I spent all day yesterday cleaning out our living room bookshelf and entertainment center. It took forever--there was so much dusting to be done, and the whole thing needed to be reorganized. Luckily for me (and my easily distractable self), there were plenty of artifacts to keep me entertained along the way.
The first gem I found was a home video tape, containing two videos from my Spanish class, a tribute video two of my best friends and I had made for another of our friends who had moved away, and various other snippets of brilliance. I can't believe how much my friends and I have changed since high school. I used to wear nothing but baggy t-shirts and jeans--which I now see was a complete shame, because I had a cute little bod back then. One of my friends, on the other hand, has since dropped a significant amount of weight, and is now much happier and healthier than before. The other . . . well, I have no idea what has happened to her. I haven't heard from her in ages, despite my attempts at contact.
After that, I found the photo albums. Pictures of my parents when they were younger, and THEIR parents, too. Especially intriguing to me was a collection of comics of my dad's that his mother had collected and compiled--pretty funny stuff. It was all about robots and aliens and computers. I loved my parents' wedding album, too. They were so young, so happy! It touched me to see some of the first moments of their life together.
Life is precious. Savor every moment, or as we say in the BBLD Club: "Make Life Tasty!"
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Bittersweet Endings
Well, there are only two days left until I return back to the land of my inheritance. I'm really, really glad that I did this workshop--I think it will help my baroque playing and has definitely helped me keep my chops in good shape over the summer--but I'm also really, really, really glad that it's so close to being over. Very soon, I'll be back on the plane to Texas, and I couldn't be more excited.
Like I said, though, it's been a really good experience for me. I've learned a lot about Baroque playing and about general musicianship, and I definitely have grown from this. They do a really good job here--everything is super-organized and they're definitely aware of what's going on, which is often not the case. Plus, Toronto's just a cool city--I like it here.
As far as my excitement for going home, I guess I was just homesick. I miss my family and friends, the doggy (who just had surgery yesterday, poor thing) and the kitty, and of course The Boy. In fact, that's most of the reason I'm so anxious to be back home. It's been interesting, though, how that's all worked out.
For the first few days I was here, I was just really sad and pouty. I missed The Boy terribly, and I could see that it was going to be a really long two weeks ahead. Very shortly after I arrived in Toronto, my parents sent me an email saying that one of my professors had contacted them asking if I wanted to participate in a six-week chamber music festival out of state--that they were short a cellist and he'd thought of me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew it would be a great opportunity, but if I was having such a hard time only a few days into my two-week trip, how would I handle that times three?
It took a lot of thought and prayer (along with plenty of tears--and if you know me at all, you know I mean PLENTY), but I finally arrived at the conclusion that I needed to go ahead and take the opportunity I was so blessed to have been given. As soon as I came to that conclusion, the issue of geography seemed to be an insignificant one. This is definitely one of those instances where the Lord has blessed me for taking a step forward in faith; I feel pretty certain that I'd still be miserable if it weren't for that. Of course I still miss him immensely, but instead of looking at the days that stand between us with dread and horror, I can simply look forward to the day I get to see him. It's a small change, but it's made all the difference in my ability to cope with the situation. It's amazing, isn't it?
Like I said, though, it's been a really good experience for me. I've learned a lot about Baroque playing and about general musicianship, and I definitely have grown from this. They do a really good job here--everything is super-organized and they're definitely aware of what's going on, which is often not the case. Plus, Toronto's just a cool city--I like it here.
As far as my excitement for going home, I guess I was just homesick. I miss my family and friends, the doggy (who just had surgery yesterday, poor thing) and the kitty, and of course The Boy. In fact, that's most of the reason I'm so anxious to be back home. It's been interesting, though, how that's all worked out.
For the first few days I was here, I was just really sad and pouty. I missed The Boy terribly, and I could see that it was going to be a really long two weeks ahead. Very shortly after I arrived in Toronto, my parents sent me an email saying that one of my professors had contacted them asking if I wanted to participate in a six-week chamber music festival out of state--that they were short a cellist and he'd thought of me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew it would be a great opportunity, but if I was having such a hard time only a few days into my two-week trip, how would I handle that times three?
It took a lot of thought and prayer (along with plenty of tears--and if you know me at all, you know I mean PLENTY), but I finally arrived at the conclusion that I needed to go ahead and take the opportunity I was so blessed to have been given. As soon as I came to that conclusion, the issue of geography seemed to be an insignificant one. This is definitely one of those instances where the Lord has blessed me for taking a step forward in faith; I feel pretty certain that I'd still be miserable if it weren't for that. Of course I still miss him immensely, but instead of looking at the days that stand between us with dread and horror, I can simply look forward to the day I get to see him. It's a small change, but it's made all the difference in my ability to cope with the situation. It's amazing, isn't it?
Saturday, June 7, 2008
In Canada . . .
Canadian squirrels are much less cute than American squirrels.
Here's a cute little American grey squirrel:
Awww! Now have a look-see at his Canadian counterpart:
Oh, well. I guess it could be worse. It could be the dreaded Russian squirrel:
Ahh, thank you, Google Image Search.
Well, life's crazy. I don't really want to get into what I mean by that exactly until things are finalized, but I will say that I think it's true what John Lennon said: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I can't even begin to tell you the number of times life has snuck up on me and given me something great (and totally unexpected). I guess it's just a testament of the fact that there is someone up there looking out for me, and that He knows what is best for me.
Thanks.
Here's a cute little American grey squirrel:
Awww! Now have a look-see at his Canadian counterpart:
Oh, well. I guess it could be worse. It could be the dreaded Russian squirrel:
Ahh, thank you, Google Image Search.
Well, life's crazy. I don't really want to get into what I mean by that exactly until things are finalized, but I will say that I think it's true what John Lennon said: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I can't even begin to tell you the number of times life has snuck up on me and given me something great (and totally unexpected). I guess it's just a testament of the fact that there is someone up there looking out for me, and that He knows what is best for me.
Thanks.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Where are the bells and confetti?
Welcome, everyone, to my 100th post, entitled:
"O, Canada."
I've decided that Canada is what happens when America and Great Britain have a baby. Stuff is mostly the same here, but different. For instance, today I bought some gum:
Not so unusual, but vaguely reminiscent of something I recall from back home:
I also was shocked to realize that here, to end transactions, they don't always thank you. The first time I went to the grocery store here, I lingered at the counter for a good ten seconds after my transaction had ended, thinking I'd missed signing the receipt or something, because the cashier didn't thank me and wish me a good day. I left feeling cheated.
There's also matters of semantics, like calling them "washrooms" instead of "bathrooms." This is all good and well, but when your "washroom" looks something like the one in my dorm, you begin to wonder how much good it's doing you to wash there.
And then there's the luxurious room in which I'm privileged to stay. At least it has a bed, and a desk. The chairs are nothing to sing about . . .
The other thing about my dorm is that its layout is really confusing, at least to me and my already weak sense of direction. The other day, I tried exiting the building through a stairwell I thought I'd successfully used earlier that day. It turns out that it was actually an emergency exit, which somehow means that you actually CAN'T exit through it--at least not without setting off an alarm. I walked all the way up and down the stairs several times, and all of the doors to every floor were locked. I wasn't too encouraged when I saw someone else had been there before me:
Thankfully, after a relatively brief period of banging on the door, some girls working on the fourth floor came to my rescue (though they were looking at me strangely). All in all, it's been an adventure so far. Onward ho!
"O, Canada."
I've decided that Canada is what happens when America and Great Britain have a baby. Stuff is mostly the same here, but different. For instance, today I bought some gum:
Not so unusual, but vaguely reminiscent of something I recall from back home:
I also was shocked to realize that here, to end transactions, they don't always thank you. The first time I went to the grocery store here, I lingered at the counter for a good ten seconds after my transaction had ended, thinking I'd missed signing the receipt or something, because the cashier didn't thank me and wish me a good day. I left feeling cheated.
There's also matters of semantics, like calling them "washrooms" instead of "bathrooms." This is all good and well, but when your "washroom" looks something like the one in my dorm, you begin to wonder how much good it's doing you to wash there.
And then there's the luxurious room in which I'm privileged to stay. At least it has a bed, and a desk. The chairs are nothing to sing about . . .
The other thing about my dorm is that its layout is really confusing, at least to me and my already weak sense of direction. The other day, I tried exiting the building through a stairwell I thought I'd successfully used earlier that day. It turns out that it was actually an emergency exit, which somehow means that you actually CAN'T exit through it--at least not without setting off an alarm. I walked all the way up and down the stairs several times, and all of the doors to every floor were locked. I wasn't too encouraged when I saw someone else had been there before me:
Thankfully, after a relatively brief period of banging on the door, some girls working on the fourth floor came to my rescue (though they were looking at me strangely). All in all, it's been an adventure so far. Onward ho!
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