned out very well. To end the day, Dan visited Pinski's Palace of Pain and Beauty where he received his third and final tattoo- the word 'surrender' on his wrist. surrender indeed.

Today Mic Mac Mall was our first destination- we both bought shirts that we love. Alas, the day finally came to see Superman Returns in Imax 3D. The stain on my shirt is real butter from the popcorn.
I've successfully finished Prince of Persia. While Dan fought the bad guys, I took care of the puzzles and it worked out wonderfully. I am now free to pursue other interests for two days until I come home.
At the moment my body is fighting a fever of some sort- some unknown variety. It could be that it's hot, or I'm hot or something.

In case you were wondering, the McLobster is not a myth.

Roaming Gnome

Today our harbor tour was foiled by a computer glitch. Dan is forging a path into the world of art with a collage puzzle for his wall. Coming soon. I found some things to bring home after narrowly escaping an encounter with some gnomes and P E Trudeau. somehow. Later we went dynamite bowling (aptly named). Stick pins. One point per pin. Pin obstruction. Frustration.
It's so foggy tonight I can barely see off the balcony. I love it.
The long day is over.

National Defence

There are two ghostly windows in Halifax. One turns black when it is replaced; this one shows the silhouette of a woman waiting for her son to come back from the war.

Halifax has character. This old building was painted with famous people, none of whom I recognize.

This is where we protect the country. National Defence is of utmost importance. I am of utmost importance to the nation.

No whale

Today we went on a whale watching tour without seeing any whales. We ate at a great restaurant with textured walls, crooked mirrors and really good food. I held a lobster without eating him. We played catch in a misty park under a rare blue sky. Now I'm going to make something artistic.
Miss you.

sit still, it's pretty

I'm still surprised when the world is quiet. It seems sometimes that silence means non-existence.
As a gift from God before leaving for Halifax, I sat in a quiet world by the lake. On the dock I saw the world in stillness like I wasn't there.
The water looked like a dark mirror. Shimmery in a way that made you want to walk on it and mysterious in a way that threatened to make you disappear.
On noisy days I think the more confident stars are comfortable. On quiet nights, the timid stars come out, like if the world is still enough they can sneak into the sky without being noticed.
I've never imagined what a bird in flight would sound like, that it would make any sound at all.
Northern lights are good for nights like this. They move silently and gracefully through the sky like the fish know how to do in the water, like the bird knew how to do in the sky.

the journey:

stand still, look pretty

If I'd started this a few minutes ago, it would have been exactly 6 months since I last wrote. blah.
I've had enough that I could write about.

I guess my last post came with insignificance. This post comes with detachment. I don't feel like myself- each day I feel more like a pretend version. In every way I can look the part and in every way never play it. My surroundings should be a different hue; all the right shapes but the wrong color. All blue I guess. The road here has disappeared though- at best it's just that life changes and relationships change and I drift away.

I've decided to write music for the summer. So far, all I've figured out is that I'm better at running away. I love writing and I love that the right beautiful words can describe anything. I suppose to write though you have to believe that you have anything to say, that someone will cling to what you say and that it matters. Someday it will matter.

I'm going on a missions trip to St. Vincent in August. Fear is coming with me. Financially God has to do it all. It's funny that I'm doing this when I can't even contribute myself because I'm supposed to be writing. I'm not sure yet if I'll fit well with the team. I know them all, but I feel different. I can't keep myself from getting excited about how beautiful and adventurous it will be. I can't stop thinking about how I'll experience God there and whether it will be a relief for me to know that I'm still alive in some way after the past few weeks. Maybe I don't focus enough on the service part or the missions part, whatever that means. Teams are difficult. I've never really cared that I'm different- I like going my own way, but it's hard not to feel wounded when I'm asked to be like everyone else and I just can't. I guess I'm going for God anyways and not so I can be a perfect little missions team member.

I don't know how to put the rest of life into words. Sometimes when I'm driving, my thoughts wander onto things that I'll never have answers to, or more likely things that I can't do anything about. Like whether my friends think I talk more than I listen, why I can't be more consistent in thought, behavior and love, whether I'll ever be fearless in music, what God is making me into and why faith seems so difficult for me sometimes because I'm me. I'm not looking for those answers. I'm waiting.

In one day, one of my best friends is coming to visit me from Halifax. He has become a strong man surrendered to God in a way that makes me want to be different. I want it to be the beginning of me finding myself. I still question whether it's ok to run from God towards another person. But I think it's ok if you run towards a person who will carry you to God.

I think part of the reason that I feel far from myself is that I haven't spent time with people who carry me to God. Life is busy and I can't make myself demand their time. The trouble with that is that I crave interaction with some people in a way that keeps my heart alive- I need to work out my faith in conversation and stories and sharing. I need people to know what I'm thinking and feeling and facing so that I know myself. So that I can speak myself into an existence that won't disappear with the next breath.

i want to paint my face
and pretend that i am someone else
sometimes i get so fed up
i don't even want to look at myself

but people have problems that are worse than mine
i don't want you to think i'm complaining all the time
and i hate the way you look at me i have to say
i wish i could start over

i am slowly falling apart
i wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start
you might think it's easy being me
you just stand still, look pretty