ESL and Entrails

To my surprise England is a nation preoccupied with thoughts of disembowelment. It is unclear whether or not this is a result of paranoia or sinister thoughts, but England is unquestionably obsessed with entrails. You hear whispers of it everywhere. On the bus, in a restaurant, and even on the television. Men, women and children alike talk openly about the national pass-time of "gutting".

That is why my word for the day is "gutted". I wish it was my favourite word because I hear it all the time. The definition of the word in context is not nearly as sinister as it may seem initially. It is used to express feelings of disappointment or upset. Gutted? Pretty harsh, isn't it? Yes, it is a fairly dramatic word to use considering it also refers to the removal intestines. However it does seem to encompass a good range of feelings in one word, and it does seem a bit more sophisticated to say "I am totally gutted" than it does to say "me is oh so very sad". Poor me with my brutish Canadian English upbringing.

What is the difference? Canada and England are both predominantly English speaking nations (lets ignore French Canadians shall we? Because I am not interested in wasting time and I am from glorious western Canada.). However moving from one English speaking nation to the mother of all English speaking nations hasn't been as seamless as I had hoped it would be. Oddly enough one of my greatest complications has been communicating with people. I try very hard to understand people when I am spoken to, and throughout the years I have learned to understand many accents without much difficulty, but apparently when an English accent is involved all that is required to confuse me is a slightly heavy accent, a fast pace, or a bit of drunkenness. Any or all of these three variables turn what should be plain English into completely incoherent gibberish.

Sometimes it is a result of vocabulary. I am almost embarrassed to say that I have had difficulty accomplishing some very simple tasks because of a difference in vocabulary. Let me introduce one scenario which I wish I could say happened to a friend of mine, but it did not. Couldn't have. Why? Because I don't have any friends here, and it did in fact happen to me. Which is why this confessional begins with "I". I (told you it would) was at a pub attempting to order a soda/pop/fizzy drink/soft drink and I (just to clarify) had so much difficulty that I (just in case you didn't catch it the first two times) had to resort to listing off the ones I (getting a bit overused) knew they had in hopes that they would understand and continue to list them. Why all the trouble? Because I couldn't manage to figure out the necessary vocabulary word and as a result the bartender could not figure out what I was trying to order. In my defense the bartender was not a native English speaker, but in her defense apparently neither am I...

The English language is complex and during my first three weeks in England I have learned a bit more about it. Most importantly, I now know it does not matter if you think you are right, because you can't argue with an English person about how to speak English. An increasingly irritating fact. However, what I do know for sure is that fillet is pronounced fill-EH (a terrible Canadian joke) and not fill-IT, and it offends my mouth to say it any other way. One tiny victory for me.

Time

It used to be that time would pass and I wouldn't give it much thought. Over the last...oh I don't know... month and a half it seems that the characteristics of time have changed. It doesn't pass quite as quickly as it used to, and it is somehow richer than it was before. As though every moment is made up of two or three, and that the world I live in now is one where time is something that entirely revolves around where I need to be and when I need to be there.

Whether where I need to be is a moment or two from now or a few hours, days, or months...lets say five... I am bound by it. Although recently it has become my greatest ally and has delivered a lot of gifts to me in a rather short amount of itself, it is now three times as long as it used to be and knowing the wait I am faced with it is becoming rather bittersweet. The time that has passed is home to the most precious moments of my life, but the time that has yet to elapse... the time I..or we.. will spend waiting is passing on the same watch. Ticking away slower than it used to and even slower still because we are watching it so closely.

Closeness is the true issue, isn't it? We are waiting to be closer, and time has complete control over that. However knowing how time has been treating us over the last little while I can't help but look forward with anticipation. It has much to offer us. All we can do is be patient enough to receive what has to offer us when it decides to allow us to have it, and be grateful that it has chosen to behave for us in such an anomalous manner to begin with. I am fairly certain that had time not changed its ways for us it would have taken us much longer to get where we are right now, and right now is where I want to be. The present is your home and because you are here with me it is also mine.

Country Lane

Country Lane
Originally uploaded by Razer1953

GO AHEAD! Try to tell me Saskatchewan isn't beautiful...

The same old fairy tales

The same old fairy tales
Originally uploaded by `Vorfas

To Live

It can be rather disorienting. The immense range of opportunities, options and choices that present themselves. It just may be that we end up doing things, meeting people, being places, or making choices that we would not have ever seen ourselves doing. In a way it is the moments when I surprise myself that I enjoy the most. Because it gives me the opportunity to get to know myself a little better in the process. Take that experience, slap it on the table and slice it open...and really figure out what it means. What does it mean? At the very base level it means that I am living. What is the purpose of life? To live. Simple enough, isn't it?

What do I witness as a result of all of this self reflection? Evolution. My oh my, do I love evolution. Adaptation, change, extinction, creation...everything has a purpose and when its purpose is fulfilled it disappears. I see bits and pieces of myself disappearing. Not gone, but hidden. Forced into the caverns of my mind as a result of experiences gained. The people I know and will know. The places I have been and will be. All a promise of something. Not good, not bad, but something.

I know what I would do, but I will leave this one up to you. Proceed with caution fair friend for you know not what you could have or what you are about to do. We had something built on nothing, and that is new. I have had nothing built on something. Neither is easy... but something built on nothing is...time sensitive. A cracked egg seeping, though the hen may keep it warm it's destiny was never to occupy the same role as the seamless others.

I do not claim to have any attachment to the cracked egg we shared. It was brief and in its own way perfection defined. It reminded me a lot about myself and why your type brings out the worst in me....that lost little girl chasing a stray kitten up the street...i didn't see the truck...it didn't see the kitten...i cried but survived the memory.

Bandages

What does it mean to be bandaged? Does it mean one is concealing something? Hurting? Or healing? Maybe a bandage is worn simply to keep things out while healing takes place. To prevent infection and influence from the outside world. Why am I bandaged? I am healing. Rediscovering a healthier and less infected version of myself. I was infected by the influence of another, subjected for too long to control. Control brought about by someone else and their deep-seeded insecurity, and kept involved by the love I felt for them. I fought myself constantly knowing that there was more in this world, or less, but wanting to discover completely the full range of opportunity. I couldn't have it, the freedom that I desired, and him at the same time. So it died, I stopped fighting, and I stopped loving. I didn't want him, but for a little while it seemed easier to stay and learn not to want myself than it did to go ahead and find myself. In hindsight I know it was unsustainable, but at the time it seemed like an option, not a good one, but an option.

Opportunity is in my blood, and change is a constant for me. Am I working towards something? Absolutely. Will I always be working towards something? Absolutely. Why can't I stop? Stopping is the slightly more evil cousin of settling. I have wasted time settling, and occupying a routine that I assumed was expected of me by society. Society told me don't leave. I knew for years that leaving was exactly what I needed to do. Do not misunderstand. My bandages aren't covering wounds of loss, but I have lost, a marriage, a lifestyle, and a familiar place. But all that familiarity brought about was the illusion of comfort. It was time to make an exchange... or quite simply a change. Now I seek constant change. Will I stop? No. Will I settle? Only temporarily. Will I be searching? Always. What purpose do my bandages serve? They are there to hold the pieces of myself together while I try to figure out the connections between them.

The bandages keep me close to myself, warm and peaceful. Peace is gained through the knowledge that I am on a path that I have the power to steer myself or to let my future come to me. Choices are one of the most beautiful things in life. Sometimes the fog is settled so low to the ground it is hard for me to see clearly. Other times it is clear what I have to do, but regardless of the state of the world around me, or of my own consciousness I keep travelling. Today I may prefer to go towards something rather than be passive and let it come to me. Tomorrow I may embrace a more passive approach opting to see what the world decides to send to me. I will take any road, throughout my life I have taken a few, and by the time I am done I will have taken many, but in reality it is only one. I have one path and that is the path that I take, it is my own, I am on my own, not alone, but independent. Some would say I only have one life, so I had better figure it out. Today, I say I have this life to figure it out. As the bandage slowly unravels I am not exposed, or even renewed. This is not a cocoon, I am still myself, but I am revealed.