I got my “fall feeling” last Monday, on the 23rd, this year sort of mingled with a feeling that my life is on the brink of a change. Maybe not a big change, but we’ll see.

September is a month of change, though. People move away for school, or leave again for school, or simply start getting busy with school again even if they don’t leave. I get a year older. It’s a season of introspection. Already, some evaluation of my life has come up wanting. I feel a little bit restless in my job and in my relationship with Josh.

These last few weeks have been full but very good, getting together with some of my beautiful and wonderful friends, notably Kristen, Christine, Sammy and Katie. Also awesome was Jen and Andrew’s farewell at my place! Kim and I decorated cupcakes with frowny faces and they were perfect.

Last week I went to Bobbi’s play “Our Last White Night” and oh my gosh was it ever great. She’s amazing. And I intensely admire writers who can condense a story into under an hour and make it beautiful and potent. Much love. (Also for Paris je t’aime, which I watched again with Christine.)

A few days ago I got it in my head to have a Harry Potter dress-up party a week or so before Deathly Hallows comes out and I am omega psyched to go shopping for that. And even more psyched to make chocolate frogs and dress up like a Ravenclaw student. Why do I like it so much? Why?

In other news, learning French is going okay. It truly must be a warpath because I’ve stuck with it in a way I usually don’t. Dad and I watched Return of the King in French and because of the (French) subs and context I feel like I understood it pretty well. Definitely wish real life had subtitles. With my Quebec trip less than two weeks away now, I more or less have a “ready as I’ll ever be” feeling. Straight comprehension is my goal for that week. If I can laugh for real when everyone else laughs, good enough. But the composition of simple sentences is coming back slowly. I wonder if I’ll know when I have surpassed my just-out-of-French-30 level. In any case, I hope I can have the discipline required to stick with it after returning from the reunion. Deadlines are hugely motivating for me and I slack off without them.

That said, my goal for September is to buy a car. Finally. And to get rich on the stock market while I sleep.

Ro was in town again this week, so on Wednesday I went to Cathie’s party at her place. It was even better than last year’s, hard to say why. But I’m the nostalgic type; I like reunions and seeing things come full circle. Mikey’s brother Scott was there too, and there’s just something about people I remember as a kid. Even though he’s all grown up now and just a riot to talk to, I’ll always think of him fondly as that wild little boy with missing baby teeth and everything. Three years younger seemed like a lot back then, but not anymore.

He laughed as he read aloud a text he just sent to a friend. “I’m getting drunk with my grade nine teachers, what are you doing?” His friend replied, how does that even happen? It reminded me yet again how big and disconnected this city can be.

Teacher’s pet, they said. Suck-up. I adored my teachers in school (save for a couple, but even some of those I warmed up to). I couldn’t understand the kids that viewed their teachers as enemies and didn’t give them a chance. I assume now that it probably had something to do with past experiences with adults. My childhood experiences with adults were positive nearly across the board. I saw grown-ups as people who would listen and not make fun of you. Not all kids have reason to believe that. Not all kids can trust that their teachers just want help. Not all kids have teachers that just want to help.

I wasn’t trying to get better marks or butter them up. I just liked them.

Cathie and Ro do stand out, of course, as some of the most influential figures in my life in junior high. Whether or not she knows it, I think Ro has a gift for drawing out the shy people. Josh showed everyone his tattoo that night and no one needed to say a word to convince him. It totally caught me off-guard, I didn’t think he would ever do that! Ro has that effect though; I should have known. I’d probably laugh now to see myself on that first day of drama class, eleven years old. She taught me over and over not to be so scared. That I could take a chance and the world might not end. That fear should stop me never. And Cathie, well, I’d be curious to see my life now if she didn’t pay attention to me like she did. It sounds lame, but her assertions that I should keep writing, and that she thought I could do anything… they meant something.

Standing there with Scott and Dean, Ro told us we were children of her heart. Hours later, Cathie walked Josh and I to the door. How often in this life do you have an adult, who isn’t your family, kiss your face and hug you tightly, saying, “I love you. I love you.”

It’s rare. Culturally, it’s strange enough to communicate with your grade school teachers once you’re no longer in their charge. But mentorship makes a difference, I can say that for sure. How very, very fortunate we children of the heart are. I’m going to try and make them really proud one day.

On Saturday I went to South Centre Mall. The place has gotten pretty classy in the last few years, at least compared to what it used to be. They’ve been advertising their new face, “comfort shopping,” quite blatantly to a fairly young target audience for a while now. That’s a wise marketing strategy; I mean everyone knows that we millennials seek comfort before just about anything else.

I sat down at the Food Court and was reminded that even the tables were rife with branding. “OMG! WiFi 4 Fre!” they said, with an uppity translation below it, something like, “stay connected with free wireless internet.” Somehow, that just made me angry. I pictured a board meeting with a bunch of 60-year-old men in suits, discussing the marketing tactics for the new campaign. “They like texting,” one says, “and they’ve lost the ability to write anything out in full.” “Surely they’d tack on that last e on free, though, don’t you think? Fre just looks stupid,” another says. “It does look stupid, but no, they are all borderline retarded,” the first replies. “True literacy will die with our generation. Speaking of, we’d better translate OMG, WiFi 4 Fre underneath, so people our age will know what the hell it means.” “Good thinking, sir, good thinking…”

Maybe it didn’t play out that way. And I’ll admit, Lamebook and the rest of the internet do reveal that my generation has, by and large, forsaken the English language for a quick, degenerate written dialect. But that stupid OMG! WiFi 4 Fre! still makes me mad for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on. What I wind up with, though, is that I think it’s natural for people to reject falseness. “Posers”. That dumb slogan is trying to be young and current but to me it just screams pretention.

It got me wondering about “being cool” in general. It’s a bit of a paradox if you think about it. If someone doesn’t care at all about being cool, they probably have a better chance of being considered cool than someone who tries too hard at it. Or, the moment it is discovered that a cool person is actually trying to be cool, they aren’t cool anymore. It’s just sort of funny.

I really like my job. Directly after high school, I struggled hugely with a lack of direction. If I’d have known I was going to wind up in this job, I would have chilled the hell out quickly.

Part of my problem back then was that I loved (and still love) school and learning. Lots of doors were open to me when choosing what to do for my post secondary education, and so much of it interested me. However, most of it only on a “for interest” basis. Particularly psychology, but I knew that I didn’t want to be a psychologist. Same with astronomy, except that with math as my weakest subject, that career would have been a stunted one. In the end I opted for graphic communications at SAIT because I thought it would get me a job I was most likely to enjoy and be good at.

I’ve been at Gemini for nearly five years now and still learn new things occasionally. The most resounding adjective for my job now would be “comfortable”. And I think that’s okay, because I’ve always thought that education and growth does not necessarily need to happen at work, or at an institution with a hefty price tag.

That said, I do miss school. It motivated me in a way my vague self-directed study could never do. I woke up this morning with a massive yen to do an interesting (but for me, frivolous) Bachelor of Arts degree that I’d never plan to “use”. I would love it. Learn some art history for once, cram in some psychology, a French class, astronomy, sociology and religious studies. So awesome. Learning for the sake of learning, yes. But that’s attractive to me.

Right now, that’s not reality of course. Everyone (myself included) would say I was wasting time and money on a degree I won’t use when I should be working to save up for my future. That makes the most sense. I say no education is a “waste”, but there are more productive things for me to do right now. If I ever come into a lot of money, however, that’d be high on the to-do list, just saying.

I think that The Land Before Time is the best cartoon ever made, ever. I have watched it probably a hundred times and haven’t gotten bored of it. It touches on themes and lessons that other kid movies sort of just don’t. Such as:

Little Foot and his mother discuss faith: “Have you ever seen the Great Valley?” “No.” “Well, how do you know it’s really there?” “Some things you see with your eyes, others you see with your heart.”

Little Foot and his mother discuss racism: “We all keep to our own kind. The three-horns, the spiketails, the swimmers, the fliers. We never do anything together.” “Why?” “Well, because we’re different. It’s always been that way.” “Well, why?” “Oh, don’t worry so much.” As well, we’re shown very plainly that a parent’s beliefs and views influence a child’s greatly.

Little Foot’s mother tells him not to wander off. The first time he does, he is not met with dire consequences. His mom does have to come “protect” him from Cera’s dad, but I think it’s assumed that Little Foot was not in mortal peril. The second time he wanders off, he finds himself in a life-threatening situation and it results in the death of his mother. Life is harsh, and one little mistake can impact you and those around you if you don’t learn from your mistakes the first time around.

Little Foot believes that his mother killed Sharptooth when she pushed him into the underground, off a cliff created by the earthquake. He is so convinced of this (perhaps out of fear of the alternative) that he does not listen to Cera’s assertions that she has seen Sharptooth alive. Little Foot’s denial puts him and his friends in danger because they are not being appropriately careful. When the group (unknowingly?) falls asleep for the night in one of Sharptooth’s footprints, it serves (to me) as a symbol of denial. Later, when the group narrowly escape with their lives, Little Foot has lost the gift from his mother, the tree star, having left it in the footprint in his haste to escape. It gets trampled to oblivion. In most kid shows, I feel like this wouldn’t happen. But in this movie, mistakes have consequences. Little Foot loses his most dear possession because he wouldn’t listen to his friend.

The fact that the main character is dead wrong about something and has flaws is refreshing. There is true relational conflict in this movie. They don’t all just get along like in other kid shows. They really have to work at harmony. Even apart from the obvious conflicts between Little Foot and Cera, there is friction at times between all of them. Little Foot gets angry when Petrie rips his tree star. Ducky understands this, and tells Petrie to protect the tree star instead of wrecking it, but Little Foot refuses to let him. He goes on to hit him where it hurts and tells him to start flying, something he knows he can’t do. Much later, after Cera and Little Foot have a massive fight and the other three opt to follow Cera because her way is easier, Little Foot is enraged in the moment and turns his back on them as they ask him to wait. But when he finds them in danger after he has a chance to cool off, he rescues them without thinking.

Even though most of them go “the wrong way”, the easy way, they eventually are brought back to the correct path (after much more effort than simply taking the “hard” way would have taken!) and arrive at the Great Valley, which shows that even if you mess up in life, you can be brought back if you have stellar friends.

The hundred Land Before Time sequels are disappointing in that they have none of the depth and symbolism the first one had. But that’s all I’m going to say about that. I know there was a buck to be made there, so why not, I guess.

As much as I adore The Neverending Story, The Land Before Time will always hold a special, special place in my heart.

I survived busy June. The last few days of it were packed but at a slower pace; I took some days off work and relaxed a little. So far, the July calendar looks much more manageable.

Daniel and Christina’s wedding was so, so fun. The best time I had all month! Such a good opportunity to bust out the superwhite dance moves and let loose. They looked so beautiful and happy together. We were at a fun table: Josh and me, Mike, Brook, Justin, Dustin and Katrina, and one of Christina’s college friends. And I also got to see Jeanie again and meet her husband and little guy. So adorable! Overall, an awesome time.

The end of June also saw the end of GammaGirls. I would say it mostly lived up to my expectations. I suppose I hoped for a bit more involvement on the girls’ part (homework was often disregarded) but maybe I should be thankful for the attention they did give us. As ever, it’s hard to say if anything was learned, but if nothing else it’s served as a good starting point for a relationship with the girls I didn’t know as well beforehand.

With June over, my aims for July are to catch up on sleep, eat more vegetables and keep track of my cash flow, just like on debt shows. I’m not in debt, but it can’t hurt to know where the money is going.

As an aside, as crazy, effed-up dreams go, I had a pretty strange one last Monday night. It was a multi “chaptered” dream, each weirder than the last. Amid the chaos, though, I dreamed about the comet again: for the third (and, I would think, final) time. I was standing outside of Haultain Memorial before dawn with Mike and my dad. There was something going on in the school that had us out so late/early. The sky was serene and clear and blue. I saw Capella and Mirphak on the horizon and looked between them to see, plain as day, the arc of the comet — far more brilliant and beautiful that it would have been in real life. I said, “Look, there it is,” and stared at it for a good amount of time before leaving. I am thankful for this dream because, in some sense, I saw the comet. It just wasn’t how I expected to see it.

Last night I was thinking about my “penchant for admiration”. I don’t know what that would officially be called. But I tend to idolize certain people and, in some respects, attempt to imitate them.

Ever since I can remember I’ve had these figures. They are always women. They are always older than me (though not by much in some cases). To compare them to each other, it’s hard for me to say what exactly they have in common; I liked them all for different reasons. I suppose they have all been reasonably confident (but not shallow and conceited, which repels me quick as anything).

The feeling they give me is, I think, unlike any other. As a child I wondered if it was sort of like what being in love felt like. I have since experienced that it is not the same feeling, but something unique to itself. When I was younger, I didn’t think anything of this tendency of mine. I thought that everybody felt strong, strong admiration for certain people in their lives. By grade nine I was reasonably sure that I felt this admiration more acutely than many others. That it still happens in the same way makes me believe it’s not something I’ll outgrow.

A year ago (almost exactly; that’s sort of strange) I was having similar musings. I wondered if my youth girls feel towards me what I feel towards my role models. Now I’ve decided that they probably don’t, maybe because they just don’t tend to idolize.

The older I get, the more I ask, “but what does it mean?” I guess I don’t know quite what it means, but likely has something to do with a yearning for attention. While I don’t consider myself an attention-seeker (actually becoming embarrassed by it in some situations), attention from certain people feels good. It makes sense that I should want it more from people who I adulate. Although the feelings are not romantic in nature, my heart nonetheless races if they touch my shoulder or pet my hair.

It might not be normal, but I don’t mind. If anything it makes for some light and fanciful feelings, something that makes my life happy.

Busy June continues. There’s a substantial light at the end of the tunnel now, though, and plans were cancelled last Thursday and Friday which gave me a blessed, blessed reprieve. I spent those evenings doing the two things that I knew would be most effective in recharging my ragged and weary state: organizing, and crying.

I’d go so far as to say that my surroundings give an indication of my state of mind. Both my brain and my room become untidy when I get busy. To do an extensive organizing binge amid the chaos helps me convince myself that things are not so bad.

And I don’t know why it is, but having endured the pace of June so far, and being subject to plain old life and nature’s rhythm, it does me so much good to just have a good cry. It is physical venting in the utmost. On Friday night, the twins were out for the night so it was the perfect opportunity. I watched The Land Before Time and cried at every part a person could possibly cry at (and before every part, knowing what was coming). This includes full-on bawling when the little flying guy tries to give Little Foot a cherry but he ignores him, and wailing with teary triumph as Cera returns to help push the rock off the cliff. What a great movie that is. I’ll probably make another post about it in July when I have time again.

Anyways, it was a great set of nights, and on Saturday morning, I felt emotionally great but physically steamrolled (which lasted all weekend). But I painted faces at the BBQ like a rockstar and went for lunch with Lyndsay and hung out with the boys at Alex’s graduation party and looked again for my comet.

That sneaky comet.

I can’t find anywhere in the world that has optimal viewing conditions for it right now. Maybe the lesson of the comet was that some things aren’t meant to be, right now. So, I’m hanging on to October to see comet Hartley 2. I guess I don’t care which comet I see, so long as I eventually see one. That may be all I need.

It’s times like this that I wish I were an extrovert. I’d probably be feeling awesome right now if I were; I’ve done so, so much in the past week. Sadly, being energized by that level of activity is not reality for me and I feel emotionally spent.

With a lack of time to reflect on the meaning of it all, and getting caught up in event after event, happening after happening, I don’t know but I just feel sad. Or maybe that’s just how “over-tired” is manifesting. When mildly but constantly stressed, I become hyper critical of myself and others and that is not a happy mindset.

I feel sort of like the majority of things I’ve done this month have been things that I wanted to do, but for a reason other than “I want to do it”. For example, the all-nighter 30 Hour Famine. The event itself I knew would knock me out for days. I wanted to do it to show my support for the students that try to make a difference. But things like “showing support” and “deepening a relationship” have long-term payoffs, so I’m not necessarily feeling the warmth right now. Maybe that’s part of why I feel so dead.

The other things this month have been or are things I feel simply duty-bound to. They too are things I like, but begin to resent when my surrounding life gets so busy. Things like face painting at the Stampede breakfast. In a slow month I’d eagerly be looking forward to it. Even now I guess I sort of am, but more than anything see it as a duty. It’s not very often that “art skills” are required by the church to “further God’s kingdom”. So when an opportunity comes up, I don’t feel right about saying no.

I finished Pride and Prejudice and Zombies a while ago. I thought it was a pretty sweet book. I also thought it would be pretty sweet to live in Jane Austen land where no one goes to work and people can just chill out on their vast acres of green land with their family and await the next big party. Don’t make dinner, there are servants for that. You must be tired from your stroll in the garden, maybe you should take a nap.

That’s what I’d really like right now. To take half a month off work and go somewhere remote where no one would suggest going on a hike or attending a baby shower. To just pretty much do friggin’ nothing for multiple days would be sweet. I could paint a canvas. I could lie in grass.

I could find my comet.

I don’t think I’ll get to see it.

Well, the busy-ness of June never ceases to floor me. I can count only five days on my calendar this month that don’t have two things written on them! I sort of can’t wait for June to be over because being so busy really sets an introvert like me on edge.

Who can (ever) say it better than Andy Stanley? “You have had weeks of your life (or months of your life) that you you liked every individual thing on the calendar, but you hated the whole month because there was so much on it!”

I don’t know if I’d say I “hate” this month, but there is definitely some stress involved, gosh. I have this week planned in such intricate detail that it is rivaled only by my Grade 12 final exam week schedule (both of which have things like “take shower” written on them). Oh, what a comfort my beloved schedules are to me.

Very, very sorry for anyone/thing that slips through the cracks this month.