Saturday, August 6, 2011
Photo #39:
Sitting by the harbourfront at sunset today, I was waiting on a former work colleague from Montreal who was in town on business. I'm so primal in that any time I can be barefoot, I will be. I just hate shoes. I sat down at my favourite spot (that I usually only visit at night) and kicked off my shoes. I like this picture because the harbour almost seems like an infinity pool--there you have my tootsies, and behind it, just endless sea.
Sitting by the harbourfront at sunset today, I was waiting on a former work colleague from Montreal who was in town on business. I'm so primal in that any time I can be barefoot, I will be. I just hate shoes. I sat down at my favourite spot (that I usually only visit at night) and kicked off my shoes. I like this picture because the harbour almost seems like an infinity pool--there you have my tootsies, and behind it, just endless sea.
Photo #36:
I don't really know what my fascination is with benches like these, or what drove me to head on out to Peggy's Cove today after work. I shot this bench a few times in the past and just never liked the way the photo turned out, for some reason. Just couldn't get what I wanted. The sky was a fantastic shade of blue today but the more I drove out, the more overcast and gloomy it became. It has been wicked hot in Halifax lately, so it was the hazy kind of gloom where you can practically see the heat radiating off of everything. I have about 50 shots of this stupid chair, and now, I believe I found the one I want. Don't know why, but this one seems more right than all the others.
I don't really know what my fascination is with benches like these, or what drove me to head on out to Peggy's Cove today after work. I shot this bench a few times in the past and just never liked the way the photo turned out, for some reason. Just couldn't get what I wanted. The sky was a fantastic shade of blue today but the more I drove out, the more overcast and gloomy it became. It has been wicked hot in Halifax lately, so it was the hazy kind of gloom where you can practically see the heat radiating off of everything. I have about 50 shots of this stupid chair, and now, I believe I found the one I want. Don't know why, but this one seems more right than all the others.
Photo #35:
Citadel Hill is this humongous, steep fortress built on the top of downtown Halifax. It is so huge that it is visible from pretty much anywhere in the city, and it spans about 15 city blocks. Just an enormous fortress that was built in case Halifax ever got attacked (which it never did). Citadel Hill is both my best friend and my worse nemesis. I run on that hill. At the top, the road encircling the crest is built like an 8 point star--but the road rises and falls in steep inclines, just like the fortress does. I run all the way to the top--a feat in itself--then I circle it a few times, heaving as the hills zap everything I have left in my quads. When I'm not cursing it to high hell, Citadel Hill is a lovely place to get a panoramic view of the city, and to just lay on and have a picnic.
Citadel Hill is this humongous, steep fortress built on the top of downtown Halifax. It is so huge that it is visible from pretty much anywhere in the city, and it spans about 15 city blocks. Just an enormous fortress that was built in case Halifax ever got attacked (which it never did). Citadel Hill is both my best friend and my worse nemesis. I run on that hill. At the top, the road encircling the crest is built like an 8 point star--but the road rises and falls in steep inclines, just like the fortress does. I run all the way to the top--a feat in itself--then I circle it a few times, heaving as the hills zap everything I have left in my quads. When I'm not cursing it to high hell, Citadel Hill is a lovely place to get a panoramic view of the city, and to just lay on and have a picnic.
Photo #34:
"You march to the beat of your own drum, Lisa" that's something my mother always told me, and it's something that I both loved and hated to hear. I know I'm different. Sometimes I embrace that, explore it, make it grow--and sometimes I wish I was a tall, skinny blond with no intellect. Life might be easier--but it certainly wouldn't be as rich. It's funny how I see beauty in every one and every thing--except for in myself. There's a lot of things about myself I don't like, but years of therapy taught me not to speak of them, because spoken thoughts become real ones. My dark skin--everyone always thinks I'm "ethnic" or "exotic" and it's bothersome. Getting asked "what are you?" on a daily basis sucks. My hair--wild, big and curly and incapable of keeping a straight lock, especially in Halifax. My shoulders are wide. My legs are far too big. But, there are moments when I feel beautiful--sitting by the water front tonight, cross-legged on the ground just smelling my beloved ocean--I felt my own beauty. All of these things I hate on myself are slowly but surely becoming beautiful in their own way, and maybe one day--I'll find the boy that finds them beautiful, too.
"You march to the beat of your own drum, Lisa" that's something my mother always told me, and it's something that I both loved and hated to hear. I know I'm different. Sometimes I embrace that, explore it, make it grow--and sometimes I wish I was a tall, skinny blond with no intellect. Life might be easier--but it certainly wouldn't be as rich. It's funny how I see beauty in every one and every thing--except for in myself. There's a lot of things about myself I don't like, but years of therapy taught me not to speak of them, because spoken thoughts become real ones. My dark skin--everyone always thinks I'm "ethnic" or "exotic" and it's bothersome. Getting asked "what are you?" on a daily basis sucks. My hair--wild, big and curly and incapable of keeping a straight lock, especially in Halifax. My shoulders are wide. My legs are far too big. But, there are moments when I feel beautiful--sitting by the water front tonight, cross-legged on the ground just smelling my beloved ocean--I felt my own beauty. All of these things I hate on myself are slowly but surely becoming beautiful in their own way, and maybe one day--I'll find the boy that finds them beautiful, too.
Photo #33:
This is my roommate, Rebecca. Rebecca is a beautiful soul. She's a phenomenal artist over every single medium--she paints, she writes, she makes jewelry, she sculpts, draws, makes collages, designs her own clothes and she's a photographer. We're kindred spirits in a way--we have the same humour and we're both random in the most unthinkable ways. I came in stumbling on Thursday night, already well drunk, and started throwing my clothes off in an attempt to get ready. When she asked me where I was going, I told her to a club, and asked her if she wanted to come. In about 3 minutes flat, she was ready to go. She threw on short jeans shorts, a striped tank top--and black knee socks with combat boots. It would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on Rebecca, it just worked. She's this clumsy, 6'0 blazing redhead who weighs about 100lbs soaking wet, but to me she just epitomizes what it means to be beautiful--in every sense of the word. Today we made a picnic and headed up Citadel Hill to enjoy the best views of the city. I snapped this photo of her as we were laying down catching some rays.
This is my roommate, Rebecca. Rebecca is a beautiful soul. She's a phenomenal artist over every single medium--she paints, she writes, she makes jewelry, she sculpts, draws, makes collages, designs her own clothes and she's a photographer. We're kindred spirits in a way--we have the same humour and we're both random in the most unthinkable ways. I came in stumbling on Thursday night, already well drunk, and started throwing my clothes off in an attempt to get ready. When she asked me where I was going, I told her to a club, and asked her if she wanted to come. In about 3 minutes flat, she was ready to go. She threw on short jeans shorts, a striped tank top--and black knee socks with combat boots. It would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on Rebecca, it just worked. She's this clumsy, 6'0 blazing redhead who weighs about 100lbs soaking wet, but to me she just epitomizes what it means to be beautiful--in every sense of the word. Today we made a picnic and headed up Citadel Hill to enjoy the best views of the city. I snapped this photo of her as we were laying down catching some rays.
Photo #28:
These rocks just never cease to amaze me. They give Lawrencetown so much character, for as much as I hate walking across them. And for as much as I hate the creepy crawlies that lurk in the gaps (seriously, spiders the size of your fist that just jut over and under the rocks so quickly you can do nothing but squeal and pee-dance around them). This is the ramp that leads down to the water, and when I knelt down here, I swear it looked like one of those crazy, colourful ball pens I used to flitter about in when I was a kid.
These rocks just never cease to amaze me. They give Lawrencetown so much character, for as much as I hate walking across them. And for as much as I hate the creepy crawlies that lurk in the gaps (seriously, spiders the size of your fist that just jut over and under the rocks so quickly you can do nothing but squeal and pee-dance around them). This is the ramp that leads down to the water, and when I knelt down here, I swear it looked like one of those crazy, colourful ball pens I used to flitter about in when I was a kid.
Photo #26:
Because the rocks are so perilous at Lawrencetown, and because I still have a bum foot, I have to bring a more stable-soled pair of shoes with me when I go. If I wore flip flops, my foot and ankle would twist amongst all the stones and it would just be bad news. These shoes aren't rock solid, but hey, they're better than flip flops. As usual, I kicked them off in a fit of joy as soon as my toes hit the sand. I walked over a few feet to get away from the rocks, and I was putting a layer of wax on my surfboard when I looked over and thought...huh. That'd make a real pretty photo. Haphazard--like me :)
Because the rocks are so perilous at Lawrencetown, and because I still have a bum foot, I have to bring a more stable-soled pair of shoes with me when I go. If I wore flip flops, my foot and ankle would twist amongst all the stones and it would just be bad news. These shoes aren't rock solid, but hey, they're better than flip flops. As usual, I kicked them off in a fit of joy as soon as my toes hit the sand. I walked over a few feet to get away from the rocks, and I was putting a layer of wax on my surfboard when I looked over and thought...huh. That'd make a real pretty photo. Haphazard--like me :)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
he always said she was good as gold
Photo #23:
Historic Properties is this little section/sidestreet by the boardwalk that is differentiated by a small banner on a walkway above the entrance. The area itself has remained, for the most part, unchanged for hundreds of years. The appearance of cheesy shops in the hundred-year old building pictured here--dentists advertising whiter smiles, souvenir shops--kind of make me sad. The new opening of a Baton Rouge restaurant (a huge steak chain in Canada), surrounded by wonderful authentic Nova Scotia restaurants and shacks makes me downright irate. But, somehow, the quaintness, tranquility and beauty of this little spot--this little cove away from the frenzy or tourists--was somehow kept.
Historic Properties is this little section/sidestreet by the boardwalk that is differentiated by a small banner on a walkway above the entrance. The area itself has remained, for the most part, unchanged for hundreds of years. The appearance of cheesy shops in the hundred-year old building pictured here--dentists advertising whiter smiles, souvenir shops--kind of make me sad. The new opening of a Baton Rouge restaurant (a huge steak chain in Canada), surrounded by wonderful authentic Nova Scotia restaurants and shacks makes me downright irate. But, somehow, the quaintness, tranquility and beauty of this little spot--this little cove away from the frenzy or tourists--was somehow kept.
you wear nothing but you wear it so well
Photo #22:
On the Commons, across from the fountain, is what I always thought was a church. The structure, architecture and stained glass windows just lead me to assume that it was a church of some kind, especially since Halifax is pretty big on churches and has quite a few of them. But while fetching a renegade frisbee this afternoon during a game of Taps, I got in close enough to read the etching above the front door. Armory. The building all of a sudden took on a whole new eerie, gloomy vibe that gives me the willies.
On the Commons, across from the fountain, is what I always thought was a church. The structure, architecture and stained glass windows just lead me to assume that it was a church of some kind, especially since Halifax is pretty big on churches and has quite a few of them. But while fetching a renegade frisbee this afternoon during a game of Taps, I got in close enough to read the etching above the front door. Armory. The building all of a sudden took on a whole new eerie, gloomy vibe that gives me the willies.
take some time and think about it
Photo #21:
Downtown Halifax is separated into three main parts--South End, where I lived last year, mainstream downtown by the harbour, and North End, where I live this year. North End is the cultural district of Halifax, on my street there's about 6 Greek tavernas, a few Turkish coffee houses, a ton of Korean restos and some dodgy Donair joints. There's also a wide open space called the Commons. The Commons are....they're strange. It's just this massive urban square space that's about 6 city blocks in total. There's 9 baseball fields, 4 soccer fields, a running track, and 3 football fields, and various winding walking paths. The grandeur is ridiculous. And despite the fact that it's a wide open space--somehow, walking across it, I always get lost. The path turns and twists and while the whole time you can see exactly where you're going, you get so disoriented because everything looks the same. The 360 view around you with the buildings and trees looks exactly the same, no matter which way you turn. Many time I thought I was headed home only to come face to face with Citadel Hill--on the opposite end of where I need to be. This beautiful fountain is facing where I live (I think), and it just looked regal with the backdrop of heavy clouds that day.
Downtown Halifax is separated into three main parts--South End, where I lived last year, mainstream downtown by the harbour, and North End, where I live this year. North End is the cultural district of Halifax, on my street there's about 6 Greek tavernas, a few Turkish coffee houses, a ton of Korean restos and some dodgy Donair joints. There's also a wide open space called the Commons. The Commons are....they're strange. It's just this massive urban square space that's about 6 city blocks in total. There's 9 baseball fields, 4 soccer fields, a running track, and 3 football fields, and various winding walking paths. The grandeur is ridiculous. And despite the fact that it's a wide open space--somehow, walking across it, I always get lost. The path turns and twists and while the whole time you can see exactly where you're going, you get so disoriented because everything looks the same. The 360 view around you with the buildings and trees looks exactly the same, no matter which way you turn. Many time I thought I was headed home only to come face to face with Citadel Hill--on the opposite end of where I need to be. This beautiful fountain is facing where I live (I think), and it just looked regal with the backdrop of heavy clouds that day.
who says we don't need love
Photo #20:
One of the very first things that put Nova Scotia on the map for me was a photo that was taken along this part of the boardwalk. The photographer had stood on a ramp of what I now know is the Marriott Harbourfront hotel, and had snapped a photo of these lamp posts with Salty's, the famous seafood restaurant, hazy in the background. I saw the photo and thought "this...this is a place I need to see." There's something lovely about these lamp posts that border the harbourfront, on dark nights they create a haze and it's almost as if you're walking amongst clouds. They're also oddly comforting, making you feel not so alone on a solitary walk of self-reflection. Often times through the winter, I'd sit in bed, close my eyes, and imagine I was standing right here, breathing in the salt water, hearing the faint sound of celtic music. This photo captures the image of my mind for the past nine months: home.
One of the very first things that put Nova Scotia on the map for me was a photo that was taken along this part of the boardwalk. The photographer had stood on a ramp of what I now know is the Marriott Harbourfront hotel, and had snapped a photo of these lamp posts with Salty's, the famous seafood restaurant, hazy in the background. I saw the photo and thought "this...this is a place I need to see." There's something lovely about these lamp posts that border the harbourfront, on dark nights they create a haze and it's almost as if you're walking amongst clouds. They're also oddly comforting, making you feel not so alone on a solitary walk of self-reflection. Often times through the winter, I'd sit in bed, close my eyes, and imagine I was standing right here, breathing in the salt water, hearing the faint sound of celtic music. This photo captures the image of my mind for the past nine months: home.
I'll give it all til you can feel it
Photo #19:
I've said it many times, but one of the things that I love so much about Halifax is how you can be in the middle of downtown and by just surrounded by the ocean. Before I moved here last summer, I had no idea how much of a big port Halifax was. I mean, Montreal is a port city--but it's mainly industrial. Here in Halifax, these monstrous cruise ships just pull up and dock, and the locals run for cover. On a random day last year, I was walking around downtown and all I heard was German. I was totally culture shocked and couldn't figure out what the hell had happened to my beloved city--and then I saw the cruise ship. It's a bit of a sore sight to see, considering it blocks some amazing views of islands with lighthouses on them.
I've said it many times, but one of the things that I love so much about Halifax is how you can be in the middle of downtown and by just surrounded by the ocean. Before I moved here last summer, I had no idea how much of a big port Halifax was. I mean, Montreal is a port city--but it's mainly industrial. Here in Halifax, these monstrous cruise ships just pull up and dock, and the locals run for cover. On a random day last year, I was walking around downtown and all I heard was German. I was totally culture shocked and couldn't figure out what the hell had happened to my beloved city--and then I saw the cruise ship. It's a bit of a sore sight to see, considering it blocks some amazing views of islands with lighthouses on them.
and i'm running but you're getting away
Photo #18:
Lawrencetown Beach is, primarily, a rocky beach. At first I thought it was great, because rocks are way less messy than sand is. But after walking 5 feet across the rocks, I quickly changed my mind. They move under your feet and make you extremely unsteady, sliding out as you walk and twisting your ankles. It's a perilous journey indeed. Beyond perilous, if you're in flip flops. But the colour and texture that these silly, spiteful rocks bring to my beloved surfing beach just can't be matched.
Lawrencetown Beach is, primarily, a rocky beach. At first I thought it was great, because rocks are way less messy than sand is. But after walking 5 feet across the rocks, I quickly changed my mind. They move under your feet and make you extremely unsteady, sliding out as you walk and twisting your ankles. It's a perilous journey indeed. Beyond perilous, if you're in flip flops. But the colour and texture that these silly, spiteful rocks bring to my beloved surfing beach just can't be matched.
it's getting lonely living upside down
Photo #16:
Nova Scotians love their beer, and they make a damn good brew. Keith's is served proudly and ice cold in any self-respecting food or beverage joint in Halifax and people here talk about him as if he was Gandhi. This building was constructed in 1820 and still stands by the waterfront today. It's a museum, a pub, and it doubles as the Halifax farmers' market on Saturday mornings. It has been the market for decades, but last year, Halifax constructed the Seaport Market right on the waterfront. It was a big move to attract tourists--the huge windows, the panoramic views of the sea. But at much as Nova Scotians love their brew--they love their traditions, more. A lot of the farmers and vendors refused to move from the Brewery and set up shops in the new market. Some of my favourite ones did, but other favourites didn't. Running between the two markets at 7AM on a Saturday morning is inconvenient, but I respect their stance and their fierce desire to protect tradition so much, that I do it anyway. Cheers, Nova Scotia.
Nova Scotians love their beer, and they make a damn good brew. Keith's is served proudly and ice cold in any self-respecting food or beverage joint in Halifax and people here talk about him as if he was Gandhi. This building was constructed in 1820 and still stands by the waterfront today. It's a museum, a pub, and it doubles as the Halifax farmers' market on Saturday mornings. It has been the market for decades, but last year, Halifax constructed the Seaport Market right on the waterfront. It was a big move to attract tourists--the huge windows, the panoramic views of the sea. But at much as Nova Scotians love their brew--they love their traditions, more. A lot of the farmers and vendors refused to move from the Brewery and set up shops in the new market. Some of my favourite ones did, but other favourites didn't. Running between the two markets at 7AM on a Saturday morning is inconvenient, but I respect their stance and their fierce desire to protect tradition so much, that I do it anyway. Cheers, Nova Scotia.
see how i leave with every piece of you
Photo #15:
I work in a suburb called Clayton Park, which is this nifty community of very nice homes that have beautiful gardens and lovely wrought iron fences. There's no escaping that it's a fairly, fairly wealthy community. I drive through some back roads just to avoid traffic lights and I saw these little two canoes just hangin' out in the lake. And I thought now aren't they neat....but how are the owners going to get to them? More importantly, how did they get them there to begin with?
I work in a suburb called Clayton Park, which is this nifty community of very nice homes that have beautiful gardens and lovely wrought iron fences. There's no escaping that it's a fairly, fairly wealthy community. I drive through some back roads just to avoid traffic lights and I saw these little two canoes just hangin' out in the lake. And I thought now aren't they neat....but how are the owners going to get to them? More importantly, how did they get them there to begin with?
no olive branch no high-winged dove
Photo #14:
Park benches fall under the category of Strange Things Lisa Finds Fascinating. They always just seem so...melancholy. I don't know what it is about them. Halifax as a lot of random green space interspersed throughout the city in awkward places, like between two major intersections--where you'd find this space. I live off a side street that borders a main boulevard, and just randomly, there's this little mini forest of a few trees, some picnic tables--and this park bench. I find it strangely alluring.
Park benches fall under the category of Strange Things Lisa Finds Fascinating. They always just seem so...melancholy. I don't know what it is about them. Halifax as a lot of random green space interspersed throughout the city in awkward places, like between two major intersections--where you'd find this space. I live off a side street that borders a main boulevard, and just randomly, there's this little mini forest of a few trees, some picnic tables--and this park bench. I find it strangely alluring.
i stayed here all season
Photo #13
These flower bushes are sprinkled all across downtown Halifax, and despite the cold and dreary weather, the bursts of colour are in full bloom. They smell vaguely of lavender, honey, and the signature smell of salt that permeates the air in any ocean town. It's been gray, wet and cold since I got here, with maybe one full day of sunshine. How these flowers bloomed, I haven't a clue--but they sure do add a bit of sweetness to a thunderstorm-filled Monday.
These flower bushes are sprinkled all across downtown Halifax, and despite the cold and dreary weather, the bursts of colour are in full bloom. They smell vaguely of lavender, honey, and the signature smell of salt that permeates the air in any ocean town. It's been gray, wet and cold since I got here, with maybe one full day of sunshine. How these flowers bloomed, I haven't a clue--but they sure do add a bit of sweetness to a thunderstorm-filled Monday.
it's how they've always been and they intend to stay
Photo #12:
Everything about Nova Scotia is so wonderfully old school, and perhaps even more charming is the fact that they have access to all new gadgetry and big city things--they just choose to stay the old school route. It's amazing. They still have the milkman, the ice cream truck, the chip wagons. And they still have these neat old school mailboxes out on the front lawn, where the mailman will actually put the little flag up when he puts an envelope inside. In all of my big city slicker style, I've only ever hand the clangy mailboxes attached by your door that make an awful racket whenever you open or close them.
Everything about Nova Scotia is so wonderfully old school, and perhaps even more charming is the fact that they have access to all new gadgetry and big city things--they just choose to stay the old school route. It's amazing. They still have the milkman, the ice cream truck, the chip wagons. And they still have these neat old school mailboxes out on the front lawn, where the mailman will actually put the little flag up when he puts an envelope inside. In all of my big city slicker style, I've only ever hand the clangy mailboxes attached by your door that make an awful racket whenever you open or close them.
but there's booze in the blender
Photo #11:
Hubbards is a small town right on a harbour about 40 minutes outside of downtown Halifax. It's the type of small town where the people who are there have been there for 70 years, and their accents are a muddle of Scottish, Irish, and good 'ole thick Nova Scotia Canadian. It's the type where they speak to you and by the end of a 90 second rant you have your head tilted like a puppy dog, and the only thing you can manage to say is "...WHAT?!" Hubbards is a town I'm pretty sure my parents are going to retire in. The Shore Club is an amazing restaurant that I go to every single Saturday, where the waitresses know me by name. Best lobster on the island. So fresh, in fact, that they keep their traps in the ocean while they wait for your order. Every few minutes you can see one of the chefs go running out the back of the restaurant, lift a trap from the water, grab a lobster and go running back in. It don't get fresher than that. For $25, you can have yourself a glass of wine, all you can eat salad bar, all you can eat mussels, and a 2.5lbs "nipper" (that's what they call lobsters). Enough to have you rolling out and down the steps after.
Hubbards is a small town right on a harbour about 40 minutes outside of downtown Halifax. It's the type of small town where the people who are there have been there for 70 years, and their accents are a muddle of Scottish, Irish, and good 'ole thick Nova Scotia Canadian. It's the type where they speak to you and by the end of a 90 second rant you have your head tilted like a puppy dog, and the only thing you can manage to say is "...WHAT?!" Hubbards is a town I'm pretty sure my parents are going to retire in. The Shore Club is an amazing restaurant that I go to every single Saturday, where the waitresses know me by name. Best lobster on the island. So fresh, in fact, that they keep their traps in the ocean while they wait for your order. Every few minutes you can see one of the chefs go running out the back of the restaurant, lift a trap from the water, grab a lobster and go running back in. It don't get fresher than that. For $25, you can have yourself a glass of wine, all you can eat salad bar, all you can eat mussels, and a 2.5lbs "nipper" (that's what they call lobsters). Enough to have you rolling out and down the steps after.
Photo #10:
The harbour has all of these lifesavers sprinkled around as you walk, and I love the neat reminder that hey--you are in fact by the ocean. It also surprises me that these things just stay neatly in their place all day and all night. I can't help but think of how ridiculous that would be in Montreal--within one hour, guarenteed the things would be stolen and the sign would be vandalized. But not here. Here, restaurants leave their chairs and tables out on their patios when they close up, because people just understand. The amount of respect everyone has for public property never ceases to amaze this hardened city slicker.
The harbour has all of these lifesavers sprinkled around as you walk, and I love the neat reminder that hey--you are in fact by the ocean. It also surprises me that these things just stay neatly in their place all day and all night. I can't help but think of how ridiculous that would be in Montreal--within one hour, guarenteed the things would be stolen and the sign would be vandalized. But not here. Here, restaurants leave their chairs and tables out on their patios when they close up, because people just understand. The amount of respect everyone has for public property never ceases to amaze this hardened city slicker.
get on the highway and point yourself my way
Photo #9:
I love these trees. Not quite Weeping Willows, but close. This beauty is planted in the Public Gardens right by a pond, and the way the branches just dip down, almost like a waterfall, is just mesmerizing. There really isn't a whole lot to say about it, I was just so enraptured when I stepped under the tree. I felt like hugging it. Perhaps things this beautiful should not even have accompanying words.
I love these trees. Not quite Weeping Willows, but close. This beauty is planted in the Public Gardens right by a pond, and the way the branches just dip down, almost like a waterfall, is just mesmerizing. There really isn't a whole lot to say about it, I was just so enraptured when I stepped under the tree. I felt like hugging it. Perhaps things this beautiful should not even have accompanying words.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
people walk a tight rope on a razor's edge
Photo #8:
Today was a tough photo day. All day I just couldn't find things to photograph that weren't enormously cheesy--the beach is great, but it's also cliche. So are some parts of the boardwalk. It was a total photography block. I sat down on one of my favourite sections of the boardwalk near Purdy's Wharf, where little benches jut out into the harbour and you can just sit and think. A seagull started squawking incessantly, rousing me from my adventures on another planet. I contemplated throwing a rock at the stupid thing, but when I looked over, he was perfectly perched on top of a small lantern, almost posing. And I thought well now, ain't you a sight to see?
Today was a tough photo day. All day I just couldn't find things to photograph that weren't enormously cheesy--the beach is great, but it's also cliche. So are some parts of the boardwalk. It was a total photography block. I sat down on one of my favourite sections of the boardwalk near Purdy's Wharf, where little benches jut out into the harbour and you can just sit and think. A seagull started squawking incessantly, rousing me from my adventures on another planet. I contemplated throwing a rock at the stupid thing, but when I looked over, he was perfectly perched on top of a small lantern, almost posing. And I thought well now, ain't you a sight to see?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
love was just a dream i had when i was in your bed
Photo #7:
I have a strange attraction to slightly odd things; wooden docks, boardwalks of any kind, picnic tables--and buoys. I love buoys, and I have no idea why. Peggy's Cove is a beautiful area for obvious reasons, but hidden amongst the outer beauty is little treasures--rolling hills where houses sit on top, seemingly precariously balanced atop the crest. Wooden swinging doors to shops that never lock, because who would steal something out there? There are art galleries nestled along the winding road leading to the famous lighthouse, and little cafes beckon you to come in and take a load off your feet, and enjoy some of Aunt Mae's famous pie. But beneath the tourist charm, there's another kind of charm--the kind where you realize that amongst the tourists, there are small town Nova Scotian folk, making a living the only way they know how--through fishing and hard work. Little houses here have their lobster traps set out front with their small canoes or fishing boats resting in the water behind their house. Call it tricks of the trade, call it family tradition, call it small town living--or call it a hidden cove of hometown beauty in a place bustling with foreign folk.
I have a strange attraction to slightly odd things; wooden docks, boardwalks of any kind, picnic tables--and buoys. I love buoys, and I have no idea why. Peggy's Cove is a beautiful area for obvious reasons, but hidden amongst the outer beauty is little treasures--rolling hills where houses sit on top, seemingly precariously balanced atop the crest. Wooden swinging doors to shops that never lock, because who would steal something out there? There are art galleries nestled along the winding road leading to the famous lighthouse, and little cafes beckon you to come in and take a load off your feet, and enjoy some of Aunt Mae's famous pie. But beneath the tourist charm, there's another kind of charm--the kind where you realize that amongst the tourists, there are small town Nova Scotian folk, making a living the only way they know how--through fishing and hard work. Little houses here have their lobster traps set out front with their small canoes or fishing boats resting in the water behind their house. Call it tricks of the trade, call it family tradition, call it small town living--or call it a hidden cove of hometown beauty in a place bustling with foreign folk.
Monday, June 6, 2011
won't you come with me little girl on a magic carpet ride
Photo #6:
At this particular point of the boardwalk, close to one end of it, you come across two of my favourite restaurants--the Hart & Thistle in the forefront here, and Salty's right beside it. At night, with the soft glow of the boardwalk lights and the MacDonald bridge in the background, this place just becomes alive. Celtic music is played softly (or loudly, depending on the vibe of the town that night) and people sit outside and enjoy dinner at 10PM at night. Halifax is a town that comes alive in the summer, and this span of 100 meters is the heartbeat of the city.
At this particular point of the boardwalk, close to one end of it, you come across two of my favourite restaurants--the Hart & Thistle in the forefront here, and Salty's right beside it. At night, with the soft glow of the boardwalk lights and the MacDonald bridge in the background, this place just becomes alive. Celtic music is played softly (or loudly, depending on the vibe of the town that night) and people sit outside and enjoy dinner at 10PM at night. Halifax is a town that comes alive in the summer, and this span of 100 meters is the heartbeat of the city.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
boy you got my heartbeat running away
Photo #5:
Crystal Crescent is a beach in Sambro, some twenty minutes outside of the city but still technically in Halifax. It's beautiful white sand and clear water are reminiscent of what you might find in Cuba or Mexico, but here you're also surrounded by wild blackberry and raspberry bushes. You have to walk about half a mile on one of those wooden boardwalks that I love so much, through the bushes and past some gravel dirt road. You start to see some rock formations and then there's nothing but blue ocean and white sand in front of you. Every time I see sand, I can't bear to walk through it with shoes on. Whatever footwear I'm wearing comes flying off and I traipse through the sand barefoot. Sandals in the sand is one of my favourite picture themes--like a tank full of gas in a car, it just speaks to me of endless chances, love, and unwritten stories that the summer will bring. So hop on, let's go for a ride.
Crystal Crescent is a beach in Sambro, some twenty minutes outside of the city but still technically in Halifax. It's beautiful white sand and clear water are reminiscent of what you might find in Cuba or Mexico, but here you're also surrounded by wild blackberry and raspberry bushes. You have to walk about half a mile on one of those wooden boardwalks that I love so much, through the bushes and past some gravel dirt road. You start to see some rock formations and then there's nothing but blue ocean and white sand in front of you. Every time I see sand, I can't bear to walk through it with shoes on. Whatever footwear I'm wearing comes flying off and I traipse through the sand barefoot. Sandals in the sand is one of my favourite picture themes--like a tank full of gas in a car, it just speaks to me of endless chances, love, and unwritten stories that the summer will bring. So hop on, let's go for a ride.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
not all those who wander are lost
Photo #4:
Right on the cusp of downtown Halifax, there's an enclosed area of about 3 blocks called the Public Gardens. I tend to avoid all areas with the term "garden" as I'm pretty much allergic to every plant that has ever existed. But with the pollen not quite in full effect yet, I couldn't help but wander into the Gardens to take a peak. It was filled with these old pedestrian bridges and beautiful ponds and fountains. It was like a miniature enchanted forest. They had these trees everywhere--these beautiful trees that spouted the pink flower in the picture. It reminded me a little of a Japanese Cherry Blossom, which is one of my most prized sights.
Right on the cusp of downtown Halifax, there's an enclosed area of about 3 blocks called the Public Gardens. I tend to avoid all areas with the term "garden" as I'm pretty much allergic to every plant that has ever existed. But with the pollen not quite in full effect yet, I couldn't help but wander into the Gardens to take a peak. It was filled with these old pedestrian bridges and beautiful ponds and fountains. It was like a miniature enchanted forest. They had these trees everywhere--these beautiful trees that spouted the pink flower in the picture. It reminded me a little of a Japanese Cherry Blossom, which is one of my most prized sights.
an open path with nowhere to go
Photo #3:
For the summer, a few really popular brands--mostly beer or spirit companies--will hire promotional reps to go along the boardwalk and solicit people. You start to see a pattern in the middle of the summer--tequila companies will hrie beautiful women and dress them in booty shorts and bras, have them walk around the boardwalk handing out shot glasses. Beer companies will rent motorized bikes and have "parties" cruise by. This year, Milwaukee hired a group of 6 guys who perform stunts all over the boardwalk--these guys just backflip over garbage bins, run up walls, all kinds of crazy stuff. I caught this guy as he flipped into a handstand on one of the posts that anchor a ship to the dock.
For the summer, a few really popular brands--mostly beer or spirit companies--will hire promotional reps to go along the boardwalk and solicit people. You start to see a pattern in the middle of the summer--tequila companies will hrie beautiful women and dress them in booty shorts and bras, have them walk around the boardwalk handing out shot glasses. Beer companies will rent motorized bikes and have "parties" cruise by. This year, Milwaukee hired a group of 6 guys who perform stunts all over the boardwalk--these guys just backflip over garbage bins, run up walls, all kinds of crazy stuff. I caught this guy as he flipped into a handstand on one of the posts that anchor a ship to the dock.
i wish that i could have this moment for life
Photo #2:
Once you get to Lawrencetown Beach, there's a ramp and these stairs leading from the gravel parking lot to the ocean. I have a tendency to kick off my flip flops as soon as I'm out the car, and go bounding up these steps barefoot. You could hear the ocean before you see--it roars. On this particular day, while it was beautiful sunshine in Halifax, there was a thick haze in the basin of Lawrencetown. While I still heard and smelled the ocean, the fog made it impossible to see. It was magical.
Once you get to Lawrencetown Beach, there's a ramp and these stairs leading from the gravel parking lot to the ocean. I have a tendency to kick off my flip flops as soon as I'm out the car, and go bounding up these steps barefoot. You could hear the ocean before you see--it roars. On this particular day, while it was beautiful sunshine in Halifax, there was a thick haze in the basin of Lawrencetown. While I still heard and smelled the ocean, the fog made it impossible to see. It was magical.
Friday, June 3, 2011
life is the bubbles under the sea
Photo #1:
The drive to Lawrencetown Beach is about 30 minutes outside of the city, through trees and winding roads where the 80km/h speed limit seems dangerously too fast. Eventually, you're met with a steep hill and an old mansion at the top--the mansion was converted into Kannon Beach, a surf shop. Set on a gravel patch of land surrounded by green grass that seems to suddenly stop and leave you precariously balance don the edge of a huge cliff--the boys at Kannon Beach put out these little seats, for people to just stop and enjoy the view. When you're standing here, it looks like you could see into forever.
The drive to Lawrencetown Beach is about 30 minutes outside of the city, through trees and winding roads where the 80km/h speed limit seems dangerously too fast. Eventually, you're met with a steep hill and an old mansion at the top--the mansion was converted into Kannon Beach, a surf shop. Set on a gravel patch of land surrounded by green grass that seems to suddenly stop and leave you precariously balance don the edge of a huge cliff--the boys at Kannon Beach put out these little seats, for people to just stop and enjoy the view. When you're standing here, it looks like you could see into forever.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
i must be one of the wonders
More often that not, life gives you everything that you ask for.
But most times what you ask for is delivered piece by piece, lesson by lesson, with some few extra pieces that you really didn't need but were thrown at you just to put you off kilter.
Some people leave the pieces scattered on the floor, and walk away bitter. Some stand confused, waiting for someone else to make sense of the puzzle lying in front of them.
But then some people delicately place every piece as it comes to them, where they think it should go. And by the time you are done putting two and two together, at the end you stand and realize that not only is everything you asked for right in front of you, but you learned the lessons as you put it together yourself, broken piece by broken piece.
But most times what you ask for is delivered piece by piece, lesson by lesson, with some few extra pieces that you really didn't need but were thrown at you just to put you off kilter.
Some people leave the pieces scattered on the floor, and walk away bitter. Some stand confused, waiting for someone else to make sense of the puzzle lying in front of them.
But then some people delicately place every piece as it comes to them, where they think it should go. And by the time you are done putting two and two together, at the end you stand and realize that not only is everything you asked for right in front of you, but you learned the lessons as you put it together yourself, broken piece by broken piece.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
harken all you fallen angels
I know that I've always been indecisive, switching from idea to idea like my life was on a teeter-totter. One second I'm here, the next I'm way over there with different wants and a whole new outlook. I've dragged friends to a restaurant claiming a certain craving that wouldn't let up--then I've looked at the menu, started talking incessantly about another dish, then ultimately end up ordering something I had never even mentioned. Indecisive.
But the way I've been since February...it's a whole other category of indecisive. It's new, even to me--and it's worrisome.
One second I'm hellbent on getting my MBA from a particular university in the States. The next second, I'm determined to quit my job and move to Halifax again for the summer, and push for another better job in September. The next second, I want to keep my current job, stay in Montreal and see how it all plays out.
Underneath it all, rooted deeply below all this indecision is a cause more frightening than any I've ever encountered.
I don't know what makes me happy anymore.
This has never happened to me before.
I have always known what made me happy, and I used to make myself crazy chasing it. But at least I knew what it was, and ultimately when I got it, I was happy.
Last year at this time, Halifax made me happy. The year before that, applying to grad school made me really happy. In January, getting a full time job in my field on salary made me happy.
But since February, every time I ask myself what makes me happy...I can't find an answer.
I don't have an answer.
Halifax makes me happy, I guess. But I don't want to take a meaningless full time job there and live with roommates and be away from my friends for 3 months. When I started apartment and job hunting there this afternoon, I thought man, what a pain in the ass to go through this. I didn't feel that way last year. I was pumped. I can't even explain why, but when I give myself the option to move there for 3 months...I don't want to. I don't know why. But there's something in me that says no.
Montreal doesn't make me unhappy enough to quit this job and move. But I'm unhappy where I am, in the bachelor of my parent's house with them always a little too close for me to feel really free.
I want to go back to school and get my MBA, but I also don't much feel like moving to the US and incurring $60,000 in debt over two years.
Since February I've had this emptiness in me--this giant black hole that has been draining me and draining me. I knew something was wrong. My habits changed. I started hating myself again--I'd pull and tug at my clothes, cross my arms over my stomach. Mentally counted calories and beat myself up everytime I ate. I looked in the mirror and saw a girl that I thought was fat, hideous. Empty. I started running too much. Every time I ran I envisioned myself running away from everything. I'd come back physically exhausted but mentally, my mind would still be reeling. Weird dreams. Malaise. Heart palpitations. Just this giant pit of black that sucks every ounce of energy out of you. No will to do pleasurable things anymore--baking, cooking, dancing, thinking peacefully. All the things that balanced me were now empty.
It's the loneliest thing in the world, to not know what makes you happy anymore. Because nobody can help.
But the way I've been since February...it's a whole other category of indecisive. It's new, even to me--and it's worrisome.
One second I'm hellbent on getting my MBA from a particular university in the States. The next second, I'm determined to quit my job and move to Halifax again for the summer, and push for another better job in September. The next second, I want to keep my current job, stay in Montreal and see how it all plays out.
Underneath it all, rooted deeply below all this indecision is a cause more frightening than any I've ever encountered.
I don't know what makes me happy anymore.
This has never happened to me before.
I have always known what made me happy, and I used to make myself crazy chasing it. But at least I knew what it was, and ultimately when I got it, I was happy.
Last year at this time, Halifax made me happy. The year before that, applying to grad school made me really happy. In January, getting a full time job in my field on salary made me happy.
But since February, every time I ask myself what makes me happy...I can't find an answer.
I don't have an answer.
Halifax makes me happy, I guess. But I don't want to take a meaningless full time job there and live with roommates and be away from my friends for 3 months. When I started apartment and job hunting there this afternoon, I thought man, what a pain in the ass to go through this. I didn't feel that way last year. I was pumped. I can't even explain why, but when I give myself the option to move there for 3 months...I don't want to. I don't know why. But there's something in me that says no.
Montreal doesn't make me unhappy enough to quit this job and move. But I'm unhappy where I am, in the bachelor of my parent's house with them always a little too close for me to feel really free.
I want to go back to school and get my MBA, but I also don't much feel like moving to the US and incurring $60,000 in debt over two years.
Since February I've had this emptiness in me--this giant black hole that has been draining me and draining me. I knew something was wrong. My habits changed. I started hating myself again--I'd pull and tug at my clothes, cross my arms over my stomach. Mentally counted calories and beat myself up everytime I ate. I looked in the mirror and saw a girl that I thought was fat, hideous. Empty. I started running too much. Every time I ran I envisioned myself running away from everything. I'd come back physically exhausted but mentally, my mind would still be reeling. Weird dreams. Malaise. Heart palpitations. Just this giant pit of black that sucks every ounce of energy out of you. No will to do pleasurable things anymore--baking, cooking, dancing, thinking peacefully. All the things that balanced me were now empty.
It's the loneliest thing in the world, to not know what makes you happy anymore. Because nobody can help.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
and i know my kingdom awaits
I wonder if I'll ever get to where I want to be.
I wonder if somebody will ever look at my CV, know that I probably don't have all the experience necessary, but hire me anyway. I wonder if somebody will one day see the drive and determination to succeed that exhausts me everyday.
I wonder if I'll ever find peace. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to let go.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to hang on for just another little while.
I wonder if I'll ever learn how to fail, but more importantly, I wonder if I'll ever learn how to accept that I've succeeded.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to take it easy on myself.
I wonder if I'll ever learn that moving forward is good, but sometimes, standing still and looking around is even better.
The people who claimed that having goals was a good thing were the ones who have achieved every goal they've ever had. Somebody should tell them that some goals are bad. And those are the goals that you don't achieve, and they eat you alive and gnaw at your heart and induce screaming fits of rage.
Goals are not good to have. Because when you don't win - and you won't always win - then those goals destroy you.
I wonder if I'll ever find peace.
I wonder if somebody will ever look at my CV, know that I probably don't have all the experience necessary, but hire me anyway. I wonder if somebody will one day see the drive and determination to succeed that exhausts me everyday.
I wonder if I'll ever find peace. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to let go.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to hang on for just another little while.
I wonder if I'll ever learn how to fail, but more importantly, I wonder if I'll ever learn how to accept that I've succeeded.
I wonder if I'll ever learn to take it easy on myself.
I wonder if I'll ever learn that moving forward is good, but sometimes, standing still and looking around is even better.
The people who claimed that having goals was a good thing were the ones who have achieved every goal they've ever had. Somebody should tell them that some goals are bad. And those are the goals that you don't achieve, and they eat you alive and gnaw at your heart and induce screaming fits of rage.
Goals are not good to have. Because when you don't win - and you won't always win - then those goals destroy you.
I wonder if I'll ever find peace.
Friday, January 28, 2011
don't let me get me
I've always heard that life was about choices. Ever since I was a kid, it's a saying that's been hammered so deeply into my brain that I can't even remember who was the perpetrator of the verbal assault.
Life is about choices.
In my depression-ridden 17-year old brain, choices also equated sacrifice. It meant that I would, continuously, have to do things that I don't like doing in order to do things that I wanted to do. The concept became a familiarity to me--I did a lot of things I didn't like doing to ensure that every now and then, I'd get to do something I loved to do. Working crazy overtime for 4 months, for instance, to pay a trip to Cuba.
Choices meant sacrifices.
Nobody ever warned me that when you get older, sometimes choices have you bound and gagged in a place where you're forced to choose between two things you love so much--because where one is, the other doesn't exist.
Those are the worst choices, because you never win.
To say that I've been unhappy since returning from Halifax would be an understatement. I am downright miserable. Fed up. So over Montreal and the life I lead in it. So angry and depressed and constantly at war with myself because I'm just never happy anymore.
And when I'm alone with my monsters and I force myself to think and to analyze, to really dig down deep--I realize the only time in my life where I have been happy--and I mean happy--was when I lived in Halifax.
Was I running away from something there? Trying to trick myself into finding a false sense of happiness, secure in the certainty that it's easy to find happiness in something with an expiry date on it? No. I thought maybe that was the case when I came back to Montreal, so I stewed over it. Mentally beat myself up over it. Tore the curtain off my eyes and forced myself to really think.
I wasn't running away in Halifax. I wasn't even looking for something. But I sure did discover what I never even knew I was missing. And now I can't let it go.
Halifax felt like home. By no means is it paradise, but paradise is nowhere perfect and everywhere that just feels so right. I was just happy there.
So now, I'm stuck in a job that I hate, bound in a cubicle that I want to set fire to. My life is a mess of 9-5 mundane work shifts with hour lunch breaks and no energy left to do anything else. I'm living in a city that sucks the little spark I have left right out of me--a city where people slam doors in your faces and hurry from A to B and individuals become faceless masses.
Last week was the 7th anniversary since my grandpa passed away. Life seems short to me right now. And I'm wondering, that if life is indeed about choices--then why am I still here? Why am I wasting precious time--even a second--being in a place where I don't want to be?
I'm still here because life is exactly about choices, and I have to choose between two loves.
I have wanted to work in the NHL for a long, long time. The few tastes I get in the industry make me drunk with anticipation. I get so fired up over that league. Working the Winter Classic was an experience I will never forget, and every single time I work for Hockey Night in Canada, I am delirious with happy. I'm actually giddy over it, because it's such a trip for me.
Halifax is the only place I can call home. The feeling I get there is second to none. I am happy there. The ocean, the people, the atmosphere, the ambiance--everything about Halifax just reaches out and captures me in it's embrace. My gut feeling is yelling at me to go there. I'm big on instincts and mine are on fire about that city. It's calling me. Telling me to pick up and move there. It's saying that I don't have it all figured out, but nobody ever does and things will work out exactly the way they're suppsoed to. It's asking me why I'm wasting time being unhappy, when the choice is mine to make.
It would seem fitting, then, that one can't exist with the other. Where one is, the other isn't.
Halifax does not have an NHL team. It probably never will.
So, what's an almost-mid-twenties girl to do? My heart is screaming at me to go to Halifax. But my heart's worse enemy--my logic--is asking the tough questions. You can't live life on instinct, you'll end up homeless and in a box. People need to live. You need to have a job, make money, have a place to sleep.
I do not work in the NHL full time right now. But, I do have the opportunity to do really important contract work that I'm hoping--HOPING--will one day turn into a full time gig. Moving to Halifax would mean totally removing myself from a world I'm partially involved in. But partial is better than none, and if I leave now, I may never get another chance.
But I may never get a chance if I stay in Montreal, either.
Do I leave my big-girl job, go with the feeling that life is too short to live even a second in a place where you don't want to be, and figure it all out when I get there? Or do I stay, unhappy for the moment, but hope that one day it will get better? That one day I'll get a shot and all this misery will seem worth it?
Life is about choices. And I've always made bad ones.
Life is about choices.
In my depression-ridden 17-year old brain, choices also equated sacrifice. It meant that I would, continuously, have to do things that I don't like doing in order to do things that I wanted to do. The concept became a familiarity to me--I did a lot of things I didn't like doing to ensure that every now and then, I'd get to do something I loved to do. Working crazy overtime for 4 months, for instance, to pay a trip to Cuba.
Choices meant sacrifices.
Nobody ever warned me that when you get older, sometimes choices have you bound and gagged in a place where you're forced to choose between two things you love so much--because where one is, the other doesn't exist.
Those are the worst choices, because you never win.
To say that I've been unhappy since returning from Halifax would be an understatement. I am downright miserable. Fed up. So over Montreal and the life I lead in it. So angry and depressed and constantly at war with myself because I'm just never happy anymore.
And when I'm alone with my monsters and I force myself to think and to analyze, to really dig down deep--I realize the only time in my life where I have been happy--and I mean happy--was when I lived in Halifax.
Was I running away from something there? Trying to trick myself into finding a false sense of happiness, secure in the certainty that it's easy to find happiness in something with an expiry date on it? No. I thought maybe that was the case when I came back to Montreal, so I stewed over it. Mentally beat myself up over it. Tore the curtain off my eyes and forced myself to really think.
I wasn't running away in Halifax. I wasn't even looking for something. But I sure did discover what I never even knew I was missing. And now I can't let it go.
Halifax felt like home. By no means is it paradise, but paradise is nowhere perfect and everywhere that just feels so right. I was just happy there.
So now, I'm stuck in a job that I hate, bound in a cubicle that I want to set fire to. My life is a mess of 9-5 mundane work shifts with hour lunch breaks and no energy left to do anything else. I'm living in a city that sucks the little spark I have left right out of me--a city where people slam doors in your faces and hurry from A to B and individuals become faceless masses.
Last week was the 7th anniversary since my grandpa passed away. Life seems short to me right now. And I'm wondering, that if life is indeed about choices--then why am I still here? Why am I wasting precious time--even a second--being in a place where I don't want to be?
I'm still here because life is exactly about choices, and I have to choose between two loves.
I have wanted to work in the NHL for a long, long time. The few tastes I get in the industry make me drunk with anticipation. I get so fired up over that league. Working the Winter Classic was an experience I will never forget, and every single time I work for Hockey Night in Canada, I am delirious with happy. I'm actually giddy over it, because it's such a trip for me.
Halifax is the only place I can call home. The feeling I get there is second to none. I am happy there. The ocean, the people, the atmosphere, the ambiance--everything about Halifax just reaches out and captures me in it's embrace. My gut feeling is yelling at me to go there. I'm big on instincts and mine are on fire about that city. It's calling me. Telling me to pick up and move there. It's saying that I don't have it all figured out, but nobody ever does and things will work out exactly the way they're suppsoed to. It's asking me why I'm wasting time being unhappy, when the choice is mine to make.
It would seem fitting, then, that one can't exist with the other. Where one is, the other isn't.
Halifax does not have an NHL team. It probably never will.
So, what's an almost-mid-twenties girl to do? My heart is screaming at me to go to Halifax. But my heart's worse enemy--my logic--is asking the tough questions. You can't live life on instinct, you'll end up homeless and in a box. People need to live. You need to have a job, make money, have a place to sleep.
I do not work in the NHL full time right now. But, I do have the opportunity to do really important contract work that I'm hoping--HOPING--will one day turn into a full time gig. Moving to Halifax would mean totally removing myself from a world I'm partially involved in. But partial is better than none, and if I leave now, I may never get another chance.
But I may never get a chance if I stay in Montreal, either.
Do I leave my big-girl job, go with the feeling that life is too short to live even a second in a place where you don't want to be, and figure it all out when I get there? Or do I stay, unhappy for the moment, but hope that one day it will get better? That one day I'll get a shot and all this misery will seem worth it?
Life is about choices. And I've always made bad ones.
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