January 2008 Archives

Concentration etched between her brows, I watched the smoke weave in curling signets toward the distant sky, her fingers pale and relaxed around a disappearing cigarette. Johanna was rhapsodizing about some half-tangible figure, so careless and trivial, but her words floated past me and drowned themselves in the moving water at my back. Yielding to the earth's pull and my own lethargy, I lay parallel to the dry and cracking ground, staring upside down across the Thames' young twin. I listened to the river, steady and ceaseless as its motion was, never kept from that single ambition of carrying itself through to the sea. The quiet rage of its contents drifted into each of my ears, meeting at the center to fill me with its pure passion. I wondered with how much zeal that determined element would deign to carry me with it-- if I could slip in unnoticed, or if I would be dragged through its congealing, muddy bottom, and become part of the journey anonymously from then on. I cursed my own biology for its limitations, allowing me a glimpse of what purpose looked like and then mocking my admiration with the human incapacity for death. Her smoke billowed straight over me, and my mind was spinning.

Sed fugit, interea, fugit tempa. The river nursed Virgil, and they both haunted me as they passed, nature and the poet marching on their eternal way.

Johanna asked what I would have done in her position &c. My response was safe and uninspired, having paid only an absent mind to her ramblings, and because I knew she didn't care what I thought, anyhow. The wind began to pick up from the North, and the Sun retreated from that echoing ire into the West. Between dark strands of her rebellious, blowing hair was a scene of two sparrows escaping the cold base of a willow to their nest in the curtained branches above. Borrowing their instincts, she suggested our own departure.

We crossed the tree-flecked fields and came to the bridge: a dismal, steel structure stretched stiff and gracelessly over the river. Dry grass quivered at its forced roots, tiny gold flakes outshining man's metallic posts. We strode the length of steel and planks, up the asphalt hill and East toward the centre of town. A shortcut through the cemetery brought us to the small end of Queen Street, and face to face with the old funeral parlour; never had I seen those doors ajar, in all the frequent times I had stood and stared from the cemetery gates. I glanced halfway behind me, but I already knew why this was so: not one corpse in the church's yard had been placed there later than 1946.

The wind in the streets was less apparent, and the dull grey of the avenue's rooftops blended into our dusky sky, so that the mortar of man seemed to fall endlessly upward and mask the true colours of night. Johanna traipsed on, and I beside her, threading through the shufflers and beggars and loud thinkers to our understood destination ahead. The ragged air clawed at our eyes, pulling tears to the surface as our flesh cowered under icy skin.

Out of the cold and the damp, into a side-door plethora of fresh, foreign grinds and clink-clink-clinking mugs dribbling froth over their lips, we unloaded our shoulders in a free corner by the window. A youth of bright eyes and warm hue smiled from behind the till. He looked as if his pleasure lay in our service, and his satisfaction in a cinnamon-dusted apron--but I had no delusions. Essentially, he must wonder at the same futilities as I, and Johanna, and the frazzled, hoary man with his caffeine on the stool were suffered to admit incontrovertibly.

The sound of scraping chairs, cautious sipping, and spontaneous laughter bit and snapped at the condensed air, encircling us like wild beasts do criminals in a Roman amphitheater. I stared into my cup, its contents unflowing, opaque, and steamy; no satiation did the liquid bring, and I pondered again what set the river apart from this useless consumable mass. I felt like a mass, myself, rooted to the spindly seat and my gradually clearing vision. Johanna with her liquid words, the server with his liquid disposition and the old man with his liquid mind; we were all barrels of still water. We moved, but only within ourselves--not one of us was reaching the sea. The river, I figured, reigned superior to us all. It didn't even stop to gloat; for I knew even as I sat there, crouched inward and sedentary, that the reigning river had never ceased to flow.

--Isabel

I had belongings to pack, the apartment to clean, laundry to fold, phone calls to make. I made some dinner coffee and a grilled cheese-I showered and dressed-said goodbye to my roommates and headed for the door-the fall wind was cool and crisp-before I had time to think I had to get on the road, drive to the next town, go to work, visit with family and finish some school work. The sun had already set when I left the house. He would have a nice relaxing evening with her-the stars are bright in the night sky-Now for my drive, I will be focused, I will look good and be happy when I see him again. But oh, over the radio comes that song. I wanted to change the station but something stopped me from doing so-rain began to hit the windshield like the tears that hit my cheeks-My mind can't help but be busy with thoughts of him-alone in the car I cannot stop my thoughts-the trees droop along the highway, heavy with rain- it looks almost as though they feel sorry for me. The other cars were busy on their way, they passed by me every chance they got, and I did not care to pass them. I will get there. I do not care how long it takes. As I climbed the stairs to my parent's home the rain stopped. I will look fine for them. I am fine. I was welcomed happily by my parents; we had our usual conversation about the events of the previous week. I kept some of the week's events to myself. I gathered my things and headed to work. I worked until late in the evening, locked up, then returned to my parent's home. My old room was as if I had never grown up, sometimes I wish I hadn't. I finished an assignment before I got into bed. Then I slept peacefully until my dreams became flooded with him-I heard the rain starting to dance on the roof again as I fell asleep.

--Elle

Tyler MacLean    

           It was a scorching hot day. Not my little brother's favorite type of weather, and I had no choice but to be a tiny bit nervous for him. The warm-up went great and things were looking promising, however Jamie has never before faced competition at quite this level. So there I was sitting out in the right center field bleachers with my hands trembling and butterflies in my stomach. If I felt this bad, I could not come close to imagining his anxiety, but no Jamie was calm and cool. He always was. He automatic flowers made of stone. Whether ten runs ahead or ten runs behind he just throws the ball, without a hint of emotion. Yet it was different this time. A different team, a different place and most certainly a different atmosphere. This had me petrified as the game was about to start.

      Adversity stepped in right away, as the first batter laid a perfect bunt and was followed up by a line drive single. If I was nervous before, I was scared to death now but somehow the big guy pulled it together and retired the next three men to step to the plate. We luckily got out of that one scratch free and even scored two runs for ourselves in the bottom of the first inning. My brother took the field again, I was still trembling, and the base hit from the first batter did not calm my nerves. The next three batters made it obvious that he shared not of the same emotions that I did. Those three men went down hard, one strikeout after the next.

     That was the turning point of my thoughts and feelings. What did I have to fear? Jamie had never let me down before and would never give anything less than his very best. My hands stopped trembling and there was nothing to worry about. Jamie struck out the next ten hitters in a row. Even in the fifth when a hitter laced a triple off the wall, the next batter was easily retired as well as the side.

      With one inning to go, and a six to nothing lead, nobody in the stands or on the field had any fear in their hearts whatsoever. The opposing team was forced into a strikeout, a grounder, and walk and finally a final thirteenth K to win the game. The celebration began, and nobody could have been as happy or more content than I was.

 

 

                                                                              Tyler MacLean

[January 15 2008] I have never liked any of the guys my little sister Jenn brought home. After being begged to meet her newest boyfriend I gave in, but I was not planning to like him. He strolled up looking like he was god's gift to the earth which made me laugh because he looked like a total idiot. We had lunch which was nice. We ate outside on the deck, light wind blowing and the birds flying overhead. I didn't say much mostly just listened to the pair. Months later, and I knew it would come, my sister decided to marry Mathew. The big day came, I tried to be happy. I got up, showered and got dressed, trying  not to stop and think about what was going to happen hours later. Jenn was leaving to get her hair done and I didn't know when the next time we would be alone would be, so I pulled her quickly aside to give her a gift. I wanted it to be just between me and her. I passed her a picture of me and her as children, holding hands and walking down the beach. My mom said it was the image of happiness. Jenn looked at me and hugged me, as she took the picture and walked towards the door she turned and thanked me for being such a good brother and friend. I went back to my room sat on the bed and stared at the wall, thinking how the image on the beach would never be again. Mom came in rushed me to get going as there were things to be done and all kinds of wedding junk. I went and was numb through the service. The days following were a blur, gifts, honeymoon and parties. It wasn't until moving day that I began to gain to feel the reality of the situation again. As Jenn and Mathew moved into their new home I had the opportunity to travel with Mathew alone. He looked at me and told me that he would never hurt my sister. I looked back at him and felt calm as the world outside flew past the car. I said one simple sentence "if you hurt my sister, you will pay...little bro." He smiled and finally I felt ok.

 

                                          -Dennis Mills

Sunday, January 20^th Patrick slept good, even though he never went to bed until 2pm, but wasn't feeling so well in the morning since he had a hang-over. I wrote my assignment for English, which I thought a lot about since we received it in class. It is very cold. There is a lot of snow on the ground. We went to my sisters for supper and stayed for a while afterwards. Patrick went rabbit hunting, while I ate breakfast the next morning. It was a beautiful blanket of white fluffy snow. It fell softly as he walked to the snare. There were no rabbits to be seen, but the sun gleamed on the snow which was almost blinding. We took a walk down the street while the flurries were flying; we stopped at a park nearby, and watched the children coast. Patrick went and watched a movie, while I stayed back at the house and did work. I watched Family Guy.  My friend had a baby, a beautiful little girl. We got her a bracelet with her named etched in the back. Patrick and I watched the snow fall gently that evening. The trees were hanging heavily with the white powder. We saw two black chickadees nestled deep in their nest. Keeping their young warm. A light dust of snow lay on the wings as she shook it off and shivered. The father took of probably to find food. We watched more tv, as both of us dozed in and out of sleep.  Our friends came over to visit for awhile. We sat and talked. Our friends left. We watched tv for an hour or so. We got things ready for bed and soon after we were sound asleep cuddled together in the blankets like the chickadees in the nest.

                                                                                                                   gabby 27

Monday 14th January. A beautiful January morning--have class all the day. Have many assignments to finish and not enough time. Must do some reading. It's early and I'm always the first one up. Allows me time to prepare. Hear people up and about. Veronica is here. Wants to go to meal hall for breakfast. I don't look forward to the food there. Must remember to call home later. Sarah, Jill, Ben and Myles are all going to breakfast. I eat the same thing every morning. I think I need to try something new. The sky is an eerie grey colour but I can see the sun trying to peek through. I have hope that it will be a beautiful day. The morning 'round here always start out grey and dull. Sometimes it changes into a beautiful day. There are students scurrying around everywhere hurrying to get to class. See my friend Joe and stop to chat. He's got a new girlfriend. I hate being in a hurry and I like to take my time enjoying every minute of the day. Class is done now and I feel energized with the joy of learning. I love to learn. Went downtown this afternoon. Had to get some water and toothpaste. Weather turned out to be beautiful. The sun shining on the fresh white snow is breathtaking. Late afternoon--the sun is beginning to set. The sky is sublime. Many different shades of pink outlining the horizon. Stopped by Veronica's on the way home. We drank warm cappuccino. Very comforting on a cold winter's eve. Back to my room now. Called home--gram's 86^th birthday today and she's doing well. Time to read for class. Can see the snow falling outside my window. Each snowflake sparkles and glistens illuminated by the moon. Finished readings for all classes. Very productive day. Time to rest.

 

-Tory

It was my first day at Valley Elementary School, just a five minute walk from my doorsteps to the doorsteps of a new place I had not yet become familiar with. It was a cloudy day; however it was obvious the sun was trying to break through.  Little did I know that this new and interesting day would take me to an exciting and sometimes scary world. As I approached the school the other kids, some bigger then myself, spread out over the school yard and appearing to spread out over the horizon. What is this place, and where are my parents? Although I have seen the building before I never quite knew what is was all about and what would happen when I walked through the large metallic doors. Wearing my new backpack tightly and clutching my lunch bag firmly in one hand, I had nothing to do but wait. A shrill ringing sound would come, and then I knew it would be time. As I stood in the middle of the playground another kid at least twice my size brushed by me. She twitched the right side of her mouth in what appeared to be a smile, not sure whether or not she should say hello, and continued on her way. Her emotion towards me was how I was feeling at the time. Confused.  Although the day only seemed to last an hour at most, it felt like I had Gone to a foreign land and back. When I got home, so excited, I tried telling mom everything in one breath. She just smiled and said," sometimes the first day can be a bit scary." I looked up at her and shook my head. "No mom." I replied."I think I'm really going to like it there, and I made a new friend!" This was the day my life took an interesting turn, for the better.

--John MacLellan

September 2^nd 2007 - Awoke this morning with a feeling of relief and satisfaction, but sadness sank above my head like a cloud on a stubborn gloomy day.  Packing and preparations are done for a new life in a new place.  He and I are sitting in the middle of the forest, simply enjoying one another's presence.  I had brought the food for our picnic but he still seemed distraught.  My love had planned on writing and playing a piece of music for me before our depart but he was yet to put the finishing touches on his work - I could care less, his comfort and the sweetness of the day were enough for me, for that moment.  Crickets are humming, birds chirping, and the sound of the wind against the trees brings great serenity - not enough to ease my troubles.  We walk to the south side of the forest towards our favourite spot to sit on days like today, the flowers and trees of fall were painted beautiful colours around us.  As we rounded the bend the trees and flowers seemed more mute than before, the wind had stopped blowing the branches were silent - the ones that were still there.  The selfish man of today had destroyed the beauty we knew and loved - the pines, oaks, maples, all the trees were fallen wood, a new clearing in the forest.  I felt lost even though I knew the paths around me and couldn't help but wonder if the clearing of my, our trees meant something more.  Could it mirror what the future would behold?  I looked to the sky, to heaven and prayed it would not be so.  I felt like a stranger in my own backyard beside the man I loved - why change?  We took a different path, towards the lake this time.  The moon glowing so bright now - just enough light to show the softness of his skin, the beauty of his smile and the waves reflecting in his perfect eyes.  Is this real? I feel as though I am drifting through this life, like it is one big dream.  We return home, back to where we will say our goodbyes - back to reality, life again.  A letter awaits us both from our dearest friend, he wishes me good luck out at my new home and offers a shoulder to lean on for my love.  He sings me his latest song before I go, his voice so soothing.  My hear t is so heavy to let him go, to let this life go.  As I leave I see many new places all with pines, oaks and maples I realize new beginnings can start with old endings.  Nothing lasts forever, but new life can grow from old life.  I will see him again one day, and it will not only be in my dreams.

--AcaD

2002

Sunday, Nov. 24th. Rainy morning. I woke up feeling a little ill. Mary was in the kitchen making tea when I came downstairs. She suggested that we walk the dogs, as T was still sleeping and the fresh air might help my aching head. The wind nipped at our coats as soon as we set outside and the rain pounded down on our heads mercilessly. My hair sticking to my face, we trudged through the field and onto Seaforth Road. The houses on either side sheltered us slightly from the gales. M suggested that we try to cut through the path on Inverness Crescent when we reached it, so we could circle back home faster. She looked disheveled from the dogs seemed anxious to get back into the warmth as well. We headed towards Inverness. I had not been down this road for some time. The autumn had been mild in the beginning so many leaves still hung from the rows of maple lining the street. Despite the overwhelming grey of the morning, their oranges, yellows, and burgundies stood out admirably, though shaking in the wind. We reached the path and discovered that the damp had turned it into mud. We changed our course again and headed towards Indian Road. The wind became stronger and rain poured heavily in thick sheets, soaking us through our jackets. As the old house came into view, a thin plastic flower pot came across our path. M recognized it as belonging to Sue Rogers and thought we should return it, despite the detour prolonging our sodden journey. Sue thanked us, insisting that we come in. The house was eerily quiet without the usual sounds of her children screaming or laughing through the house. Her features were greying- heavy circles beneath her red, dry eyes. She commented on her own appearance explaining "Robert left last week." Her voice cracked at the recollection and M moved a still damp hand onto her back. "The girls have gone with him for the weekend. I don't know what's going to happen with them yet." She turned her eyes to the ground. I could almost feel them stinging and blurring. "Without Robert I can't afford to keep the house." As M and I talked with Mrs. Rogers calm came to the outside and we regretfully excused ourselves to take advantage of the break in the storm. The streets were now jarringly quiet. Indian Road seemed to echo our footsteps and I remembered the times I had spent playing with S and K and the Rogers girls on the sidewalks and in the little field. The rain held off until we reached the warmth of our house again. The smell of coffee, reassuringly stung my nose as we came in and I knew that T was awake. I forgot a particularly fine sight that we found on McMahon Avenue. The row of evergreens at the side of the yard, which last summer looked sickly, have regained some of their splendour. One stands feet above the others and though the wind swayed them all, their Kelly colour stood out strongly, marking the edge of our yard.

--R.E.

January 15th, 2008. We left to visit Buddha when we where both done class. Blizzard was raging outside, but our jackets where keeping us warm; our legs felt like the frozen meat in the freezers. Half-way to our destination, storm picked up. Hard, unrelenting, driving. The sting on our faces was greatly disliked. Upon arrival, the trek that was made was but only a small inconvenience in exchange for the surreal beauty of the annex. In between trees, we found our respite. Jovial and unbothered by the wind, Buddha sat with us as a revelation was made. Amongst the stars, I Quit. The cemented decision, I Quit. The last dart was hacked. Unrelenting, we continued to be pummeled by the limitless little shards of ice. We realized were at its mercy, so we decided to go home. Taking the back way was better, less wind, more picturesque. The back way took us around the fence, through woods, across a desolate field and finally to civilization. The ugliness of the frequently traveled road lay in stark contrast to the white beauty of the wintertime hiding spot that we had discovered. Walking, trudging, we saw the brown. We saw the grey ice transform into slush when it was driven over, and they turn back to it's icy self when no cars frequented the road. It seemed like an eternity in the cold, the slow pace of our snow laden feet. The crunch of the snow under our frozen shoes kept us going; the thought of a hot chocolate also had an effect, as faster walking ensued when the thought of it crossed my mind. Arriving at my small hovel, we sat and enjoyed the fresh pot of hot chocolate that I had made. The swirl of vanilla crème in the frothy chocolate made the day. As we watched the snow continue fall through my window, we cherished the warmth.


Jonathan Hong

29th of April 1997, the game that counts. My lungs were dry and there was two minuets left in the 3rd. I was the next to go out, Chris was on my left and coach was on my right. We're down by three and this team had been the only one to beat us this year, some of the boys were down on us and didn't want to finish the game strong. The whistle blue on an icing call and I got sent out. The coach called us over to the bench he said we're going to pull the goalie so on the way to the face-off, Colin and I agreed we needed one before we empted the net. There was 1:39 left, we're still down by three and the face-off was in our zone. We won the draw and it leaped back to my stick. I rushed to my left but under control, I looked up the ice and saw Colin busting across the middle. I put it hard up off the glass, and then down onto his stick, it was one on one and Colin was shiftily. He dropped his shoulder left and jerked back, right to the middle it was now just him and the goalie. Colin went in and put it right over the blocker, there was 1:01 left. It was now 4-2 and then we went with the empty net, the face off was at center and we won it straight back, the winger came straight at me and I put it over to my partner. He put it past the other teams defenseman up to our winger. Two on one and coming down with speed, one quick pass across the middle. Just fluttering over the opponents stick on to Denis' blade, then straight to the back of the net! It's now 4-3 and there is 0:36 seconds left. We line up, the same as last time. We're so close! We know we need another goal so we push; the center goes straight to the net, the winger sweeps through the middle. We set a screen and take the shot and it hits off a stick. It's going toward the goalie's glove it hits the tip and then the ice, it was bouncing! The goalie looks back, he doesn't know where the puck is, it rolled over the line! It's 4-4 and there is 0:11 seconds left. The puck was dropped and time expires, we're going to overtime.
    We're flying high, and the other team was demoralized. We haven't even beaten them yet and now they are the ones not skating. They were slow and we zipped around the ice, but then we got a penalty, it is four on three and we kill it off. I burst from the box and call for it long, it comes squirting up the ice and I got it. I'm going in all alone, I made eye contact with the goalie and I could see the fear and I knew I had it. I went left and my stick went right, he fallowed my body and missed the puck, it went in! Now I can tell mom we're going to the finals.

--Liam

        Friday [Jan. 18]. As I wake up this morning tired & confused & hungover,  I am partially regretful of thursday night outings- Dark clouds are forming.  I was gathering my articles for bathing & I assumed I would be going to Marc Lageer's Chemistry class before noon-time.  I chose to be patient during my routine-  that man takes quite awhile to get his lecture started. I spot beautiful yet eccentric Katrina in the corridor & ask to escort her to class. I am brute-fully informed that I have prepared for the incorrect lecture! O my, for my current engagement is to be in the windowless Nicholson & is a much farther stroll. Tardiness is punishable- The hail begins- my lips burn in the dry Friday wind. I receive a electronic letter from young Taylor. Blessings on her. I pursue a young man it reads- the Brother Vomit stirs. A gorgeous sister & deforestation are both concerns of mine. My bedroom seems to always lose it's tidiness in a matter of seconds- like the raccoon to my August garden- The storm has passed & I will make up for last night's activities & I will spend my Friday evening in the Library. It hushed & I wrote to Professor Uszkalo.

The Older Brother University Student