Saturday, April 29, 2006 -- 11:35 AM
A morning in the life.
I woke up at around eight o'clock to my alarm clock. I know that you must be wondering why I would set my alarm on a Saturday, or at least why I would set it so early. The answer to that is because this is my last day in Winnipeg, and I want to savour as much of it as possible (wrong). The answer to that is because this is my last day in Winnipeg and I need to finish packing, purchase homestarrunner paraphernalia from a store on Trendy Winnipeg's Osbourne Street for our little brothers (we totally didn't send them anything for their birthdays, although we did call them... I think), return a couple of DVDs to the video rental place, and clean up and out my room for the landlord's inspection at noon. I have to do all of this by three o'clock, at which time my auntie will come to drive me to John's work, and then drive both of us to the airport, hopefully by four-thirty so that we can catch our five-thirty flight out.
Now, just to alleviate the suspense for all of my readers who are likely to be quite anxious and distraught at this point, I will tell you that it is now 1:44 PM, and all that is left to do is munch on various foodstuffs and wait for my auntie's arrival. How did I do it, you ask? And you may well ask.
I began by showering. That took a good ten minutes. However, it was not time idly cast aside in the tedious pursuit of cleanliness, oh no. While my body was performing this mundane, semi-daily activity, my mind was busy, as I oriented my thoughts and formed a base plan with which to work from. I decided to finish packing first. This would give me the space I needed in my room to clean. Then, since the gifts for younger brothers were obviously not a top priority (although I am almost positive that we called them), I could do that only if I had time.
It wasn't long before the carousing hand of fate carelessly tossed a large monkey wrench deep within the mechanics of my plan. I realized that the large Rubbermaid boxes that I was using to pack my worldly possessions would need some sort of bungee equipment to keep them closed during flight. My body reacted quickly by moving into mundane operating mode, providing my brain full resources in designing a new strategy while my arm mechanically brushed my teeth.
The new plan was an immediate trip to Wal Mart, bane of banes, to procure said bungee cords. On my way back, I could possibly stop in at Musictrader, the Homestarrunner outlet. It was a perfect plan, and I jumped onto the next bus. My connecting bus was waiting for me, and I was at the supermarket mecca within twenty minutes. Everything was going swimmingly. I found the bungees, purchased the bungees, and left with the bungees. As I approached the bus stop, my bus was just pulling up. The gods, it seemed, were smiling upon me.
This bus took me to the University, and again, my next bus was waiting for me. The driver was out having a smoke, so I thought I had some time to kill. I suddenly craved juice. "He just lit the cigarette, so I must have at least ten minutes," I thought. I entered those hallowed halls once more, this time with a literal thirst for some sort of blended fruity beverage, instead of the much more noble and figurative search for knowledge. Both of these searches were equally profitable, but as I returned to the bus stop I noticed an unfortunate empty space where only five minutes ago sat my bus. Squinting, I could still make out the last wisps of tobacco smoke drifting upwards and dissipating into the clouds. Blast! He was a much more proficient smoker than most. Still, I had my fabulously fruity beverage and it was but fifteen minutes before the next bus. This time I would wait outside and practice my smoking skills. Seven minutes was the best I could muster in a mad dash to the filter before my bus pulled up. I took it up Pembina, past the auto shops and boring buildings, onto the much more interesting Osbourne, past shops and vehicles and bums all more brightly coloured than the next.
Finally I reached my Bethlehem, and the star stopped above Musictrader. I bought a Strongbad DVD for my littlest brother, and a Strongbad shirt for Mike. Satisfied, and with a great weight lifted from my shoulders (actually, the weight was lifted at the bungee part... what can I say, I'm a gonzo journalist) I returned home, finished packing, and wiped the last peanut butter stain from the ceiling as the landlord walked sternly in.
Will we be able to fit everything into Auntie's car? Will John get off work early? Will we catch our flight on time? Will our parents remember to pick us up from the airport? Tune in next time to find out.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006 -- 8:35 PM
Spring be Gettin' All Up in this Air.
I liked that sentence so much that I made it a title.
Today, for the first time this year, I couldn't see my breath. It was so warm outside that it was no longer the steamy cold breath that one has in the winter; it was quite invisible. This so alarmed me that I lit a cigarette, and was happy to once again have something more visible emitting from my mouth.
Later on I went for a walk to the store for some supper, and spring was just all over the place, with water running down the gutter and mud and the soft, fragile ground. You could hear the water everywhere, constantly. There were some boys playing street hockey on a quiet residential sidestreet, and I thought back to those heady days of guts and glory. We fought each other hard on that thawing, sweating pavement, but our only enemies were the interruptions of parents. They never seemed to care who was winning or how close we were to scoring a great goal, and they were always far too demanding for our lifestyle. Dinner never mattered to us, or darkness, or cold, or wet. They didn't understand that some things were more important to us. These politics of winning and losing, winners and losers, the champions and the defeated, these were our traditions that epitomized life, and continue to today, and will always. The hierarchy lives on, it is life.
I watched the kids playing, and watched as a car pulled slowly around the corner: another interruption. As far as we made the street our arena, it was never truly our domain. It was another thing to resent, as we moved the net, stood on the curb irritably waiting for the vehicle to move on, then restarted the play. Still, I think we felt a little pride despite it all. We knew that whoever was in the car respected what we were doing, and usually we'd get a nod of thanks from the driver, especially if the grownup was a male. He understood that he was interrupting our ceremony, that he was the one inconveniencing us, and not the other way around. It was no secret that it was he, sitting in his car, who was the lesser being.
As I walked on, I remembered how fast those days had gone. Everything had melted now, and it was hot and dry, so very dry.
Saturday, April 01, 2006 -- 8:54 AM
I have but one more week of classes before finals start. In one month I'll be back outdoors with a hammer swinging from my toolbelt and a smile swinging from my face. You don't really realize how much you miss working with your hands until you're back doing it, and all the little things come back to you.
I helped my uncle frame in his basement fireplace last week, and I really enjoyed myself. There's a large amount of pride that goes along with completing even such a small job, and it almost makes you feel like you know what Marx was talking about with his denouncement of capitalism as a mechanism that separates the labour from the labourer. Though I'd never admit it, there seems like strong connection or bond with the finished product. So much so, in fact, that when my aunt came down and suggested moving a wall to put in cupboards where none existed in my plans, I was a little bit hurt. I made it, of course it's perfect, fool! Then again, the thought of improving on it was also alluring. You couldn't put in a door at the bottom, I pointed out, because of the bottom plate. That couldn't be changed, it was part of the original plan, I did it and it's perfect ha! However, if you wished to make a seperate addition that in no way involved altering the perfect work that I have already done, yeah, that might be possible, let's talk about it.
I really like the imagery of a smile swinging from a face. Can you imagine that?
