Scribbles

With exams past, and the future seeming like a blank slate, I can't wait to grab my crayons and get to work. While some were satisfied with the simplistic eight colours, I needed all 92 that Crayola had to offer as a child. I prided myself on my ability to stay within the lines, mix shades and add some pizzazz to the bland outlines.
I thrive off of creativity and the ability to feed my imagination. Every week, I grab the Ideas section of the Toronto Star before anyone else. I tend to stick to the front page, not bothering to crack open the paper, unless I am intrigued by some tidbit. "Ten Things We Learned This Week". They are random, useless, pointless, and humourous. Yet, I look forward to reading it every week- religiously, you might say. It has sparked a curiousity, a thirst to look beyond what everyone else is focused on and to seek what is not important but interesting. So often, I think in life, we are pushed to get the right answers. Math, science and sometimes the most subjective, english, have strict and rigid answers. There is no appreciation for thoughts outside of the box. While the box offers comfort and the security which comes with being in the crowd, I love seeing the other perspectives that life has to offer.
Photographers often have multiple lens to capture light and highlight aspects of a picture. Writers can do this as well. By looking at a story at different angles, one can often gain insight into what others see. While I do not aspire to be an artist, I think that everyone has an artist- even just a bit- inside them. I was not born with a silver paintbrush in my mouth, but I still love to see the beauty of life and the odd quirks on humanity.

Happy Birthday to Me

There are those certain points in time when we all realize the importance of those around us. With the winter blues, most days seem mundane, or for lack of a better word, "blah", yet the special ones which past by so fleeting remind us of the goodness that winter still has to offer. Although January has brought us many days of frigid weather, the impact of friends and fellowship can live the heart toasty for days to come.
Anyone who has come into contact with me, knows that my birthday has passed on January 16th. Under the assumption I was going to dinner with my boyfriend, I floated through the day, slightly saddened that this milestone event was being overlooked by my friends and family. As my boyfriend and I rode around town aimlessly, waiting until our 7:30 reservation, I was hit with the worst news a birthday girl could get- he forget his wallet. As I nagged, yelled, whined, fretted and rolled my eyes, I bitterly drove us back home to retrieve this absent wallet. Awaiting me there were my friends and my family, hidden in the stairwell, and poised to surprise me.
My mother has always taught me to count my blessings, rather than to look for the faults that life seems to illuminate. So while it may to easy to look at the dreary weather present, or curse the wind chill, remember to make the most of the situation. While my lemons may have been the forgotten wallet, the lemonade ended up being sweeter than I could have imagined. Those around us are often underestimated in the grand scheme, yet take the time to appreciate them and value each singular moment they have to offer.

On Fire

I having been feeling uninspired. This drought has plagued me for the last several weeks, thus explaining my lack of posts. For a writer, this is certain death. Though I try with all my might, I can not put my fingers to the keyboard. I will write aimlessly yet eventually delete it knowing that my thoughts run dry and worthless. After the countless hours spent on projects and essays galore, it seems that the creativity has been zapped from me and replaced by words such as "tendencies" and "pertaining to".

Though the holidays are lit with excitement and youth, January brings no warm memories for many. While we associate the Christmas season with white snow, it seems that on the first of the month, the snow turns brown, slushy, the kind that sticks to your shoes and is dragged around into clean carpets. The decorations are stripped from the trees, which will later be thrown to the curbs or packed away into the basement. Instead of marveling at the gifts, people anxiously await the mail, hoping that the fortunes have blessed them with the Visa win what you buy.

So it is no wonder that I lack the strength to bring my fingers to the keyboard to write to the mass. It is simply that time of year again. Until the snow melts, I fear for the worst. Inspiration is coming, and I'll be on fire! But for now, we shall endure the cold.